#Automatic Spraying Line

[attractivechina]

Attractivechina EAC Certified Car Parts Automatic Spraying Line Coating Machine Production Line

www.attractivechina.net/Coating_Line/197.html

Efficient Performance The Car Parts Automatic Spraying Line is an efficient coating equipment designed for automotive parts, which can significantly improve production efficiency. The spraying line uses advanced automation technology to ensure that each workpiece can obtain a uniform and consistent coating during the spraying process. This not only shortens the production cycle, but also reduces manual intervention and labor costs, allowing manufacturers to meet market demand faster.

High-quality coating This spraying line is designed to ensure high quality and durability of the coating. Equipped with advanced spraying systems and drying devices, the Car Parts Automatic Spraying Line can effectively improve the adhesion, wear resistance and corrosion resistance of the coating, ensuring the reliability of each automotive part in various environments. This high-quality coating not only improves the appearance of the product, but also extends its service life and reduces subsequent maintenance costs.

Environmental Protection The Car Parts Automatic Spraying Line also meets the EAC certification standards, emphasizing environmental protection and safety. Its exhaust gas treatment system can effectively reduce the emission of harmful gases and volatile organic compounds (VOCs) to ensure compliance with relevant environmental regulations. This allows manufacturers to actively respond to the trend of sustainable development and demonstrate corporate social responsibility while improving productivity.

[zhenyu2024]

Automatic Paint Spraying Line

Steel structure buildings are widely used in various industries. Because of their complex shapes, Most of the anti-corrosion coating work was done manually. The on-site VOC emissions are large, resulting in high environmental pollution and serious harm to the health of workers.

We have designed an automatic spray painting line system that can solve most steel structure spraying application scenarios and provide a practical and feasible solution for the steel structure spraying industry. If you want to know more about automatic spray painting lines, or automatic paint spraying lines, Please do not hesitate to contact ZHENYU automatic spraying equipment manufacturer.

Main Features Of The Steel Structure Automatic Spray Painting Line Machine

Main Features Of The Steel Structure Automatic Spray Painting Line Machine

An automatic spray painting line machine makes it easier to input the parameters

The operation mode of the automatic spray painting line machine is changed from the traditional manual input of parameters to a digital processing system based on the 3D model, which automatically retrieves component parameters to design the coating spraying path.

Main Features Of The Steel Structure Automatic Spray Painting Line Machine

Automatic paint consumption calculation

Before work starting, the automatic spray system automatically calculates the overall paint consumption of this work according to the component parameters, quantities and specified coating thickness and provides it to the painter in advance for guidance.

Main Features Of The Steel Structure Automatic Spray Painting Line Machine

Efficient the automatic spray painting line machine

The automatic spray painting line machine sprays the bottom and upper area of the component at one time, avoiding the secondary turning action and saving time waiting for hard drying before the turning action, which greatly saves working time and improves the utilization rate of the workshop space.

Main Features Of The Steel Structure Automatic Spray Painting Line Machine

Automatic spray painting line machine quality assurance

Automatic paint spraying line machines' pressure, spraying angle, distance, speed, and other important parameters are set in the best state, avoiding the defects of paint mist particles and uneven thickness, missing coating, sagging, and other defects caused by manual spraying, and ensuring the consistency of quality.

Main Features Of The Steel Structure Automatic Spray Painting Line Machine

Environmental protection of the automatic spray painting line machine

This automatic paint spraying equipment has its own air circulation system, which is connected to the VOC treatment system and the treatment efficiency is greatly improved. The solid paint mist particles are collected and treated in a centralized manner, which keeps another part of the workshop clean and tidy. The automatic paint spraying line machine reduces the labor intensity of paint workers and reduces occupational hazards.

Key Components and Technologies in Automatic Paint Spraying Lines

ZHENYU is a leading company in the field of automatic paint spraying lines, providing advanced and efficient solutions for various industries. The key components of their automatic spray painting line include a loading and unloading system, a pre-treatment system, a drying oven, a spray booth, and a curing oven.

The loading and unloading system is responsible for the smooth transition of products into and out of the line.

The pre-treatment system prepares the surface of the product for painting, ensuring optimal adhesion of the paint.

The drying oven removes any residual moisture from the product before it enters the spray booth, where the actual painting takes place.

The curing oven then hardens the paint, ensuring a durable and high-quality finish.

ZHENYU utilizes cutting-edge technologies such as PLC control systems for precise operation, and advanced filtration systems to ensure a clean and safe working environment. Their automatic spray painting lines are designed for high efficiency, consistent quality, and minimal environmental impact.

[anim-ttrpgs]

Why You Should Try Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy Part 10: It Has Intense Action

This is part 10 of a multi-part series of posts about the awesome features of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy, in no particular order.

Find the earlier parts here:

Part 1 Link: We Worked Hard on It!

Part 2 Link: It's Easy to Learn!

Part 3 Link: It's Easy to GM!

Part 4 Link: It's Easy to GM and Supports Narrative and Roleplay!

Part 5 Link: It Revolutionizes Investigation and Mystery Solving in TTRPGs

Part 6 Link: PCs are Not Just Mystery Solving Automatons

Part 7 Link: Excellent Time-Keeping Mechanics Keep the Pressure On

Part 8 Link: Fun and Easy Character Creation

Part 9 Link: Themes of Disability

For a while in its development, Eureka had a section dedicated to combat, but now that section is more broadly called “dangerous situations.” It’s rare, but dangerous situations will inevitably come up. The question is, will the PCs be prepared for them? Eureka has rules to cover everything from gunshot wounds to car crashes, from falling off buildings to drowning. If something bad can happen to a person, there’s probably a section in the rulebook covering how it would affect a Eureka PC mechanically. A lot of the times the answer will be they die, but how fast they die, and what they can do to save themselves in that time, is crucial.

Eureka takes a very “trad RPG” approach to this sort of thing, where violence and other dangers are something highly lethal, and therefore best avoided if the PCs are smart, but that the nature of what they’re doing means that it’s bound to happen eventually, and therefore the game rules need to provide a lot of “tools” and options within those situations, thereby creating agency over whether they live or die. PCs do not necessarily have to have “good” combat stats to survive, as many players so far can attest. It encourages them to be clever and cautious about things, and allows them to exorcise that cleverness and caution, without bogging the game down in too many numbers or charts.

Weapons will usually take any character down in one to two hits, and even when unarmed, characters have a wide variety of techniques that they can attempt, including the world’s first ever TTRPG grappling rules that are actually fun and advantageous!

Guns are as deadly in Eureka as in real life, and the type of gun matters a lot. That isn’t to say the exact model makes a huge difference, that would be too granular for what we’re attempting to do. A Glock 19 and a Beretta 92 would both fall under “Semi-Automatic Pistol” and function identically. Trust us, this all runs smoothly once you read it.

Bullets do 4 Penetrative Damage each, and most firearm categories are capable of firing multiple bullets within a single turn, each rolled separately. Direct hits are usually fight-ending, but that isn’t as easy as it sounds. Even with a high Firearms skill, these shots are being taken under extreme duress, and factors like cover, distance, movement, etc. will affect them too. Most shots fired will miss, and you might think that would be boring, but it’s not because of the next thing I’m going to talk about.

The Woo Roll

Named after director John Woo, the Woo Roll is a mechanic that’s makes it so that bullets don’t just disappear into thin air when they miss.

When any shot misses, a Woo Roll is made, which means something is going to happen that changes the situation as a result of that shot. (That’s one Woo Roll per turn, no matter whether one or thirty shots miss.) This roll determines whether the effect is good or bad for the shooter. A good result might mean that the shot hits a fire extinguisher behind the target, spraying him with foam and gas, disrupting his next shot. A bad result might mean the shot hits a gas line, and now the building is on fire. Usually the rule is that it’s whatever the most obvious and interesting thing within the confines of being good or bad for the shooter, but if there isn’t anything around, then we also have tables you can roll on.

Chase Mechanics

Combat is only likely to last a few rounds, but everything characters do in those rounds is crucial. These situations dynamic and deadly, and evolve rapidly, and if things are going south, run away!

Eureka has rules and incentives that can quickly shift the location of a conflict as one or more parties tries to flee. This works pretty similarly to combat, but, of course, the parties are moving and fighting across larger areas, causing the situation to evolve even more rapidly. Characters will have to overcome obstacles to keep ahead of their pursuers or catch up to their targets. These obstacles are rolled on a table that matches the environment the chase is happening in, heres a few highlights [images of entries]

As you can probably see, some of these obstacles can take a character out as easily as an enemy could. The kind of dynamic, cinematic car and foot chases these rules create are always something special.

[alltimecharlo]

i read ur vet!mack and rookie!will fic and LOOOOOVED it but what about vet!will and rookie!mack???

thank you!!! and absolutely 🩵 had to think about this one a bit because i didn’t want to just repeat the same dynamic :) fic under the cut!

Mack’s hands are shaking.

It’s not noticeable, probably. He’s gotten good at hiding that sort of thing. But still, his stick feels slippery in his grip as he follows the rest of the team out onto the ice for warmups, and his gaze—traitorous and automatic—flicks over to where Will Smith is already gliding along the boards, chatting with a few of the other guys like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

Will’s helmet isn’t on yet. His hair’s all messy and golden under the arena lights, and when he throws his head back to laugh at something Vinny says, Mack nearly trips over his own skates.

“Jesus,” he mutters, forcing his eyes down. He fakes adjusting his tape.

He’s not the only rookie this year, but he might as well be. The others don’t seem to be feeling the same kind of bone-deep awe that he is. Maybe they didn’t grow up watching Will Smith highlights on repeat, didn’t spend three years with a poster of Will in a Sharks jersey stuck to the their wall.

Maybe they don’t have a massive, stupid crush on him.

“Rookie,” Will calls, skating over.

Mack nearly forgets how to breathe.

Will slows to a stop right in front of him, spraying snow, and leans casually on his stick. “You alright? You look a little green.”

Mack is not alright. Will is way too close and even better looking up close, and his voice is all easy and warm and playful. His smile is soft around the edges.

“I—yeah,” Mack says, which is already too high-pitched. He clears his throat. “Fine. Just—first game jitters.”

Will’s eyes crinkle. “Totally normal. I was a wreck my first game, too. Didn’t sleep the night before.”

“Really?” Mack blurts before he can stop himself.

“Sure,” Will says, grinning. “Threw up three times. Didn’t tell anyone until after the fact, obviously. Gotta protect the ego.”

Mack laughs a little, helplessly. Will makes it so easy.

“Tell you what,” Will says. “First shift, I’ll be out there with you. Just stick close to me. I’ll keep an eye on you.”

Mack might actually pass out.

“Uh—yeah. Okay. Thanks. That’d be—great.”

Will pats his shoulder pad. “You’ve got this, Macklin.”

Mack’s heart doesn’t stop racing the entire warmup.

—

It only gets worse.

Will is always there. At practice, nudging Mack into better position with an encouraging, “Nice, rookie.” On the bench, cracking jokes until Mack’s face hurts from smiling. After games, sitting beside him on the bus and letting Mack lean into his side when he’s too tired to sit up straight.

And Mack is suffering.

“I think I’m dying,” Mack groans one day in the locker room. Eky gives him a look. Collin just sighs.

“It’s called a crush,” Collin says. “You’ll live.”

“He helped me tie my tie this morning,” Mack says. “Touched my neck and everything. I nearly combusted.”

“Maybe he likes you back,” Eky suggests.

Mack gives him a flat look. “He’s Will Smith. He doesn’t like—nobody has dumb crushes on me.”

“You’re an idiot,” Collin says, affectionately.

—

Mack doesn’t expect it to happen like this.

He’s sitting alone in the video room one evening, reviewing clips of his last few shifts and trying not to obsess over the slow-mo of him almost colliding with Will on a line change.

“Hey,” a voice says from the door.

Mack turns around to see Will leaning in the doorway, casual as anything, hoodie and sweats and a backwards cap.

“Hey,” Mack echoes, heart leaping into his throat.

Will steps in and shuts the door behind him.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Will says, smile a little unsure now.

“What? No,” Mack says, too quickly. “Just—busy. Trying to get better.”

Will tilts his head. “I’ve been wondering if I did something wrong.”

“No!” Mack sits up straighter. “No, god, Will, you—you’ve been amazing, I just—”

He trails off. There’s no good way to say, I’ve been avoiding you because I get a little lightheaded every time you smile at me and I want to kiss you so bad it’s actively painful.

Will takes a step closer. “Mack. Do you—like me?”

Mack’s ears burn. “You—you know who you are, right?”

Will laughs. “Yeah, unfortunately. Do you?”

“What?”

“You’re not just some rookie,” Will says. “You’re Macklin Celebrini. You’re incredible. I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you out for weeks.”

Mack’s jaw drops.

“You’re kidding,” he says faintly.

“I’m not,” Will says, smiling now. “So. What do you think?”

Mack launches himself into his arms.

It’s a little desperate. Will doesn’t seem to mind.

He catches him easily and laughs against Mack’s mouth when he kisses him. “Took you long enough,” Will murmurs.

“I thought I was dreaming,” Mack breathes, dizzy.

Will kisses him again. “Not dreaming. Just lucky.”

♡

[e-dubbc11]

Morally Gray

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Let’s see…well first and foremost, SMUT! 18+ PLEASE! (Or I’m telling on you!) Mentions of oral sex, P in V sex. Gun violence, little bit of blood, tending to wounds, some swearing, very vague mentions of Billy’s trauma, and fluff

Word Count: 5.1K-ish

Summary: Reader is a nurse on her way home from work, late at night. She stumbles on a man getting attacked, he’s outnumbered, and she wants to help. Her weapon of choice is a little…unconventional.

A/N: This is another fantastic idea from my darling friend @bartonsparrow25 trading dialogue back and forth with her is so fun and I can feel the stress clearing from my head every time I chat with her. I’m forever grateful to you, my friend♥️ All of this is gratuitous and self indulgent but really, so are all my other works and I’m fine with it 🤣

One more thing and I’ll stop rambling, I know I’ve said this before but I’m thinking of trimming my tag list again, I know some have moved on from the fandom or disappeared completely. Please tell me if you’d still like to be tagged or not. Believe me, you’re not gonna hurt my feelings…people move on, it’s ok, really.

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

It had already been a day.

Your feet were killing you. The pain behind your eyes and along the bridge of your nose had started out as a dull ache and by the end of your shift at the hospital, it had morphed into excruciating agony. It wasn’t that you forgot to eat or drink enough water, it had just been a very long day and all you wanted to do was go home and put your feet up.

By the time you had clocked out, your patience and tolerance for bullshit were just about used up for the week and you felt even the slightest inconvenience would be enough to set you off and you could bet that no one would want to be around you when you did.

The time clock said 1 AM. It was an hour and a half later than when you should have clocked out but the ER was short staffed and you didn’t want to leave your co-workers when they desperately could have used your help.

It’s not like you had anything better to do.

As soon as you stepped outside, the crisp late autumn air hit your face and you instantly felt a small bit of relief as you closed your eyes and stood outside the automatic doors for a minute, letting the cool air travel from your nose to your lungs. Your headache subsided a little as you took a sip from your water bottle that you never went anywhere without; it was always in your hands along with your pepper spray and kitty knuckles.

When you moved to the city from upstate, you promised your father that you would take some sort of self-defense class because you mentioned to him that you would be walking home from the hospital every night and he wanted you to be able to defend yourself if you needed to.

Surrounded by an ethereal glow, the full moon loomed large above as you began your trek home along the cracked city sidewalks and faded white lines of the crosswalks. The slight nighttime breeze mixed the familiar scents of concrete and salt together as you were reminded about the loneliness of the dark, the empty apartment you were going home to, and the sharp whispers of the secrets heard spilling out from the alleys all around you.

What secrets or confessions would you hear tonight?

**********

The further you walked away from the hospital, the sketchier your surroundings became and no matter how many times you walked that route, it still made you nervous anytime you heard a car alarm or a stray cat jumping out in front of you and scurrying across the street but tonight you didn’t hear anything, just silence.

It was too quiet which made you more alert. But the silence was broken by the sounds of fighting…men fighting in the upcoming alley, strong fists coming in contact with another one’s nose, shoes scuffling against the rough pavement, and struggling grunts between slight cries of pain.

As you inched your way closer to the alley, you stopped at the edge and peeked around the corner. The only light overhead was the moon, high and bright in the sky, lighting up the small alley along with the figures in dark clothing and ski masks. There were three of them beating on just one man dressed in an expensive suit.

Fuck.

He needed help and calling the police would take too long but you had a metal water bottle in one hand and pepper spray attached to your kitty knuckles in the other.

Well…if you were going to die, at least you would die trying to help someone which, as a nurse, was your actual job anyway. And after the day you’ve had dealing with fentanyl overdoses, aggressive and unruly patients, and having to stay late because of staffing issues, you needed to take your frustration out on someone so it might as well be these guys.

The man in the fancy suit was trying his best to fend off the men attacking him and doing a pretty decent job at it too but three against one was hardly fair. After you carefully placed your bag on the ground, you crept around the corner of the alley and quickly moved behind the dumpster, tightly clutching your water bottle and sliding your fingers through the holes of your kitty knuckles with your pepper spray dangling next to them.

You could hear the loud, heavy sound of your heart beating inside your ears as you warily tiptoed behind one of the masked men and hit him as hard as you could with your water bottle. The clanging sound against the man’s skull was loud and startled everyone else. When he hit the pavement, you sprayed pepper spray directly into the holes in his mask.

The man in the suit called for you to “watch your six!” before successfully punching the man holding onto him in the face.

When you turned around, another masked man was coming straight for you, so you grabbed the bottle by the handle, swung right for his face and connected, resulting in another loud “CLANG!” And you also managed to jab him in the neck with the points of your kitty knuckles.

The man in the suit reached down, picked a handgun up off of the pavement, and pulled the trigger…twice. The two that you managed to neutralize were now dead and he pulled the trigger a third time, shooting the lone survivor in the kneecap.

The masked man cried out in excruciating pain while the one in the fancy suit pointed the gun into the other one’s mouth.

“I’m leaving you alive so you can go tell your boss that I don’t scare so easily and he has no idea what he has just done. Get the fuck out of here…now.” He growled.

Through his anger and disdain, the man had a sexy silvery tone to his voice and even with the cuts on his forehead and the blood on his lip, he was extremely handsome with his doll-like obsidian eyes and raven colored hair that had tumbled into his eyes.

The masked man took off running as you stood there stunned and unable to move after what you just witnessed while you tried to catch your breath.

In a daze, you heard a muffled voice asking you questions but you couldn’t make out what the voice was saying. With a snap, you quickly turned your head in his direction.

“What?” You asked.

“I asked if you were hurt!” He said with concern in his voice.

Vigorously shaking your head, you replied, “No, I’m fine! You look hurt though. That cut on your head is gonna need a stitch or two.”

Without warning, he grabbed your arm, started walking and said “We gotta go, come on. That your bag? Pick it up, let’s go.”

Throwing your bag over your shoulder, he pulled you along as you tried to keep up with his long strides. He was tall with a strong slender build and as you looked down at his hand on your arm, you could see small cuts on his knuckles and small dots of blood sprinkled on his stark white dress shirt.

You hastily walked away from the sirens that were headed in your direction. When you were far enough away, he pulled on your arm to move you so you were directly in front of him. His mouth was twisted with anger, his nostrils flared, and through gritted teeth he started to scold you.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!! They could have killed you, ya know! Men twice your size and you go after them with a WATER BOTTLE?!!” He yelled.

Walking for a minute had cleared your head a little and you had an answer ready for him.

“That’s a funny way to tell someone ‘thank you’ but I’ll take it. And they DENTED my FAVORITE water bottle, thank you very much!! Look, I’ve had a really rough day, Mister and I really needed to take it out on something. That guy’s head hit perfectly against my water bottle. You heard that clang right? It was a good one.” You replied with a sarcastic grin.

Inches away from your face, he asked with his lips almost touching yours, “Why would you risk your life for a stranger?!!”

“Because you needed help.” You replied in barely more than a whisper.

The firm grip he had on your arm eased and he let you go. The tension in his face relaxed and stared at you with, what you could only describe as, fondness or admiration like he really couldn’t believe that a stranger would risk her life for his.

“Well you shouldn’t have done that, sweetheart. I don’t know that I could have lived with myself if something happened and I wouldn’t have even known your name.” He said.

“And if something happened to you, I wouldn’t have known yours either. And my name is y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” You said, extending your hand for him to shake.

He reached for your hand and replied, “Billy…Billy Russo.”

“Well…Billy Russo, I need to stitch that wound on your head and I should clean the cuts on your knuckles and your lip.” You said.

Gazing at you from head to toe, he finally got a good look at you before saying, “You’re a nurse.”

Pointing at your scrubs and clogs, you replied with a sarcastic tone, “Oh ya think? What gave it away? My apartment isn’t far from here so let’s go, handsome.”

Shit.

Either he missed what you had said or he was preoccupied with getting off the street because of the two dead bodies he left in the alley.

Being a nurse, you obviously carried a first aid kit with you wherever you went, so you gave him a piece of gauze to hold against his head to try and keep it clean and prevent the blood from dripping down his forehead.

“You’re not lightheaded or anything are you? We’re almost there.” You said, taking your keys out of your bag.

“I’m fine, y/n. I promise.” Replied Billy. “Ya know, you’re awfully calm for someone who watched two guys die tonight.”

“I’m a nurse who works in the ER, Billy. I’ve seen people die from gunshot wounds, fentanyl overdoses, car accidents…I’ve seen it all.” You said with a slight hitch in your voice.

“I wish you didn’t have to see those things.” Billy said.

You glanced over at him and replied, “It’s my job, Billy. I know what field I chose to work in, it’s ok.”

After unlocking the door, you removed your shoes, put your keys away and put your jacket and bag down.

“Make yourself comfortable. Oh can you take your shoes off, please?” You asked.

Billy’s lips curled into a warm smile and that smile melted your insides. Even with all the blood on his face and tousled hair, he was still incredibly handsome.

“Of course.” Billy said.

“Let me just get my supplies, I’ll be right back.” You said softly.

“You have a significant other that will be upset if I’m here?” He asked, looking around.

Emerging from the bedroom, you shook your head and replied, “Nope, it’s just me. Take your jacket off for me.”

“Alright, alright. Don’t need to get all bossy about it.” He said with a smirk.

You narrowed your eyes and shook your head again.

“I just wanna make sure you’re not hurt anywhere else, broken bones, bleeding anywhere else, your eye is gonna swell. I should get you some ice for that but I need to stitch that cut first.” You said.

Billy would be sore tomorrow with some bumps and bruises but he was lucky that nothing was broken or bleeding which was a little surprising since he was trying to fend off three masked men by himself.

To give yourself added light, you put on your small headlamp with a magnifier.

“Ok, hold still. I’m gonna clean this and give youuuuu…I think two stitches will be good.” You said, looking over the cut on his forehead.

“You lookin’ in a coal mine with that thing? It’s just a cut.” Said Billy.

Looking down at him, you replied, “Who’s the nurse here, me or you? I need to make sure there’s nothing in there that could cause an infection, if that’s alright! Also, I told you to hold still and don’t look at the light. You’re lucky this cut is up by your hair, there won’t be any scar visible to mess up this handsome face.”

As a wide Cheshire cat smile stretched across his lips, Billy said, “You think I’m handsome?”

“Will you shut up!” You said, playfully.

Billy was still trying to stare at you up and through the headlamp.

“So really, y/n. What did you think you were doing stepping into that fight?” He asked.

“I told you, I just wanted to help, Billy. And a lot of good it did me. That dude’s head was harder than I thought it would be and his big ol’ melon DENTED it! It was my favorite water bottle and I dented it, helping you!” You replied with your voice raised. “So ya know what? YOU can buy me a new one, oh and say thank you!”

Billy was highly amused. He touched his tongue to his top teeth then tried to bite back a smile and if you were to guess, you would say that he was smitten with you.

“Will you marry me?” He blurted out.

Stunned by his ridiculous question, you accidentally pressed a little too hard on the bandage you placed over his wound after you were finished stitching it.

“WHAT?!!” You exclaimed.

Wincing in pain, he hissed, “OUCH!! Shit!”

“Oh my god, Billy! I’m sorry! But what the fuck did you just say?!” You asked, with a touch of hostility in your voice.

Billy gently touched the bandage on his forehead and replied, “Is this how you treat all of your patients?! Fuck, that hurt!”

“Well I usually don’t get marriage proposals from my patients, Mr. Russo. Are you insane? Did you hit your head?” You asked, removing your gloves.

Still touching the bandage, Billy looked up at you through his long dark lashes, his deep brown eyes were hypnotic and nearly put you into a trance.

He replied, “It was the only way I could get you to stop talkin’ about your stupid water bottle!”

“Maybe I wasn’t clear…it was my FAVORITE WATER BOTTLE!!” You said, desperately trying to stop your lips from curling into a wide smile.

“And no, I’m not insane and I didn’t hit my head. Maybe, I’m just still shocked that someone would risk their life for someone they don’t even know…especially someone like me.” Billy said in a softer tone but the words sounded very grinding as he said them through clenched teeth.

As you gently placed yourself next to him on the couch, you noticed the look on Billy’s face was tense, the freshly cleaned wounds on his knuckles were bright red as he clenched and released his fists over and over again.

“Billy? What do you mean, someone like you?” You asked in a hushed tone.

He turned to face you.

“Isn’t it obvious, y/n? I killed two men in front of you, wounded a third, and you’re not even the least bit curious of how I could just do that without batting an eyelash? Huh?! I’m not a good man.” He said.

“You didn’t kill me when you very well could have. Leave no witnesses and all that, right?” You replied, slowly closing your hand over his fist. “I don’t think you’re a bad guy. It’s just a feeling I have.”

Closing the distance between your bodies, Billy inched his face closer to yours and whispered with an appreciative smile, “I could never kill or hurt the person who saved my life.”

With his lips ghosting over yours, you pulled away, quickly stood up and clumsily replied, “I-I should get you some ice for that eye. I’ll be, um, yeah I’ll be right back.”

A satisfying hum raced through your veins as you hurried into the kitchen to retrieve an ice pack and a towel for Billy’s eye. You could almost still feel Billy’s warm breath brushing the husk of your ear before the cold air from the freezer brought you back down to earth.

As you handed him the towel and ice pack, you said, “Here ya go. Hold that on your eye for a bit, should keep the swelling down but you will have a bruise there. You’re not a model or anythin’, are you? You should call in sick tomorrow, if you are.”

“You think I’m good lookin’ enough to be a model?” Asked Billy, with his mouth tipped up in half a smile.

“That’s not what I said, Mr. Russo. I just asked IF you—“ You had started to say before Billy cut you off.

He dropped the ice pack on the couch as his lips crashed against yours but he quickly pulled away because of the pain from the cut on his lip.

“Ow! Fuck!” He cried out.

You chuckled a little.

“I mean, I could have told ya that was gonna hurt.” You said with a slight giggle. “Sit back for me, Billy.”

“What?” Asked Billy.

“Just sit back for me. Now, am I gonna hurt you if I straddle you?” You asked, softly.

“Depends on what you’re gonna do to me when you get up there.” He replied with a devilish smile.

You snapped back, “Do you trust me or not?!”

“You’re the nurse, sweet girl.” He said.

His voice was smooth like warm honey. When he smiled that perfect smile at you, it felt like your insides were melting and you suddenly felt an ache between your thighs growing hungry for him. You shouldn’t feel this way, you just met him but Billy had something about him, something that you felt drawn to,almost like you were meant to stumble upon him and save him tonight.

Gingerly, you placed one knee on either side of his hips as you rested on the tops of his thighs. A forceful exhale escaped his mouth while his intense gaze raked over you and his eyes darted around to carefully watch every move you made.

Placing one hand on his chest, you asked, “Is this ok?”

Billy nodded.

Very slowly, you inched your face closer to his and placed a soft kiss on his forehead and then another in a different spot, you kissed his slightly swollen eyelid, then to the other before moving down to his cheeks. His well-groomed beard lightly tickled your lips as you very delicately peppered kisses all over his face before pausing in front of his lips.

You could tell it was killing him to be this close to you without being able to kiss you like he desperately wanted to, fighting the urge to devour every inch of you, and all because it would hurt him to do so.

“Gently now.” You whispered, almost in a taunting tone, before lightly touching your lips to his.

Growling through the pain, Billy kissed you back, wrapping his long arms around your body and tangling his long agile fingers in your hair.

“I said gently, Mr. Russo.” You sighed, pulling away, giving him access to your throat. “Thaaaat’s it.” You purred as he took your direction by lightly kissing up and down the side of your neck.

You could feel his cock twitch against your core, hardening more and more with each gentle kiss and listening intently to your words of praise. Billy liked it and he seemed to surprise himself by letting himself trust you, a complete stranger…well, almost a complete stranger.

Maybe he was used to rushing through intimate moments and his sexual encounters. He never allowed himself to fully trust anyone or open up to people. You knew his type. These were just guesses of course, but you’ve seen it before in your own relationships and your friends’ relationships too.

“You don’t do this, huh…go slow or take your time…do you Billy.” You said, softly.

Billy hummed against your collarbone.

“Mmmmm…no. I don’t.” Billy replied.

“You don’t trust anyone either, hmmm.” You whined as he lightly nipped at your jaw.

“No…” He growled.

You felt like you could come even though he was just grazing the sensitive skin of your neck with his lips. Goosebumps erupted across your skin as he found the sweet spot where your necks meets your shoulder that made you gasp.

“Then why do you trust me?” You asked.

Billy grabbed the hem of your scrub top.

“Because you saved my life, sweet girl.” He purred into your ear before pulling your top up over your head and tossing it to the side.

Wrapping his hands around your wrists with ease, he pinned them behind your back. Billy was strong and it was pointless to struggle but you actually kind of not-so-secretly liked it.

“I told you that I’m not a good man, you’ve watched me kill…you haven’t even asked who those men were or why they want me dead.” Billy hissed.

You barked back, “I was too busy saving your ass and making sure you don’t have a concussion, to ask. I was getting there though.”

His breath was hot against your skin as he replied, “No, you were too busy eye fucking me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Mr. Russo. You’re not THAT good looking.” You said, lying through your teeth.

You could feel him smiling against your cheek, the bristles of his beard lightly scratching the skin, and the wet spot on your panties growing larger with every syllable he uttered.

“Yeah? Is that why you called me handsome more than once? Because I’m NOT good looking?” He said harshly through gritted teeth. “You don’t have an answer for me, do you Princess.”

Billy was right. You didn’t have an answer for him because he really was THAT good looking. He was probably the most handsome man you had ever seen, who was a complete stranger to you an hour ago and now he had you half naked, restrained with your hands pinned behind your back.

You weren’t even frightened.

“No...I don’t.” You replied.

“I thought so. Now I’m gonna ask you again, how do you know I’m not the bad guy?” Billy asked, as he nibbled on your ear.

“Maybe you’re just morally gray.” You replied. “You’re not all bad. I can feel it.”

Billy flashed you a wicked smile.

“You can feel it huh? I’m sure you can…right in that nice wet pussy of yours. Can’t you, sweet girl.” Said Billy.

The words rolled off his silvery tongue with ease and he definitely knew what it was doing to you. All of your senses were heightened, everything he was saying to you was hitting you directly in your core and he had barely touched you. But it was because he had barely touched you that you were so turned on, feeling things that you shouldn’t and for a man you barely knew.

What were you thinking?

You actually weren’t thinking, at least not with your head anyway.

But Billy was into it just as much as you. His cock was strained against his suit pants, aching to get out and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t desperately want him inside you but you were enjoying the tease and you could tell he was enjoying it too as this was all new to him also.

“Slow, Billy. It will be worth it, I promise.” You whispered.

“You’re makin’ me feel things I don’t normally feel, y/n. I don’t trust people, I don’t form attachments, they make people weak , but right now, so do you. You make me weak.” Billy admitted.

His words sent restless shivers down your spine.

With your hands still pinned behind your back, you shyly asked, “Can you let go of my wrists, Billy? You have too many clothes on.”

He eased his grip, releasing your wrists but not his gaze as his onyx colored eyes were firmly locked on yours. As you loosened his tie, his top teeth closed onto his bottom lip and the look he had in his eyes was primal, wild and hungry. One at a time, you unbuttoned his once crisp white dress shirt that was now sprinkled with droplets of blood.

After slowly pushing his shirt off of his shoulders, you noticed a scar on his left shoulder and before you could ask him, he almost timidly stated, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Billy seemed angry and ashamed about it so you just let it go and replied, “It’s alright Billy, we don’t have to.”

Staying away from his scar, you stippled kisses along his neck and chest as your lips curled into a smile against his skin and gently raked your fingers through his raven colored hair. It was getting harder and harder to control yourself, to continue to tease him, and have him tease you.

“Thank you y/n, for saving me, even if it was with a water bottle.” Billy whispered with a warm smile.

Being careful of his cut, you leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on his lips before replying, “Take me to bed, Billy…and you’re welcome.”

“Just tell me where it is, sweet girl.” He purred with a devilish grin.

“Down the hall, last door on the right.” You said.

**********

Being married to your job, it had been awhile since you had a relationship or had even been on a date but you had never known pleasure like the decadence Billy gave you that night.

He buried himself between your legs for what felt like hours, determined to pull every sinful noise, whine and strangled moan from you until your voice cracked and until your vision went blindly white.

And that was just with his tongue.

It turned him on more to hear you purring his name underneath him, to feel your thighs tremble with every slow deep grind of his hips, and your walls clenching around him every time he succeeded in pulling orgasms from you.

Billy was punishing you in the best way for teasing him, for making him take things slow, and for not giving in to his charm at first. He made you pay for keeping his cock confined for what he said felt like days and he did that by putting you on all fours and fucking you from behind and drawing circles on your clit. The overstimulation caused your legs to give out as you collapsed onto your side but he was far from finished with you.

He slipped back into you from the side, his hand wrapped around your neck like a choker, then let it wander down to your hips as he pulled his cock nearly all the way out before plunging back inside.

Quickly falling apart, you reach back to grab a hold of his deep brown hair so you’d have something to pull on while you come undone between the quick snaps of his hips while his long deft fingers pressed firmly into yours.

Billy loved to hear you moan his name, and you could tell he was close when his movements quickened and became more shallow. He was going to explode.

With a quick tug on his hair, you breathlessly said, “I told you it would be worth it, come for me, Billy.”

Hard and fast, he chased his own release, digging his nails into your skin as a deep moan of your name escaped his lips.

Billy pinched your chin between his hand and turned your face toward him but before he could plant a kiss on your lips, you stopped him, “That’s gonna hurt, Mr. Russo.”

He went in for the kiss anyway and only regretted it a little.

“Ow…totally worth it though.” He said, trying to catch his breath.

You were desperate to touch his face but unsure if he would be alright with it. His actions and reactions to certain things tonight made you think that he may not be open to that. Slowly, you inched your hand toward his face and asked him, “May I?”

Stunned, Billy nodded as you gently brushed his beard with your thumb, then your knuckles. He let his eyes close as his facial muscles relaxed and he kissed the palm of your hand.

All he managed to get out was, “H-how?”

You turned to face him, continued to softly stroke his cheeks and hair before replying, “It’s my job to help people when they’re hurt, Billy. While I only deal with their physical pain, I know emotional pain and trauma when I see it. And I see that in you.”

Billy took your hand and held it in his.

“Y/n, I really don’t—“ He started to say.

You interrupted him, shaking your head, “And you don’t have to, Billy. You don’t know me from any other random woman you bring home. I’ve just seen your type before and you definitely don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Technically, you brought me home.” He said with a wink.

You playfully slapped him on the shoulder as you both let out a chuckle.

“You know what I mean!” You retorted.

Billy asked, “So you’re NOT gonna marry me?”

“I’m not gonna marry you, Billy. I’ll consider going on a date with you IF you buy me a new water bottle.” You said with your lips curling into a wide smile.

“Oh here we go with the fuckin’ water bottle again!” He exclaimed.

“Billy—“ You started to say.

He interrupted, “Yeah, I know I heard you the first time. It’s your ‘favorite.’ I get it.”

Billy paused.

“And for the woman who risked her life to help save mine? I’ll buy you all the water bottles you want and then take you out to dinner. What do ya say?” He asked.

You replied, “I’ll say yes, if you answer my question…Are you the good guy or the bad guy?”

Billy tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear as his lips collided with yours. Through the pain, he parted your lips with his tongue as he slipped it into your mouth to tangle with yours, and with a slight growl, he replied, “How did you put it? Morally gray?”

Biting back a smile, you slowly nodded and replied, “Yes, I did say that.”

“Then I’m morally gray.” Said Billy. “Is that something you can handle, sweet girl?”

“I think I’m doin’ pretty good so far.” You answered.

He asked, “So I’ll pick you up on Saturday night?”

“You got yourself a date, handsome…and have my new water bottle ready and waiting. Oh, I want the same color too.” You said.

“And what color is that?” Asked Billy.

With a kind smile, you delicately kissed his cheek and replied, “Gray.”

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @idaoftheburningmind @rafaelakelley @snowkestrel @music-indie-tv @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @fictional-hooman @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @vaguekayla @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @aoi-targaryen @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf @qu1etwolf @rachlovesactors @sweetserendipity65 @bartonsparrow25

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @ittybxttykxttytxtty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @mrsbillyrusso @colereads @jediwizardelf @thejanecampaign @milea @folkloreofyennefer @mysweetlittledesire @mrsalwayswrite @madelynneb @serenamultifandom @amora-morozova @onceupona-happilyeverafter-love @briannareneea985 @operation-spot

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again

[seat-safety-switch]

"Oh cripes, it's the painters," yelps my humble assistant before she dives for cover and starts frantically texting for backup.

It's too late. The boys from the bodyshop up the street have already appeared in the junkyard. Their keen eyes are meticulously scrutinizing the Pick-N-Pull's extremely limited quantity of intact Hyundai Scoupe bumpers. They are looking for a donor that is good enough to clean up, spray in their fancy "spray booth" while wearing their "respiratory protection," and sell to some poor bastard working without rest for the faceless void of rage that is the Uber Eats algorithm.

Why is this bad for the rest of us, especially myself, who owns exclusively cars before the Hyundai Motor Corporation was even brought into existence by the marriage between the Goddess Sonata and the Ancient Emperor, 1985 Pony CXL? Mostly because the painters are kind of obnoxious about the whole thing. Like many other individuals who spend their working hours sitting in an enclosed room and huffing paint all day, they consider themselves to be artists. Also, we have somewhat of a personal rivalry. Let me explain.

Now, as we all know, painters and bodywork techs drive very ugly cars. You likely can guess why. After a hard day of work putting shiny things on dull things, making the shiny things dull again, and putting more shiny things on the previously shiny things (that are now dull,) there's absolutely no way that they want to spend a few more hours making their shit-box daily driver pretty. They've seen how cars get wrecked by the flippant outside world. It would destroy them emotionally. Rather than love and lose, they choose to harden their hearts, like resin baking off on a freshly fogged panel under a heat lamp.

Of course, painters are also not mechanics, and they're certainly not shitbag mechanics like myself. Their grungy, shitty cars often fall apart from some trivial mechanical failure that I would jump over, Super Mario-like, without even noticing. Many of the painters, such as Shaky Tim, have seen me in even worse cars that run flawlessly.

Due to my profligate junk-dealing and scam-pedalling all over town, they have had many opportunities to watch me barrel over a centre median, drive the wrong way into traffic, blow a band out of an automatic transmission – and be back on the road in a few minutes thanks to my magical connection to the shitbox vibe. This causes envy on the part of the painters, especially when I refuse to fix their cars or even stop to lend a reassuring word. And I certainly don't give them money to paint my car: all that beautiful new colour would get wrecked the next time a brake line ruptures at highway speeds. Last a week, tops.

"Oh look, it's him," the head painter sneers, with an affect that I still think is approximating a fake French accent. They must have put some new cartoons on at the jobber shop. "Do you even know what to do with those body panels?"

"I know what not to do. I'm not gonna pay for 'em," I bark, and go back to yeeting an entire '67 Imperial passenger-side over the fence out back because it won't fit in my pocket. The gaggle of squirty-boys grimace in pain as the door bounces off the barbed-wire on top, and falls into the ditch behind the junkyard with some grotesque scratches across the paint.

With all the money I'm saving, I suggest to the aggrieved painters, I can probably even afford a can of new Tremclad.

[attractivechina]

Hanging System Painting Line

The Hanging System Painting Line is an automated production line for spraying the surface of central air-conditioning shells and tubes. The hanging system ensures that the workpiece can move smoothly during the spraying process, ensuring the uniformity and quality of the spraying. The automated hanging spraying line can operate continuously, greatly improving production efficiency. It is widely used in central air-conditioning manufacturers, refrigeration equipment manufacturers and other fields. #factory #oem #odm #fyp #coatingline #paintingline #sprayingline #homeappliance coating line

[southasianpercy]

miles-42 is a vigilante.

this is something my friend and i have discussed in private immediately after watching the movie when it was released. but, whenever we see anyone else say it online, they get heavy pushback from A LOT of people. and i believe those people def only watched across the spiderverse for reasons such as (1) the most popular movie at the time (2) it’s spider-man (but they only have a passive interest in spidey). i say this because their denial of miles-42 being a vigilante instead of a villain or anti-hero feels like they only care to look at the movie with a very shallow perspective.

i’m going to first talk about why my friend & i believed miles-42 was a vigilante after watching the movie (take note that we hadn’t really seen other ppl’s opinions on this yet & we also hadn’t searched up anything pertaining to the topic prior to our convos).

our main reason is that miles-42 was meant to be spider-man in his universe. and we all know that when a person is meant to be spider-man, they are a person with a heart of gold (i.e. a very kind and good nature).*

*yes, i know spider-man can be evil, but that doesn’t line up with the theme represented throughout the spiderverse films, so it’s not relevant here. also, with that logic, then you have to consider that prowler can be good.

miles-42 being the prowler in his universe doesn’t mean that he’s automatically evil/a villain/thug/gang member, especially since there are parallels between miles-42 and our miles (miles-1610).

• they have the same mural dedicated to a beloved family member who died.

• miles-42 caught the glove from uncle aaron-42 the same way that our miles caught the spray can from his uncle.

• they wear the same clothes. i believe the clothes are a heavy indicator for how similar miles-42 and our miles are—they both wear the jersey with the big puffy coat over, but the colors (red & black, purple & green) match their respective titles (spider-man, prowler). this definitely indicates that they stand for the same thing and represent the same thing for their respective universes, just with a different appearance.

now, when i’ve seen people try to defend their belief that miles-42 is a villain or anti-hero, they say “well, he tied up our miles!” or “he’s the prowler! and the prowler is supposed to be evil/kill people!” or “he’s only had a couple seconds of screen time, so just let people assume what they want.” i have a rebuttal for each of these.

“well, he tied up our miles!” yeah, this is another parallel, similar to how our miles tied up peter b. parker in itsv. did that mean our miles was a villain then? or evil? no, he was scared and wanted answers. but, in comparison, miles-42 is more experienced and has spent a year being his city’s hero, so he’s definitely going to be tougher and more capable compared to itsv miles.

“he’s the prowler! and the prowler is supposed to be evil/kill people!” people need to take into account that this is a different universe without a spider-man. there is no spider-man mantle to take up because there never was one in the first place/no one got bit, which means things function differently. miles-42 being the prowler is the closest thing to being spider-man in his universe (which, once again, is indicated through subtext: miles-42 & our miles’s clothing being similar).

“he’s only had a couple of seconds of screen time, so just let people assume what they want.” no. i don’t care that miles-42 had little to no screen time because there are heavy indicators that point to him being a hero in his universe. and letting ppl assume what they want has went into weird racist territory where people push this idea of miles-42 running his own cartel, being a threatening hoodrat, or anything else that falls under bullshit harmful stereotypes based off of his appearance alone. letting ppl assume miles-42 to be anything but a vigilante who helps people and doesn’t kill anyone just lets them play out their fantasies that are deeply rooted in racism. they even make it to where miles-42 acts & dresses insanely different from our miles even tho the movie has shown us these two have similar taste?? and rio-42 didn’t think miles was acting any different when he was talking to her?? the only difference between our miles and miles-42 is their environment, which forced one of them to grow up way quicker and adopt a tougher exterior.

and a couple months ago, when i was reading through the atsv art book, on the section about miles-42 the director literally confirmed what my friend & i thought all along: miles-42 is a vigilante and the hero of his universe. it’s nice to have it confirmed, but it also is important for the vigilante deniers to hear it because that’s the only time they’ll truly understand (even tho it’s been heavily hinted at in the movie).

p. 190 of the atsv official art book

p. 200 of the atsv official art book

[nuttersincorporated]

Happy Glorious 25th of May

All the little angels rise up, rise up. All the little angels rise up high!

It’s the Glorious 25th of May again. This 25th of May I hope you:

Never forget the friends and family you have lost and that you keep them in your heart

Search for the truth for; The Truth Will Make Ye Fret

Find fun things in the margins and footnotes[1] of life

Stay angry at the injustices of the world and use that anger to fight to make things better

Even if people and society wants you to fit in a box and present yourself in a way that isn’t true to yourself; I hope you have the confidence of Cheery Littlebottom to be who you really are.

Remember, ‘Nac Mac Feegle! The Wee Free Men! Nae king! Nae quin! Nae laird! Nae master! We willna' be fooled again!’

I hope you have Truth, Justice, Freedom, Reasonably Priced Love, and a Hard-Boiled Egg!

GNU Terry Pratchett

[1] While lots of people tell you to think outside the box or have fun drawing outside the lines, you can also learn fun and interesting things in the footnotes of life. For instance, did you know that the Glorious 25th of May is also Towel Day☥?

☥ A towel, it says🍖, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have. Partly it has great practical value - you can wrap it around you for warmth as you bound across the cold moons of Jaglan Beta; you can lie on it on the brilliant marble-sanded beaches of Santraginus V, inhaling the heady sea vapours; you can sleep under it beneath the stars which shine so redly on the desert world of Kakrafoon; use it to sail a mini raft down the slow heavy river Moth; wet it for use in hand-to- hand-combat; wrap it round your head to ward off noxious fumes or to avoid the gaze of the Ravenous Bugblatter Beast of Traal (a mindboggingly stupid animal, it assumes that if you can't see it, it can't see you - daft as a bush, but very ravenous); you can wave your towel in emergencies as a distress signal, and of course dry yourself off with it if it still seems to be clean enough.

More importantly, a towel has immense psychological value. For some reason, if a strag (strag: non-hitch hiker) discovers that a hitch hiker has his towel with him, he will automatically assume that he is also in possession of a toothbrush, face flannel, soap, tin of biscuits, flask, compass, map, ball of string, gnat spray, wet weather gear, space suit etc., etc. Furthermore, the strag will then happily lend the hitch hiker any of these or a dozen other items that the hitch hiker might accidentally have "lost". What the strag will think is that any man who can hitch the length and breadth of the galaxy, rough it, slum it, struggle against terrible odds, win through, and still knows where his towel is is clearly a man to be reckoned with.

🍖 ‘it says’ here refers to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy🍖 🍖

🍖 🍖 If you are wondering what the emoji for the last footnote was, it’s pork. This footnote is more pork.

[girlietips]

That Girl Makeup Tips💋🤍🍒🕊️

Here are all my makeup tips and tricks that I have gotten from many years of bingeing makeup videos and wandering around Sephora.

Always follow makeup gurus who have similar skin types, aesthetic, and coloring so you can pick out the best products for you.

Create a Pinterest board of girls with similar features to yours and try to mimic the placement of the makeup.

Never fight your natural features it’ll just read really weird in real life and it’s way more attractive to have unique features that are enhanced with makeup.

Use two different blushes. One that is darker/cooler and can be placed towards the edges and contours of the face. Then one that is brighter/lighter to be placed near the highlight for a natural flushed look. (Don’t put too much on blush blindness is so real)

Always apply your makeup in thin layers or you will get creases and cakeyness. Also spray setting spray in between layers to really lock in your makeup.

Always blend your cream/liquid product in with a damp sponge/brush and your powder products with a dry sponge/brush.

Never put liquid over a powder!!!

Skin prep should never be skipped always do your skin care and let it sit for a bit before makeup.

When doing rush makeup always think it is best to add contrast to your face. This means when you don’t have a lot of time you should focus on filling in your brows putting on mascara and adding some color to lips and cheeks. No need for foundation and you’ll still look put together.

If your mascara always transfers to your eyelid put some powder on your lid because it is often the oils on your skin that causes the transfer.

Understand that while you make look amazing in a full beat if you wear it every day the one day you skip the full beat everyone is going to think you are ill. It’s best to do full glams on special occasions unless you are just the type of girl that will not skip a day if so more power to you.

Find the right red lip for your coloring. A red lip is so powerful and beautiful. But you have to find the right color.

A bright blush on top of bronzer gives that beautiful sun kissed look. Especially when places on the high points of the face.

Keep your eyebrows neat and natural. Don’t do too much trust me you’ll look back and thank yourself for not following all the weird eyebrow trends.

Glowy skin around the mouth and nose does not read as glow but as sweat so make sure you powder those areas.

Once you find a routine that works keep with it and eventually it will be very automatic and easy.

Half lashes on the outer counter make your eyes looks bigger and don’t weigh your eye down like a full strip.

For a more natural look don’t put concealer right under your eye or use a really bright concealer

Put mascara and a little eyeshadow on your bottom lashes. Just a bit don’t go crazy but it looks weird if you have a full eye look and nothing on the bottom lash line

The perfect shade of blush is also your perfect lip color and creates a beautiful roses look (I also use it as eyeshadow)

Contour is cool toned while bronzer is warm toned.

Never sleep in makeup and use an oil cleanser to remove it.

Really long post but I kinda got on a roll for a bit so I kept going lol.🫶🏻🤍🍒💋

[ratiocowmilk]

another omegaverse au, but this time with aventio!!! wait don't leave

I've been thinking about what designations to give to them, but I've decided on Aventurine being a beta (and only a beta) and Ratio being an omega.

In my rendition of this au, betas have muted scents and can't smell other scents as well as omegas and alphas do. What is interesting, however, is if a beta mates with either an alpha or an omega, they can smell their partners scent in full and vice-versa. This works between betas as well.

More under the cut.

Aventurine being a beta would mean he luckily does not need to deal with heats or ruts. What he does need to deal with is having to take on extra work when his alpha and omega colleagues are on leave. So, how lucky is he truly? He's about as "normal" as can be in this world, though that causes him some issues down the line.

Ratio being an omega means he will have to deal with heats, obviously. It annoys him to no end when he's forced to take a week off work every time it happens. There are suppressants, but those that block heats from happening are dangerous and off the official markets. At most, the safe brands can stave it off for a few hours. Unfortunately, that is not the only issue regarding his dynamic. For him specifically, his scent is overbearing compared to other omegas. He has to wear patches to block it out, but even then his scent is still obvious. It has caused safety issues in the past, and he has prepared himself for any issues in the future.

When they first meet, Ratio is prepared for the worst. But when Aventurine simply looks surprised for a moment and continues on as normal, he's confused for a moment and eventually relaxes. Aventurine, on the other hand, is struggling to keep his pokerface up as he breathes in the scent. It's the strongest he's ever experienced, and they're not even mated yet! (Wait yet–?)

And then shortly after, the events of the Final Victor lc happen. And Aventurine doesn't regret it, but this time, he is able to smell the apprehension in someone's scent, so perhaps he's feeling slightly guilty about it.

As they keep working together, Ratio and Aventurine get closer. Ratio decides it's safe to drop his guard around him. Aventio notices and is feeling like the cat that got the cream. As the relationship progresses, they start making house visits. Eventually, Aventurine shows up unannounced at Ratio's residence and gets hit with his unobstructed scent. It's like getting perfume sprayed in your face, but it's somehow pleasant? Ratio goes to put on his scent patches, but Aventurine tells him it's fine. It definitely is. So he sits for an hour or two essentially bathing in it, until he gets called in for work. As soon as he steps in, everyone automatically assumes he got laid.

When Penacony rolls around, that's when things change. In the Dreamscape, everyone's scent is muted. Everyone's. The Family says it's to prevent issues from impacting guest experience, but who knows for sure. When they first step foot in there, Aventurine almost drops the act when he notices that he can't smell Ratio anymore. As they act out their plan, he struggles with the fact that the scent he got attached to was gone. It's not like he needs it to understand him, but it's a bit disorienting. It's probably worse than whatever bullshit Sunday threw at him, in his humble opinion.

So when they get back to reality, Aventurine sticks to him like a koala and buries his face into Ratio's scent gland. They exchange a few words like that, and when Aventurine finally lifts his head, they kiss.

(Extra: When they start dating, Aventurine doesn't get why Ratio wants his belonging in the nest if his scent is muted and they haven't officially mated yet. When he asks him, Ratio gets embarrassed for whatever reason. He'll learn the reason eventually.)

(It's less about the scent and more about the fact that it proves he's still here, choosing to stay.)

[cursed-40k-thoughts]

Battle raged. Every voxline was blasting, the air itself blistering, the sky felt like it was closing in. Reports flooded the Praetorian's ears with every moment he stood listening. World Eaters had torn asunder one gate and, by the screams coming through the line, were using it to bludgeon the soldiers who had stood behind it; another defense had been flanked by the Night Lords; on yet another line, the dulcet tones that could only be of Fulgrim's sons announced that the defenders had proven imperfect. A lesser man, a mortal, would have been overwhelmed, but Rogal was a Primarch. He could endure it, and wished for half a heartbeat he could not.

His skull ached like it was being crushed under a tank-tread. He issued commands automatically, knowing it would not be enough. He ordered defensive sectors abandoned, knowing it would not be enough. He ordered his bodyguards to leave him and join the battle, knowing it would not be enough. The Warmaster was at hand: he could feel the talons closing around Terra, around the Palace.

Rogal felt the weight of the chainsword at his hip, wishing he was out there, bringing it to bear. How much simpler things felt with ripping flesh under his blade, with gore-spray tinting his breath. How easy would it be to die fighting instead of to live commanding, but such was his task. From his command throne, he turned, and activated a module built into the tactical array. The sleek metal surface opened a panel, steam of sublimation pouring from within, as with one ponderous gauntlet the Primarch reached within, extracting in his grasp a well-chilled bottle of Cerveza Cristal,

Oh goddamnit.

[m0chisenpai]

May I request Miles 42 with a s/o with a great singing voice like Halle Bailey?

Spiderman Across the Spiderverse

42!Miles Morales x black!reader

Not gonna lie this made me reminisce on my old choir days. Thank you so much for sending this request and my apologies on its late arrival!

You were a choir girl and Miles automatically assumed you were like the other snotty nosed girls who chugged hot lemon tea by the gallon, sprayed those weird throat sprays in the halls, and refused any form of dairy because 'it messes with your mucus!'

Truth be told, you were nothing like them. Yes you had dreams of making it on broadway, but you knew a girl with your background had little chances of landing a main lead without facing public backlash. Miles met you through a friend of a friends girl. His homeboys girl was in the same section of you and so whenever his girl was with them you would show up. Miles had suspicions she was trying to hook you up with him.

And it worked.

He came to your concerts, dressed decent, large bouquet sat in his lap waiting for you that had some of your fellow chorus members eyeing you in jealousy as you walked past. He'd pick you up from the academy on the weekends after attending competitions to walk you home, helped you memorize lines for auditions and musicals.

But the irony of it was that Miles never once heard you sing on your own When he requested a solo from you, you would brush him off.

"Solos make me feel all...vulnerable I don't know" you huffed brushing his requests off.

And he knew you could sing. Your choir director knew it, that's why you were in the top row of your section. Your voice washed over the fellow altos of your section blending beautifully. But that's what you preferred to do.

Blend in and not stick out.

The rain came down outside setting the absolute perfect ambiance for this lazy weekend. No rehearsal, no competition, no extra lessons.

Your LED’s set to a soft blue to compliment the Disney movie playing on your cluttered desk. Surrounded by hair gel, black rubber bands, combs and among your other things.

Miles sat in front of your bed with his head resting on your lap, eyes fixed on your set up. Mac on the desk playing whatever Disney princess mermaid you liked. He took you three times to see the movie only loving how your eyes lit up seeing the beautiful black mermaid on the screen.

“It’s just healing my inner child is all” you whispered through glassy eyes as you watched her kiss the prince.

It took a dozen kisses, and a pack of munchies for him to agree to watch the movie again today.

You worked a comb carefully through Miles’ coils, gently detangling the hair and clicking your tongue as you separated to look at his scalp. The gentle scrap against his scalp, your nimble fingers massaging was enough to make his eyes droop.

“Keep doing that and I’m gon fall asleep” Miles mumbles through a handful of chips.

“Awww, poor baby” you coo as you continue to massage his scalp after taking the last braid out. You shook your hands out cracking your knuckles.

“Alright baby, go ahead and use my sink to wash your hair out. And make sure you wash it good. Your scalp is starting to get a little dry.” You gently ran your hands through his combed out hair huffing softly to yourself. The boy had good length.

“Mhm, massage it with that spiky thing right?”

“Yes because it-”

“Stimulates my scalp and helps the blood flow and grow it out I know, I saw them videos you sent me” he drops the chips down next to you and plants a fat, cheesy kiss on your cheek which makes you screech and throw punches at your cackling boyfriend.

“Miles you're CHILDISH” you grumble getting up and grabbing the gel and combs with the rubber ties till gentle music fills the room. And you start feeling the words and joy bubble up as your song's instrumentals flood the room.

Miles focused on scrubbing his scalp with Miguel, Mielle? Whatever the brown and green bottle was next to him that had your and now his hair smelling all earthy and minty.

And as the boy scrubs the shampoo and wrings his dripping curls off into the kitchen sink, he pauses. Because there's singing coming from your room.

He shrugs it off and goes back to getting rid of the stubborn suds and spots of his hair. Then the singings getting louder and sounds more present than just a laptop.

He doesn’t remember the movie having vocals like that. He picks the shirt up from next to him to dry and keep his dripping hair from getting your carpet wet. And he pauses a moment at your door leaning against it.

“....what’s a fire and why does it, what's the word? Burn?” And Mile can’t help but linger watching you stand, eyes fluttered shut as your voice crescendos with the computer.

“When’s it my turn? Wouldn’t love, love to explore that shore up above?” Damn. Miles raises a brow, now he sees why you were in the top seat in choir. Your breath never wavers till you take the breath following that note. Your voice hushed as you finish the song, “out of the sea, wish I could be,”

“Part of that world.” Your smile brightens and warms him up as you finish the song.

Miles almost doesn’t want to break the serene look on your face, maybe even wait out long enough for the next song to play. But the shirt is starting to soak his shoulders and you said something about moisture is important, so he reveals himself coming from around the corner. “How come you don't sing for ME like that?”

The way you yelp and jump is comical and makes Miles huff with laughter as he walks back in.

“MILES you can’t be sneaking up on women like that!” you smack his arm and he falls to the ground letting out a dramatic whine. But you can't fight the giddy feeling in your chest and the smile on your face as you take your seat on the bed and Miles is back with his body in front of you.

"You really think I sounded good?" you mumble as you begin to slowly run conditioner through his hair.

"Yes, mami" he tilts his head back to catch your gaze, and yiu take in how soft his eyes look matching his tone. And now he's paying attention to the movie, because he demands you sing the entire movie to him.

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️☣️ lets get this finished!

THANKS!

36 for ☣️:

---

To keep Eddie safe? No. No. They can’t go back. He can’t allow the others to go back and for himself to be taken. That can’t be how this whole thing ends. It just can’t be. 

Two men with what appear to be automatic weapons exit the other vehicle. They aim at the Jeep. 

“We will give you thirty seconds to exit the vehicle before we open fire.” 

“Eddie, get the fuck down,” Buck says. 

Eddie tries to lower his seat. Bobby follows suit. 

Chim starts climbing over the back row of seats, shimmying on top of Buck, Ravi, and Hen.

“What the hell?” Hen asks. 

“Covering you guys!” Chim explains. “Buck, be smaller!”

“Oh, yeah, no problem,” Buck grunts. 

Chim fumbles, slipping and one of his hands catches on Eddie’s reclined seat. He grabs Eddie’s shoulder, balancing himself. 

“Chim, you can’t cover us all!” Hen protests. “If you give me a clearer line of sight, I can-”

Hen is cut off by the sound of screaming. One of the gunmen’s hair had caught fire. He’s shrieking as it burns down to the skin.

“Oh, nasty,” Ravi says. 

In the guy’s panic, he releases a spray of bullets before dropping his gun entirely. Buck doesn’t even have time to react. They hit the front driver’s side of the Jeep. One, two, three, four. Crack, crack, crack, crack. 

“EDDIE!” Buck screams. 

[marcobodtlives]

AoT peeps as fellow students I saw at orientation for my masters degree today:

Mikasa: the girl with really pretty hair and fashionable gothic attire despite the fact that it’s summer

Eren: the boy getting attacked by a spur-winged plover (aggressive swampy bird) because he cut across the field to get to class

Armin & Historia: the pair of short, enthusiastic, blonde orientation staff waving signs and helping everyone find their classes (they’re godsends)

Annie: the girl who missed half of the welcoming ceremony because student jiu jitsu club ran over time

Bertholdt: the really, really tall kid who the camera operator had to manoeuvre around to actually capture the stage

Reiner: the guy convincing everyone to join sport club teams, not wearing student staff uniform, wearing his gym gear instead

Ymir: the girl who drove in the ‘exit only’ because she couldn’t be assed doing a U-turn to find the main entrance

Jean: the art kid who isn’t invested because they’re only taking one filler paper here, and all the rest at the art-based, city campus

Marco: the really friendly boy making friends with everyone he talks to and somehow managing to relieve everyone’s anxiety with an encouraging smile and thumbs up during awkward ice-breakers

Connie: the kid who forgot to take his hat off during the religious welcoming ceremony then almost tripped over a chair because he was trying to find himself on the wide-screen shot of the crowd

Sasha: the girl eating three cough drops a minute because ‘they don’t count as food so the no eating in the assembly hall rule doesn’t apply’

Erwin: the principal who’s speech went 20 minutes over time and spanned three different languages somehow

Hange: the lab tech who brought a box of jars for new students to see as a show-and-tell session instead of an actual introduction to the course

Levi: the admin person who doesn’t actually have a clear job role but decided to ditch his session as an orientation because he hates new students wandering around like lost sheep

(+ bonus) Floch: the kid who threw a rock at an automatic sprinkler and accidentally sprayed a line of construction workers on lunch break and then yelled “this is where our tax money goes!”

[darl-ingfics]

Sicktember Day 19: ALT - First Aid Kit

Fandom: Seventeen

Sickie: Wonwoo (cold)

Caregiver(s): Mingyu

Word Count: 1,026

Note: A sequel of sorts to Day 15.

To his credit, Mingyu had tried extremely hard to be quiet when he entered their room that night. It wasn’t his fault that he was absolutely plastered and thought it was a smart idea not to turn on any lights. Okay, maybe it was entirely his fault, but Mingyu didn’t want to admit that when he tripped on his own desk, fell against the adjacent (wheeled) desk chair, and crashed to the floor, bringing the chair down with him. Not exactly the smooth entrance he’d been imagining. 

Mingyu sucked in a sharp breath of pain, cradling his left calf as he heard movement on the bed to his left. “Mmmm…” Wonwoo groaned. “Gyu?” He cleared his throat, prompting a deep cough that made Mingyu wince again.

It was also entirely Mingyu’s fault that the reason he wanted to enter the room with the stealth of a thief was that Wonwoo had, of course, caught the cold he’d had two weeks ago but somehow worse and really, really needed to be sleeping right now. 

“Heeyyy,” the younger man trilled awkwardly. 

“Is everything okay? What happened?”

“I uh… I fell.”

“Out of bed?”

“Um, no?”

The lamp beside Wonwoo’s bed flicked on, and Mingyu hissed, turning away from the light. Or at least that’s what he would say in the morning; there was a good chance he’d turned to avoid seeing Wonwoo’s reaction to his current state. (But there was no way his drunk brain could process such subconscious guilt right now.) Curse that last beer! Curse Jeon Jungkook for peer pressuring him! (That was, also, an exaggeration: Jungkook had not pressured him in the slightest.)

“Gyu, what the fuck?” Wonwoo didn’t sound mad. Just terribly confused and sleepy. 

Mingyu’s head rolled back to face him. Wonwoo also LOOKED confused and sleepy. “Gravity was not on my side.”

Wonwoo blinked at him. “Are you drunk?”

“Yeah!” Mingyu cheered. “I met up with Kookie!” Wonwoo nodded solemnly, pushing the covers away from his legs. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! What are you doing, mister?”

“Getting the first aid kit. You’re bleeding.” Wonwoo inclined his head towards Mingyu’s leg, and used his roommate’s distraction to slip out into the dark hallway. Mingyu was, in fact, bleeding; the leg that had hit the desk and chair had a decent slice down the calf. Interesting… it had barely hurt until now…

Mingyu snapped back to attention at the sound of the plastic first aid kit opening next to him. He blinked up at Wonwoo, all droopy eyes and pale cheeks. Mingyu reached up and pushed Wonwoo’s hair behind his ear, earning a small smile from the older man. 

“How did you hit the desk?” Wonwoo asked, taking a warm wash cloth to Mingyu’s calf. It hurt a bit, but it was just water. 

“The lights were off.”

“Why?”

“You were asleep.”

Wonwoo shook his head, sitting back on his heels to look his roommate in the eye. “Gyu, you’ve seen me sleep in broad daylight. Turning on the overheads for a few minutes wouldn’t have woken me.”

“What if they did this time, though?” Mingyu’s voice was so sincere, Wonwoo wasn’t sure how to even respond to that. 

“Your cut’s not super deep,” he said instead, nodding towards Mingyu’s calf. “Pretty surface level. I think it’s bleeding more than anything.”

“Oh good. I was nervous it was broken for a second.”

“Really?”

“Well yeah, the lights were off. I couldn’t see it.” Wonwoo chuckled, coughed once, turned away to catch a few more coughs in his sleeve. Mingyu frowned. “You should go back to bed.”

“I’m almost done,” Wonwoo rasped, swallowing thickly as he turned back to the first aid kit. He pulled out the disinfectant spray, holding it up so Mingyu could process what was about to happen. “This is gonna sting.”

Mingyu took a deep breath, his mouth set in a thin line. “Do what you must.” He squeezed his eyes closed, missing the adoring grin on Wonwoo’s face before the older man disinfected his cut. It did sting, and Mingyu’s leg tensed automatically, but the cut was so shallow, and still so new, it didn’t hurt too badly. 

When Mingyu opened his eyes again, Wonwoo was preparing to wrap his leg with gauze. The cut was a little too long for a traditional bandaid, at least tonight. Mingyu watched his roommates careful fingers measuring the material, gently wrapping it around his skin without putting too much pressure on the wound, securing it tightly. 

Mingyu had no idea just how intently he was staring at Wonwoo, totally unaware that his undivided attention made the older man want to crawl out of his skin. “What?” Wonwoo asked finally. 

Mingyu’s next words surprised him: “I’m sorry I’m such a pain...”

Wonwoo sighed. “You’re not a pain, Gyu…”

“No, I am. I got you sick and now I’m making you stay up and take care of my sorry ass.”

“Who said you were making me do this?” The puppy eyes Mingyu gave him at that moment nearly made Wonwoo melt to the floor. “And when have I ever complained about caring for your sorry ass?”

“Well… I just feel bad.”

“I know, sweetie…”

“My ass is legitimately sorry.”

Wonwoo snorted into a fit of laughter that, again, led to another fit of coughing. That kept going. And going. So terribly painful sounding. Mingyu, injury sufficiently tended, jumped up to grab his water bottle. He returned and held onto his roommate, rubbing at his back until the fit finally subsided, then practically forcing the water into his mouth. Wonwoo’s breathing was ragged, his whole body sagging forward, all his energy drained.  

“Okay, my turn to take care of your ass.” Mingyu pulled Wonwoo to his feet, nearly dragging him back to bed, and tucking him in tight with a kiss on the forehead. 

“Thank you…” Wonwoo slurred, eyes already closed as he cuddled further into his blankets. 

“No, thank you.” Mingyu kissed his forehead again. “Sleep tight, Woo.” 

“You too.” Mingyu smiled as he moved to turn off the lamp before getting himself ready for bed. “And Gyu?” Mingyu paused. “Please just leave the light on.”