#thermal print head

[foone]

why are printers so hated? it's simple:

computers are good at computering. they are not good at the real world.

the biggest problems in computers, the ones that have had to change the most over the time they've existed, are the parts that deal with the real world. The keyboard, the mouse, the screen. every computer needs these, but they involve interacting with the real world. that's a problem. that's why they get replaced so much.

now, printers: printers have some of the most complex real-world interaction. they need to deposit ink on paper in 2 dimensions, and that results in at least three ways it can go on right from the start. (this is why 3D printers are just 2D printers that can go wrong in another whole dimension)

scanners fall into many of the same problems printers have, but fewer people have scanners, and they're not as cost-optimized. But they are nearly as annoying.

This is also why you can make a printer better by cutting down on the number of moving elements: laser printers are better than inkjets, because they only need to move in one dimension, and their ink is a powder, not a liquid. and the best-behaved printers of all are thermal printers: no ink and the head doesn't move. That's why every receipt printer is a thermal printer, because they need that shit to work all the time so they can sell shit. And thermal is the most reliable way to do that.

But yeah, cost-optimization is also a big part of why printers are such finicky unreliable bastards: you don't want to pay much for them. Who is excited for all the printing they're gonna be doing? basically nobody. But people get forced to have a printer because they gotta print something, for school or work or the government or whatever. So they want the cheapest thing that'll work. They're not shopping on features and functionality and design, they want something that costs barely anything, and can fucking PRINT. anything else is an optional bonus.

And here's the thing: there's a fundamental limit of how much you can optimize an inkjet printer, and we got near to it in like the late 90s. Every printer since then has just been a tad smaller, a tad faster, and added some gimmicks like printing from WIFI or bluetooth instead of needing to plug in a cable.

And that's the worst place to be in, for a computer component. The "I don't care how fancy it is, just give me one that works" zone. This is why you can buy a keyboard for 20$ and a mouse for 10$ and they both work plenty fine for 90% of users. They're objectively shit compared to the ones in the 60-150$ range, but do they work? yep. So that's what people get.

Printers fell into that zone long, long ago, when people stopped getting excited about "desktop publishing". So with printers shoved into the "make them as cheap as possible" zone, they have gotten exponentially shittier. Can you cut costs by 5$ a printer by making them jam more often? good. make them only last a couple years to save a buck or two per unit? absolutely. Can you make the printer cost 10$ less and make that back on the proprietary ink cartridges? oh, they've been doing that since Billy Clinton was in office.

It's the same place floppy disks were in in about 2000. CD-burners were not yet cheap enough, USB flash drives didn't exist yet (but were coming), modems weren't fast enough yet to copy stuff over the internet, superfloppies hadn't taken over like some hoped, and memory cards were too expensive and not everyone had a drive for them. So we still needed floppy disks, but at the same time this was a technology that hadn't changed in nearly 20 years. So people were tired of paying out the nose for them... the only solution? cut corners. I have floppy disks from 1984 that read perfectly, but a shrinkwrapped box of disks from 1999 will have over half the disks failed. They cut corners on the material quality, the QA process, the cleaning cloth inside the disk, everything they could. And the disks were shit as a result.

So, printers are in that particular note of the death-spiral where they've reached the point of "no one likes or cares about this technology, but it's still required so it's gone to shit". That's why they are so annoying, so unreliable, so fucking crap.

So, here's the good news:

You can still buy a better printer, and it will work far better. Laser printers still exist, and LED printers work the same way but even cheaper. They're still more expensive than inkjets (especially if you need color), but if you have to print stuff, they're a godsend. Way more reliable.

This is not a stable equilibrium. Printers cannot limp along in this terrible state forever. You know why I brought up floppy disk there? (besides the fact I'm a giant floppy disk nerd) because floppy disks GOT REPLACED. Have you used one this decade? CD-Rs and USB drives and internet sharing came along and ate the lunch of floppy disks, so much so that it's been over a decade since any more have been made. The same will happen to (inkjet) printers, eventually. This kind of clearly-broken situation cannot hold. It'll push people to go paperless, for companies to build cheaper alternatives to take over from the inkjets, or someone will come up with a new, more reliable printer based on some new technology that's now cheap enough to use in printers. Yeah, it sucks right now, but it can't last.

So, in conclusion: Printers suck, but this is both an innate problem caused by them having to deal with so much fucking Real World, and a local minimum of reliability that we're currently stuck in. Eventually we'll get out of this valley on the graph and printers will bother people a lot less.

Random fun facts about printing of the past and their local minimums:

in the hot metal type era, not only would the whole printing process expose you to lead, the most common method of printing text was the linotype, which could go wrong in a very fun way: if the next for a line wasn't properly justified (filling out the whole row), it could "squirt", and lead would escape through gaps in the type matrix. This would result in molten lead squirting out of the machine, possibly onto the operator. Anecdotally, linotype operators would sometimes recognize each other on the street because of the telltale spots on their forearms where they had white splotches where no hair grew, because they got bad lead burns. This type of printing remained in use until the 80s.

Another fun type of now-retired printers are drum printers, a type of line printer. These work something like a typewriter or dot-matrix printer, except the elements extend across the entire width of the paper. So instead of printing a character at time by smacking it into the paper, the whole line got smacked nearly at once. The problem is that if the paper jammed and the printer continued to try to print, that line of the paper would be repeatedly struck at high speed, creating a lot of heat. This worry created the now-infamous Linux error: "lp0 on fire". This was displayed when the error signals from a parallel printer didn't make sense... and it was a real worry. A high speed printer could definitely set the paper on fire, though this was rare.

So... one thing to be grateful about current shitty inkjet printers: they are very unlikely to burn anything, especially you.

(because before they could do that they'd have to work, at least a little, first, and that's very unlikely)

[rafey-baby]

rafe has always been close with his sister...(part two)

c/w: incest, some dubcon touching & a kiss from rafe, both of them are more or less drunk, 18+ mdni!

wc: 1.3k

previous part & moodboard

if this is something u don’t like, scroll & read something else xx

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It’s well past 3 am when they stumble through the front door— wobbly on their feet and drunkenly giggling about some stupid joke Rafe had muttered while fumbling with the keys. Yet another party her big brother had dragged her into, and if it weren’t for his hands on her hips guiding her upstairs right now, she’d wake up the entire house tumbling down the stairs when she’d inevitably loose her footing.  

“Rafe, m’never going out with you again. Told you I wanted to leave like two hours ago,” she complains the moment they make it to her bedroom; her feet aching and head spinning.   

“‘N she’s complainin’ again. I mean, my apologies for wantin’ to—to show m’little sister a good time,” he huffs, peeling off the shirt that’s beginning to stick to his skin. “Don’t even try t’act like you didn’t have fun.”  

“Well, yeaah, but now m’sooo tired and gross and I need to shower and…” she yawns around the rest of the words; hand on his bicep for balance while she kicks off her shoes. 

“Don’t— don’t need to worry ‘bout that, told you I’d help you out, yeah?” he slurs, already beginning to tug down the zipper of her dress.  

“Nooo…can’t shower yet. Need to take m’makeup off first,” she blabbers, brows pulling together as if he’s just committed some heinous crime, making him roll his eyes before he’s searching through her vanity for makeup remover.  

And despite her drowsy resistance about wanting to shower alone, Rafe manages to drag her into the bathroom (after wiping her face clean) anyway — the thermal water soaking through her fatigued limbs feeling entirely too good for her to push him away when he corners her behind the shower curtain, its printed seashells beginning to twirl against the cream-colored material when she stares at them for too long. 

And she’s almost starting to believe he’s truly doing all of this for altruistic purposes; thoroughly washing her hair for her and making sure to coat the strands with a generous amount of conditioner afterwards.

But when his soapy palms mindlessly glide along the wet skin on her tummy— inching closer and closer towards her tits, she realizes that she was wrong. However, she’s far too out of it to care, and upon noticing the fact, he’s letting his eager paws grope at the squishy flesh; covering them in the foamy shower gel in the process.  

Only when his thumb is smoothing over a sensitive nipple, does she blink away the haziness blurring the lines of what a brother should and shouldn’t do to his sister. And at first, her dozy complaint doesn’t even reach his ears because he’s entirely too focused on the way her tits fit perfectly in the palms of his hands, wondering how it would feel to—  

“Rafe…can you not do that?” she suddenly takes a tentative step back.  

“Hm? Jus’ makin’ sure you feel all nice ���n clean,” he drawls out, seemingly confused before he’s tugging her closer with a hold on her waist. “Can you wash my hair next?” he pleads; an abrupt attempt to distract her intoxicated brain. 

“I can barely stand and you want me to wash your hair? Can’t even reach your head when you’re a fucking giant.”  

But when he leans down for her, she reluctantly begins to lather the shampoo into his roots— gaining a delighted grunt from the back of his throat when her fingers absentmindedly dig into his scalp. However, with the new position, he’s now eye-level with her tits; soap bubbles and water droplets trickling down the smooth skin, and with his thoughts muddled, he’s unable to resist the allure for very long before he’s gravitating towards them.  

“Rafe, stoop,” she stumbles backwards when she feels the flat of his tongue laving over the valley of her breasts.

“M’sorry.” But he doesn’t seem all that sorry, not when he looks up at her under his lashes, offering her an inebriated grin— something nauseating coiling in her belly in response.  

- - - - - - - - - -

When they finally make it out of the shower, he insists on patting her dry, the foggy mirror saving her the absolute mortification of having to watch her brother’s eyes skim across the expanse of her bare skin during the unnecessarily long process.  

“Let me take care of m’favorite sister, yeah?” he croons when he’s tugging down the hem of her sleep shirt afterwards — a shirt that just so happens to be stolen from him, the worn fabric apparently softer than anything of her own.  

She’s unsure as to why he’s suddenly being so nice, but she’s not exactly complaining when his uncharacteristically gentle fingertips daub her face with her night cream when they sit down on her bed— making sure to rub the moisturizer into her forehead as well. And she thinks he almost looks cute like this; brows furrowed in concentration, flicking her nose with a sleepy smile when he’s finished.   

“That smells so fuckin’ good,” he groans after applying a layer of chapstick to her lips; his heady gaze fixed on the action of her rubbing them together, something she’s too dozy to notice.

“I know, right? I looove anything vanilla-scented,” she gushes over the product while placing the rest of the skincare on her nightstand.  

“Can I— uh, try it?” his question sounds innocent enough, but she should know better.  

“Of course,” the naive girl fully expects him to uncap the lip balm once more but instead, he’s suddenly grabbing her jaw into his massive hands and pressing his mouth against hers— swallowing her surprised squeak before she’s quickly pulling away.   

“Rafe, you promised you weren’t gonna do that anymore,” she whines, but the way her button-eyes blink up at him — the betrayal so tangible — lures him in to do it again; smearing their mouths together with a satisfied hum before she’s shoving at his shoulder.  

“Ray, m’serious, it was one time,” she lets out an annoyed huff.  

“Calm down, m’lips were jus’ dry, alright?”  

“You could’ve just— nevermind, m’too tired for this right now,” her attempts at putting some much needed space between them prove to be futile when he just follows her under the covers— acting as if he doesn’t hear her muttering how he should sleep in his own bed for a change.  

“Listen, m’sorry, okay? Don’t like when you’re mad at me,” he ignores her protests and nestles his face into her neck, nose soon nudging her throat and eliciting a somnolent giggle from her. 

“Ray, stop. You’re being annoying,” she tries to swat his hands away when his fingers suddenly begin to poke and prod at her sides because he knows how ticklish she is.  

“Yeah? Tell me you forgive me then.” 

Involuntary laughter bubbles from her chest when she shakes her head and squirms in his arms— desperately trying to wriggle away, but he’s much stronger and she’s no match. And when she grows even louder, he’s forced to slap his palm over her mouth to muffle the noise.

“Shut up, Sarah’s gonna wake up ‘n tell dad we were out late again,” he hisses, suddenly remembering how his other sister is sleeping on the other side of the wall, nonetheless continuing his attack when she attempts to escape once more.

“Stop tickling me then,” she manages out between fits of laughter, uncomfortably writhing in his hold because she hates when he does this. However, she quickly realizes he’s not planning on stopping anytime soon, and the feeling is quickly turning into something unbearable, more or less forcing her to finally let out a sigh in defeat. “Okay, okay, I forgive you— whatever, jus’ let me sleep.” 

His breathy chuckle fans the expanse of her neck before he finally relents, but when she tries to shift away from him, he merely tucks her closer against his naked chest; large palm slipping under the hem of her shirt to splay over the expanse of her stomach to keep her right where she is.

“Don’t move,” he murmurs into her hair, tone suddenly desperate, needy. It makes her swallow around the knotted coil in her throat before she reluctantly gives up altogether— entirely too exhausted to put up a fight when sleep is already dragging her into its dreamy embrace and she feels so warm like this.

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎIce Dance౨ৎ꣑ৎ

౨ৎ꣑ৎ12 Days of Christmas Masterlist౨ৎ꣑ৎ [fem reader] contains: fluff :)) pairing: fem reader x peacekeeper coriolanus snow summary: caught in a blizzard with coriolanus author’s note: enjoy! <3 Spotify Playlist

The storm was so thick that you could hardly see three feet in front of you. Fat snowflakes whirled before your eyes, getting caught in your lashes and stuck on your clothes. When you'd departed for firewood an hour ago, the snowfall had been quiet, soft like a painting. Now it flurried before you like static, blinding you with only the fuzzy outlines of things to guide you. You weren't even sure if you were going the right way anymore, just walking in the general direction you'd started in. Surely you would make it home eventually.

Shivering, you pulled the ends of your shawl tighter around your shoulders, with your bag still on one shoulder and the bundle of wood tied with a string hanging from your frozen fingers. The big storm that had supposed to have come tomorrow had arrived early, it seemed.

Taking steady steps against the wind, you squinted ahead, trying to make out the street. Was that a house? A shop? You couldn't tell. The snow was piling up around you, and now your boots were leaving footprints. It was doubtful that you'd be able to leave your house tomorrow, if you ever made it home at all.

Weary, you wondered if your legs would just give out halfway there. If someone would find you blue and shivering in the snow, still clinging to the firewood that had to be too wet to even use by now. Honestly, it wouldn't be the worst thing if you passed out now, face first in the snow. It'd be the most rest you'd gotten in weeks.

You looked around when you heard your name shouted over the howl of the wind, dismissing it the first time. It must have been an echo. But the second time it was louder, clearer. Shielding your eyes, hair whipping into your eyes, you looked around, trying to see who else was in this mythical storm.

Out of nowhere, it seemed, Coriolanus appeared, blue eyes visible even amidst the snowflakes. Your shoulders slumped in relief as he came closer, holding you by the waist as soon as he was able. Your head fell to his chest immediately, the thump of his heart louder than the wind. He reached a gloved hand up, covering your ear that had been frozen by the cold.

When winter came, the Peacekeepers swapped out their lightweight summer uniforms for ones lined with thermal technology. You could feel how much thicker his shirt was under your fingers, sliding your hand under his coat, which had a fuzzy lining. Coriolanus bent his head, talking quieter now that you were close. "What're you doing out here?" You wordlessly held up the firewood, and he sighed, shifting his gun to the other hand so he could rub your back. "Okay." He looked around, scanning the perimeter. "Okay, I'm gonna walk you home."

"You'll get in trouble-"

"Escorting a civilian won't get me in trouble," he insisted, pulling you close and beginning to walk. He reached for your firewood and before you could protest, lifted it up so it was hoisted under his arm, gun in his fist. "C'mon, I don't want you in this storm."

Under his arm, you felt a little warmer. Coriolanus guided you against the wind, looking down at you every little bit. The sight of his large footprints beside yours made you smile. Sometimes he felt like a ghost to you, something you'd created out of desperation or loneliness. But even though your prints would be swallowed by the falling snow, it was proof for now. He was here.

Pushing you along with a steady hand on your back, Coriolanus scanned what was visible of the horizon, lifting the hand with your firewood and pointing. "Over there. That direction."

You nodded, not bothering to try and look. He was your compass in this flurried mess. Coriolanus seemed to know the way home better than you did, and you clung to him as he guided you home, eyes fixed in the distance. Since meeting him he had always been like this. Guiding, protecting. Eyes fixed on you like you were his last hope.

When he stopped, you looked up, shivering in the cold. "What is it?"

Coriolanus squeezed your arm. "Look." You followed his gaze, seeing the outline of your little cottage down the block. Until that moment, you didn't know your shoulders were so tense, and they dropped, your body slumping into his. He rubbed your elbow, continuing the trek and leading you along with him.

The snow was getting deeper, and the storm thicker. It was like being trapped in a vanilla pudding. Coriolanus' arm bent over your shoulders so his hand was covering your forehead, tilted to shield your eyes. You squinted into the night, and he rested his chin on your head for a brief moment before leading you down the path, the snow bunching at your ankles. You were shivering worse than ever at this point, and so when Coriolanus finally grasped the door handle, you breathed a sigh of relief.

It was dark in your house, but you still felt instantly warmer, some of the life coming back into you. The door was still open, the wind sneaking in and tickling your sides. Coriolanus had one foot still in the snow, and he poked his head through the door. "Are you okay?"

He was half-leaving. You resisted. "Won't you come in?"

"I need to get to base," Coriolanus said, but you shook your head. Reaching out, you grasped his arm, the cold leaving you vulnerable and pleading.

"Stay. Please?" You tugged lightly at him, your sway managing to get him all the way inside. Toeing the door shut, you got a clear view of his face for the first time that night under the brim of his hat. His eyes were soft, a rare thing in the eyes of a soldier. When he hesitated, you murmured, "It's too dangerous with the storm. You wouldn't get back safely."

Coriolanus sighed quietly, his posture loosening. He nodded once. "Fine." When he noticed your smile, he tried to hold back his own, but you saw it in his eyes as he set down your firewood and his gun by the door, toeing off his boots.

You moved closer to him, touching his shoulders and rubbing up and down his chest. "You must be freezing. I'll start a fire."

The corners of his lips turned up. "You were far less covered than me. I'll start you a fire."

"I'm fine," you tried, but a shiver shook your shoulders, and Coriolanus shook his head, removing his hat and coat.

"Go change, sweetheart," he ushered, going to your dwindling inside stack of firewood. "If I'm going to stay tonight, you're going to be warm."

You obeyed, retreating to your cozy bedroom and donning one of your cozier nightdresses, fetching him something too. A few pairs of men's pants previously belonging to your father lingered in your drawers, and you figured now was the reason. In a split-second decision, you snatched something else from a different drawer, heart warming at the thought of giving it to him. "Coryo?"

He appeared moments later, cheeks a little rosier. "Yes?"

Holding out the pants, you blinked innocently. "Here. You should change too." Before he could say anything else, you thrust out the other thing, watching him take it. "I made it for you."

"You made it?" A little smile appeared on his face like magic as he examined the sweater, ran his fingers over the maroon handiwork, love in every stitch. "Made this for me?"

"Uh huh." You nodded proudly, bouncing on your toes. "Just for you. I was saving it for Christmas, but I want you to have it right now."

Coriolanus’ hand found your crown, and he leaned in, kissing your forehead. You couldn’t suppress your smile and neither could he. When he pulled back, his eyes were warm. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome,” you breathed as his warm palm found the side of your face. Touching his hand, you said, "Change. I'll go make us some tea." He lifted your hand to his lips, leaving you with a tender kiss before you left to put a pot over the fire.

When he emerged in his new sweater, you were bundled in a blanket, knit socks scrunched at the ankles, two mugs before you as you waited for the water to boil. You looked up, eyes lighting like fireflies when he sat beside you, beginning to turn his hands over by the flames eating at some of the last of the dry wood. He reached for you, and you gladly obliged, dragging the blanket along with you.

Resting your cheek on his chest, you found he was warm, despite what little time he'd spent indoors. Thank heavens for Peacekeeper winter apparel. Coriolanus pulled the blanket over your shoulders, chin pressed to the top of your head.

"Do you like it?" you murmured, drawing circles on his arm.

He pulled your hair behind your shoulders, following the line of it with his fingers and kissing your head. "Very much."

"Really?" You lifted your head to find he was already looking down, icy blue eyes melting to something as clear as the lake on a summer day. He nodded, fondly adjusting the shoulder of your nightdress.

The lid of the pot began to rattle, and you turned, briefly departing from his arms to pour the water, humming as the mugs warmed your hands. Passing one to Coriolanus, you savored the feel of your own for a moment, listening to the wind knocking at the windows and searching for crevices in the roof. A perfect storm, and you were at the heart of it with the one you loved.

He was sipping his tea, reaching out for you with one hand. You obliged, carefully shifting over to where he beckoned, between his legs. With a few fingers, you tossed the blanket over both of you, smiling when Coriolanus wrapped his sweater covered arm over your collarbone, holding you to his chest and still drinking his tea. He held the mug around the base, not by the handle, and the little detail made you smile.

"Will you get in trouble?" you asked after a moment, suddenly worried even though you'd begged him to stay. He rubbed your shoulder assuredly before answering.

"Not with a storm this bad." Coriolanus set his empty mug down. "Or at least, that's what I'll tell them." You smiled, snuggling closer, and he kissed your temple. "I was helping you, anyways. You were out there without gloves or even a coat."

"I thought I wouldn't be that long," you giggled, flexing your frozen fingers. "The storm was early. Supposed to come tomorrow."

"Uh huh." He took your mug and set it down beside his own. "It likely won't let up all night now that it's here. We might be trapped inside."

"Good," you decided, turning in his arms so your ear was at his heart. "We can cuddle longer."

"Ah." He said nothing more on it, simply tracing the lines of your back and tucking your head under his chin. You smiled into his chest, kissing the spot. There had been a smile in his voice, and you savored it like a peppermint.

He'd never exactly stayed the night, always back for curfew before you could attempt to convince him. You never pushed it, knowing how important staying on good terms within his position was to him. Already, early in this night, you knew this would be a memory to treasure, play back when you were falling asleep or missing him, which was often. Did he do the same thing, you wondered? Lay awake in the barracks and think of his girl, cozy in her bed with a spot saved for him just in case?

As he slipped his hand underneath yours on his chest for you to hold, you got a distinct feeling that he did.

"You're still cold," he commented, rubbing your back.

You smiled, closing your eyes and nuzzling into his chest. "You'll warm me up in no time."

His kiss to your forehead was delicate as a snowflake, and it melted into your skin, becoming a part of you. "All night long."

[haee-elia]

spence-tober: day 17 - professor

pairing: professor!spencer reid x fem!reader (you are also a professor!)

summary: in which your class (and your boyfriend) surprises you

word count: 1519

warnings: proposals, fluffy,

spence-tober masterlist

“Hello everyone.” You greet as students start walking through the doors to the classroom. You glance up from adjusting your papers at the podium up front at the stage of the classroom.

It was just a regular Thursday of one of the classes you teach at the university, Introduction to Thermal Dynamics. You had been teaching in the Engineering Department for several years now and this was just one of the classes you taught each semester. Since the university you taught at was quite well known for the Engineering Department, the class was always one that students signed up for.

However, the university was fairly good at their main athletics, so it was rather unusual for so many students to come on time on a Thursday when there was an away game the next day. Many students chose to ditch Thursday class and instead drive where the game was gonna be and stay for the early game in the morning. 

You’re sure you have a slightly puzzled look on your face as you assess the amount of students that have already shown up, but you shrug it off. 

There was a test next week anyway, perhaps they wanted to participate in the study guide you had ready to revise for them today. You move on and go sit at your desk, sending some emails until the time on your computer finally reads 3:00 and class is officially started.

Now that all the students had settled into their seats, having their choice of computer, iPad, notebook or simply nothing at all on their desks, the final student count for the day was on the higher end, but once again, you brushed it off and continued with your class day.

After all, you didn’t want to discourage students coming to class.

You walk up to the front podium, facing the students, “Alright everyone. Today we’ll be revising for the upcoming test next week. I’ve printed out paper versions of the study guide I’ll be going over today or you can download it off the class page on blackboard under the work for this week.”

You hold up the small pile of papers in your hand and start passing them down the columns of students sat there in their desks, giving them the option to take one or not. Afterwards, you return to the front of the classroom and bring out your own filled out version of the study guide you just dealt. 

Standing at the podium with a overhead camera hanging above the study guide, you turn it on and turn your head to the whiteboard to make sure the projection is working. The classroom you’ve been given this semester to teach out of is quite big, the capacity for students is high and there is plenty of whiteboard space.

You’ve made it through half of the study guide, making sure to revise every part that will be on the test you’ve already created, when there’s a knock on the door. One of your students who volunteered to solve an equation on the whiteboard pauses at the noise, as you all do in the room. 

You always leave the door unlocked and you often don’t have many visitors during class hours, but when you glance over to the door, you can see cleary through the small window who the visitor is.

It’s your boyfriend, Dr. Spencer Reid. 

You and Spencer had met when you first came to teach at the university. Although you were in completely different departments, you in engineering and him in human and social sciences, you had come to know each other quite well as some of the younger teaching staff.

Spencer was the one who had asked you out first, however you were not too far behind in that endeavor, and since then, you had dated for about three years and been living together for almost two now. 

“Come in.” You say with a hint of uncertainty, also gesturing with your hands the instruction of what you spoke. 

Spencer sheepishly opens the door and lets himself in, “Sorry to bother you in the middle of your class.” He apologizes.

The student body knew of the relationship between Spencer and yourself so you didn’t bother try keeping it a secret. After all, it wasn’t like you were actively making out every second of the day. You both are professionals and beyond sharing lunch with each other and chaste pecks on the lips every now and then, the students didn’t have much insight in your romantic life. Much to their displeasure, that is.

You shake your head, brushing it off, “It’s fine, we’re just revising. Did you need something?”

Gesturing for your student to keep working at the equation on the whiteboard, you step off to the side a little and meet Spencer halfway for a bit more privacy.

“I, uh,” He starts to speak, reddening cheeks under the gaze of the students definitely not paying attention to the board currently.

Spencer clears his throat, slightly embarrassed, “I forgot the Amazon password.” He whispers.

You chuckle under your breath, “What?” A smile breaks out on your face, you just can’t help it.

“You know that I always show some of the Matrix in class when we’re going over philosophical moments in modern media.” He reminds you.

“And you’ve forgot the Amazon password?” You question with a goofy expression.

He nods and rubs the back of his head, “I know we’ve bought it, but I can’t get the password and I want everything ready before my class later.”

“It isn’t saved in your passwords on your computer?” You inquire.

Spencer shakes his head, “I can’t find it anywhere and I can’t seem to remember it.” He’s a bit bashful now, shuffling his hands behind his back and his feet against the tile floor. 

You muse to yourself that this is a very Spencer Reid thing to happen. Your boyfriend isn’t the best with technology and you’re often tasked to handle these things anyway. Hell, when you first met him, he still had a flip phone! 

It wasn’t like you could bash Spencer for being technologically challenged when you were often too dependent on your phone. Having troubles with the concept of time and getting to places without the aid of GPS. Spencer was definitely more equipped in those areas.

You place your hand on Spencer’s arm in a comforting gesture, “Let me get a piece of paper and write it down.” You say.

You go to turn around to do just that, walking towards your desk to retrieve a sticky note and a pen when you happen to take a glance at the white board again and stop in your tracks.

Not only is the student that you left up there to work on the equation beforehand still standing at the head of the room, two other students have joined her with expo markers in hand. 

The equation is missing from the whiteboard and the projection system is turned off and in big black blocky letters the words “WILL YOU MARRY ME” is displayed across the large whiteboards.

The rest of the students in the classroom either have their phones out or are staring directly at you, standing shocked and surprised with your wide eyes and open mouth.

Spencer clears his throat behind you and you turn back around to him.

He’s on one knee now and a ring box outstretched in his hand towards you. There’s a large, but nervous, grin on his face and his eyes gleam with excitement and happiness.

“Would you do me the honor and spend the rest of my life with me?” He asks. “Will you marry me?” 

The ring is just like you could ever have imagined. You and Spencer had talked about the future before and what that would look like, marriage and children and all that. Spencer had offhandedly asked your opinions on rings once and you made it no trouble to get your ring size with laying out your jewelry on your vanity in your shared bedroom.

You feel yourself nodding vehemently before you can even find the words to speak. Tears have been brought forth in your eyes and you know Spencer will later tease you about it.

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” You finally manage to say. Spencer seems to relax and his shoulders no longer seem stiff as he slips the ring on your finger. 

The rest of the class cheers as Spencer twirls you around, lifting you up.

When you come back down to Earth and pull back a bit from your embrace, the room has quietened down again though the air is still buzzing with excitement. 

A student, the same one as before at the whiteboard, comes up to you offering you congratulations. No doubt did Spencer put your class up to this, asking for their help in his proposal and it was really no wonder why the class was so filled out today either now.

“So,” She starts to say, “Does this mean you’ll both be Professor Reid?” She says with a pleased smile.

a/n: i like this one! i really didn't want to write a professor x student because that kinda just gives me really bad vibes... i feel like i am getting worse and worse at these summaries though

[arrowfleur]

Redacted Head-canons

(Part two cause I can’t sleep again lol)

Lasko is double jointed and can twist his arms in so many weird positions (he freaks FL out a lot with this)

Milo used to wear bow ties a lot when he was young, he had a whole collection and enjoyed matching them with his shoes

William has the largest cane collection known to man and a lot of them have weapons hidden inside

Vincent and Lovely both have gotten tooth gems on their fangs for the ✨Aesthetic✨ but they had to get them taken off when they ran out of blood bags because they didn’t want to hurt anyone in a live feedings

Babe has an entire collection of candid shots of the pack in their phone and whenever they get enough they get them printed off to put in a photo album

Angel scrapbooks and has every cinema ticket, receipt , flower etc from their dates with David

Gavin has been with multiple celebrities but he didn’t actually know they were famous at the time. Sometimes he’ll watch a film with freelancer and recognise them

Ollie still holds his breath when walking past smokers

Asset lovesssssss Sharks, they obviously know everything about them and share shark facts with Anton when receiving repairs

Sweetheart have a lot of those thermal mugs that change colour when you put hot water in them

Elliot’s party trick is solving a rubik’s cube in a minute

Geordi wears a lot of rope jewellery

Anton’s listener is ginger but INSISTED they were strawberry blonde growing up

Asher was scouted for modelling once and did a campaign for Hollister when he was 20 but decided that it wasn’t really his thing ( Yes he dragged half the pack down to the mall to show them the photos)

[goblinpuppy35]

Paw Prints in Fresh Soil

(Previous Chapter) - Part 4 - (Next Chapter)

Professor Remus x Male Reader

Summary: While teaching at Hogwarts Professor Lupin tries his best to conceal his strong crush for the green fingered grounds keeper Y/N but soon a strong friendship blooms into something more.

------------------------------------------

Heavy footsteps echoes up the stone stairs towards Lupin's private quarters. Hagrid's big leather boot kicks the door open, striding into the open plan living room, holding Y/N's unconscious body in his arms. Slipping past Hagrid's large frame Remus enters the room looking visibly stressed. Upon arrival to the scene of the incident the nurse had ordered him and Hagrid, who promptly appeared himself to find out what all the commotion was, to take Y/N to the closest closed quarters which had a fire place. By luck this was Remus' private chambers.

Rushing to the sofa Remus pushed off the piles of books and parchment he had stacked upon it. With great care Hagrid placed Y/N's curled up and shivering body on the cushions. New footsteps could be heard again and gliding into the room appeared the nurse, instantly crouching down next to her unconscious patient. "Make yourself useful and light that fire! Quickly now!" Remus did has he was told, as he struck a match he suddenly become aware of how much his hands were shaking, almost enough to extinguish the flame. Taking one deep breathe in to centre himself Remus began to light the fire.

After the fire was ablaze Remus helped Hagrid carefully pull the sofa towards the heat as the nurse has accommodated Remus' tiny kitchen space with namouras herbs and vales filled with strange liquid which she was mixing together into a pascal and mortar. Remus was told to collect all the blankets he could find, fortunately he had plenty. Returning to the fireplace he looked down upon Hagrid who was petting Y/N's head tenderly. He looked as concerned as Remus did. "He's a good kid you know" Hagrid blurted out seemingly to no one in particular, "real hard working, never complains. It's been a long time since I've had help around the castle and at first I told Dumbledore, 'I don't need no help thank you very much' but" at this moment his voice caught in his throat "but I was dead chuffed to have Y/N's company around the castle. Did you know despite having magic parents he was born a Muggle? .. oh that might have been a secret actually". Remus kneeled down next to Hagrid and placed a hand reassuringly on his strong shoulder "Yes I did" and he smiled warmly at the half giant, "can't be easy that but you don't see that getting him down" Hagrid said with a woeful sigh as Y/N moaned quietly. "Save your tears Hagrid the boy will be fine" interrupted the nurse as she marched over holding a bowl. Shooing the two men out of the way she lifted up Y/N's chin and guided the rim of the bowl to his lips. Steam rose from the bowl and it's contents smelled reminiscent of mauled wine, "This thermal position will do the trick, though it will take several days to take full effect. In the mean time he must stay as warm as possible".

Remus started to pick up another blanket, "I'm afraid that won't be enough" explained the nurse "we need him to return to body temperature as soon as possible for a full recovery to happen. The best way to achieve this presently is to take in the body heat from another person". Remus griped onto the blanket tighter "what are you looking at me for?". "Well I can't do it" exclaimed the nurse " I have other patients to see to and sorry Hagrid my dear I think the sofa would break if you tried. You'll only have to do it until his skin is not longer cold to the touch Professor". There was a moment of hesitation, Remus looked down at Y/N and straightened his posture in determination "alright then!".

Respectfully the nurse took Y/N top layer of clothes off, leaving him in a vest and boxers, Remus stripped down to the same effect in the other room, returning with a blanket draped over his body, concealing his abundant of scars from the others. "Well we will leave you to it" said the nurse stocking the fire one last time "if you need anything please come and find me" and with that her and Hagrid left Y/N in the care of Remus.

Awkwardly Remus paced around the unconscious Y/N, the end of his blanket dragging along the floor. This was not a situation he expected to be in and he didn't quiet know how to approach it, however with another weak uncomfortable moan coming from Y/N's lips the Professor knew he couldn't wasn't anymore time. "I'm sorry about this Y/N" he muttered as he gingerly slide onto the sofa behind Y/N, throwing the blanket over both of them and pulling several others over for extra insulation. Only their heads and tops of shoulders stuck out. You wouldn't be able to tell they were barely wearing anything underneath. Remus could feel the contrast in temperature between them, he severely wishes he could have asked Y/N first but slowly he wrapped his arms around Y/N's waist and pulled him closer to his front, resting his own head in the crook of Y/Ns cold neck. Each time Y/N whimpered quietly Remus held him tighter, he did his best to not focus on the fact the young man he was attracted to was pressed up against his body and just concentrate on ensuring Y/N getting better. As the evening drifted into the night Remus noticed Y/N's shivering and small cries diminishing, moving his hands across Y/N's skin he was significantly less cold to the touch. Wondering if he should get up or possibly get the nurse Remus suddenly felt Y/N's body twitch, "Y/N?" Remus whispered excitedly as Y/N's body twitched again and then shuffled, turning around slightly to face Remus' body before Y/N started to burry his head into Remus' shoulder, shaking softly, still unconscious. Despite the seriousness of the situation Remus' heart began to flutter, he moved his arms to hold Y/N's back, their bodies in a tight embrace "It's okay Y/N" Remus hummed, resting his chin on top of the groundskeeper's Y/H/C hair "I've got you". They stayed together on the sofa throughout the night.

Alas the next morning Remus had to attend his classes but he was revealed to observe Y/N's condition looking better. Seeming to take the form of a coma. As the week continued Remus kept watch on the fireplace throughout the long evenings which Y/N slept deeply. Stirring up the embers with an iron poking rob causing the warm glow to increase around the room at night. He had tried sleeping in his own room the second night but was incapable of drifting off knowing Y/N was in the other room. 'What if he wakes up and needs something?' Remus kept wondering. Inevitably he ended up bringing his bedding out into the living room area and curling his body up in the large arm chair he placed next to the sofa. He would read through the night, sometimes aloud to Y/N and when he grew tired he would set down his book and stare at the sleeping man, often only the top half of his face poking up from all the blankets, the flicker from the fire danced across his eyelids and forehand. One night Remus leaned forward to asset Y/Ns temperature by placing two of his fingers against Y/N's cheek, this action cause Y/N to breath in deeply and exhale almost as if he was relaxed.

The end of the week had arrived and Remus was teaching his last class of the day. The third year had some of his favourite students Neville, Ron, Hermione and Harry of course however once Remus saw the sheepish figure of Draco Malfoy enter his classroom he had to conceal his bared teeth. Since the incident the weasel had made himself absent from Remus' classes, he'd heard from the teacher grape vine that a serve punishment was in order however Draco's father was certainly going to come to his son's aid. The full moon was still weeks away but Remus could feel the wolf inside him grow. He knew he would get great pleasure out of throwing the young Malfoy out of his class and down the stairs yet he knew this vengeful thirst would not solve anything. Remus continued the class as normal, any engagement he had with Draco was certainly colder then how he talked to all his other students and Draco himself strived to avoid all eye contact with the Professor as humanly possible.

Finally the end of the teaching day has arrived and briskly Remus made his way up the long stair case to his chambers often taking the steps two at a time. Swinging his door open he was met with instant panic when his eyes fell upon an empty sofa, blankets thrown across the arms and floor, the balcony doors were open letting in the cool breeze. "Y/N?" he said softly and then louder in a more concered tone as he started to enter the room. "Remus?" a voice flouted from the open doors out onto his balcony and soon after it's figure appeared. "Y/N" Remus sighed in relief placing his hand on his chest. Y/N was standing straight in his boxers and vest, grasping a glass of water in his hand. In the back of his mind Remus couldn't help but think how well Y/N fit into the surroundings of his chambers. 

"I woke up about an hour ago and I wasn't sure were I was. I felt so thirsty. By the time I found a glass I figured from all the books around and the chocolate hidden in the cupboards this must be your lodgings". As the light shone from behind Y/N, finally Remus saw his smile, the same smile he had missed so much through the week and now it spread to his own face as he walked out onto the balcony to join Y/N. "What happened? My memories all blotchy" Y/N asked looking up at the Professor. "You were struck by a freezing spell. Your whole body began to freeze over. The nurse was able to give you a thouring remedy but you've been unconscious for a week as your bodies been recovering ". Y/N look back into the room towards the sofa "I've been there on that sofa for a week.. and you've been looking after me?" looking back up at Remus with an expression of shock and gratification. "Well someone had to keep an eye on your temperature, you're barely wearing anything, are you not cold" Remus asked and instinctively reached out to touch Y/N's cheek, causing the younger men to step back in surprise. "Oh I'm sorry, it's become a force of habit this week" Remus laughed weakly and a moment of silence fell upon both men. 

"Thank you Remus" Y/N finally said, his cheeks either pink from the cold or embarrassment or possibly both, avoiding Remus' eyes and settling on his nose. "I'm just glad your okay now" Remus replied earnestly. For the rest of the evening the two sat on Remus' sofa together talking, Y/N transitioning from drinking multiple glasses of water to cups of herbal tea. Remus brought Y/N up to date on the comings and going around the school, how many of the students were asking after him and how he struggled not to throw Malfoy out of his class earlier that day. This caused Y/N to scoff in his tea before placing it down "I bet that boys going to flee in terror if he sees me in the corridor, now that I'm invincible" raising up his arms to jokingly flex his muscles. Remus chuckled as he bite down on a square of chocolate and then his expression turned more serious "I was really worried about you Y/N. I know it wasn't your fault but as a muggle you are more vulnerable to stuff like this". Y/N cocked his head to the side "well I'm lucky I have someone like you around then. I understand what your saying Remus but I also don't regret what I did". Remus smiled across the sofa, his arm stretcher across the back almost touched Y/N's shoulder "I know you don't. That's what makes you brilliant". The fire wood crackled in the background as both men smile at one another, content in each others peaceful company. "umm Remus I've been meaning to ask.." Y/N said "where are my clothes?". 

"Oh Christ! Yes. Sorry" Remus leaped off the sofa and heistly went to the table where a neat folded pile of washed clothes were. As he hurried explained what the nurse had instructed him to do and how he felt bad he couldn't ask first but it was a time sensitive situation. "Remus, Remus it's okay" Y/N said through his laughter, "You did what you had to do. And I'm very grateful for it". Taking his clean clothes Y/N walked to the bathroom to change saying he probably needed to go and find the nurse before heading back to his own quarters. Remus stood alone in the room as he waited for Y/N looking around, the idea of his space housing just him again made it feel colder and empty. He didn't want Y/N to leave.

When they approached the door neither one knew exactly how to say goodbye. "Thank you again" Y/N said as he hover in the doorway, Remus' figure towering above him. Then before Remus would figure out what to say Y/N pulled him in for a hug, their height difference meaning Y/N's arms were wrapped around the small of Remus' waist and his head and against Remus' chest. It felt wonderful. All Remus could do was soak it in and gently place him hands on Y/N's shoulder blades. A moment passed before they separated, without saying goodbye Y/N simply waved and smiled before descending the stairs. Remus felt such a strange mixture of his heart growing and breaking at once.

[lottiesboy]

story time!!

pairing: cg!jenjudy x little!masc!reader

summary: your mommies let you have just one bedtime story before bed.

tags: sfw, fluff, age regression, mama!jen, mommy!judy, reader loves winnie the pooh, silly judy, pacis, jenjudy being silly at the end :]

it was another night with you and your mommies, jen in your nursery while judy got you in your pajamas.

“you want… your race car jammies or your puppy jammies?”

“..puppy.”

it was a cute two piece set, fluffy brown pajama pants with paw prints, and a beige thermal with a puppy in the middle. judy smiled when you pointed at them, unfolding them and dressing you.

"okay, little one. arms up, up!" she lifted her arms so you could mimic her, making you laugh.

jen walked from your nursery to her and judy's bedroom, seeing you giggle while judy gets you dressed. "what's so funny, you two?"

"mommy silly." you giggled, judy smiling as she got your head through the neckhole. jen smiled, petting your hair. "he wanted to ask you something. you wanna tell mama, sweetie?" judy pulled your pants up over your bottom. "can i have story, mama?" you played with the collar of your shirt, putting it up to your lips. "it's too late, boop. it's past your bedtime."

"please, mamaaa!!" you begged, making jen put her hands on her hips. "he wanted me to read him winnie the pooh." judy pouted, slipping some socks on your feet. jen huffed, giving into your puppy eyes once again. "one story. then off to bed, okay?"

you nodded with a smile, watching judy go to your room and get your bedtime story. jen got in bed, doing grabby hands for you to come lay next to her. you laid on her chest, snuggling into her neck. judy came into the bedroom again with the book, and your paci, stuffie, and blankie. "someone's all ready for story time, huh?" judy sat up in bed, her back against two fluffy pillows.

judy pushed your paci into your mouth and gave you your stuffie and blankie. jen rubbed your back as judy opened the book, beginning to read you winnie the pooh.

"once upon a time, a very long time ago now, about last friday, winnie the pooh lived in a forest all by himself under the name of sanders.” judy read with a soft voice. she was more than halfway through the book when jen and judy heard you softly snoring against jen's chest.

"i knew he would fall asleep sooner than later." jen rubbed your back, looking at judy. it was nearing 11 pm, and judy put the book down on the nightstand. judy turned her head, smiling at how peaceful you looked on jen's chest, still managing to suck on your paci slowly in your sleep. "he's such a mama's boy."

"if anything, he's a mommy's boy. isn't that like, your fifth time reading him that this week?" jen adjusted herself a little, taking you off her chest and putting you snuggly inbetween her and judy, making sure not to jostle you too much and wake you up. "yea! but he's too cute, i can't say no to him." judy petted your hair gently.

"yeah, you need to work on that."

"work on what?"

"saying no to this little- little stinker." jen said, a yawn interrupting her sentence. "you need to work on some sleep." judy raised her eyebrows, snickering when jen rolled her eyes.

"yeah, yeah." the room was silent for a few seconds. "we make a good pair, don't we? i mean, as caregivers?" jen looked judy in the eyes. "yeah. i think we do." judy smiled.

"well, i'm going to bed." jen turned off the lamp on her bedside table, leaving the moonlight to lighten the room.

"...you don't want me to read you the rest of the story?"

"goodnight, judy." jen said sleepily, resulting in a snort from judy.

[solarpunkbusiness]

A research team headed by Prof. Karl Leo at TUD Dresden University of Technology have developed an innovative, nature-inspired solution that could revolutionize the electronics industry: "Leaftronics." This innovative approach leverages the natural structure of leaves to create biodegradable electronic substrates with enhanced properties and offers a sustainable, efficient, and scalable solution to the global-waste problem. These findings have now been published in the journal Science Advances.Electronic devices, from toys to smartphones, consist of circuits. Specific substrates are used to manufacture these circuits. In commercial electronics, these are printed circuit boards (PCBs) made of glass fiber-reinforced epoxy resin.Most of these materials are not recyclable, let alone biodegradable. Given the sheer volume of electronic waste of more than 60 million tons per year (of which over 75% is not collected worldwide), there is an urgent need for sustainable alternatives.Previous research has focused on creating biodegradable natural polymers as materials, but these have faced problems with heat stability and resistance to chemicals. The inherent conflict between biodegradability, which requires loosely bound molecules and thermal or chemical stability, which demands tightly bound molecules, has long posed a significant challenge.Now, a team of researchers at the Institute for Applied Physics at TUD Dresden University of Technology, led by Professor Karl Leo, has taken a major step forward by developing "Leaftronics"—an approach that leverages the natural structure of leaves to create biodegradable electronic substrates with enhanced properties. Their findings offer a sustainable, efficient, and scalable solution to the global e-waste problem.

[sniffanimal]

I really ought to work on my handwriting skills, or try different types of pen out or something because writing longhand, like in my journal every night, really, really hurts my hand. I have a cyst in my dominant hand that is like the size of the head on a sewing pin, but is so annoyingly placed that it hurts super bad to write a lot. I saw a Dr about it and the bad news was that the surgery to remove the cyst would cause more scar tissue to form than the cyst itself is and would be more painful after than dealing with the cyst already is. I have hand stretches I can do to help relieve pain when it happens, but it's a problem that's never gonna go away.

my iPad pencil has a very chunky silicone grip on it that helps a TON, I should just get more of them for my other writing utensils I guess.

or just type up all my journal entries on my phone and print them on my thermal printer and glue them in, since typing on my phone is the least painful writing method I have. but that's avoiding the issue altogether

[mfred]

Welp, I've spent a lot of money in July and it's barely half over. Yes, I am the problem. But let's talk about fun stuff!

What I bought:

Two dresses, one in yellow daffodils (on sale) and the other in blue with multi-colored flowers, and one pair of FROG PRINT pajamas from Lesley Evers. Frog print!!

One green check dress and one purple tunic sweater from Gudrun Sjödén, on sale.

Two short sleeve shirts from Peau de Loup, one cherry print and one with koi fish. They are masc style for femme and non-binary bodies, size inclusive, and upcycled fabric. On sale.

Two hats: one straw fedora because I look so fucking cute in it and one cotton bucket hat for the beach. Sun protection is important.

Two pairs of platform flip flops from Reef, because they were on sale and I couldn't pick between the colors.

Bananas foster nut butter and peach bourbon jam from Big Spoon Roasters. If you enjoy interesting flavored nut butters, Big Spoon Roaster is the way to go. I highly recommend the vanilla caramel and the pistachio.

Two bras, on sale, and I had points to spend. Mid-range busty gals (up to an F/DDD), go to Evelyn & Bobbie for wirefree bras.

Three baguette rings (pink tourmaline, aquamarine, and crystal) from Caitlyn Minimalist. Again, couldn't choose between the colors.

A cat toy for the little monsters who live rent free in my home. They probably won't play with it.

Books. It was buy 2, get 1 free or buy 4, get 2 free. You know I went for 4.

Mooncat nail polish. Three colors from their Powerpuff Girls collection, one thermal, and one gold flake topper.

An orange chair from Wayfair that matches my cat. Not on purpose, but a happy coincedence.

An automatic espresso machine that does everything. It makes delicious coffee! I know because my dad has one and I loved it and when I saw it was on sale for Prime Day, I had to have it.

New wireless earbuds from Jabra that some running magazine swears stay in your ear, on sale for Prime Day. My Google ear buds are always falling out of my ears when I talk, chew, walk, tilt my head, etc.

Me looking at my credit card statement in August:

[jellyluchi]

An Education in Humanity

A/N: I had this idea while in the shower and since I'd not written profoca in a while it seemed like something new to explore. It is probably their least physically affectionate story. The Egypt stuff I can’t explain just imagine they’re going on vacation. And Idk if they had credit cards back in 2001.

Pairing: Prosciutto x Focaccia Genre: Fluff, Angst (?) Content warnings: implied racial discrimination Summary: Two assassins run into a difficulty when grocery shopping

Grocery shopping is an entirely ordinary affair for people who are entangled within the sordid shadows of the world. Through the maze of aisles carrying produce, bottles, cans, and boxes, it’s easy to keep oneself hidden. But that is not at all necessary for the kind of work Focaccia and her husband have been up to lately. Holding a bag of flour in her hands, she fumbles with translating simple Italian adjectives in her mind. Frowning at the fine print, she turns to Prosciutto. 

“What does this say?” she points a manicured finger to an unfamiliar Italian word. Even grocery shopping in the years that has immersed her into the language has not schooled her vocabulary. 

The man gives a nonchalant glance to the sack, his head turned downwards with boredom playing on his face. Unlike his usual disposition for a well tailored suit he opted for a thermal coat and layers of cotton underneath. Neapolitan winters may not summon snow, even at night, but the chill is enough to warrant warm outerwear. Not to mention the air-conditioned interiors of most grocery shops.

“Something about heart health,” Prosciutto says the words as though they are of no consequence. Focaccia glances once more at the price, thinking of how much flour they have left. 

“Just take it,” her husband commands, already turning to disappear into the next alleyway of items. 

Huffing, Focaccia places the little bag into their cart. At least it is good for her indecisiveness. If Prosciutto deems something good enough then it must be, right?

Following close behind, she pushes the cart aimlessly looking at what he picks up and snatching a couple snacks on the way. Other shoppers stay out of their path most of the time but Focaccia catches the eye of a lady and smiles. The pitiable woman’s oculars shift from the towering, uncouth figure behind her before easing into reciprocating her expression and moving on. Despite the quickness with which she made herself scarce, Focaccia spotted her trepidation towards Prosciutto, commiserating her.  

Fluttering about from one area to the next, they work slowly into fulfilling the list of standard monthly items. Illuminated by the harsh fluorescent lights and accompanied by soft but boring music, Focaccia feels a sense of peace for their mostly idyllic life they have been able to lead. If she tries hard enough, she could pretend their lives are almost normal. 

Once the necessary items are procured, the pair wait patiently in line behind a few other groups of people. Mothers, daughters, uncles, and grandparents, go about their daily lives. She’s no stranger to hushed murmurs of the spoken language but Focaccia sometimes wishes she knew exactly what they were saying. 

Eyeing the cashier she notices a dark haired man working behind the counter rather enthusiastically and unusually fast. He’s talkative from the way animated expressions and loud voice that emanates from him. Or perhaps that is customary for Italians. 

“Can you pay?” She pleads to Prosciutto, the man looking the other way, makes a non-committal noise of agreement. Having been bad at math most of her life, Focaccia hates counting her money by the cashier and holding the line. It’s humiliating, especially with people more than happy to point out how slow she is. 

Moving to stand out of view behind her husband, she lets the cart stay by his waist as the line moves along. Prosciutto is much less awkward than herself, usually making conversation if someone speaks first. Focaccia always finds herself stumbling with her broken Italian before they start speaking in English out of pity or some such thing. 

Only when it’s their turn does she walk to the other end of the counter, attending to the groceries being bagged. There is the usual sound of the cashier’s voice greeting Prosciutto but the man says something unfamiliar that she assumes to be for conversation. At Prosciutto’s silence she looks up to see his utter shock, eyes widening for a fraction of a second and lips apart. It’s a rare sight and Focaccia barely has a moment to understand before his face contorts to an extreme grimace. But what follows is most certainly never something she would expect, especially in such a public setting. 

Hauling himself over the counter with his tall frame, Prosciutto doesn’t have to reach far before taking the poor cashier by the neck for a swift punch to the horror of those in line. The commotion escalates fast and Focaccia fears what would happen if she lets it get worse. 

“Stop! Stop!” Yelling, she pulls him back by the waist, hoping the damage isn’t too bad. It’s strange, he’s never acted this way before. Whatever was said to him must have struck a nerve. “What’s going on?!” She demands from him, now noticing the poor disheveled worker and the look of pure hatred in Prosciutto’s eyes. He does not even show this much emotion when he’s killing a target. 

Instead of answering her questions, Prosciutto spits Italian curses at his opponent before being pulled outside by his wife. She carries the two grocery bags, worried about whether they’d be banned from coming back. “What happened?! What did he say?” She would be worried about whether he paid for their groceries or not but her priorities were just reshuffled. 

“Let’s not talk about these things here,” he replies, taking both of the bags from her before a protective arm on her lower back ushers her to their car. It’s clear Prosciutto is still angry and agitated from his encounter. The usual scowl on his face is much deeper than she’s used to, and the knuckles on the steering wheel are white from his grip. She’s only so thankful that his frustration does not manifest itself in his driving lest they run a red light. 

Dinner is quiet, something quickly put together with some of the groceries they bought earlier. And Focaccia is too nervous to ask what weighs on Prosciutto’s mind. His eyes soften when they meet hers, his blues a particularly mysterious shade and her browns twinkling with silent questions but he seems unable to meet them for long. 

After their meal, Prosciutto settles into bed, watching her comb her hair with an air of disdain still hanging around him. Sitting beside him, she puts an arm around his back, feeling the muscles relax. “What did he say, Prosciutto,” she asks. 

“...It doesn’t matter,” comes his moody but defeated reply, clearly irritated from being reminded of the conversation. 

“Please,” Focaccia says. “I have to know.” 

Sighing, Prosciutto’s body seems to deflate, letting go of all the anger repressed inside his body all evening. “He said…something derogatory.” Prosciutto opts not to translate the vile words.

“About you?” Focaccia says in confusion. 

“I wouldn’t have cared so much if it were about me.” 

Staring at him with silent understanding, Focaccia moves closer. “You didn’t have to, you know.” 

This seems to anger him further. “And let him say whatever he wants about my wife?” 

“I mean you don’t have to protect me,” she says with a smile. “I didn’t survive this long here on my own for nothing. Or in the west for that matter. I may not speak the language, but I can tell. It’s in their eyes.”

She finds something very rare within his eyes, a speck of melancholy as if understanding only a miniscule amount of her experiences for the first time. And it renders him somewhat speechless. 

“Tell me,” she says. “Did you attack him just for me or would you have done that if he said that about someone else?” 

At her question he thinks before answering. “Anyone else and he would have earned a glare and a dismissal. I admit,” he says with the voice of a man who is entirely not sorry for his actions, “the punch was personal.” 

Smiling fondly, she hugs him close. 

“Don’t stop me if it happens again,” he murmurs. Again… because it is something she will simply have to live with. 

A thought occurs to her. “Maybe it is you who will have to experience it when we are in Egypt,” she says. “Don’t worry, I will protect you then.” 

The words have their intended effect and Prosciutto chuckles somewhat forlornly. 

“Or,” he suggests. “We could find the CEO of the grocery store and blackmail him for money,” the mischievous smirk in his mouth beckons. 

Focaccia lets go, looking at him with some excitement and disbelief before cackling with laughter. “I like that.”

Bonus A/N: The reason why I was hesitant about posting this is because of the subject matter being sensitive and all its implications. I have not thought of every possibility or the best interpretation for it. But most importantly I wanted to emphasize Prosciutto not being some white savior trope and Focaccia knowing how to deal with them in her own way. it's just great to see Pros jumping someone for disrespecting his wife. It's not written here but it's possible he went back and stalked that dude to kill him or worse LOL

[miraclemaya]

Dream I Had:

I was running a Call of Cthulhu game for some childhood friends, I had a table setup with an area map of the campaign, and after the first person came I printed a bunch of pregens quickly for everyone to use. I don't remember anyone else coming besides the first, but apparently they did.

After printing the sheets, I descended into a lower level of the dream, being a character in the game we were playing. Of course this was strange because I was supposedly running the game, but even more strange was that this was like 100% more a Delta Green scenario's ending then the start of a Call of Cthulhu game.

We, the player group which was made up of black ops types, were about to do a raid on a home with the express purpose of executing every living thing inside because those inside the house were a dangerous cult. Specifically, the patriarch of the house, one Peter Griffin from Family Guy, was not satisfied with his already large family, and deiced to use mythos magic to bring into existence other children he could have theoretically have had. However something was wrong with the spell or ritual, or perhaps it was never meant to be, and so most of the new children were like, flesh statues.

We approached the house from the front without my strategy, just opting to start firing on targets from the front. We quickly got into a fire fight with both the original family and whatever summoned children that could move. Apparently we were very lucky because we were taking no causalities at all, and the Griffins were getting picked off. I eventually decided to flank, so I went around the whole place to arrive behind where the Griffins were all holed up.

I took like either it was a potion of thermal vision or I just put on thermal vision goggles, I don't know, but I had thermal vision and could see the shapes of a bunch of Griffins inside the house proper, not moving save for one. I realized that that was Peter Griffin Jr., Peter Griffin's beloved star child who was sequestered away from the fighting.

I had a strange moment where our minds melded, and I explained to Peter Griffin Jr. just how awful his life truly was. It reached him, and after the mind meld he stood up from the table he was sitting at, intent on leaving the home for green pastures. I promptly shot him, and all the other summoned children near me in the head with a pistol.

The dream ended at this point, with I think Peter Griffin surrendering, and getting hit by dozens of bullets. And then I fully woke up, never returning to the layer of the dream where I was running a game.

I want to add that I have never seen more than like 2 episodes of Family Guy, save for the occasionally clip you just seen in the wild. I don't know why this dream happened.

[brits4gerardway]

Here's a small writing piece I did in the perspective of John Doe after the events of The Enemy Within! :D

so, of course, this does contain spoilers for the game and is based after what i'd see is the good ending- the story is what I thought of myself, but I'm not sure if something similar has been done before!! With that being said, its a lil bit cheesy but hopefully I've sorta captured the essence of john's character LMAOO

As my socks tapped against the ceramic floors, I noticed how the lights still flicker. By now, I knew the bulbs hadn't been replaced in a hot minute, even during my release from Arkham.

These hallowed halls weren't so haunting during the daytime. I had friends, somewhere- we'd chat the day away whilst indulging in our hobbies! Whenever Bruce comes around, I can barely wait to show him my newest knit for the matching "mini me".. "mini-us?" plushies I made him.

Oh, right! It's light's out. With haste, I made it to my cell, trust-falling onto my lightly quilted mattress. Despite the lack of thermal energy crawling through my arms, my heart had still felt toasty and warm all this time, like it was still emerged in his embrace. I blindly maneuver my hand, recalling the picture I had slipped onto the bedside table. Finally grasping it, I hold it close to my chest, occasionally looking back down at the memories I had made that day.

The only person I still see from the photo regularly is Bruce, who pays visits every weekend- it truly feels like he's trying now, more than ever before.

I hadn't seen Bane since our fight at Riddler's old hideout where I almost killed him. I'm wild-guessing Freeze lost his life from exposure to the virus.

And.. Harley. I haven't fully weighed out the thoughts in the back of my mind on her yet- (I'm working on it!)

I knew it wasn't meant to be to begin with, the minute she had the chance to bail on me she flew the coop. What I had with her wasn't love. She was no lover, she didn't have it in her to love me- or anyone! But only on the most difficult days here in Arkham do I miss her. I was the fool head over heels, after all.

Coming to a decision, I took the printed paper out of its frame. Crawling out of bed, I scavenge the draws for my craft scissors. Returning to my previous position, kicking my legs, I trim Harley out of the frame. Unfortunately for me, this only made the rest of the photo look kinda whacky. So I did what any genius would do- I cut everyone out! (Except for Bruce, of course.)

Scrunching up the fragments of wasted paper around my room, I slam-dunk it into the trash, soon feeling my heart swell up with a fuzz as it did before. I can't help but proudly wear a smile on my face as the butterflies in my stomach flutter.

All I need to keep me going is all that I have left.

[ghostofaboy]

Kinktober 2023 - October 26th

Day 26: Tentacles, Demons/Angels, Crying

Din Djarin

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1445

Warnings: tentacles, non-consensual touching

@absurdthirst Kinktober List | Ghost of a Boy Masterlist

The bounty fob beeps were steadily increasing, which meant he was on the right track. Looking around his surroundings, Din took note of potential high ground sniper points or choke points where his quarry might try to attack from. He’d been tracking this guy for three days and had almost caught him on day one, but the scughole managed to jump world. From the tracks on the forest floor and the fob, it now looked like his target was hiding in a nearby cave.

Carefully Din approached the mouth of the cave, the tracks he could see led in with none coming out, and Din readied his blaster in case of trouble. Stepping slowly inside, Din glanced around the area. There was no sign of his target, in fact there was nothing. No camp supplies, no indication that anyone had been living here. The cave wasn’t particularly deep, and the few clusters of rocks were not large enough to hide behind.

Checking the thermal setting on his helmet, Din scanned the floor for prints. He could clearly see a set entering the cave and moving towards the back wall, but then they simply stopped. Odd. Clicking the setting off, Din headed over, running his hand over the wall. Perhaps it was an illusion or there was a mechanism to open a door. But again, nothing.

Holstering his blaster, Din let out a long sigh. This was weird. Checking the fob once more, he could clearly see the red light blinking quickly. That should mean he was right on top of the guy… or the other way around. Glancing up quickly, the last thing Din saw was a mass of purple flesh.

======

Din wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious but when he came to all he could see was a writhing mass of slick purple shapes. He tried to move but felt something wrapped around his arms and legs tighten its grip. So whatever this thing was, it was alive. Looking down at himself, Din could see his weapons were gone, probably on the floor of the cave, he only had one boot remaining, his thigh and shin guards were missing, and his breastplate was dangling precariously. Thankfully, his helmet was still in place.

Carefully and slowly, Din started to move his left arm, inch by inch, pulling it from the creature’s grasp. He was just worked it out to his wrist when he felt the whole creature shudder. Its grip tightened once more, shifting his limbs further apart and Din heard his breastplate clatter to the ground below.

He was pulled taut now, with his limbs out stretched in the shape of a star, facing straight up at the rocky ceiling of the cave. Out of nowhere, Din could feel something touching his legs, it felt like someone running their hand over his clothes and he craned his head to try and look.

Tentacles, tens of them, were moving towards him. Some were mapping out his legs, some smaller ones were now reaching his arms, worming their way under his vambraces and into his gloves. The poked and stroked him body, wrapping around his neck and thighs, gently squeezing.

He could feel them working their way under his clothes, finding holes and gaps to find contact with his skin. The tentacles were warm with a slight stickiness to them as they ripped his flight suit open. More and more of them joined as they mapped his entire body methodically.

Din wasn’t sure what he should do. His instinct was to struggle, to try and work himself free. But he’d read about creatures like this. If he struggled, it would probably kill him. As the tentacles found his crotch, gently stroking his cock through his underwear, Din racked his brain for everything he could remember about creatures like this.

It seemed to have given up on his arms and legs now and was focusing on his groin. Din could feel his panic rising as three small tentacles pulled his underwear apart with a loud ripping of fabric. One wrapped itself around his balls, while the other two began investigating his cock. As they stroked his length gently, Din pinched his eyes shut.

This was not happening. He was an experience hunter. A Mandalorian. And here he was getting hard from the attention of some strange tentacle creature. The one wrapped around his balls was vibrating now, adding to the sensations that were stoking the obscene fire within him.

As one sticky limb continued to work his cock, steadily pumping it now, the other began to snake its way under him. Following the valley of his ass crack, it soon found his entrance and Din found himself letting out a wanton moan, much to his surprise, as it carefully pushed its well inside.

Far too quickly it found that sweet spot he rarely dared seek out himself and Din saw stars. The tentacle hugging his ball was vibrating to the point of madness now, stimulating him for a few seconds before stopping, then beginning again. His cock was throbbing, with a steady stream of precum aiding the purple limb’s efforts as it pumped him almost sensually. 

Opening his eyes for the first time, Din tried to focus on his surrounding, desperately trying to ignore the heady arousal fulling his head as the tentacle in his ass began to swell. It filled him, pushing on his prostate, stretching him open as it lazily writhed inside him.

Above him was nothing but stone, but as Din frantically turned his head this way and that he spotted something that made his heart sink. Over in the farthest corner, Din could just make out the outline of a person. Willing his eyes to focus, Din could see the person’s clothes, a backpack on their back, but the person themselves was nothing more than a withered husk. Their skin was stretch taut but still held the green hue and tattoos that identified them as Mirialan.

It was his target. It looked as though all the moisture had been sucked from them and as Din took in the detail he could see their clothes ripped open. Their limbs were splayed out, and much to Din’s dismay, a shrivelled penis was on display. 

Well, that settled it then. Staying here was not an option, no matter now pleasurable the creature’s attentions were. Stimulating him was probably part of its way to subduing him. The limb inside him was still growing, splitting him open with a hint of pain as his cock ached with the need to come. 

Carefully moving so as not to spook the creature, Din began to shift his arms once more, stopping each time the tentacles pulsed. Eventually, Din felt his right arm come free just as his balls felt like they had gone numb from the vibrations. Biting back another moan as the tentacle buried in his ass spasmed, Din cautiously reached over his chest towards his left vambrace.  

He paused a moment, considering his situation and the consequences of what he was about to do. This creature had hold of his legs and one arm still, but it also had his cock balls and a thick limb in his ass. This was either going to work really well, or he’d have a terrible story for a med-droid. 

Taking a deep breath, Din reached over in one quick movement, activating his flamethrower. The response was immediately as the creature shrieked from an unseen mouth, as the tentacles withdrew away from the flames. It released his cock and balls with little fuss, but the limb in his ass withdrew quick enough for Din to cry out. Was it from pain or pleasure? He wasn’t sure as he felt himself falling.

Managing to twist himself at the last moment, Din landed awkwardly on his knees amongst the rest of his gear. Catching his breath, Din looked up just in time to see the massive purple creature retreating into a crevice. It wouldn’t stay scared for long and Din began to quickly gather his lost equipment. His fight suit was torn and flapping against his still hard cock as he made his escape back into the dark forest. 

Stopping a short distance from the cave entrance, Din paused, leaning against a tree as he carefully reattached his armor. The Crest was still at least an hours walk away, although thankfully there was no one else around for miles. Perhaps he’d have a quick wank on the way back, he thought, staring down at his leaking cock poking out from his tattered clothes. After the day he’d had, he deserved a little self-indulgence. 

[swede1952]

Forest Emergence

I caught this black vulture (Coragyps atratus) just as it was rising out of the forest yesterday morning. It usually takes a while before they reach the altitudes where they float on the thermals.

"With sooty black plumage, a bare black head, and neat white stars under the wingtips, Black Vultures are almost dapper. Whereas Turkey Vultures are lanky birds with teetering flight, Black Vultures are compact birds with broad wings, short tails, and powerful wingbeats. The two species often associate: the Black Vulture makes up for its poor sense of smell by following Turkey Vultures to carcasses. Highly social birds with fierce family loyalty, Black Vultures share food with relatives, feeding young for months after they’ve fledged." - allaboutbirds.org

Visit my gallery at:

[dollsonmain]

More notes to self:

Sweet Steps Ballerina

For searching purposes, choose between Loving Families and Loving Family. Adjust all to match.

Same for Sweetheart Sister and Sweetheart Sisters.

I need more consistency in my file names across folders.

-

I have a handful of salon money and have just as much cost of stuff sitting in my Amazon shopping cart. Not sure if it's really worth it to spend that money on the salon, though.

It WILL be worth it if I start selling regularly again. I'm not sure I actually enjoy that. I enjoy shopping, buying, receiving, and fixing. Not the photography, editing, compiling, listing, packing, shipping, etc.

Other things I would like to have for the salon are, again, a laptop. I realized I can carry my pony pics between laptop and PC on a thumb drive that I'm already using as a backup. Laptop is many dollars, though. Even a cheap one. As much as I've earned this year...

Also that thermal printer I was considering. Laptop would help with that, too, because then I could wrap and print and pack everything all in one place.

I need to sit and think about whether a laptop and printer would serve me better right now, or the faucet modification, storage, and organization things I'm looking at.

I think storage and organization, then faucet mod, then laptop. I've managed so far with keeping my files on my PC upstairs and printing labels from here. Mostly. Sometimes I do have to run up and down a few times to be sure I'm packing the right ponies in a combined order.

-

There's a huge box of doll parts on feeBay right now with a $0.99 bid. I hope they don't back out. I'd like those parts gone but a pile of broken bodies and floating heads isn't donateable. I decided I won't end up using them and they're just taking up space.

-

I don't like how feedback rolls off your account on eBay, now. I've sold THOUSANDS of items and received 1 negative because someone was impatient, but my feedback count is only 270-ish.

-

Anyway, That Guy turned off GoW and went upstairs so I'm able to work on IDing ponies, but I have too much stuff running through my head at all once and am having a hell of a time focusing. I keep typing the wrong name all together, or transposing letters, or typing before when I mean after, etc. It's frustrating. I'll be happy when it's all done, though.

Wow I have cleaned a LOT of ponies...