#Arsenic removal equipment

[eevees-hobbies]

Heloo I just read your post about the bold reader and I was like HSKFMMSDKDK

can I request hayato suo with the reader who can make him flustered and put on in his place?? Like she leads the relationship? Thank you!! Nsfw or sfw is fine:3

Authors Note: Hi, Anon! I wanted to take my time thinking about this specific scenario because while I don’t consider myself a Suo girlie, I love writing for him, and I’ve grown to love the version of him that I’ve crafted. I probably have him one degree away from being a Yandere, if we’re being honest. Anyway, I’m turning this into a thirst response for now. Still, I also might continue this at some point because it deserves the time and respect to dive deeper into the complex relationship that Reader has with Suo.

Also, my friend Evie did an excellent job encapsulating a similar ask using her style, and I can’t recommend that piece (and everything else she makes) enough. 

Let’s get into, babe 💕

Content Warning: Fem! Reader x Hayato Suo. Teasing, dirty talk, fem! receiving oral, obsession, overstimulation, hands-free orgasm. Minors Do Not Interact

Word Count: 1.1K

Control is paramount to Suo’s identity as he’s very well aware of what happens when he loses control: people can get seriously hurt or worse. So it’s essential for Suo to remove any variables that might compromise his cool—and sometimes detached—demeanor. He keeps people at arm's length with ever-changing stories and blatant lies, and it works because no one has come close to cracking the mystery that he is.

But the variable he couldn’t control for? You. 

At first, he found himself avoiding you. You brought out feelings within himself that he’d always try to swallow like bile threatening to come up. Vulnerability? Good for others but not for him. 

When he couldn’t avoid you because you were absolutely everywhere—you weren’t everywhere, you two just have a gravitational pull towards each other like a planet to its moon—he found himself increasing his meditation. 

He’d close his eyes, willing himself to breathe, clear his mind, and…there’d you be. As clear as day in his mind's eye with your sweet smile, the sound of your infectious laughter that makes his heart flutter, and your intoxicating smell. 

As soon as you started to permeate his thoughts, even during the sanctuary of his meditation sessions—something that had never happened before—he knew he was a goner.

And if someone affects you this badly, they have to be yours, right? It would be absurd to see you with any of the imbeciles that pine after you. He almost laughs himself silly at the thought of them thinking they have a chance with you: his love, his moon, his reason for breathing, his everything. 

If you’re familiar with my work, you’ll know how I describe your intimacy with Suo. He’s a pure pleasure dom; if you’re not coming undone on his tongue or fingers until you’re a sobbing and begging mess, well, he simply has to try harder, and Suo has the stamina to back that threat up. 

He considers himself an expert of you, your body, and what makes you cum so intensely that his well-equipped arsenal of depravity has you doing your damnest to crawl away from him and to safety.

“Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done with you, Dove. Now get back here and spread your legs like a good girl.”

And you’re into it because Suo is your type of crazy—what you two have simply wouldn’t work if that weren’t the case. If a man isn’t obscenely infatuated with you, is he really your man, am I right? 

But sometimes a girl likes to be in control, ya know? And outside the bedroom, you have Suo wrapped around your finger. You say jump, and he asks if you want him to do a backflip on his way down. You use that sweet little voice to ask him for a kiss? He’s on top of you in an instant—and even to Suo, an instant isn’t quick enough. So, while he may have control in every aspect of his life, you are a dangerous variable that supersedes his free will.

But inside the bedroom? He’s much less willing to let you take the reigns; in fact, it might even be a point of contention initially. As you reach for his waistband, you underneath him entirely naked, and he, fully clothed as he comes up from between your thighs, preparing to plant a kiss on your luscious lips; he stops you as your finger coils around the elastic, silk fabric of his pants.

“What are you doing? This is about you.”

So, in what scenario will he finally let you take over? If you ask nicely, bat your eyelashes and use your sweet, honey-coated voice, perhaps, but that’s not always guaranteed to work. 

The best chance of getting what you want? When Suo has been working at your pleasure for hours, so much so that his cock is twitching in his pants, eyes shrouded with dark, swirling shadows of desire, and he’s ready to ruin you by sinking into you—he’s uncharacteristically more easily influenced in this state. He’ll do anything you say because, god, he just wants to feel you in any way he can; lips wrapped around his cock? Yes, please. Deep in your silken, cum saturated guts? God, please don’t make him beg because he just might. 

So when you tell him to lay down for you, and he falls backward onto the bed without questioning your intentions, you can finally have your way with him. 

And as you hover over his face, flirting your swollen pussy lips over his hungry mouth, ruby-toned eyes staring—pleading—up at you between the warmth of your plushy thighs for a taste, you’ll know that you’ve got him right where you want him.

“Eat my pussy again like a good boy, Hayato, and maybe I’ll touch your cock.”

His breath will hitch because fuck he loves when his sweet girl talks filthy like that, and as his tongue once again dives into your folds—his licks desperate—he’ll buck his hips into the air imagining the feel of your pussy—his pussy—wrapped around his dick.

And if you continue to talk to him like he’s a plaything for you—like his pleasure is an optional afterthought at best and unnecessary at worst—until you get what you want in a tone that almost sounds like you’re above him? His eyes are rolling back, and his hands are clawing at the sheets under him.

“Suo, I just want to fuck your tongue with my pussy all night. Will you let me, baby? Let me use your tongue to cum?”

“Y-yes, baby, use me, please. I’m yours to have.”

And before you know it, at some point between the licks, the whimpers (from him), and his bucking into the air, he’ll groan into your cunt because that intense feeling that he was so desperately trying to stave off finally washed over him and he just couldn’t help himself. You’ll look behind you, eyes bright with amusement and something a bit more sinister, as you watch geyser upon geyser of cum shoot from his hiccuping, over-sensitive cock until his seed smothers his well-groomed pubic hair, abs, and puddles beneath him. 

You’ll be so proud of yourself for reducing the Hayato Suo into a hands-free orgasmic mess. 

But here’s a warning: Suo will only be more insatiable after that, flipping you over with ease, making you wonder how in control you truly were, and after a heated kiss to your lips and feeling his already hardening cock dragging against your folds, you’ll be right back to where you started: at the mercy of someone who thinks that pleasure is infinite.

[delusionalfanficwriter]

accident

The morning sun cast a soft glow over the streets of Seattle as Y/N drove to her training session for USWNT. The familiar scent of coffee filled the air, but her mind was focused on the upcoming game and the challenges that lay ahead. As she approached an intersection, the traffic light turned red, forcing her to come to a stop.

Just as the light turned green, Y/N accelerated, her mind still occupied with thoughts of tactics and strategy for the game. The intersection was busy, cars moving in various directions. However, in the blink of an eye, a distracted driver ran a red light, colliding with Y/N's car from the side.

The impact sent Y/N's car spinning, metal crunching against metal. The sudden jolt left her disoriented, the world spinning around her. As the chaos unfolded, she heard the distant wail of sirens, and through the haze, she saw the familiar faces of Maya hopping out of the fire truck and the Station 19 team rushing to the scene before her eyes started to close shut. 

Maya takes in the scene,  her eyes fall on the license plate number she has seen dozens of times. Her mind jumps to y/n, who she knows is in Seattle for the game coming up later in the week. The y/n who she and Carina took under their wing after she showed up several times to clinic days. They opened their home for her until she was steady enough to be on her own and when she isn’t with USWNT she is home in the UK playing for Arsenal. 

Panic and concern etched across her face, as she sprinted towards Y/N's car. Reaching the damaged vehicle, she instantly saw y/n out cold. Reaching for the door handle, it wouldn’t budge. “Fuck! Guys it’s y/n. We need the jaws of life to remove the door and maybe even windshield for more access.” Travis went to grab it as Warren and Andy came with the med bag as they were on Aid car 19. “Y/n, I’m not sure if you can hear me but I need you to try to open your eyes. It’s Maya. You are going to be okay.”

Maya makes the decision to break the backseat window and enter through there before crawling front to the passenger seat. Andy did the same but remained behind y/n as she helped stabilize her neck with a c-collar after Maya checked for a pulse. 

With all the hands touching her, y/n started to stir awake, moaning in pain. “Shhh. Y/n, it’s going to be okay, just try to remain still for us.”

Hearing the familiar voice, y/n turned her head as much as possible with the collar on to the source. “Cap…” She whispered.

“Hey there, kiddo. You took quite a big hit. Andy and I are in the car with you. Can you tell me if you are in pain and where?” Maya scans over y/n as y/n thinks the question through. 

“Um. My head is pounding and the light makes it worse. Chest might be bruised… Maya…” y/n’s facial expression changes into a panicked one. 

“Y/n, what’s wrong?... Y/n talk to me…”

“...legs… I- I can’t feel my legs. Maya- no no…” Y/n begins to spiral as realization hits her. 

“Y/n, I need you to listen to me and breathe. We will figure it out but don’t focus on that right now. I need you to get your breathing under control.”

Warren assisted Travis in preparing the jaws of life while Maya focused on Y/N's immediate needs. Andy opened the med bag, retrieving equipment to monitor vital signs. 

"Y/N, I need you to stay with me. Andy's going to monitor your vital signs, and we'll make sure you're as comfortable as possible," Maya explained, her voice a steady presence in the chaos. “Nice deep breaths.”

Andy secured an IV line, administering fluids to address potential shock. Maya continued to assess Y/N's chest and abdomen, searching for any signs of internal injuries. 

"Good job, Andy. Let's keep an eye on those vitals. Y/N, I need you to let me know if anything feels off or if the pain increases," Maya directed, her focus unwavering. “Y/n pay attention to me. Eyes on me. We will worry about your legs when we pull you out.”

“Cap, my legs are everything. You know that.”

“I know, Y/n, I promise I know.” Maya is reminded of how soccer saved Y/N life and helped lift her from her rough past. 

As Maya reassured Y/N, the situation took a dire turn. A faint hissing sound emerged from beneath the wreckage, followed by the acrid smell of gas. Maya's heart sank as she realized the danger they were in.

"Warren, Travis, we've got a gas leak! We need to get Y/N out of here, now!" Maya's voice cut through the chaos, urgency evident in every word. With adrenaline coursing through their veins, the team intensified their efforts.

Travis and Warren redoubled their efforts with the jaws of life, while Andy swiftly prepared Y/N for extraction, mindful of the looming threat of fire. Maya coordinated the rescue operation with precision, her training kicking in as she assessed the risks and devised a plan.

Suddenly, a spark ignited the volatile atmosphere, and flames erupted, engulfing the front of the car. Time seemed to slow as panic surged through the team. Without hesitation, Maya made a split-second decision.

"Grab Y/N, we're getting her out, now!" Maya commanded, her voice unwavering despite the inferno raging around them. With synchronized movements, Andy and Maya carefully lifted Y/N, their actions swift yet deliberate.

“Stop it-it hurts! Maya, stop!” Y/n screamed and cried as her body was hastily carried out of the vehicle. 

“I’m sorry, Y/n but we need to leave now!” Maya screamed over the chaos. As they lifted y/n out and placed her on the stretcher, they ran as Vic and Jack foamed over the gas leak. 

“Leah… I was on a call with Leah before.” Y/n suddenly remembered having her girlfriend on the other end of the line before the crash. 

“Don’t worry, I will call her, right now.” Maya climbed into the back of the ambulance, her eyes never leaving Y/N. "You're doing great, Y/N. We're right here with you," she said, her voice filled with reassurance.

Andy followed suit, bringing the medical bag and equipment into the confined space of the ambulance. Y/N's eyes darted between Maya and Andy, seeking comfort in their familiar faces amidst the uncertainty.

“Speaking of the devil, Leah is facetiming me.” Maya says unlocking her phone but as the ambulance doors closed, Y/N's panic resurfaces. The confined space and the realization of the severity of the situation weighed heavily on her. "Maya, I can't... I can't breathe. It's too much," Y/N gasped, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

Maya quickly grabbed an oxygen mask from the medical bag. "Y/N, slow your breathing. This will help," she said, placing the mask gently over Y/N's face. "Deep breaths. In and out."

“What’s happening? Maya what happened to Y/n?!” Leah yelled through the phone panicked by Y/n’s panic. 

“Y/n look who I have on the phone, wanting to see you.” Maya tries to distract the woman in front of her. Y/n pauses for a second to see her blurred girlfriend on the screen.

“Baby, you’re going to be okay, Maya is with you and I am sure Carina will meet you in the hospital. I’ll be on the next plane over.” Leah reassured y/n. 

“Leahhh,” Y/n cried. “I can’t - can’t feel my legs. I’m so scared.” Leah pauses and a panic look crosses over her eye but she tries to remain as calm as possible. 

“Wait until the doctor’s check you out, it could just be from slight inflammation. Just focus on what Maya says. She is with you and looks like Andy is there too. You are gonna be fine, baby just remain calm.” 

“Leah, we are pulling into the ambulance bay in a minute so I am going to hang up and get her sorted for the medical staff. I’ll call you back as soon as I can.” Maya tells Leah knowing how protective she is of her girlfriend. With that Leah gives another word of love to Y/n before canceling the call. 

“I texted Carina as well, I am not sure if she’s in surgery or not but she’ll come to find us once she sees it.” Maya informs y/n knowing she is able to calm down more when Carina is around. “We are almost there, but it’s going to get chaotic. Just breathe, it’ll be alright.” 

The ambulance pulls up and doors open to reveal Amelia, Bailey, Kepner, Teddy, and Carina. 

“What do we have?” Bailey starts.

“23 year old female in a MVC, airbags deployed, head laceration, possible spinal injury, she says she can’t feel her legs. C-spine precaution taken. Y/n had two panic attacks already and is in pain but no pain meds given as unknown head trauma...” Andy trails off. 

“Alright, trauma 2.”

Y/n is rolled in as everyone takes on a role and several hands are trying to assess her injuries to the full extent. Y/n takes her deep breaths as she reminds herself they are here to help her. 

In the entrance of the room Maya whispers to Carina, “Carina, she said she can’t feel her legs. I tried to stay calm for her but it’s never good. She was freaking out…” 

A loud groan of pain takes them out of their moment as they see they have turned y/n on her side to check her back before placing her back down. Amelia does a head work up and then moves down to y/n’s legs. Carina steps closer to y/n for support as Amelia asks her if she can feel her touching her feet. 

“I can’t feel it.” Amelia moves up the leg and to the knee. “Nothing.” Amelia moves mid-thigh. “I barely feel that.”

“Okay, don’t worry, we will get a CT scan and check you out. Might just be inflammation on the spine that will go away.” Amelia reassured the girl Carina took under her wing. 

“And what if it doesn’t,” Y/n asks the question she knows the answer to. 

“Let’s see what the scans say and we will take it from there.” Amelia places her hand on Y/n’s hand but she pulls away. 

“I’m going to be sick.” With that, y/n turns her body as much as possible and only dry heaves. 

“Bambina, you are stressing yourself out. I know you are worried about playing soccer, hell even walking but one thing at a time. You can’t think of what ifs. I am here now. I will make sure things are in order. Maya and I will be there for you every step of the way. I am going to need you to practice the breathing exercises. I don’t want them to sedate you but if your panic gets in the way…”

“No, no I promise.” Y/n cuts her off and closes her eyes trying to regulate her breathing. The team talks to her about the next steps of imaging and makes her a priority case.

[magicfootballstuff]

Dirty Little Secret - part 2 (leila ouahabi x reader)

Summary: A love story about secrets, flirty messages, football rivalries, and useless lesbians who don’t know how to communicate. And it all starts with one badly timed challenge in the Champions League.

Leila Ouahabi x Arsenal!reader

Part 2/?

Read other parts here.

———

It’s strange the way that fate sometimes works.

You’d heard whispers that England would be hosting a mini tournament during the February international window in preparation for the Euros, even heard talk that Germany could be one of the potential opponents, but you didn’t really think much of the rumours at first. 

But not even two weeks after Arsenal’s second defeat to Barcelona and your little makeout session with Leila in a deserted equipment room at the Emirates, a public announcement goes out. England will host the Arnold Clark Cup in February, playing matches against Germany, Canada, and most significantly Spain.

You’ll get to see Leila again.

She messages you with a link to the announcement almost immediately, and it’s nice to know that her first thoughts are also about a reunion with you.

Leila See you soon! Already practising my slide tackles 😜

You smile to yourself and shake your head as you type out a reply.

You I thought we agreed there were better ways to get my attention?

You’re in the Arsenal gym with the rest of the team doing some conditioning exercises before you head out onto the pitch for training. It’s hardly the ideal place to start another flirty text exchange with Leila, but you can’t deny the fact that knowing you’re on her mind is nice.

Leila Like this?

Leila has attached a picture to her message and it’s bordering on obscene. It’s just a mirror selfie but Leila is wearing only a sports bra and a pair of Barcelona shorts that she’s rolled up at the bottom to make her already long legs seem even longer. In the picture she’s sticking out her tongue and throwing a peace sign but it’s her tanned abs that catch your attention.

Sparing a quick glance around to check there’s nobody close enough in the gym to see what’s on the screen of your phone, you zoom in, practically drooling at what you see.

She’s ridiculously attractive. Suddenly you regret not taking things further the other week at the Emirates. 

But at least the announcement of the Arnold Clark Cup means you’ll get to see her again sooner than you realised.

You Yeah, that works 🥵

Leila Your turn 😉

Here in the gym, there’s absolutely no way you’ll be able to take your top off and take a tantalising picture for Leila without getting absolutely rinsed by the girls.

You I’m in the gym

You try to make your excuses but Leila’s not letting you get away with it that easily.

Leila Mmm perfect

You definitely want to give Leila something in return, something to tease her and let her know you’re appreciative of the picture she sent that’s now permanently burned onto the inside of your eyelids. You just need a way of doing it that doesn’t alert the rest of your teammates to your new flirtationship.

“I need the bathroom,” you excuse yourself, and nobody pays you much attention as you leave the gym.

Once you’re alone in the bathroom, you remove your training top and take out your phone, before you stand in front of the sink and check out your reflection in the mirror. You try to find a good angle but it just feels awkward and there isn’t really a way to make a picture in a public bathroom sexy. But you tense your abs anyway and take a few photos of your reflection, trying and probably failing to smoulder at the camera.

You scroll through the results. It’s very hard to look at the pictures with anything other than mortifying shame, but you try to be objective. The lighting is unflattering, the toilet cubicles in the background ruin the sexy vibe you want to go for, but hopefully Leila won’t pay attention to that and will just appreciate that you’ve tried.

Before you can send one of the photos, the bathroom door crashes open behind you and Leah walks in, stopping in her tracks when she sees you.

“I was just…” you stutter, scrambling for an excuse to explain why you’re topless in the bathroom when you’re supposed to be in the gym. Improvising a lie, you continue, “My back was itchy so I just thought I’d check to see if I had a rash or something. Can you see anything?”

You turn to expose your back to Leah and you can tell from the reflection of her expression in the mirror that she doesn’t quite buy your excuses, but all she says is, “Looks fine to me.”

“Cool, thanks,” you reply, tugging your turquoise training top back over your head. “See you back out there.”

With your phone in your hand, you leave the bathroom, sending Leila one of the photos you took as you go.

She replies immediately with a single emoji.

Leila 🤤

You have absolutely no idea how you’re going to survive until February.

———

What you didn’t realise is that the Spanish team is also using St George’s Park as their base camp for the tournament. 

You discover this information in the food hall on the first morning of camp. The two squads are mostly kept separate, training on different pitches and sleeping in different accommodation blocks, but some of the communal areas on campus like the cafeteria and the recreational spaces are shared. 

As you go down to breakfast with Ella, who’s staying in the room across the hall from you, half the Spanish squad is already in the dining hall. The two teams seem to have segregated themselves pretty well, the Spaniards occupying one side of the hall while the few Lionesses who are already here have taken up places at tables on the other side.

You join the back of the queue for food and Ella greets the Spanish player in front of you, her Manchester United teammate Ona Batlle, with enthusiasm.

“Hey Ona!”

“Tooney!” Ona says, as both her and one of her Spanish teammates turn around at the sound of Ella’s voice.

And who just happens to be the teammate standing with Ona?

“Hey,” Leila says, a small smile just teasing the corners of her mouth upwards when she sees you.

“Alright,” you greet her, feigning polite indifference, as if you didn’t have your tongue in her mouth and her hands feeling you up under your shirt two months ago after the game at the Emirates. As if you don’t have a couple of borderline racy pictures of her saved on the phone that suddenly feels very heavy in your pocket.

“You two know each other?” Ella asks.

“We played against each other in the Champions League,” you’re quick to explain. “You know, that competition you don’t get to play in because you play for a shit club like United.”

“Hey!” Ella protests.

You grew up about ten minutes away from Ella, a couple of years older than her but moving through similar youth pathways until your journey took you south to Arsenal. She’s a diehard United fan, while your family’s loyalty lies with the blue side of Manchester, and the rivalry is a constant source of entertainment and banter between the two of you. 

It’s also a very easy way to distract Ella from more serious topics. Such as how you know Leila.

“United are not shit,” Ella insists. “Don’t forget who knocked you out of the Conti Cup.”

“Ouch, that one’s still sore,” you say, wincing at the memory of Arsenal’s defeat to Manchester United just a few weeks ago. 

“Well just remember that next time you think about chatting shit about United.”

You pick out some breakfast food from the serving counter and follow Ella to a table where Alessia and Georgia are already sitting. As you drop into an empty seat, your phone buzzes in the pocket of your shorts and you take it out to see that Leila has sent you a message.

Leila You look cute

You glance up, looking for Leila, and realise she’s positioned herself at a table across the room where she’s got a clear line of sight at you. She’s looking at you now, teeth digging into her lower lip as she waits for your reaction.

You look back down at your phone and type out a response.

You Stop looking at me like that

Leila Why?

You’ve completely tuned out the conversation at the table around you, entirely focused on Leila across the room and her messages lighting up your phone.

You Because now I want to kiss you

You watch Leila as she reads your response, and she looks from her phone back up at you, her eyes dark and her tongue darting out to moisten her lips, before she sends her next reply.

Leila Laterrrr

You Is that a promise?

Leila doesn’t reply, but every time you look up as you eat your breakfast, she’s watching you from across the room, and that’s enough of an answer.

Later can’t come soon enough.

———

Worked up from your impromptu morning flirtation with Leila, you channel all your sexual frustration into training. By the end of the morning, you’re exhausted but in a good way, and the reward of getting congratulated on a good session from Sarina as you head in for a shower makes it all worthwhile.

After having some lunch and a brief tactics meeting led by Sarina in preparation for your first game against Canada, the rest of the afternoon is for downtime. You’re slumped in a beanbag in the recreation room, watching Georgia get thrashed by Lucy at some shooting game on the PlayStation, when a small group of Spanish girls enter and make their way to a pool table at the back of the room. Leila is among them and she makes eye contact with you for just a moment as she passes. Her expression doesn’t change, but her gaze lingers for just a fraction of a second too long for it to feel like you’re strangers.

It feels like the air in the room has shifted with Leila’s presence. You can hear the Spanish girls behind you, arguing over something in words you don’t understand as the balls of the pool table clack against each other with every shot, but you can only think of Leila. You’ve spent months dreaming of being in the same country as her, let alone the same room, and the opportunity to actually have time to spend with each other instead of a quick ten minutes in a store cupboard or a flirty exchange of messages has seemed like a luxury you would never have.

Until now.

But you can’t exactly walk over to the pool table, grab Leila by the hand, and drag her to your room upstairs in front of teammates from both sides.

Or can you?

You’re getting restless in your beanbag when footsteps come up behind you and Leila walks past again, this time alone. As she opens the door to leave the room, she lingers, looking back at you and somehow beckoning you with just the look in her eyes. She disappears before anybody else can notice, and you think your self-restraint deserves a commendation because you manage to wait a whole forty-five seconds before you haul yourself out of the beanbag and make excuses that fall on deaf ears as the other girls celebrate Lucy winning yet another round against Georgia.

You slip out of the room almost unnoticed by everybody else to find Leila hanging around outside.

“I found a place,” Leila tells you, as she starts to walk away down the hall.

You chuckle in amusement at the image of Leila sneaking around St George’s Park on a recon mission to find somewhere private for a hookup, and follow just a few paces behind her, keeping enough distance between you so that it doesn’t look like you’re together, though luckily you don’t bump into anyone along the way.

She leads you to the media area of the building, which is thankfully deserted, and eventually pushes open the door to a large room that is used for press conferences, a long table in front of a sponsorship board at the front of the room and rows of chairs set up facing it. Leila turns to look at you, an expectant smile on her face and her arms outstretched.

“This is the place you found?” you ask.

“Uh huh. Look.” Leila walks past you to the door and reaches for the lock, which she twists with a click, before turning her attention back to you. “Now it’s private.”

Locked or not, it’s still a bit of a thrill to know that you could be caught at any moment, but you’ve been thinking about Leila’s lips since you last kissed her two months ago and all the teasing today has only worked you up further. You take a few steps forward, pushing Leila back against the door she’s just locked with a little grunt, your hands coming to rest on her hips.

“And what are we going to do with all this privacy?” you ask.

“I think you know what.”

“Show me,” you instruct Leila.

All you can think as your lips move against each other and your hands tug at clothing is finally.

———

Afterwards, you redress yourselves and try to look presentable - you’d really rather you kept this from your teammates for now and you definitely don’t want to announce it to them by re-entering the recreation room with tousled hair and dishevelled clothing. You pull your top back over your head, then use the front camera of your phone to check that your hair isn’t too messed up.

You glance across at Leila, who is doing the same thing nearby, and feel a fresh wave of attraction towards her as she runs her long fingers through her dark hair.

“We should do that again sometime,” you say.

“We should,” Leila agrees, with a smile.

And you do. It’s difficult, given the fact that you’re both busy with your separate preparations for the first games of the tournament and that there’s also the challenge of sneaking away without anybody noticing, but over the next two days you manage to rendezvous with Leila no fewer than three more times. 

When you’re not with her, you spend most of your time thinking about her - the taste of her lips, the way her hands feel on your body, the look in her eyes when she smiles at you. It’s probably not a good thing to be this distracted by an opponent while at camp but thankfully nobody seems to notice that your mind is wandering, nor that you keep sneaking away to meet Leila when you get downtime.

———

The first games of the Arnold Clark Cup - England versus Canada and Germany against Spain - take place in Middlesbrough. With travel both ways, an overnight stay in a local hotel, and the games themselves, it means you go almost thirty-six hours without seeing Leila.

That’s something that shouldn’t be a problem, but is. 

It’s crazy how in just three short days, most of which have been spent with your respective teams anyway, you’ve become dependent on those secret little meetings with Leila. 

You draw against Canada, playing the last ten minutes of the game off the bench, and if you’re in a bad mood on the bus back to St George’s Park the following morning, your England teammates think it’s just because you’re disappointed with your lack of minutes. 

You let them believe that, even though you know the whole point of this tournament is rotation and that you’ll get your chance to start in another game, and sit quietly with your headphones on and your head leaning against the window. You even try to convince yourself that that’s the problem, because the other alternative is admitting to yourself that you miss a girl you’ve been hooking up with for three days.

And so what if the only thing that puts you in a good mood is a message from Leila that says ‘Want to hang out later?’ that lights up your phone when you’re about thirty minutes away from returning to camp?

At least she misses you too.

———

The day before the game against Spain, you’re asked to do the pre-match press conference with Sarina and Leah. You sit at the front of a room that has become familiar to you over the last five days, being one of the regular spots that you keep returning to when you want some alone time with Leila, only this time it’s with your captain and your coach at your side and two dozen reporters all watching intently as they ask about your preparations for the biggest test England have faced so far under the new management.

“We know that Spain has a very distinct style of football,” Leah says, answering one reporter’s question about the opposition. “In some of our recent games - the World Cup qualifiers - we’ve been used to having a lot of possession and a lot of chances. But Spain likes to have the ball, they like to pass the ball around a lot, and we need to make sure we’re patient but also clinical in taking the chances we do get.”

“You’ll both be familiar with some of your opponents tomorrow from your recent Champions League games with Arsenal, but how do you prepare for coming up against star players like Alexia Putellas?”

Leah nods for you to speak and you give your answer.

“There’s no denying that Spain has a lot of quality all over the pitch,” you say. “They’re a team full of world class players. But these are the opponents we want to be playing against as we prepare for the summer. In order to be the best we need to test ourselves against the best.”

The next question goes to Sarina, and you lean back in your chair again as you listen to her response.

———

Later, you’re back in the press conference room, the door locked and the lights off, as Leila peppers your neck with kisses while her hands wander beneath the hem of your shirt and up your sides.

“You think Spain is the best?” she murmurs against the skin of your neck, her voice a low rumble that sends a shiver of arousal throughout your entire body.

Suddenly it all makes sense. No sooner had Leila got you alone and locked the door, did she steer you towards the table at the front of the room, where she pressed you into the exact spot where you sat a couple of hours earlier to speak to the media.

“You watched my press conference?” you ask, letting out a gasp as her teeth find a sensitive spot. 

Leila confirms with a hum.

“I think Spain is one of the best,” you clarify.

Pulling back from your neck to look into your eyes, Leila smirks and asks, “Do you think I’m the best?”

As she speaks, one of her hands toys with the elastic at the bottom of your sports bra.

“At this, yes. At football, I guess we’ll see tomorrow.”

Your teasing seems to be enough to satisfy Leila, who lifts your top over your head and captures your lips in another bruising kiss.

———

The game against Spain the following day finishes goalless. It’s not the result you wanted but the overall performance was good and you know there’ll be lots that Sarina will pick apart and ask you all to learn from the game.

Having been substituted off after around sixty minutes, you push yourself off the bench when the final whistle blows and wander back out onto the pitch. 

You shake hands with a few of the Spanish players and hug your own teammates, before finally going over to Leila, who greets you with a smile and wastes no time asking, “Can I get your shirt?”

“Normally when you want me topless, you take it off yourself,” you tease her, thinking about yesterday’s encounter in the press room as you remove your white England shirt.

She removes her own and whips your leg with it in retaliation for your teasing, before you both swap shirts. It’s cold and rainy and you don’t want to walk around in just your bra so you pull Leila’s jersey on, smoothing out the red fabric.

“Maybe I’ll take it back off you later,” Leila replies, her eyes raking down your body. “You look good wearing my name.”

The look in Leila’s eyes and the slight hint of possessiveness in her voice turns you on more than you’d care to admit.

Your mind is already running at a million miles an hour, playing out fantasies that involve Leila wearing nothing but your England shirt. You briefly wonder if there’s a hidden corner in this stadium, just like the closet you found at the Emirates, where you can show Leila exactly what the vision of her in your jersey is doing to you, but you know it’s an even greater risk here than it was last time.

The fantasies will have to wait for now. 

———

England wins the Arnold Clark Cup after beating Germany and while you’re delighted to get your hands on some silverware and know that it’s a promising sign ahead of the Euros in the summer, there’s a tiny part in the back of your mind that is sad that the international break is coming to an end.

Though you don’t want to admit it, you know that’s probably because of Leila.

You return to St George’s Park for one last night with a medal around your neck. Tomorrow, you go back to London and Arsenal, while Leila will fly back to Spain. Normality will resume and you know it’s unlikely you’ll see Leila again before the Euros at the earliest, when there will be more important things on your mind than hooking up.

But if you only have one more night with Leila, you want to make the most of it. Clearly she does too, because she messages you later that night asking to meet, and you sneak out of your room and down to the communal areas to meet her.

You don’t bother to look for any real privacy, instead taking your time with each other right there in the rec room. Your teammates are all asleep in their beds and now that the tournament is officially over, you don’t really care if you get caught anyway. A twisted part of you actually wants to get caught, wants somebody else to know that at least for these short ten days, Leila has belonged to you and you to her.

But nobody interrupts.

Afterwards, you dress again but instead of returning to your separate rooms, you end up on one of the beanbags together. Your head rests against Leila’s chest, rising and falling with each slow breath she takes, and her fingers play absently with your hair.

It’s perhaps more intimate than all of the actual sex you’ve been having over the last week and a half.

“This has been fun,” you murmur, though your words feel empty compared to the weight of how significant Leila has been to your life in recent days.

“It has,” Leila agrees, pressing her lips to the top of your head.

If the situation was different, if you lived closer together, you might ask Leila out. In all honesty, you haven’t actually talked much, partly due to the language barrier and partly because you’ve just wanted to jump straight to the physical stuff in the limited time you’ve been able to spend together.

Despite that, you’ve clicked with Leila in a way that feels special and you want to get to know her better. How does she take her coffee? Is she a dog person or a cat person? Stupid things like that but also what annoys her, what makes her laugh? What are her fears and ambitions?

Maybe you’ll never know those things.

You doze together on the beanbags, never quite fully drifting off to sleep but much more content in Leila’s arms than you would be if you returned to your empty bed. It’s only when the first glimpse of dawn starts to filter into the room that you reluctantly start to get up to return to your rooms before any of the other players from either team come down. 

You don’t know how to say goodbye so you don’t, parting ways with a silent hug that lasts an eternity but still isn’t long enough. It’s a goodbye that doesn’t quite feel final, but with a huge question mark hanging over when you’ll be able to see Leila again, or even if you’ll get that chance, it does feel like the end of something.

Whatever this has been between you, for now, is over.

[atlaslego]

<Type Atlas Unit 03 KAI (改) >

The KAI series will focus on modifying details with enhancing pieces usage. Compared to all the original, the KAI series will also be focusing on reconceptualizing them into specific roles in battle. The series will not cover all the units due to lack of pieces in specific colours.

Take Unit 03 as an example here, adding striking blues to make it look more vibrant. Changing shoulder and leg designs to reduce the bulkiness and increase the dynamics. Shoulder armours are modified with new movable shield with interchangeable attaching designs for weapons. Added in missile launch box at the back pack to increase the variety of arsenal choice.

Concept wise, completed removed close combat weapon like sword, instead, I reconceptualize this unit as a specialization for long range attack with riles, pistols, and missile along with enhanced defensive mechanism with over sized shoulder shield.

The presentation of post may vary thought out the series as I am playing around with some new equipments.

[yourhellishdaddies]

{How the boys react to you regressing! SFW edition.}

Notices it before you even do. Can sense you regressing like a service dog.

Gets super excited! He LOVES playing with you when you're little!

Will kneel down and take your hands in his, the sweetest smile on his face.

"Aw, are we feeling a tad small, baby duck? Do you want to play? Come on, up we go!"

Picks you up and carries you to your playpen, sitting you down and pinching your cheek. There are a myriad of toy ducks that he's made just for you scattered around.

Offers to pick out a comfier outfit for you, and dresses you.

"What would you like to wear, pumpkin? Oh, oh! How about your ducky overalls?"

Will play pretend with you for HOURS. He'll make snacks for the both of you to share and will bounce you in his lap.

Sad or upset? Lucifer has an arsenal of horrible jokes and visual gags to turn that frown upside down! Watch out for silly faces and tickles!

Feel like going out? How about a trip to the circus? He buys you all the sweetest carnival food and gets you the best seat for the show! OR! Creates his own circus for you! He's the ringmaster, and you're his assistant!

Gives you a nice, hot bubble bath after such a long day. Rubs your aching muscles with a sugar scrub, and washes your hair with apple scented shampoo. Then he'll wrap you in a big, fluffy towel and carry you to bed.

As soon as you look at him, he's patting your head and taking you by the hand, leading you to his radio tower.

Gives you a kiss on the forehead and asks if you would like a snack. You nod, thumb in your mouth. He gently removes your thumb, tutting you and giving you a plate of food instead.

"Here, darling, be a good child and eat the nice food daddy's prepared for you. You want to grow up big and strong, don't you?"

Has his shadow watch over you if he has to turn his attention to something else. You play peek-a-boo with it, giggling happily.

Gives you chores to do, and offers to do them with you if you're struggling with them.

Encourages you to brush your teeth after each meal.

"You must take care of your smile, dear. After all, you're never fully dressed without it!"

Shows you his radio equipment and how it works, and even offers to let you make a broadcast!

Dances with you while the radio plays his favorite music. He'll take the lead and spin you as much as you want!

If you're tired, he'll rock you in a rocking chair and sing to you quietly. The small, happy sounds you make soothe him and allow him to relax, nearly nodding off himself.

Doesn't notice at first. It takes you grabbing his coat tail and tugging on it gently, gazing up at him with big doe eyes.

When he realizes that you're little, he lights up and swoops you up in his arms, swinging you around while you giggle and kick your feet.

"Hey, kiddo! Need some daddy time? No problem, Vox has got you covered!"

Lets you sit in his lap while he works and will take frequent breaks to play with you.

Knows all of your favorite movies and shows by heart, and will watch them with you for as long as you want.

He even gets into them! He knows all the characters, the songs, and likes to talk to you about them.

Buys you toys of your favorite characters.

Is unsure of how to handle you whenever you become upset or cry, and has a habit of just plopping you in front of the TV.

When that doesn't work, he awkwardly picks you up and shushes you, patting your back and bouncing you in his arms.

"Hey, c'mon now sweetie, don't cry like that. Daddy Vox has got ya, alright?"

Is completely oblivious until you start to get whiny or shy. You may throw a stuffie at him to get his attention.

"Hey, what the fuck!? Oh, ohhh haha! Sorry squirt. Didn't realize you were regressed. Ya need something from daddy?"

Lets you eat ice cream for breakfast and plays with you all afternoon during your sugar high.

Teaches you how to play music, and introduces you to all of his favorite rock bands.

Writes songs just for you, and performs them whenever you're feeling down.

Dresses you in "cool" outfits, and shows you off to all the other angels.

"Ain't they the cutest lil shit you've ever seen?! Hah!"

Is surprisingly gentle with you when you're tired, talking to you in a soft voice and making sure you have your favorite stuffie.

Naps with you when you eventually crash. Holds you against his soft belly like a pillow. He's incredibly warm and wraps you in his wings protectively.

Can tell by your mannerisms when you've gone into little space.

Immediately melts and coos at you, putting you into a diaper and perhaps a onesie or a cute little outfit.

Look you over and hums approvingly, picking you up and cradling you, combing his talons through your hair.

"Oh, you're just too precious, my little owlet. I could eat you up~!"

Proceeds to pretend to eat your fingers and toes, relishing in your tiny giggles.

Takes you to the library in his palace, where there's a special play area just for the two of you.

"Would you like a story, starlight? Or perhaps you'd prefer a nap? We could also play house, of course!"

Will do literally anything you ask of him.

Has several deco pacifiers he's hand made personally for you.

Sings to you whenever you feel upset or scared, and even uses his magic to put on a little galaxy show.

Has learned from his mistakes with Octavia and does his absolute best to communicate with you on your needs.

[spirk-trek]

I always love when spock has to ask mccoy to help him understand his feelings for jim

now on ao3!

i'm so sorry to this anon who waited so long for me to finish this prompt *cries* i have never written anything from mccoy's pov and wanted to challenge myself... and oh boy, was it a challenge. i feel like it turned out kind of (very) boring and maybe not so good but i tried my best with something new!

~*~*~*~

Spock had cultivated an arsenal of excuses to get himself into sick bay when he didn’t really need to be. Some were more convincing than others, but over the years Doctor McCoy had come to consider himself a damn near expert at identifying them. At least, he eventually identified them. Once he managed to stop being annoyed. 

“What in the blazes- Spock! Get your hands off my equipment!”

“Doctor,” he greeted, raising a brow and pausing whatever the hell he was doing with several panels removed from the wall. McCoy stared at him, swelling with rage.

“I leave this room for one damn minute-!”

“Actually, you were absent for nine minutes, eighteen-”

“Dammit Spock,” McCoy gritted his teeth and begged whatever gods might be listening for strength. “ You have eighteen seconds to tell me what you’re doing before I tranquilize you.”

Spock’s mouth closed with a well-then expression, eyes widening just enough that McCoy might’ve felt accomplished if he didn’t have a six patient backup in the transporter room. He watched as Spock deposited the components onto an empty biobed- the only one remaining, mind you- and placed both arms behind his back to face the doctor squarely. 

“I am here to calibrate your newly installed biofilters to include the latest blood-type data sets.”

McCoy blinked, then helplessly gestured to the chaos surrounding them. “I'm a little busy here, if you hadn't noticed. Can it wait?”

“Hardly.”

He crossed his arms over his chest and squinted. Two can play at that game.  

“Medical equipment, eh? Since when are you our go-to guy for that?”

Both Vulcan brows eased their tension, rising to meet the dark curve of his bangs. “I am not. However, considering the fact you are currently treating Lieutenant Macsen, as an experienced science officer I am the most qualified individual to-”

McCoy groaned and uncrossed his arms to toss them at Spock impatiently. “Yeah, yeah, alright but-” he jabbed a finger at him. “But you're acting Captain now, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be on the bridge? ”

Spock’s eyes slipped away. It was only for a moment, but that was enough. Gotcha.

“The danger has passed,” Spock eventually answered, careful mask back in place. “I can be of assistance here.”

“You sure?” A smug grin was spreading over McCoy’s features. Spock tilted his head in consideration of him, likely knowing he was in trouble. Damn right. “So this ain’t just an excuse to check up on Jim, then?”

As if he had forgotten his excuse, Spock gathered several of the discarded components back in his hands, answering only once his back was turned. “I assure you, doctor, my only concern is the efficiency with which your facilities are capable of treating the biologically unique individuals awaiting care.” He paused, both his speech and his hands, which were simultaneously reconnecting a tangle of wires. His chin tipped back over his shoulder just enough for McCoy to see downcast eyes stuck to the floor. “It is a logical endeavor. There is no need to question it.”

McCoy set down his medical tricorder with a thud and glared at the back of Spock’s head. “Uh-huh,” he muttered, chewing the corner of his mouth. “Well, if you're not here to bother me, carry on with your ‘logical endeavor.’ Just make it snappy. I got patients to heal.”

He left the goddamned hole in his wall to do a lap around the med bay, asking after patient conditions and giving orders where needed. When he got back around to where he started, he was pleased to find the wall panels more or less back in place. He was even more pleased to catch Spock peering down the line of beds, even craning his neck to do so. Gotcha again.

He knew already, of course, which bed was the subject of Spock’s nosiness. Nurse Chapel was there, standing over an unconscious, battered, and idiotic (in McCoy's professional opinion) Captain James T. Kirk. The man looked downright pitiful with his uniform torn and bloodied, neck supported on either side by braces. 

I’ll be damned if I’m gonna say anything. He wants to know? He’s gonna have to ask.

Spock never asked, though. He suffered in silence, like a damn ascetic. The doctor sighed, knowing already he didn’t have this particular fight in him. Not now. Not today. 

“He’s gonna be alright, Spock. He’s had worse.”

At being addressed, Spock hastily resumed what appeared to be the last of his tinkering. McCoy watched him quietly, trying- unsuccessfully, as always- to read the unyielding Vulcan façade he so effortlessly constructed moment by moment. 

“I acknowledge that the Captain's injuries are not likely to be fatal.”

“More n’ not likely. He’s gonna live, and he’s gonna thank me for it.”

Spock said nothing, simply pressing the final strip of wall back into place. He slid his hand over the seam to ensure there was no protrusion before ultimately turning around to face McCoy again.

“Once more, my concern lies with the efficiency of the ship's functions. The Captain's well-being is, logically, a crucial component of that efficiency. Is that not correct, doctor?” 

McCoy scowled, not buying a damn word. He knew Spock wanted him to agree. To hand him his own excuse back on a silver platter. Not gonna happen.

“Well, if you were worried about him,” he cajoled, bouncing on the balls of his feet, "you might have a point. He took quite the beating down there.” 

Spock shifted, and another bolt of triumph shot through McCoy’s core. 

“It has been my experience that the Captain possesses a remarkable ability to defy all odds.” 

Leonard barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Sap. 

“Still. Haven’t you people ever heard of hand phasers? They have a couple hundred meter range, you know, but no. You just have to get up close n’ personal.”

Spock’s gaze hardened. McCoy knew that meant his bluff had been called.  

“Doctor. You have already indicated that the Captain’s injuries are not of long term concern. Are you rescinding that assessment?”

McCoy sighed, any remaining sense of accomplishment fleeing him. He was just about to damn his attempt at getting a proper rise out of Spock when he saw him turn a glance toward Jim’s vital signs, checking them. Not very Vulcan of you, he thought, even as a pang of pity won out over the desire to dig his thumbs in and yank.

“I, uh…” He sighed deeply and ran a hand through his hair, rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Listen, Spock. Since you’re here, I’ve been waiting what feels like a century to get my tricorders synced with the medical catalog we integrated from Nomalis III.” He looked at Spock pointedly before jerking his head in the direction of the storage cabinets. “Think you have time to get to them, too?”

He nodded once. “Certainly. I will assess their status presently.”

And if he noticed a stroke of gratitude in Spock’s immediate acceptance, he wasn’t about to claim responsibility for it.

*   *   *   *   *

Sometimes, the visits were shorter.

Leonard glanced up from his screen, raising a brow at Spock's unexpected presence on the other side of his automatic doors.

“Spock,” he greeted warily, one eyebrow raised. “You finally taking me up on that open nurse position?”

With a look he’d no doubt deny was annoyance, and a breath he’d definitely deny was a sigh, Spock placed his hands at the small of his back. “Negative, doctor. I require a medical examination for a minor injury sustained during our most recent expenditure.”

“You? Injured?” He set his PADD down and pushed it away, leaning over his desk toward the other. “I find that hard to believe.”

“It is a minor contusion,” Spock explained promptly. “I deemed it necessary to ensure my optimal functionality.”

The Vulcan presented his hand between them, fingers outstretched, a thin line of green wrapping around the palm and over his first knuckle. With a frown, McCoy stood and gestured for Spock to take a seat on the nearest biobed, coming to stand beside him as he snapped on a pair of gloves. He pulled the marked hand into the light, turning it at different angles. It was half healed at best, shallow at worst.

“You know, Spock,” McCoy murmured as he looked, “I don’t tolerate malingering.”

“Proof of my injury is visible, doctor. Or did your medical training not prepare you for superficial wounds?

“Ha ha,” McCoy deadpanned, noticeably less gentle as he flipped the hand back over and dropped it. “It’s already started healing, so I can’t use a stitcher. A treatment bandage overnight should do it, with that Vulcan metabolism of yours.” 

He busied himself with a nearby drawer, pulling the right type of bandage from its depths. Once he had Spock’s hand back in his, he cleared his throat and began wrapping it.

“You didn't come all the way down here for a papercut, did you?”

Steely blue eyes flashed upward, but Spock wasn’t looking down to meet them. McCoy rolled them instead, annoyance mounting.

“I discharged him twenty minutes ago, y'know.”

He refused to look up again when Spock’s posture went rigid, his fingers flexing unconsciously against his newly coiled bandage. To McCoy's shock, he didn’t even bother denying that’s what he was really after. 

“The venom was of an unidentified variety.”

“I identified it.”

“And his symptoms? They were-”

“Severe, yes. Keyword there being were .” He smirked, but Spock was still looking straight ahead. It quickly curled into a frown. “I healed him. That's what doctors do.”

Spock said nothing in response, though a crease appeared between his brows as he watched McCoy seal his bandage with a whirr of instrumentation. 

“Anyway,” he turned in his chair, wheeling to a shelf to pull out a bottle of pain capsules he knew Spock would refuse. “I confined him to quarters until morning, if that's what- hey!” The doors were swishing as he turned back around, and despite knowing he wouldn’t hear it, he still called after Spock bitterly.

“You’re welcome!”

*   *   *   *   *

Sometimes, the excuses weren’t really excuses at all.

“Doctor,” Spock greeted upon being let into McCoy's office. He blinked in surprise at the vision before him; Spock was pacing, hands clasped tightly behind his back, gaze down on the floor. He watched him take two trips from wall to wall before clearing his throat.

“Why yes, Spock?” he asked sweetly, batting his eyelashes to no effect.

“I have come to report increased stress levels, resulting in loss of sleep.” 

McCoy’s eyebrows shot up. He placed his resequencer aside, immediately forgetting whatever he’d been doing with it. It’d still be there later, but this. This, he had to hear.

“Stress, Spock? That doesn’t sound like you one bit.”

“Stress is a natural reaction to disturbed mental equilibrium.”

“Would you please stand still?”

The Vulcan froze in his tacks, looking down at himself as if he hadn’t even realized he was in motion until that moment.

“That’s better. Now, what is going on with you?”

Spock, for a moment, looked explicitly uncomfortable. The lines of Leonard's face ironed out in shock. That level of transparency was, in Vulcan terms, something like an outright confession. He might as well be singing Shakespeare from rooftops.

“I’m waiting,” he eventually probed when Spock didn’t answer, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair.

Spock shut his eyes. “Captain Kirk has recently… developed a closer association with a civilian on board.”

Oh. McCoy couldn’t help but smile, thinking of the pretty copper-haired thing he’d seen hanging off Jim’s arm that morning. And the morning before that. And the morning before that.

“Kaylia, right?”

“My concern ,” Spock continued as if McCoy hadn’t spoken, his eyes meeting some spot beyond them both, “stems from the potential risk such emotional entanglements pose to our current endeavor.”

McCoy’s smile curved into something dangerous.

“I see, I see… So, the Captain’s love life. That’s what’s stressing you out, is it?”

Spock’s jaw worked from side to side. “I fail to see the relevance of his personal relationships to my emotional state.”

And damn him, Leonard actually believed that. He leaned in, fixing Spock with an intense stare.

“Look, Spock. I'm a doctor, not a counselor, but I've seen the way you look at Jim.” He raised a hand when Spock opened his mouth, no doubt to deny it or try to explain the accusation away. “This ain’t just about the ship, or your current endeavor, or whatever the hell we’re calling it today.” When Spock didn’t answer, McCoy’s harshness receded slightly. He could feel it shrink within him, going from hot to cold in an instant. 

“There's something more there,” he continued earnestly. They were well past it being a question. It was a damn fact as far as he was concerned, and he was sick and tired of pretending it wasn’t. “Way I see it is, you may be a Vulcan, you may have even fooled yourself, but you're not fooling anyone else.” 

In the end, that got Spock’s attention. The dark eyes that swiveled down to meet his had a dangerous flicker to them. An ember he couldn’t help but stoke.

“I've known Jim a lot longer ‘n you have, and this? This ain’t about a single thing except you being jealous .”

Spock's mask wavered, another current of vulnerability passing over him like a spectre.  When he finally broke his silence, he spoke with a voice that was measured and low.

“That is a highly illogical hypothesis, doctor. I am not capable of experiencing jealousy, and even if such were the case-”

“Oh, cut the crap, Spock. I've known you long enough, too. You've got feelings, and they're more n' just friendly when it comes to Jim.”

Spock raised a brow, the barest hint of a frown crossing his features. 

“It is not… ‘crap.’”

“It is crap,” McCoy snapped, smacking an open palm against his desk. Spock stared at it stiffly. “Admit it, Spock! Seeing him with someone else is tearing you up inside." He narrowed his eyes, baring his teeth in a not-quite grin. Struck a nerve, did I? "How many days has it been since you slept, anyway? Have you gotten a wink since she walked onto this ship?”

“Your analysis is flawed," Spock spoke quickly, his speech pressured in a way the doctor hadn't heard before. "I am merely concerned with the Captain's ability to remain impartial. These matters often do not work out favorably.”

McCoy shook his head. “So, what? You’re worried she’ll break his heart?”

Spock didn’t react other than to pull his lips into a thin line.

“Ah, no. You're worried she won't.”

Spock was speaking again before McCoy had even finished accusing him, and if he had to give it a name he'd say he sounded downright irritated. Yeah, well, join the club.

“I am not governed by emotions. I am not worried, nor am I jealous-”

“Yes you are.”

“Furthermore, my feelings would be irrelevant regardless of-”

“Irrelevant my foot .”

A pause. “That doesn’t-”

“All’s I’m sayin’, Spock,” McCoy raised his hand and his voice to cut the other off, eyes screwing shut in his frustration. “You might want to face those feelings head-on before they gut you.”

They held each other's gaze for a prolonged moment, McCoy’s silent office beginning to feel heavier and darker than before.

“As you have already pointed out, doctor,” Spock spoke quietly now, the tide of irritation ebbing away. “You are not a counselor. I am here to seek a simple sleep aid, if one is available.” 

After several more seconds, Leonard finally broke their eye contact to slam a drawer open. He tossed the bottle of pills at Spock, who caught them with cat-like reflexes that annoyed him more than it should have. Spock held the bottle low and looked down at the capsules, watching them fall over each other as he twisted the bottle side to side. McCoy bit his tongue, waiting... and what’ll you know? It paid off for once.

“Suppose your hypothesis is correct,” the Vulcan eventually murmured without looking up. “What is the solution?”

McCoy blinked. “Spock.”

Only then did their eyes meet again. McCoy sighed.

“Emotions don’t have solutions. Alright?” A ripple of impatience pushed itself into a frown on Spock’s lips. “But,” he continued, “they do have causes. Usually, anyway. Is that- Does that make any kinda sense to you?” Spock nodded once, straightening his spine. McCoy considered for a moment, his lips pursed. “Jealousy, for example, is usually caused by…” He leveled a careful look at the other man. “Well, I don’t have to tell you. It’s biblical.” Seeing the bewildered expression beginning to take shape, he rushed to clarify. “A tale as old as time. You want to be in her place.”

Spock averted his gaze again, then shook his head once. “I do not.”

“I don’t mean you want to be a diplomat, or a pretty redhead, or on the mind of every man aboard this ship.” He let out a short huff of breath. “Just the one man, right? And he’s currently off on some observation deck somewhere…” McCoy trailed off when he noticed Spock’s hands flex around the bottle, taking a moment to send some irritated thoughts Jim's way. Blind, stupid idiot.

“Am I getting anything right, here?”

Spock rolled his shoulders. “This is… not my area of expertise.” 

“I know,” he said in a way he hoped was kind. He meant it to be kind, anyway. “Like I said, there ain’t a solution to feelings, but... In this situation, there are a few outcomes. And outcomes are sorta like solutions, right?”

Spock opened his mouth as if to disagree, then shut it again and gave a curt nod.

“Right. Okay. So,” he held one hand up as a visual representation, “one outcome is, you keep doing what you’ve been doing. Hope it goes away, hope each beautiful woman that comes along never stays too long. Hope you can keep ignoring it forever, and hell, sometimes that’s what it takes.” He took a deep breath, allowing his lungs to fully empty again before pressing on. “Sometimes, though,” he raised his other hand, looked at it as if he was actually holding something suspended in the air, “it never goes away. It just becomes… different. Sometimes better, sometimes worse.”

He fixed Spock with a severe look before dropping both hands back to his desk.

“And since you can’t know, there’s no way to know- well, that’s why us humans decide to do something about it to find out.”

Spock remained perfectly still until he swallowed, throat bobbing with what looked like effort. 

“‘Something’ is vague terminology,” he pointed out, deadpan. “Clarify.”

McCoy flipped his restless hands skyward. “Well, we talk. Ask questions we don’t know the answer to.” A gradual smile broke across his lips. “Kiss each other, maybe, if the moment’s right.” 

Spock looked more uncomfortable than McCoy had ever seen him, but he couldn’t even enjoy the blotches of subtle green that bloomed over both cheeks because of the pit of worry weighing down his stomach. Damn.

“You are saying," Spock began to summarize slowly, "that my options are to continue attempting to suppress my emotions… or to inform Jim of them.” The green in his face darkened as McCoy nodded. “I admit, I do not favor either prospect.”

The doctor chuckled, but it sounded hollow. “Yeah. One of the scariest things in the world, tellin’ someone who’s important to you that…” He looked Spock up and down. “Well. That they’re important.”

The Vulcan remained silent, finally opening the pill bottle and rolling two tan colored capsules into his palm before looking up at McCoy again.

“Thank you, doctor,” he said simply, and the words held a tightness to them so poignant McCoy couldn’t think of a single thing to say as he watched Spock take his leave. 

The next time he or Jim tried walking into his office to worry about the other one, he was gonna lock them in a conference room somewhere, even if it meant crashing the whole damn ship. And he was gonna demand a drink first.

[margaretoakgrove]

HEISENBERG'S METAL ARMY

● HAULER

Mutant corpses revived by the Cadou parasite, the Haulers were modified by the vengeful engineer Karl Heisenberg, using electrodes from attached headgear of his own creation to stabilize their neural activity. Despite the 1.01s having combat capabilities that's virtually non-existent, the Haulers were repurposed as slaves that serve as workers and low-level guards under Heisenberg's control.

Humanoid appearance

Surgically mounted headgear

Capable of wielding handheld weapons with accuracy

Ashen complexion

Limited mobility, slow moving

Moderate intelligence

Heightened aggression

Moderate physical strength, durability and endurance

Crystallization of cellular structure after death

● SOLDAT EINS

Empowered by the mutagenic Cadou and industrial technology, the Soldat Eins were the basic grade of soldier from Lord Heisenberg's army of mechanized corpses. A more proficient machine of murder thanks to its Cadou Control Reactor and weaponized prosthetic, the Eins series would be the first of many variants to utilize the dead for the Village Lord's vendetta.

Humanoid appearance

Surgically mounted headgear

Exposed reactor replacing heart

Singular arm replaced with mechanized industrial drill implant

Ashen complexion

Limited mobility, slow moving

Moderate intelligence

Heightened aggression

Heightened physical strength, durability and endurance

Crystallization of cellular structure after death

Detonation of reactor core after sustaining significant damage

● SOLDAT ZWEI

An upgrade to the Soldat Eins bioweapon, the Zwei series were augmented with dual industrial-grade drills to remove the weakness of their necrotic flesh. With their Cadou Control Reactor relocated to a less conspicuous spot on their patchwork body, a single Soldat Zwei is capable of annihilating multiple targets endowed with the mutant parasite in a singular minute.

Humanoid appearance

Surgically mounted breathing apparatus

Exposed reactor replacing heart relocated to upper back

Both arms replaced with mechanized industrial drill implants

Ashen complexion

Limited mobility, slow moving

Moderate intelligence

Heightened aggression

Heightened physical strength, durability and endurance

Crystallization of cellular structure after death

Detonation of reactor core after sustaining significant damage

● SOLDAT JET

A flight-based variant of the Soldat Enhancement Development Project, the Jet series were developed for more mobile soldier amongst Lord Heisenberg's mechanized army of the undead. Equipped with rocket engines and head stabilizing wings, the Soldat Jet's three-dimensional maneuverability can get across even the most rugged terrain in combat deployment.

Humanoid appearance

Equipped with crude armor-like scrap metal encasing upper body

Equipped with rocket engines and head stabilizing wings for flight

Exposed reactor replacing heart

Both arms replaced with mechanized industrial drill implants

Capable of short distanced aerial attacks

Moderate intelligence

Heightened aggression

Heightened physical strength, durability and endurance

Crystallization of cellular structure after death

Detonation of reactor core after sustaining significant damage

● SOLDAT PANZER

An armored mutant from Lord Heisenberg's Soldat Enhancement Development Project, the Panzer series were engineered as soldiers with absolute protection against conventional firearms. Encased in full-body aluminum alloy armor, the Soldat Panzer are formidable bioweapons amongst Heisenberg's arsenal with their unyielding defense and overwhelming destructive power.

Humanoid appearance

Exposed reactor replacing heart

Overall body encased in crude armor-like aluminum alloy

Both arms replaced with mechanized industrial drill(s) implants

Ashen complexion

Limited mobility, slow moving

Moderate intelligence

Heightened aggression

Heightened physical strength, durability and endurance

Crystallization of cellular structure after death

Detonation of reactor core after sustaining significant damage

● STURM

A prototype Soldat-based bioweapon developed by Lord Heisenberg, the Sturm's turbo-prop aircraft engine in place of its torso makes it an unbeatable force through head-on confrontations. Deemed a failure due to its uncontrollable nature and self-destructive capabilities, the Sturm was instead utilized as a subterranean executioner for Heisenberg's factory.

Humanoid appearance

Surgically mounted turbo-prop engine to upper body

Exposed reactor replacing heart

Loss of hands and forearms due to oversized propeller

Low intelligence

Heightened aggression

Superhuman physical strength, durability and endurance

Crystallization of cellular structure after death

Detonation of reactor core after sustaining significant damage

[redd956]

Favorite Discovery/Character Plot Twist Tropes

When the character gets injured, they go to their friends, hands covering a spot on their face. Once they pull their hands the metallic underneath of Character's face is revealed.

Character group is surrounded by enemy force. Character A stands up to reveal their part of enemy force, and demand their colleagues to relax.

Character knows language they shouldn't.

In a tough and desperate situation, the character stands up and finally casts magic, revealing their nonhuman touch.

Character in great pain has to remove a covering or article of clothing, unveiling a hidden injury or set of old scars.

When an exorcist or religious type character accidentally hurts another character with their equipment. Then there is a slow realization that maybe Character B isn't who they thought they were.

A shapeshifter forced to unveil their true selves.

Veteran/dangerous character ending up in a situation were their strange arsenal of knowledge and unusual athleticism shows a lot more about them than they expected.

Betraying character hurting someone else, leaning in, and whispering their true intentions

Character of a particular gender identity finally coming out, or being figured out.

[mushangaa]

Guarded

2024/01 (full view)

It started as a bit of practice for light. And then it dealt me emotions. Donatello "it is 3am and if you disturb my twin or come any closer I will remove every bone from your body." Hamato Also wrote a lil something while I was at it, mind, English is not my native tongue.

Leo had finally settled down, thank spirits for small mercies. He contemplated turning down the brightness of his phone screen, but then thought better of it. Leo had fallen asleep in spite of it, and this fragile peace was a hard won battle. Changing any variable of this moment might disturb him, so Donnie settled in for his eyes hurting in the morning and his back aching fiercely.

But he already had committed to a rough night if it only allowed his twin some respite from everything, might as well own it. The main issue was, there was no escaping anything else looming at the edge of his mind and everything beyond their door. Should’ve grabbed his headphones beforehand.

The house was too quiet. That in itself was the biggest giveaway how messed up things were, honestly. The silence was pressing on his ears like he owed it money and he did not care for its insistency to make itself known.

Their house was never quiet. Seven people under a roof- eight, he amended – it should not be like this. But ever since the accident the floor was made of eggshells, the walls padded in cotton.

No giggles that heralded a badly, albeit successful, late night cookie heist. No familiar snoring two doors down. Not even faint noises of a punching bag down below about to meet its maker under the relentless pounding of fists – honestly, that would’ve been a comfort if he at least heard that.

The TV was silent too and wasn’t that telling? That his father did not even dare to escape the tension in the droning of some nonsensical TV drama? Daylight wasn’t better, feet that normally raced down the halls, now tiptoed lightly, as if one misstep could bring the whole house down – maybe it would. And then there was the stranger in the room across from theirs. He wore his twins face, but he looked so worn and tired and had a hard time meeting their eyes.

That was what bothered Donnie the most, honestly. Because he was proof that things would go from bad to worse if coming back to this moment in time became a necessity to change course of whatever path he had to go down to get to this point. Donnie was already, even if he hated admitting it, woefully out of his depth. He could fix and repair a lot of things. There was nothing in his arsenal equipped to fix any of this. Not that would stop him from trying, mind, but given that there was a stranger just across the hall, that had his brothers face, meant he had failed the first time around.

But he would not do so a second time. Learn from the mistakes of the past, why not apply it to mistakes of the future too, now that they stared him so blatantly in the face across the breakfast table each morning?

He just had to do better than whatever other version of him had done. No problem. He can improvise, he can adapt.

And if that means to go beyond his usual modus operandi and gather up his twin, glue himself to his side and hold him all through the night and beyond that, despite his own misgivings of prolonged physical contact, just so he could get finally some sleep, then this is what it will be. There was no way to get back the pieces of Leo already lost to the accident; he would come out the other side of this mess changed. But he would come out of it. Donnie would see to it. And Donnie would not allow his twin to stray further and become a stranger in turn. Over his dead body.

[raccoonfallsharder]

Window Across the Galaxy ✧*:･ﾟupdated 1/9

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 24/27 chapters | wip| word count: pending. ♡ check the masterlist for expected updates ♡ ♡ see the "holiday special" ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ Winter Across the Galaxy * ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ [new 12/5] ♡

girl falls first; racoon falls harder.

When Rocket enters their new bunk, Jo’s sitting on the floor: leaning against the edge of the bed, working diligently on some kind of woven thing. It’s a tapestry of sorts, the threads and flosses all hand-laced together. She’s put most of her tools and equipment in a closet down the corridor, and she takes them out when she’s practicing a new skill or brushing up on old ones, working on these little low-cost, low-sentiment projects that are the only ones she’ll take on board, and only for a few days at a time. She pulls out her little tools and supplies, and sits on the floor in the common area or — now, apparently — in their new bunk. She works, and then she packs up all her small things, and she takes them back out and tucks them out of sight in the closet once more. The idea of it gets under his skin, to be honest. A closet. Jo’s been shrinking her life ever since she met him, and he should probably back up out of it before he makes things worse — but it’s too late for that now. He’s too greedy to do it, even though he knows he should. And besides — if he’s pretending to be altruistic — he’d promised to not run her off. So instead, he decides he’s gonna focus on making sure she puts her name on every goddamn surface she can, everywhere they go.

[NEW 1/9] ✧･ﾟ:*Chapter XXIV. Space Would Be Better. in which Rocket ~ discreetly ~ claims the title of boyfriend. ❤︎❤︎

this was originally the last half of Chapter XXIII (the previous chapter) so if it starts a bit rough, i'm so sorry. as a result, we do jump into some smut pretty quickly in this chapter so if you need to, make sure to check out the warnings in the closing notes. i'm really excited about the next chapter, too! which is less smutty and more feelings-ish. ~♡

explicit lines or references* abbreviated explicit sequences ❤︎ detailed/prolonged explicit sequences ❤︎❤︎

General summary/notes + links to recently preceding chapters behind the cut.

let me know via comment, message, or ask if you'd like to be added or removed from my fanfic taglist ♡

Rocket is captured by a Ravager crew hoping to get rich off the excessively large bounty on his head. Throwing a wrench in everyone’s plans is the Terran girl they hired to do some freelance assessing on a recent haul of goods they’ve seized from a Xandaran luxury liner. Oops.

slight AU starting pre-GOTG volume 1 (but will hit most of the same major plot points). slow burn + eventual smut with a lot of pining in the middle. kinda enemies-to-lovers? (but only one of these idiots thinks they're enemies).

let me be real with you: this fic is really about wish-fulfillment. not just the eventual smut (but that too). mostly i just want someone to be nice to my best boy raccoon

*･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:*✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*

Chapter I. A Delicacy. in which our reluctant heroes meet atop a crate of Sovereign porn in the bowels of a Ravager ship.

Chapter II. Monster For A Pet. in which one hero wrestles with his inner Groot, and the other is quite possibly a moron.

Chapter III. A Kindness. in which Rocket gets in his own damn way: not for the first time, and certainly not for the last.

Chapter IV. Got There First. in which our heroes obtain an arsenal and street food.

Chapter V. Things No-One Has Said Before. in which one hero refuses to babysit and the other refuses to leave.

Chapter VI. Two and a Half Billion Units.in which we lean into the “they were roommates” trope. Jolie has misgivings, while Rocket has fantasies - about getting rich, of course.

Chapter VII. I'm Here. in which we visit Knowhere.

Chapter VIII. The Care & Feeding of Human Pets. in which our heroes practice breathing and we lean into a new trope: “there was (technically) one bed.”

Chapter IX. Scrapmetal and a Dream. in which we redefine homemaking.

Chapter X. Thin Fucking Ice. in which our heroes get fucked. Not in the good way.

Chapter XI. Let It Be. in which Xandar is saved and good lives are lost.

Chapter XII. So Much It Hurts. in which we try not to fuck up the vibes.

Chapter XIII. Don’t Wait. in which a lost sister is found and Drax grapples with the concept of sarcasm.

Chapter XIV. Exactly Like a Flower. in which comfort is shared.

Chapter XV: Galaxy-Breaking Shit. in which more comfort is shared, and life is good. Briefly.

Chapter XVI. Run. in which Rocket falls victim to his superstitions.

Chapter XVII. A Seedling. A Fox. A Little Girl. in which the party is divided.

Chapter XVIII. I Happen to Know a Guy. in which our heroes get fucked. Again. Still not in the good way.

Chapter XIX. He Was Loved. in which a planet is killed, a friend is made and lost, and nobody still has any frickin’ tape.

Chapter XX. Some Nerve. *in which an ultimatum is given.

Chapter XXI. I Very Still. ❤︎❤︎ in which our heroes get fucked. In the good way, this time. Finally.

Chapter XXII. Got There Worse. ❤︎❤︎ in which Rocket does not say "I love you."

Chapter XXIII. We're Gonna Need a Bigger Table. ❤︎ in which the galaxy continues to spin.

Chapter XXIV. Space Would Be Better. ❤︎❤︎ in which Rocket ~discreetly~ claims the title of boyfriend.

Chapter XXV. Little Love Stories. *

Chapter XXVI. Other Side of the Window. ❤︎

Chapter XXV. The Most Beautiful Thing in My House. ❤︎❤︎

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙ Winter Across the Galaxy * ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆ A Holiday Special *

Epilogue: Interviewing Rocket & Jo. ten years after Window ends. short/drabbly, silly fluff.

explicit lines or references* abbreviated explicit sequences ❤︎ detailed/prolonged explicit sequences ❤︎❤︎

taglist ♡ @evolvingchaoswitch ♡ @wren-phoenix ♡ @pretty-chips ♡ @suicidalshitstick ♡ @glow-autumz

[the-might-v]

Raine Whispers

The bat. A legend, myth, story but one the empire society doesn’t take to kindly a liking. Before all this legend was Raine Whispers, a great witch a lover of the Brads with great dreams of their own. Inspired by a old flame’s courage they became

THE BATS

By the day Raine uses their position within the society by nightfall THE BATS takes to the streets of the demon/human realms striking the corrupt wherever it hurts. The empire views Batman as a problem for their inspiration of growing rebellions attacking the empire’s society. This makes the BATS the most dangerous obstacle the empire needs to and will use any means to rid off.

Powers

Bard Tune: Raine use of bard magic allows them to sound in many different ways this can be generated through their own whistling, use of instrument, or vibrations. As Batman, they use this ability in the following.

Locking picking: Batman is a master escape using the Bard's Tune can feel the correct sequence needed to pick through locks through vibrations.

Echo location: Batman’s whistle can create an echo map detail view through its mask which, makes it easier to search for small details one would normally miss.

Intimidation: being able to change the voice allows Batman to add more fear into their victims.

Vibration location Investigation: similar to echo location, vibration location allows BATS to pick up on other vibrations from other groups.

Sound stealth: Bats can tune the sound of their own body to cancel out other sounds made by movement to create excellent sneak attacks.

Equipment

BAT SUIT: The costume Raine wears is a well designed made of composed fabrics with spider slick thread and small titanium mineral. It offers flame protection with insulation, bulletproof and magic protection to prevent its removal.

Like most of Raines tools it requires a specific sound frequency only Raine can produce to remove its mask. The suit holds a hidden compartment of lock picks located in BATS reinforced gloves & boots, for escaping out of bounds. As well as offers muscle increase.

Sound-plugs on the tips of BATS finger-gloves can record conversations from inside off another room by merely making contact with it’s surface. They can also be used to distribute a back-blast of distorted sound to leave enemies confused.

Utility belt: is a yellow belt which holds several gadget devices as well as a multitude of arsenal weapons for BATS. The compartment with the belt holds a small extra spacial space which allows item to be stored in a much bigger space from within. There are over 142 different items with Batman’s belt.

Batarangs: the main combat weapon of BATS arsenal. These bat shaped blades are electrically or sonically charged, while others are explosive. They even carry batarangs that are made of different metals that can disrupt the presence of ghostly entities, magical creatures, and even break enchantments.

BATS Mask: BATMAN's mask can change their voice, mask it through filters so it can't be traced to the original. As well as send small EMP distortions to throw off facial software programs away.

Weakness

Raine is a normal witch without the suit and is vulnerable just as another without its protection.

Sound cancellation: because of the suit’s unique design set up, if Raine Is trapped in a sound proof area then it will render most of the suit’s ability’s useless.

[etes-secrecy-post]

Hi, before I explain my post, I want to say something important.

• What you see my blog has become a major overhaul. And despite the changes, I decided that my 2nd account will be now my artwork blog with a secret twist.

⚠️NEW RULE! (W/ BIGGER TEXT!)⚠️

⚠️ SO PLEASE DO NOT SHARE MY 2nd ACCOUNT TO EVERYONE! THIS SECRECY BLOG OF MINE IS FOR CLOSES FRIENDS ONLY!⚠️

• AND FOR MY CLOSES FRIENDS, DON’T REBLOG IT. INSTEAD, JUST COPY MY LINK AND PASTE IT ON YOUR TUMBLR POST! JUST BE SURE THE IMAGE WILL BE REMOVED AND THE ONLY LEFT WAS THE TEXT.

⚠️ SHARING LINKS, LIKE POSTS, REBLOG POSTS, STEALING MY SNAPSHOT PHOTOS/RECORDED VIDEOS/ARTWORKS (a.k.a. ART THIEVES) OR PLAGIARIZING FROM UNKNOWN TUMBLR STRANGERS WILL IMMEDIATELY BE BLOCKED, RIGHT AWAY!⚠️

😡 WHATEVER YOU DO, DO NOT EVER LIKED & REBLOG MY SECRET POST! THIS IS FOR MY SECRET FRIENDS ONLY, NOT YOU! 😡

Okay? Capiche? Make sense? Good, now back to the post…↓

#OnThisDay: Jun 24th, 2017

Title: Cuteness Member - Munchy Beaver

We'll meet other members from the (child-friendly) show "PB&J Otter" from the likes of Flick, and otter siblings; Peanut and Jelly Otter, soon. But for now, here's Munchy Beaver 🪵🦫 in his AU from enrolling the "Cuteness Defender Academy", with his first "Cuteness Mecha Armor" was the "Buster"! 🤖😁

Buster Munchy Based on: GAT-X103 Buster Gundam [CLICK ME!]

Armament(s):

350mm Gun Launcher • Mounted on the backpack and carried in Buster's right hand when in use. It is a projectile weapon akin to a railgun or linear gun, which uses electromagnetic forces rather than gunpowder to launch its projectiles. In addition to solid shells, the gun-launcher can also fire specialized munitions such as armor-piercing and high explosive rounds.

94mm High-energy Rifle • Mounted on the backpack and carried in Buster's left hand when in use. It is a beam weapon similar to the beam rifle, and is the highest caliber energy rifle among those used by other units in the G Project. Its destructive power is above a battleship's beam cannon despite its smaller size.

220mm 6-barrel Missile Pod • The Buster is equipped with two 220mm 6-barrel Missile Pods, one in each shoulder, allowing the suit to fire a rain of missiles to destroy enemy units or to stop them from moving closer.

Anti-Armor Shotgun • When the High-energy Rifle and Gun Launcher combine, with the Gun Launcher on the front, it forms a very powerful shell-firing Anti-Armor Shotgun. It fires a single stream containing multiple shells that later splits apart, resulting in a scatter shot that damages a wide area. It appears that about four or five shells fired from the Anti-Armor Shotgun is enough to destroy some battleships.

Hyper Impulse Long-Range Sniper Rifle • When the High-energy Rifle and Gun Launcher combine, with the High-energy Rifle on the front, it can form a Long-Range Sniper Rifle. This beam cannon type weapon has a very high energy output, firing a larger beam that is capable of penetrating several targets, including battleships, making it the strongest weapon in the armored Buster's arsenal. As the name implies, it also features sniping capabilities due to the longer range of the beam. Although the combined forms has higher power, the rate of fire is decreased.

Special Equipment/Feature(s):

Phase Shift armor • The Buster is equipped with phase shift armor. When activated the Buster's color is changed from a light grey to a true color form. Phase Shift armor, when activated, renders the Blitz immune to physical attacks such as bullets, solid handheld blades, or against missiles. However Phase Shift armor continually drains the battery of energy, shortening the "CMA" suit's combat endurance, and uses up additional energy when it is hit.

Munchy Beaver - PB&J Otter © Disney, Jim Jinkins Armor (Mobile Suit Gundam SEED) - Gundam series © Bandai Namco Filmworks, Inc. (SUNRISE), Sotsu

[cryopathiic-a]

In that part of the series where Akaza tells Douma to not touch him, and he responds with that iconic expression, do you think he was upset or maybe just shocked?

// Neither, if I'm honest, but that also depends on interpretation. I write Douma as someone who isn't inherently violent or prone to violence. But he is cruel. And his behavior towards Akaza, to me, demonstrates that. So! Let's dissect the anime version of the scene together :D ( because it's easier and because I prefer the artwork OAWIEFJA )

Douma took the second spot from Akaza in spite of being 1/3rd of his age and not remotely as skilled with martial arts or as diligent as a Kizuki. That's a huge blow to Akaza's ego. So Akaza is, predictably, very sour about it and Douma knows that he hates him and doesn't respect him at all. Hell, Akaza is even aloof towards other demons and prefers the company of humans ( RED FLAG!!! ) That's what at the foundation of their interaction. And when approaching him, Douma knows all of this. He might lack empathy but he's not stupid.

Now, a part of the fandom argues that Douma just wanted to make friends here. And in part I do subscribe to the idea, in the way that this is Douma's only way of trying to connect with others. But, there's two points I'd like to make that paint this interaction in a different light, because to me it's not as innocuous as it seems.

Douma has essentially never been treated as if he's on the same level as others and has learned to present a superificially kind and amicable face. In the cult, as the Lord Founder, Douma is always in control of his interactions with the cultists, whose lives he believes he is 'saving' by putting them out of their misery; so that tells us how he views other people in relation to him. He feels entitled to control their fate.

Here we can make the argument that Akaza is not a human, but a demon, and so Douma should view him as more of an equal in that regard. But Akaza is, undoubtedly, the Kizuki with the most humanity left in him. And that both draws Douma in ( his whole story is a quest for his own humanity, after all ) and repulses him at the same time ( because he views humans as pitiful and weak minded )

Watch how Douma gets all up in his face. His hold on Akaza is very oppressive. That could also be blamed on his poor understanding of personal boundaries, demonstrated by how quick he is to invade others' space ( grabbing Gyokko's head, hugging Shinobu, touching Akaza ) And there one could make the argument that Douma is a child who hasn't been handled properly by his parents and thus wasn't taught boundaries or is affection deprived.

There's probably a hint of truth to all of that. But what matters is the end result. Akaza asks him to remove his hand, first under his breath. Then, Douma turns around with an air of 'you had something to say to me shortie?'—

And to me that face confesses to what the true intention is. His smile does not reach his eyes. His gaze is gleaming. His eyebrows are raised in a mocking fashion. Bro looks like he's about to lick him. And everyone knows Akaza is notoriously reactive, so that face might as well have secured Douma the punch.

And, if I haven't convinced you about what this bitch is doing here, he goes and makes this face and his eye crinkles mischievously—

So that's where the inconsistency between what Douma says he is/wants and what he actually is/wants begins. Yes, I do believe Douma wants to make friends and I do believe he craves to relate to others and experience the full spectrum of sentiment. But he goes about it in dysfunctional ways, because that's all he's equipped with. His arsenal includes gaslighting and manipulating others, as well as provoking reactions out of them. It's not necessarily violent, but it is cruel. And sadistic towards Akaza, frankly, because he proceeds to heal the blows immediately in front of everyone and humiliate him in that way by making him look comparatively very weak.

TL/DR: To me it reads as a smug look. He's not upset, he probably expected the reaction, hell, even hoped for it. That's not to say it was done out of pure sadomazochism, because Upper Two is more complex than that. Douma does crave intense physical experiences, specifically pain. It's all part of his quest to feel something. I can imagine Akaza's punches are on the higher end of the pain spectrum, too. But, personally I do believe that Douma stands by his word here that this is 'how you nurture friendship' in his mind. With cruelty, which is the only way he has ever experienced human interactions by that point.

You know, in the same fashion as a kindergartener would pull another kid's schoolbag open to make friends. Or yank their hair. Or steal their lunch and run around the hallway laughing with it.

Kids can be strangely cruel, at times.

[theculturedmarxist]

It is striking to see how politicians, pundits, the press, and even key figures discuss the obvious trajectory of what Israel is doing to Gaza and its population. “Humanitarian crisis” winds up being inadequate since it averts attention from the deliberate steps Israel is taking to make living in Gaza untenable. “Genocide” is more apt but without describing the clear program Israel is launching, it can be depicted as overwrought.

Israel will reduce Gaza to a place where it is impossible to live, at least until if and when Israel decides to decides to repossess it bit by bit and rebuild. It is indifferent to the question of whether neighboring countries will relent in the face of escalating starvation, dehydration, and disease and take Palestinians in. It just wants them dispatched by whatever means necessary.

Israel plans first to reduce Gaza to rubble, as anyone could see when it started bombing apartment buildings on an indiscriminate basis. The excuse is it needs to do that as a preliminary to a ground operation to rout Hamas from the underground tunnels that survive the bombing campaign. Note military experts such as Scott Ritter have said that any clearing operation in Gaza would be a dangerous and high-casualty enterprise even for a military with the right equipment and equipment, and the IDF is not that. More important, Ritter and others have argued that the destruction of the buildings is likely to make any effort to wipe out the Hamas forces in Gaza more difficult.

So one has to question the military justification, particularly since there are also commentators who are arguing that the Israeli government is now in an internal debate over the invasion plan, given its high risks and certain high costs. Or this may be a function of poor planning:

The pretext is that Israel needs to be Doing Something and needs more time to prepare, not just because the ground operation hasn’t been sorted out, but also because Iran cleared its throat and said it would intervene in that event. And the Arab world + Iran is largely sitting on its hands as the building destruction proceeds apace.1

The latest Seymour Hersh article describes the current Israel plan, which again could be inferred from actions and other statements. But Hersh usefully gets on the record the malignant intent, per the boldfaced section:

Netanyahu’s attitude, as assessed by the intelligence analysts, I was told, amounts to a determination “to wipe out Hamas.” One knowledgeable official told me that “Gaza City is in the process of being turned into Hiroshima with no nuclear weapons used.” At some point, he said, American-made bombs in the Israeli arsenal, including those known as “bunker busters,” may be targeted on the underground tunnel systems where Hamas manufactured the weapons and conducted planning for the horrific attacks in southern Israel on October 7.

If you have any doubts, see the additional detail today from the BBC, in Israel aims to cut Gaza ties after war with Hamas:

Israel has suggested that the long-term aim of its military campaign in Gaza is to sever all links with the territory. Israeli Defence Minister Yoav Gallant said that once Hamas had been defeated, Israel would end its “responsibility for life in the Gaza Strip”. Before the conflict, Israel supplied Gaza with most of its energy needs and monitored imports into the territory…. On Friday, Mr Gallant told a parliamentary committee that the first stage of the campaign was meant to destroy Hamas’s infrastructure, according to a statement from his office. Israeli forces, he added, would then launch “operations at lower intensity” to eliminate “pockets of resistance”. The third phase, he said, “will require the removal of Israel’s responsibility for life in the Gaza Strip, and the establishment of a new security reality for the citizens of Israel”. Although Israel withdrew from Gaza in 2005, the UN regards the strip – along with the West Bank and East Jerusalem – as occupied land and considers Israel responsible for the basic needs of its population.

In other words, the elimination of Hamas from Gaza is the fig leaf for clearing Gaza of all Palestinians permanently. It would be impossible to resume water supplies or operate a hospital with no electricity. It’s been obvious this is the plan. The Israelis are now making it official. So why are officials and pundits mincing words?

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1 Or they may just be starting to escalate:

[v0lumnius]

Mods I want for ToTK:

Sort by Outfit

On the armor screen, have a sort option that displays armor sets as a whole. For example, if you select the Zora armor it equips the entire set. This reduces clicks and also would help declutter. The normal sort options would still exist for mixing and matching.

Dedicated Sage Ability Button / Wheel

Having to physically go to a Sage and press A is a terrible decision that makes me sad. This hypothetical mod would:

-Remove the whistle (updated per comment suggestions)

-Remove the "Map" option from the Ultrahand Menu.

-Add Horse Whistle to the Ultrahand Menu

-Code the old Whistle button as a Sage Ability Button

A short press of the button would use the actively selected ability. A long press of the button would pull up a wheel to select your ability (same idea as the Ultrahand button).

Imo this would make the abilities feel vastly more accessible and truly like part of your arsenal.

Sages follow you in their region

Ideally, I would like all the Sages to be with you together, and they would all have unique voiced interactions between them. However, that would be an insane amount of work. Consider that my ideal and this a compromise:

The sage phantoms exist as is. However, when you enter a region (ex, Hebra) the Sage of the area (ex, Tulin) will join you, dismissing their phantom. They champion has voiced interactions where they talk to Link about their home region/etc.

Hug the Light Dragon

Stand on the Light Dragon and a "Press A to hug" prompt appears. This is very important.

Streamlined Armor Upgrade System

Let's talk about armor. Have you ever needed five Captain 2 Horns to upgrade an item, but you have no idea where to find a Captain 2? This is where the Upgrade Streamline comes into play. This would change upgrade requirements to ask for (X) of (Y) to upgrade. For example, if the Hylian Tunic requires 30 bokoblin horns to upgrade:

A Silver Bokoblin horn counts as 15 horns toward the total.

A red Bokoblin horn counts as 2.

A blue Bokoblin horn counts as 1, etc.

This would allow greater flexibility in upgrading armor. Ideally, progress toward upgrade is saved and doesn't need to be done all at once.

These are my big wants after dumping far too much time into this absolutely lovely game.