#Crane efficiency

[mutalieju]

I'm like... 99% sure the 'shadow' in arkham shadow is referencing the jungian shadow archetype... and thinking about jung in the DC context always makes me overthink because in that universe jung was just correct. That's how magic works in DC lot of the time. People are always fucking with the collective unconscious. (or unconsciouses since like. plants etc got one...) you can hijack or erase a person from the narrative by fucking with the archetype they embody etc... Pretty sure in DC universe if you get too into jung you just learn to do magic

[midseo]

Variable Frequency Drive VFD Motors, Textile Motors, Crane Duty Motors, Brake Motors, Distributor, India

Variable Frequency Drive Motors, Textile Motors, Crane Duty Motors, Brake Motors, Flameproof Motors, Cooling Tower Motors, Energy Efficient Motors, Distributor, Supplier, Dealer, Mumbai, Maharashtra, India.

Variable Frequency Drive Motors, Textile Motors, Crane Duty Motors, Brake Motors, Flameproof Motors, Cooling Tower Motors, Energy Efficient Motors, Distributor, asia, asian, india, indian, mumbai, maharashtra, industrial, industries, thane, pune, nashik, aurangabad, ratnagiri, nagpur, ahmednagar, akola, amravati, chandrapur, dhule, jalgaon, raigad, sangli, satara, belgaum, kolhapur, belgaon.

[avonengineering]

Electric Overhead Travel (EOT) Cranes

Introducing Avon Engineering advanced Electric Overhead Travel (EOT) Cranes – a pinnacle of innovation in material handling solutions. These cranes redefine the concept of heavy-duty lifting and movement, offering a seamless blend of efficiency, customization, safety, and durability for a wide range of industrial applications.

Key Features:

Experience the power of our EOT Cranes in efficiently lifting and transporting heavy loads with ease. Moreover, these cranes are designed to handle substantial weights, optimizing your material handling operations. Additionally, tailor your crane system to match your specific requirements. Avon Engineering Electric Overhead Travel EOT Cranes come in various configurations, including single girder, double girder, and underslung designs, ensuring a perfect fit for your workspace. Furthermore, achieve precise control over load movement with our advanced control systems. Safety is paramount, and our cranes are equipped with features like limit switches, overload protection, and emergency stop mechanisms to ensure secure and controlled operations. In addition, crafted for industrial environments, our EOT Cranes feature robust construction that can withstand the rigors of heavy usage. Lastly, built with quality materials and engineering expertise, they guarantee consistent performance and reliability over time. @avonengineering

Experience Cutting-Edge Material Handling: Our EOT Cranes introduce a new dimension of efficiency in material handling. Whether for manufacturing, construction, warehouses, or other sectors, these cranes deliver reliable, customizable, and safe load lifting and movement, optimizing your processes. They integrate technology, customization, safety, and durability, offering a forward-focused solution that aligns with your material handling goals. Elevate your material handling operations and invest in a product that ensures exceptional performance. Embrace a new era of material movement with our state-of-the-art EOT Cranes.

[wimaccrane]

A Project of 10-Ton Double Girder Overhead Cranes For Warehousing

The dynamic world of warehousing and logistics is in constant evolution. Innovations in technology are continuously enhancing efficiency and scaling profitability. On this journey of innovation, we recently added an exciting chapter by successfully delivering a vital project involving the installation of two 10-ton double girder overhead cranes in a warehouse. Our two recently implemented 10-ton…

[bogleech]

Anyway while we're on the subject of public misconception towards living things (which is completely understandable because have you SEEN living things? There's like dozens of them!) here's a fresh rundown of some common mistakes about bugs!

Arachnids aren't just spiders! They're also scorpions, mites, ticks and some real weirdos out there

Insects with wings are always finished growing! Wings are the last new thing they ever develop! There can never be a "baby bee" that's just a smaller bee flying around.

That said, not all insects have larvae! Many older insect groups do look like little versions of adults....but the wings rule still applies.

Insects do have brains! Lobes and everything!

Only the Hymenoptera (bees, ants and wasps) have stingers like that.

Not all bees and wasps live in colonies with queens

The only non-hymenoptera with queens are termites, which is convergent evolution, because termites are a type of cockroach!

There are still other insects with colonial lifestyles to various degrees which can include special reproductive castes, just not the whole "queen" setup.

Even ants still deviate from that; there are multi-queen ant species, some species where the whole colony is just females who clone themselves and other outliers

There is no "hive mind;" social insects coordinate no differently from schools of fish, flocks of birds, or for that matter crowds of humans! They're just following the same signals together and communicating to each other!

Not all mosquito species carry disease, and not all of them bite people

Mosquitoes ARE ecologically very important and nobody in science ever actually said otherwise

The bite of a black widow is so rarely deadly that the United States doesn't bother stocking antivenin despite hundreds of reported bites per year. It just feels really really bad and they give you painkillers.

Recluse venom does damage skin, but only in the tiny area surrounding the bite. More serious cases are due to this dead skin inviting bacterial infection, and in fact our hospitals don't carry recluse antivenin either; they just prescribe powerful antibiotics, which has been fully effective at treating confirmed bites.

Bed bugs are real actual specific insects

"Cooties" basically are, too; it's old slang for lice

Crane flies aren't "mosquito hawks;" they actually don't eat at all!

Hobo spiders aren't really found to have a dangerous bite, leaving only widows and recluses as North America's "medically significant" spiders

Domestic honeybees actually kill far more people than hornets, including everywhere the giant "murder" hornet naturally occurs.

Wasps are only "less efficient" pollinators in that less pollen sticks to them per wasp. They are still absolutely critical pollinators and many flowers are pollinated by wasps exclusively.

Flies are also as important or more important to pollination than bees.

For "per insect" pollination efficiency it's now believed that moths also beat bees

Honeybees are non-native to most of the world and not great for the local ecosystem, they're just essential to us and our food industry

Getting a botfly is unpleasant and can become painful, but they aren't actually dangerous and they don't eat your flesh; they essentially push the flesh out of the way to create a chamber and they feed on fluids your immune system keeps making in response to the intrusion. They also keep this chamber free of bacterial infection because that would harm them too!

Botflies also exist in most parts of the world, but only one species specializes partially in humans (and primates in general, but can make do with a few other hosts)

"Kissing bugs" are a group of a couple unusual species of assassin bug. Only the kissing bugs evolved to feed on blood; other assassin bugs just eat other insects.

[princesssmars]

abby eating you out in the back of her car…nsfw.

now, when abby invited you to drive around with her before talking and eating at the romantic cliffside that overlooked the city, you had to admit about thirty percent of your brain was sending out horny little alarm bells.

it was sweet, how she took you to your shared favorite fast food spot before parking at the site and starting up her cute little romantic playlist, pressing a kiss to your cheek when you gushed over how adorable she was.

but you shouldve known better than to gush over abby when she was in a hyper romantic mood, because after placing a playful bit juuust on the right spot on her neck she’s quick to start kissing you on your lips, then tugging off your jackets and maneuvering you into the back seat-

so now you’re here, laying on the back seat car door with one leg propped on the backboard and the other in a crooked angle over the passenger seat while abby grips your thighs and enthusiasticly eats you out like she’s doing her favorite hobby.

you drag your fingers through her scalp and into her let down hair, admiring how her brow relaxes when you do so and her head tries to bury itself deeper into you. biting your lip to try to muffle your moans is useless, her hand pinching the skin of your thigh until you let out a gasp.

she knows every little thing to do to drive you crazy, carrying them out with a drive and efficiency that would scare you if it wasn’t so arousing. just when you feel a twinge of your peak she pulls back her efforts, every time your moans start to stall she sucks roughly at your clit while staring into your eyes.

but you love her attentiveness more than anything, including how she notices the subtle shifting of your hips as you try to get more comfortable, back aching and leg cramping at the uncomfortable position. without stopping she lifts your leg and rests it on her shoulder, scooting her body towards the floor so you can rest against the seat instead of the floor.

you’re close to the edge, your breathing getting harsher and hips not so subtly grinding up into her face. you almost don’t want to cum simply because of how peaceful she looks, eyes damn near rolling into the back of her head as she desperately tries to bring you closer to her mouth. when you crane your neck forward you get the slightest glimpse of her grinding her hips into the car seat and the sight makes your orgasm hit you like a freight train.

you really hope no other couples had the sweet idea of driving up to this lookout, because if they did all they'd hear would be your moans as you continue bucking your hips into abby's face, palm slapping into the fogged-up glass of the window as your whole body trembles.

she guides you through it all, steeling herself so your bucking hips don't push her away from licking up as much of you as she can. if she was a little less euphoric she'd let out a small giggle at your reaction, adoring the way you mean without care and proud of just how long she makes this one last.

you gently lift her head away once you decide you can't take anymore, blonde tresses in your grip as you raise her until you can see the pink of her tongue. she smiles, taking your hand out of her hair and pressing it to her lips for a kiss. her slightly fucked out look only reignites the heat in your stomach, legs shifting and feeling embarrassment when she notices and smiles even wider.

so uh yeah. car sex with abby.

[vaaaaaiolet]

Left to his own devices during an international flight, Leon reflects on the most recent failure in his life: screwing over his airport crush. Said crush might also happen to be seated a couple rows ahead.

f / m, fluff, romance, you know the drill, bitches. leon is stupid and clumsy and crushing on you like crazy!! roman holiday mentioned bc i love gregory peck

word count: 957 // read on ao3

a/n: for my beautiful beautiful mutuals @idyllcy + @kennedysbaby <3 make sure to buckle up when you fly!! and don't take your shoes off on planes that's gross dudes

On long international flights, you’ve got three options to pass the time:

stuff your face.

watch outdated blockbusters.

sleep like the dead.

Leon, however, picks option D) relive the most embarrassing moments of his life while trying not to throw himself out of the nearest emergency exit. He’s such an efficient decision maker that he’s whittled his selection down to the most recent of these moments – exactly three hours ago.

Three hours ago at the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, Leon was the biggest jackass to the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. 

She’d been sitting pretty, smiling down at her phone like some sort of angel sent from the sky in the early morning rays, and Leon was half-awake, running late as always. Eyes shutting by themselves. Shitty airport coffee bombarding his taste buds. Five o’clock in the morning is the worst time to have Hunnigan yelling in his earpiece. 

If Leon had decided to sit anywhere other than the closest spot, right behind that pretty girl, his brain wouldn’t have been torturing him for the past three hours. He groans at the memory, waving a hand dismissively at the flight attendant offering him an extra blanket.��

Leon doesn’t deserve warm blankets right now. The Antarctic should freeze him over and karma should shut down his in-flight entertainment screen. He cranes his neck to find the back of the girl’s head for the the millionth time, and there she is, sandwiched between two burly strangers, beautiful head left pillowless because Leon stole that too along with her window seat. 

How? 

In Leon’s half-asleep daze, he’d taken a nice big stretch, reaching his arms skyward to smooth out last mission’s leftover muscle pulls. And in that same daze, he’d conveniently forgotten about the lukewarm cup of coffee he was still holding. 

Newton is to apple as Kennedy is to coffee; he’d spilled every last drop down the back of the girl’s neck. Saturated her travel pillow right through. Her yelp had woken him up faster than any coffee in his life, and he’d whipped his head around to meet a pair of stunning eyes, wide open in shock that was entirely his fault.

And he didn’t even apologize! 

No, what Leon did was stare at her like a blithering idiot. 

Her boarding pass had happened to be tucked in her back pocket and coffee had spilled all over that too. It was made of some sort of eco-friendly paper, the kind that promises to disintegrate within seconds of contact with water to not choke the turtles or whatever, and that’s exactly what it did. Going, going, gone in front of his eyes. And to top it all off, Leon’s boarding group got called at that exact minute, and he’d left the poor girl to sort out her seat without so much as offering to help.

“Sir?” the flight attendant repeats.

Leon blinks, busy swimming in guilty reverie. “I said don’t need a blanket.” 

“No sir, I’m actually coming here with a seat change request,” she says, louder this time. “Would you mind someone taking the empty spot next to you?”

Well, it’s not like he needs the aisle seat for his feet or something. 

“Yeah, sure thing.”

And he closes his eyes to return to his pity party, hears shuffling in the dimly-lit cabin as the seat next to him dips, and you know what? It is kind of cold. He could use that extra blanket. Leon cracks open an eye and holy fucking shit the pretty girl is sitting right next to him.

“It’s you,” he stammers, sitting ramrod straight. “I am so incredibly sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to run off like that at all.”

She faces him. Recognizes him. “O-Oh, it’s okay, don’t worry about it. I still made the flight, right?” 

He shakes his head. “You got stuck in late boarding. You got a bad seat because of me and- god, your pillow. I’ll buy you another one the moment we land, okay?” 

But the pretty girl, you, you just laugh. “Really, it’s alright. It was a ratty old thing.”

“Then let me buy you a coffee,” Leon insists, searching for some kind of way to make up for his blunder, “it’ll be morning when we land and you couldn’t have gotten any sleep stuck between those guys in your old seat.” 

Way to go. He’s just confessed to staring at you the whole flight like some kind of stalker. 

“I’m more of a tea person, but you know what? I’ll take the offer.” 

Tea. He likes tea. Leon breathes a sigh of relief as you settle in, buckling your belt and digging around for the in-flight entertainment remote. He hands it to you from under your seat, brushing his shoulder against your knee and suddenly feeling a lot less cold as heat floods his face.

You smile when he surfaces. “Found anything good to watch?”

“Mm, not much. Hope you like Roman Holiday,” Leon adds softly, “it’s the only movie with subtitles.”

“Can’t say I don’t. It’s one of my favorites.” 

He’s going woozy. Is it the cabin pressure? Audrey Hepburn flashes across the screen in black and white, but he’s finding her beauty a lot less blinding than yours. You’re tilting your head at him, shit, is he staring again?

“Thank you, uh, gosh,” you chuckle, “I never caught your name.”

Phew.

“Leon,” he supplies with a grin. “And you are?”

You’re a liar, is what you are. A beautiful liar because he’s right – you haven’t gotten a wink of sleep since he ruined your pillow. Your head drops onto his shoulder not ten minutes into Roman Holiday, and Leon could swear Audrey winks at him before she drifts off to sleep too.

psst, find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3 take care and i love you!

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || poly!141 x Reader

[Chapter 21] || [Chapter 22.5] || [Chapter 23]

Pairing: Ghost x Price || Price x Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.8K cw: drunk kissing, cheating (mentioned) Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: we find out what happened in cardiff. i love vulnerable john.

Chapter 22: What is it about you?

“C’mon, Boss, up you go.” Simon told him as he hoisted the man up to his feet by wrapping an arm around the small of his back, and tossing the other over his own shoulders.

“I don’t know how she could do that to me, Simooooon,” John’s words and feet dragged a bit and tripped over each other, uncoordinated due to the excess alcohol.

John was constantly self-sabotaging back then, feeling sorry for himself, mourning his relationship and the wife who took advantage of his common absences to justify her need to step out on him.

When John was sober and busy with work, he was still the same as always: deadly efficient, a good communicator, a great strategist…

But when they went on leave…

It left Simon having to be the one picking up the pieces. Simon’s moved to Cardiff from Manchester many years ago, not quite enjoying Hereford enough to want an off-base flat in the same city as the base, and, now that he’s separated, John’s also moved to Cardiff to stay on Simon’s couch.

Or it would be his couch if he didn’t get pissed every night and leave Simon fearing for his life and the fact he might vomit and suffocate in it in the night, so he carries him to bed every time. The bed might as well have been John’s at that point.

Somehow he was able to wrangle John back to his flat.

He helped the man get into his bedroom and lowered him into bed before he pulled off the beanie from his head, then his boots, tossing his legs onto the bed a bit aggressively while the captain sobbed while lying back on the pillows…

“You’ll be alright, Captain.” Simon always tried to say some kind words to ease the drunk, heartbroken man, though he knew it did little.

Simon was strangely thankful Price was a sad drunk instead of an angry or violent one like his own father.

Simon bent over him to unzip his jacket and then was able to curl the man up against his shoulder in order to shimmy his jacket down his arms, like a toddler.

But something about that touch, almost akin to a hug, awoke something in John.

Just as he lowered the older man’s torso down to the bed and his head onto the pillows, he suddenly found himself unable to move, his shoulders being hugged tight by one of John’s arms.

His face was inches from John’s, their noses almost touching, their eyes locked. John’s blue irises were glassy from the alcohol and the tears.

The look in John’s eyes was freaking him out. He was still crying, but he was eerily quiet, not murmuring utter nonsense or pure vitriol for his wife and her lover…

The Mancunian tried to slip John’s arms off him. “C’mon.” He grumbled as he craned his neck back to try and wrangle off the embrace.

“Stay…” John pleaded, his eyes softening, his brows lowered pitifully.

“I’m right here, Boss.” Simon assured him as he once again tried to take Price’s arm off his vise-like grip around him.

It didn’t work. The grip just got tighter, his body trembling beneath Simon’s. “Please, stay...” He implored.

Before Simon could realize what was happening, his lips had been captured by John’s, a slow, tender thing, almost like John himself wasn’t 100% sure of what he was doing (and he really wasn’t) but wanted to do it nonetheless.

There was no tongue action, just a rubbing of lips and an exchanging of breathy sighs before Simon was smart enough to pull away, eyes a bit widened for what they had just done. 

But Price seemed like he was still on the verge of crying, teetering the edge of his fear of being rejected again. He just needed affection....

Simon’s own eyes softened as he saw the state Price was in. He took a deep breath and pressed his lips together. Giving up on getting out of the embrace, he simply nodded. “Fine. I’m stayin’.”

Carefully, Simon toed off his own shoes and took off his fleece jacket. He tossed everything on the floor haphazardly, before he shifted around the bed in John’s embrace and vaulted over him, coming to lay on the other side of the bed.

John cuddled up to Simon’s body and, tentatively, the blond wrapped his arms around Price’s shoulders and neck as the brunet sunk in the embrace and hid his mustachioed face in Simon’s neck, big burly arms wrapped around the narrower part of his waist.

Price resumed his sobbing, hidden in Simon’s arms, hugging him uncomfortably tight, like a lifeguard buoy in open water. 

Simon ran his fingers over John’s hair, caressing his scalp with his fingertips. “Not going anywhere, John, I promise.” Simon assured him.

-

It’s 10 P.M. and you’re just turning off your TV to move your lounging to the bedroom when the doorbell rings.

Once again, you’re not expecting anyone… But the lads have gotten much better at warning you in advance when they’re dropping by… So it puts you on edge again.

Tip-toeing to the intercom, you murmur into the receiver. “What?”

“It’s John, darling.” The voice of the older man comes through, causing your eyes to widen. What’s he doing here? 

You buzz him in all the same. Only once you hear his knuckles rapping the door, do you open it, finding him standing on the other side.

He’s wearing an army green fleece jacket, a black hoodie, tan cargo pants, and black boots. And he doesn’t look particularly happy.

You let him inside and he has the decency to take off his boots, jacket and beanie, before he gestures you both onto the couch.

The memory of the way he kissed you and tossed you both down onto it last time he was here comes flowing back and you look away and take a breath to suppress it.

“The lads told me about the four of you” He tells you as he looks at you, sitting by your side, your knees just barely brushing, his hands clasped together and hanging between his thighs.

“They did?” You ask him, earning a nod in reply. “You didn’t know this whole time?” You ask again.

“No.” He says simply. “And they didn’t tell you I tore ‘em a new one for what they’re doing?” He returns. 

You shake your head, which makes him sigh. “Figured as much.”

“You need to know that-”

“I promise I don’t-”

You both cut each other off and blink away the confusion before you do that weird shimmy of trying to let the other talk.

He ends up taking the initiative. “You need to know that it’s puttin’ ‘em all at risk to be seein’ you and each other, especially each other. Simon’s my second-in-command… and it’s against the code of conduct for ‘em to be with their ‘boss’.” He explains.

His explanation makes your eyes soften and you look away with a sigh, mirroring his pose and letting your hands hang between your legs. “I didn’t know it’d get ‘em in trouble…” You explain.

Taking another deep breath, you shift around in your seat. “I was about to say I promise I don’t want to get them in trouble or steal them from work or making you have to call like… dozens of times again to get them to come in, because I know that was bad, even if it was an accident but-” You rant a bit.

John’s watching you closely as you justify yourself and them and promise you have the best of intentions, how you like them all so much and you could never dream of getting them in trouble and…

“What is it about you?” He interrupts you, causing you to face him suddenly and stare at him.

“Pardon?” You ask him, blinking slowly before raising your brows.

“Why… Why them? All of them?” He asks.

Your face scrunches a bit, your brow setting over your eyes. “Are you trying to insult me? That feels insulting.” You grumble.

He sighs and shakes his head, before rubbing his eyes with his middle finger. “No. I- I’m sorry.” He says as earnestly as he can. “Just trying to understand.”

“Some people have a thing for men in uniform but that means they date multiple of ‘em across a number of years… They don’t usually form a… harem with ‘em all at once.” He explains.

The idea of a harem makes your face flush warm and look away. “I don’t know.” You reply directly. “Maybe there’s just something wrong with me.” You say directly. 

John keeps staring at you as you speak. “I went from a very unfulfilling relationship, I don’t know if I ever mentioned that to you-”

“You did, at the pub.”

“Right, well…” You trail off. “I went from that to… being alone… and then to having a one-night stand with you and then… it was like I woke up one day and had three boyfriends.” You remark and scratch your arm awkwardly.

John’s face scrunches, his mouth disappearing beneath his mustache as he keeps looking at you closely, noticing how awkward you seem. 

“I really don’t want to get them in trouble…” You tell him as you glance up at him, the corners of your eyebrows lowering as you look at him.

He goes quiet for a moment, simply making eye contact with you, as if trying to read your intentions through your pupils.

Then, his hand reaches across the space between you and he gently cups both your hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “You really like ‘em all, don’t you?”

“Mhm.” You reply and nod.

Sighing, he nods. “Just try to keep from kissing in public to a minimum, will ya? Don’t need the brass knowing and having my arse too.” He tells you.

Smiling and chuckling again. “Wouldn’t you, in that case, be in more trouble because you started this whole thing?” You joke.

He nudges your thigh with his knee and rolls his eyes playfully. “Don’t you start, too… I already had to deal with Soap, Gaz and Ghost making comments.” He complains.

“Oh, please… Ghost told me all about how peppy you seemed after that night you spent with me.” You retort and he rolls his eyes again before he taps his thighs with his palms and stands up off the couch.

“I needed it. Did me good.” He replies as he moves back to the door and puts his shoes on.

You follow after him, watching him closely as he puts his outdoor clothes back on. “Did me good too.” You reply.

He chuckles a bit. “Oh, trust me, darlin’, I remember fully well how ‘good’ I did you.” He jokes and winks at you.

“Oh, shut it…” You grumble as you watch him open your door and stand just outside of it, looking at you closely.

“Shame it’ll never happen again. I could’ve used a repeat.” John quips casually. “Have a goodnight.” He kisses your temple and starts walking down the hall.

“Wait, hold on!” You interrupt him, causing him to stop a few feet away, looking at you in the brightly lit hall. Clearing your throat, you swallow dryly before you lock eyes with him and speak again: “What’s stopping it from happening again?”

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

FLASHBACK FULLY INSPIRED BY:

taglist (CLOSED! not adding anyone else, sorry!):

@daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark

@severenswife , @enarien, @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago , @sodavrr , @cutiecusp , @lilliumrorum , @c-nstantine , @kneelforloki , @comeonatmebruh , @codsunshine , @waiting-so-long , @captainquake42 , @gazspookiebear , @mynameismisty , @reap3erslov3 , @reaper-chan666 , @poohkie90 , @kitwithnokat , @stick-the-dumbass , @mothsdrabbles , @justanerd1 , @thesinsoflust , @thriving-n-jiving , @blckbrrybasket

[deviousdeliciousness]

Jarred Pt. 1

A tiny is rude to a giant, so the giant decides to teach the tiny a lesson - one they'll undoubtedly remember.

Time-out can gain a whole new meaning when you're four inches tall. (And a jar can feel claustrophobic even if you can so easily fit inside.)

Next: Pt. 2

~~~~~~~~

"-Yeah? Well I think you're stupid!" Tee shouted back up to Jack, stomping his foot on the counter for added emphasis and crossing his arms over his chest with a huff.

Jack's expression turned blank, then darkened. His jaw clenched, and there was an audible grinding of his teeth.

Tee couldn't help but falter, physically taking half a step back as a dark scowl settled on his giant friend's face. Suddenly, yelling at the much larger being didn't seem like it'd been such a good idea.

"H-hey-" Tee started to stutter, raising his hands in front of himself in a placational manner, but he cut himself off with a surprised squeak as Jack's hand shot out above him, ripping open a cupboard door with far more force than necessary and snatching up something inside.

Tee craned his neck up to see what, and his heart stuttered in his chest as he saw-

A jar.

A jar.

Jack was holding a large glass jar, one of the tall ones nearly twice Tee's height, and he was unscrewing the lid with vicious efficiency. Tee nearly jumped out of his skin when Jack slammed the lid onto the counter, and fight or flight mode finally hit the tiny like a train as he saw the giant's hand menacingly swoop forward in his direction.

Tee wisely chose flight.

He spun on his heel and bolted, his heart all at once hammering up from his chest and into his throat and his legs pumping frantically as he darted across the counter, the back of his neck practically burning with the undoubted glare of the furious giant behind him.

Tee barely made it ten steps.

He let loose a blood-curdling scream as Jack's palm collided with his back, giant fingers curling inwards around him like a Venus flytrap.

He thrashed wildly in the grip, any semblance of rational thought having abruptly fled his mind in place of pure, unadulterated terror, but he just as quickly froze - as still as death - when the fingers around him squeezed just shy of making his bones creak with the pressure, the threat as clear as day and all the more sickeningly petrifying for it.

He whimpered - a short, aborted sound - as his feet lifted up off the the counter, and he had to forcefully repress the urge to uselessly wriggle like a caught fish as the movement came to a stop with him aloft in the air, knowing - dreading - without having to look that he was being held above the opening to the jar.

He sent a desperate, pleading look to the giant - to his friend - but Jack's expression was closed off and so, so cold.

Tee's tentative hope that this was all a sick, twisted joke to get back at him withered and died a horrible death.

In the next moment, he was dropped. He landed awkwardly, barely catching himself from twisting his ankle as he landed hard onto the cool glass bottom of the mason jar, gasping out a shocked breath. He flinched backwards into the glass behind him as the jar was set none-too-gently onto the counter, and he craned his neck up high to stare with uncomprehending, fear-filled eyes at Jack.

The giant peered down at him dispassionately from the open lid of the jar. As if he hadn't just obliterated the carefully built, more than just tentatively hopeful trust a tiny had fully placed in his giant's hands. A gift so rarely given. A gift that was now destroyed.

There was movement in Tee's peripheral, and in the next second, his line of sight to the giant's face was blocked by a solid black lid, one that clacked gratingly against the glass before it begun to be twisted, Jack screwing it back onto the jar with what Tee could only perceive as a detached sense of finality.

"No," the tiny whimpered, sliding down the side of the jar and curling his knees to his chest, arms wrapping around his calves and gripping tight. This couldn't be happening. His - Jack wouldn't do this to him. He wouldn't.

But he had.

The tiny's head smacked into the back of the jar when he flinched as the giant's hand suddenly wrapped around the container, lifting it once more and making Tee's stomach drop into his guts with the too-quick movement.

There was a squeak of the cupboard hinges, and Tee had to quickly blink his eyes (which stung with tears that he refused to acknowledge or dare let fall for fear of them never stopping) as the light around him suddenly dimmed. He peered muzzily at his surroundings, which were ever so slightly distorted through the thick glass.

His breath froze in his lungs as he took in the cold, empty jars all around him, lifeless and covered in a thin layer of dust. None showing any sign of use, of ever - or only the rarest of occasions - seeing the light of day.

He snapped his neck forwards again and frantically scrambled to the front of the jar from where he saw Jack looking down at him, one of the giant's hands already loosely gripping the cupboard door's knob.

Tee shook his head, slightly at first, then with more desperation as his panic renewed with a stomach-dropping vengeance, his palms pressing up against the glass and his eyes wide and irrefutably pleading. He knew the giant wouldn't be able to hear him through the container, but a litany of frantic pleas and cries fell past his lips anyway.

"Please - please Jack don't do this. I'm sorry - I - I won't yell at you, or-or call you stupid or- do anything bad ever again. I was- I was wrong. I was wrong - please! I - you - you were right! About everything! I swear I'll listen to whatever you say, I'll- I'll do whatever you want - j-just - just don't leave me here!"

Jack just continued to stare dully at him, stony expression unchanged except for the briefest flicker in his eyes as hot tears abruptly spilled over Tee's blotchy cheeks.

They weren't enough.

(After all, Jack would have to care for him for his cries to matter.)

Slowly, inexorably, the cupboard door began to shut, and, tone foreboding and so, so sickeningly empty of anything close to concern, consideration, Jack finally spoke in the moment before Tee's world was pitched into terrifying, solitary darkness.

"You'll learn your place."

~~~~~~~~

OOooohoohooohooooo~ a lillll' angsty I know ;33

This one kinda got away from me, but I had fun hehehe

Also I'm posting this sleep-deprived and with exactly zEro brain matter present at the moment, so fingers crossed that it's actually decent *finger guns*

Next: Pt. 2

[literary-motif]

Sacred Scars

Isaac Rhoades x Reader

You see Isaac's scars.

“I never thought we’d get it done this fast,” Isaac said, closing the folder and with it the case you two had solved together in no time, setting a new personal record. 

“I told you I’m getting good,” you teased, smirking at him as he rolled his eyes in false annoyance. 

You had gotten good. 

Your attention to detail often made him pause in awe when you pointed out something seemingly insignificantly small that would lead to unraveling the entire cluster of names, places, and events making up the case.   

He loved working together with you. Not only did it allow him to spend even more time in your company, but you worked together so efficiently — as if you had been doing it all your lives, as if you understood each other's behavior and thinking on such a fundamental level — that it made every case fly by in the blink of an eye. For the first time in a long while, Isaac felt truly alive when he sat behind his desk. 

You nudged his shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts. “I also had an excellent teacher,” you said, shooting him a smile that turned genuine as you stared into his eyes. 

He looked so happy. You had never seen Isaac practically radiate with silent contentment. 

The overwhelming love and gratitude you saw in his expression made you avert your gaze, feeling like you were peeking into the very depths of his soul. You never wanted to pry, and although he had revealed his heart to you piece by broken piece, you knew expressing vulnerability was still hard for him. 

You cleared your throat, risking a glance at him. Isaac had a content smile, looking at the empty cup of tea in his hands as if it had given him the gift of happiness. “Do you want to call it an early night?” you asked, reaching out to ruffle his black hair and lighten the intensity of the moment shared between you. 

He gave you a disapproving look, but could not keep the smile off his face as he leaned into the touch. “That would probably be best,” he said, taking your hand and moving it to his lips. “We have a meeting tomorrow at noon, after all.”

“Right,” you said, carefully freeing your hand to hook two fingers under his chin and tilt his head up. He craned his neck, closing the gap before you had the chance to take him off guard. “Right,” you said again as he broke the kiss, smirking mischievously at you. “I’m going to make some chamomile tea before bed. Do you want some?”

“No, thank you,” Isaac replied, standing from his office chair. He raised his arms above his head, twisting his upper body from side to side in a long overdue stretch. “I’ll get ready for bed. Join me when you’re done?”

“Do you want a massage?” you asked, observing the furrow in his brows and the tight clench of his yaw as he rolled his shoulders. They seemed particularly tense.

“No need,” Isaac said quickly, dissolving your concern with a gentle smile. “Don’t be long.”

If anyone had predicted this future for you, standing in the kitchen, making yourself a cup of soothing chamomile tea while the man you loved was getting ready for sleep upstairs in an enormous and gorgeous house — and being happy, so utterly, soul-crushingly happy that you felt like your heart would burst — you would have called them a sick liar, descending into despair at being taunted with a life you so wanted but which you could never have. 

So much had changed in the time you had known Isaac. Some days you felt hardly deserving of all he had done for you. 

You pushed open the door to the bedroom with your shoulder, cradling the cup of steaming tea in your hands. “You realize if we hadn’t met, I would be—” You cut yourself off at the image before you. 

Isaac sat on the bed, his exposed back to you as he rummaged through the drawer of his nightstand for a shirt. You could see his shoulders tense when he heard your voice, hastily pulling out his shirt and throwing it on. 

It was too late. You had already seen the myriad of scars littering the skin of his back. 

“Pickle! I—” Isaac exclaimed, turning to face you. “I— uh—” He trailed off, unsure where to begin. You had never seen his scars, and he had never told you about them. Your expression was one of mild shock, still frozen in the doorway as you tried to settle on what to say. He swallowed, averting his gaze and sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

You approached him hesitatingly, sitting down beside him. You reached over, placing the tea on the nightstand before fully turning to face Isaac, holding your hands out for him to take. He obliged without hesitation. 

“Who did this to you?” you whispered, your heart breaking at the pain he must have suffered. 

Isaac chuckled sadly, shaking his head. “That’s hard to say,” he answered, thumbs rubbing circles into the back of your hands to distract himself. “It was not one single person. It’s the— the collateral damage to this line of work, I could say. Sometimes cases don’t go as planned.”

You stayed silent. There was a heavy feeling in your chest at the reminder that Isaac, too, had a past. He had suffered like you had, facing the brunt of the heavy legacy he carried. You wished you could have been there for him sooner. The idea that he had to patch himself up in this grand, empty house after one of his cases had taken an unexpected turn left a bitter taste on your tongue.

“Can you show me?” you asked quietly. 

Isaac’s jaw clenched. “Not tonight,” he said. “I don’t like thinking about it. Another time, maybe. I don’t feel up to it tonight.”

You nodded, squeezing his hands comfortingly. The past felt like something heavy for you, too. On some nights it came easy talking about it, on others it sat in your throat, stealing your breath as you tried croaking out the words. 

“That’s alright,” you said. “Would you like a sip of tea?”

“No, thank you,” he whispered, picking up the cup and handing it to you before encircling your waist with his arms and leaning his head on your shoulder. You could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest from how he was snuggled up against your side. “I only need you right now to chase away the shadows of the past.”

The moment felt painfully personal. It was a sacred thing, to be cradled gently and never spoken of outside the secure walls of your shared bedroom and its bulletproof glass that allowed you a peek into the night. 

Sometimes even the night of shadow needed a little light.

[cyberrose2001]

AYYYYYY! Do you remember that request I sent a while ago of the Ratchet x Fem reader? Ya know where Ratch gets to frag the reader to blow off some steam?

Reader is Cybertrionan btw if that's okay!

Stress Relief

TFP Ratchet x fem! cybertronian! reader

whoaaa you can tell I started this months ago eheh… apologies for the long wait I hope y’all can forgive me 👉🏼👈🏼

Warnings: oral, dom!ratchet

Word count: 517

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

“I’ve been waiting all day for this,” Ratchet huffs, tossing you off his shoulder and onto the berth, “Too fraggin’ long, if you ask me.”

You refrain from making a smart aft comment about how he had actually been waiting all week, but you’re too preoccupied with how he’s pulling your hips closer to the edge of the berth.

It’s always the same with Ratchet. He would have a busy week (aka working his processor to near power down), barely seeing him all day, then apologise profusely for coming to berth late. And by that time, you’d already be in stasis, waking up to your frame gently tucked into his while he spoons you. It annoyed you, having to wait days; hell, even weeks sometimes before Ratchet had a chance to lay a digit on you.

But you’ve quickly learned throughout your relationship that the longer Ratchet goes without interface, the harder he fucks.

His digits are pressing into the seams of your hip plating, calculated and efficient with aeons of experience against your frame. A low moan escapes your throat as you feel your modesty panel easily click open. You’re already dripping wet at the anticipation, and it hasn’t gone unnoticed by Ratchet.

“Then why don’t you frag me then, hm?”

“Oh, I intend to,” Ratchet kneels on the ground, two servos keeping your thighs spread as his hot breath teases your valve, “Only if you can suppress your smart commentary and let me indulge in you first.”

You crane your neck as you watch his dermas latch onto your exterior node and subsequently throw it back against the berth with a clang as he starts sucking and flicking against your node. It’s electric and oh so sensitive as he scrapes it against his dentae.

“Oh, Ratchet.” A filthy mewl escapes your mouth, bringing a servo to his helm when he starts drawing slow circles with his glossa, “Please, I can’t- I need-“

“You need what, exactly?” Ratchet lifts his helm from your heat, and primus, your fluid already coats the lower half of his face in a pink sheen.

“Need your spike- ahhn.”

“What do you want me to do with my spike?” A harsh kiss to your abused node sends shivers up your back strut, which turns into clamping your thighs around his helm as he plunges his glossa into you.

“F-Frag… do you need to ask… nghh… so many questions?”

“So impatient, aren’t you?” Ratchet rolls his optics with a groan, either out of frustration for your impatience to hasten things or his desperate need to shove you face-first into the berth, “Turn around, let me see that pretty aft of yours, sweetspark.”

You obey his command, pedes firmly planted on the ground as you bend over the berth. A weak whine vibrates the bed as Ratchet presses your helm into the silky sheets, another servo pushing his engorged spike against your cunt.

“Now be a good femme and stay still for me,” He groans, sheathing his entire spike into you before pressing his body weight against your back, “my little stress toy…”

[memorycycle]

finishes logging a portion of the days data and leans back in my chair at my office cubicle and lets out a sigh and swings my head over a large field mowing down a wide arc of grass with my teeth & its very efficent method of grazing thanks to my specialized neural spines allowing for long muscles and tendons that help me crane my neck in huge sweeping motions back and forth like a scythe as i co90onsume a big area of grass very efficiently