#faulty sensor

[submasbrainrot]

messy drawing of an au where emmet does my job instead, which sometimes deals with... wires and electronic stuff? not quite electrical work, but close enough.

(bonus points if you can identify the device he's working on)

Kudaugust day 4: Electrical

[sniffanimal]

I need to be a robot as of yesterday. I need granular control over my senses. I need to be able to unplug sensors or filter them. turn off my nerve endings. install a mod that makes everything I eat taste and feel like red velvet cake

[yesterdayiwrote]

So George got forced to box from FP2 because a faulty sensor told them he had a water leak and he didn't, which - okay...

But then you remember he ALSO had a faulty sensor telling them he had a water leak during Brazil 22... and so NOW I have two questions...

1) Mercedes, what the fuck is wrong with your sensors?

But more pressingly, 2) When you retired George from Silverstone because one of your sensors said he had a water leak..... 😳😟😰🧐

[gar-a-ash]

Once again back in a dealership, check engine light came on

[refuzz]

UnitedHealthcare, the largest health insurance company in the US, is allegedly using a deeply flawed AI algorithm to override doctors' judgments and wrongfully deny critical health coverage to elderly patients. This has resulted in patients being kicked out of rehabilitation programs and care facilities far too early, forcing them to drain their life savings to obtain needed care that should be covered under their government-funded Medicare Advantage Plan.

It's not just flawed, it's flawed in UnitedHealthcare's favor.

That's not a flaw... that's fraud.

[southislandwren]

Nothing like a little paranoid delusion to start(end?) my day

[osh-in]

Car Engine Diagnostics: Focusing on the Crankshaft Sensor

Hey there! Let's dive into a crucial part of car engine diagnostics: the crankshaft sensor. This little component plays a big role in your vehicle's overall performance. If you're experiencing issues with your car, understanding the crankshaft sensor can save you time and money.

What is a Crankshaft Sensor?

First things first, the crankshaft sensor monitors the position and rotational speed of your crankshaft. It's vital because it sends this information to your car's engine control unit (ECU), which then adjusts the fuel injection and ignition timing. Without a functioning crankshaft sensor, your car might not start or could run erratically.

Signs of a Failing Crankshaft Sensor

You might be wondering how to tell if your crankshaft sensor is on the fritz. Here are some common symptoms:

Engine Misfires: The engine might misfire or stall, which can be pretty alarming.

Starting Problems: If your car has trouble starting, the crankshaft sensor could be the culprit.

Check Engine Light: This is often the first clue that something's wrong under the hood.

Reduced Fuel Efficiency: A failing sensor can mess with your fuel consumption, making your car less efficient.

Diagnosing the Problem

Diagnosing a crankshaft sensor issue typically involves using a diagnostic scanner. This tool reads the error codes from your car’s ECU. A mechanic will usually check these codes to confirm if the crankshaft sensor is indeed the problem.

The Replacement Process

If you discover that the crankshaft sensor needs to be replaced, don’t fret! The process is generally straightforward but should be handled by a professional unless you’re comfortable working on cars. It involves locating the sensor, disconnecting the battery, removing the old sensor, and installing the new one.

Understanding the Costs

Now, let’s talk about the elephant in the room: the cost to replace a crankshaft sensor. This can vary depending on your car's make and model. On average, you might expect to pay between $150 and $250 for parts and labor. While this might seem steep, remember that a functioning crankshaft sensor is crucial for your car's performance and your safety.

Preventive Measures

To avoid unexpected sensor failures, regular maintenance is key. Keeping your engine clean and ensuring all components are in good condition can extend the life of your crankshaft sensor.

In Summary

The crankshaft sensor might be a small part, but it has a big impact on your car’s engine performance. Recognizing the signs of a failing sensor and understanding the cost to replace a crankshaft sensor can keep you prepared and your vehicle running smoothly. Regular diagnostics and maintenance will help catch issues early, saving you from potential headaches down the road.

Remember, if your car starts showing any of the symptoms mentioned, don't delay getting it checked out. Safe driving!

[witchywcmans]

AGAINST THE LAW. | KEN RYUGUJI

synopsis ━━ after one too many trips to the auto repair shop with your old car, you realize you can focus on your work tasks so much better in the waiting room. but when the head mechanic notices you've been loitering, you recognize him instantly: ken ryuguji. there’s zero chance you’re getting out of this one. (older!draken x f!reader.)

content warnings ━━ missionary position on a motorcycle (hey, this is fiction), cunnilingus + fingering, praise, semi-public sex, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, pet names (i.e. cherry), mentions loss of virginity in the past, mutual pining, au as helllll, draken is in his late 20s and a mechanic. nsfw (minors + ageless blogs dni).

word count ━━ 5.2k

song inspiration ━━ one for the road, arctic monkeys / one of the girls, the weeknd / fallen star, the neighbourhood

author's note ━━ ok off the bat, I just wanna say this fic was completely inspired by this movie called wait with me. my friends and I like to watch passionflix movies for the laughs, but this one wasn't. well horrible. if you watch it, don't expect oscar-worthy performances, but it was fun and stupid and yeah, it made me think about what if part of this concept was applied to draken when he was older, workin as a mechanic. idk. I'm not caught up on the manga whatsoever so take this as a major au lol

Your car was a piece of shit, but that wasn’t the only reason you ended up sitting in the waiting room at the mechanic’s more than usual. A police officer would call it loitering. You, on the other hand, called it a safe space. For the past couple of weeks, your car had been in and out of the shop due to a faulty ignition sensor that your mechanic couldn’t nail down until your car broke down on the side of the highway. For the third time. Needless to say, it had been a stressful past month. The car issues had been one thing, but then there was all the pressure at work. And for some reason, you began to find comfort in working at the mechanic’s waiting room.

Your work as a journalist was very important to you. A perfectionist at heart, you needed to be in the right zone, the right state of mind, to write. Unfortunately, you weren’t someone who could sit at your desk at home for hours, typing away at the speed of light, and you definitely couldn’t focus at a coffee shop. You tried a plethora of other places. The local park: your laptop died. The library: teenagers still whispered too loud even in the quietest of places. The McDonald's parking lot: you got distracted by your hunger. Nowhere was right … until you were forced to work from your mechanic’s waiting room while he worked on your car. 

Even when your mechanic figured out the issue, you couldn’t help but sneak in through the entrance late mornings and work on your articles. The waiting room was just so … quiet, even more quiet than a library. There was hardly anyone in there besides the retired folk who could wait all day for their car to be fixed. You had a coffee machine at your disposable – not good coffee, but good enough – and a selection of snacks from the vending machine. It was pure bliss. You liked to hole yourself up in the corner, picking out different outfits that would conceal your face enough, and type away until the sun began to set. No one said a word to you. No one batted an eye.

So, as you can see, it was a surprise to you when someone eventually approached you two months into your loitering scheme.

It was just about closing time and you were shoving your laptop in your backpack after sending off another draft to your editor. A pair of feet appeared in front of your chair, and when you looked up at the young mechanic chewing on the end of a toothpick, you knew you were fucked. 

“Toyota,” he said without missing a beat, knowing your car from the top of his head, “ignition sensor, right?”

You paused, sliding on your backpack. Could you make a break for it? “Um … correct.”

“That was fixed weeks ago,” he said, slapping a dirty rag on his shoulder, car keys dangling from the other hand. 

Your mouth went completely dry. How the fuck could you explain this without coming off as a total weirdo? Your hands gripped the straps of your backpack for dear life. This was so embarrassing.

Before you could reply, the young mechanic gestured to the back door with his chin. “Follow me,” he said. “Boss wants to talk to ‘ya.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Still fiddling with your backpack straps, you knew there was no choice but to follow this guy. He led you through the back door and into the main workshop area of the shop. There were some cars left on a few lifts, ready to be inspected tomorrow, and the shelves packed with parts seemed to be in disarray. Besides that, there was no one in here but you, the young mechanic, and whoever this “boss” was still working in the back of the shop. You had never met the owner of the shop before; you typically worked with your mechanic and no one else.

You took down the hood that you’d been wearing today. There was no use in hiding your face now.

“Here she is, boss,” the man beside you said, still twirling those keys. “Can I go home now?”

“Yeah, yeah,” the boss replied, hidden behind the huge motorcycle he was working on. “Good work today.”

The younger man left, the bell above the office door jingling, and now it was just two: you and this so-called boss you’d never met. You stood there in silence, hands fidgeting with anxiety, as you waited for the boss to say something. From behind the motorcycle, all you could see was a flash of blonde hair and smoke puffing out into the dingy air. It smelled like motor oil and cigarettes back here.

You lifted your foot – maybe it was time to try and sprint out – but then a deep voice entered the work space.

“You know that loitering is against the law, right?”

That voice … it was familiar, but you couldn’t put a pin on it. And then, the boss was standing up, and you saw the tuft of blonde hair slicked back, the shaved sides on his head. That infamous dragon tattoo still on his left temple. The little hoop on his left ear was accompanied by a few other small piercings. He was still the same height – over six feet – but had grown some muscle. His hands were calloused from all those years of fighting, and now, from heavy labor. And those eyes … they were still as stormy and dark as the first day you saw him in school.

This wasn’t just embarrassing. This was mortifying.

“C’mon, Cherry,” Draken said, instantly recognizing you and your old nickname, “you know you can’t loiter in my shop.”

Cherry. You hadn’t been called that since … well, since high school. Your classmates hadn’t started calling you that because of a specific physical trait. To your face, you were told the nickname was for your quick skill of tying a cherry stem into a knot with your tongue. You had been the best, after all. But unbeknownst to you, the nickname came from when Mikey Sano, the infamous former leader of the Tokyo Manji Gang, popped your cherry.

You hadn’t even liked Mikey at the time. You were just sweet sixteen, and he was a year older, and you had assumed it would be better for your first to be someone with experience. Unfortunately, Mikey Sano had no experience. The sex had been awkward and terrible, as most first times between teenagers are, but at least you could say that you lost your virginity to the leader of Toman. Your eyes had always been on someone else, though. Someone who you had been too nervous to talk to, who you had only shared just a few interactions with. You never had a crush on Mikey as a teenager; you had always liked –

“Draken,” you said finally, shock lining your voice. Your eyes formed into wide saucers. It had been so long, and he was here. This whole time. Right under your nose. How surprised did you look right now?

He chuckled, wiping his hands off on a rag. The cigarette dangling from his lips was plucked out, and he stabbed it into an ashtray. “Don’t look so surprised.”

Oh, so you did look that shocked to see him.

He threw the tool he’d been using on a bench and stepped around the bike. “I really don’t go by Draken anymore,” he continued, sitting down on the rusted motorcycle, stretching his legs out. “Just call me, Ken.”

You were speechless. Were you breathing right now? You had to admit … you still found him to be handsome. He always had been. God, you were obsessed with him in high school, but always hid your crush in the shadows. Not even your friends knew about it, but you’d made it obvious, even if you didn’t know it. And now … he’d gotten better with age. The lines underneath his eyes told a story, as well as the scars etched into his veiny forearms. He could have more that you couldn’t see underneath the tattoos on his arms. Your mouth was so dry from staring at him that you had to lick the corners of your lips.

“Ken,” you said in a single breath, lacing your hands together in front of your body. You hadn’t moved from your spot, even when he was looking at you so casually. “I’m so sorry for loitering. Please, don’t call the cops on me. Or something. I have a reason –”

“Me? Call the police?” He laughed again, and it was just like how you remembered. “Do you know me at all, Cherry?”

Once you found the courage to breathe again, you stepped forward. Then another. And another. “I guess I don’t,” you shrugged, still playing with your hands. “I guess I just knew of you.”

“And I knew of you, all those years ago.” He smiled like you two were in on a secret. The rag that had been in his hands was tossed onto his left shoulder. He was wearing a pair of grey coveralls stained with oil, but the top half was unzipped and tied around his waist, leaving him in just a white tank top on his torso, which hugged his muscles so nicely. “So, tell me then. What’s the reason for your loitering?”

This had to be the most words shared between you two than all those years at school together. You thought about pinching yourself, just to check if this was all part of an elaborate dream. Or nightmare, depending on how it ended.

“Um …” You rubbed the back of your neck, blushing slightly. “Well, you see … the waiting room at your shop is very … quiet.”

His brow raised. “So I’ve been told.” He stared you down. “C’mon, out with it.”

“You’re going to make fun of me.”

“I will not.”

“Yes, you will.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because we went to school together!”

“Oh, you know that means noth –”

“I’m a journalist and I write my articles better in your waiting room,” you finally answered, crossing your arms over your chest. “There. I said it.”

Draken couldn’t stop himself from laughing. He knew he promised, but the giggles bubbled up inside him, forcing themselves to emerge. You looked at him incredulously, blinking too fast. All you wanted right now was to crawl into a hole and be left alone. You had to find a new mechanic after this.

“You said you wouldn’t make fun of me,” you sighed.

He waved his hand as his laughter died down. “I’m not. I promise.” Finally, his shoulders sagged again and he stood up. “I think it’s really cool that you … like my waiting room so much.”

You found your lips pulling into a smile at the same time as him. The tension broke and you felt your dimples crease. “I also like all the little snacks in the machine.”

“And the coffee?” He added.

You shrugged. “Could use some work.”

Draken laughed again, and just the sound of it made butterflies form in your stomach. You never had such a reaction to someone laughing before. What was wrong with you?

He stuck his hands in the front pockets of his coveralls. “It’s … really nice to see you again, Cherry.”

You mimicked his actions, instead sliding your hands into the back pockets of your jeans. “You too, Ken.”

“I won’t bust you for loitering, by the way. Even if it is against the law,” he chuckled under his breath, whipping the rag off his shoulder once again. “Come over here. Let me show you what I’m working on.”

His tone was so casual, as if years hadn’t passed between you two, as if this wasn’t the most you talked in years. You set your backpack down and approached him in front of the bike. Your fingers ran over the slope of the seat, all new despite the rusty exterior of the motorcycle. “That’s new leather,” he informed you. “Feel free to test it out. I need someone else’s butt on this thing so I know if I chose a good material.”

You giggled, all light and flirty. You simply couldn’t help it, especially when he looked at you with those dark eyes, the corners creasing when he smiled. Without missing a beat, you sat down on the side of the bike, like he had minutes ago, and looked up at him. He was tall, but from this seat, he was even taller. 

He pointed to the wheel of the bike, and then the headlight. “I just started replacing the …” His voice drowned out as you simply focused on his lips. His mouth quirked as he explained what he fixed so far on the bike. You watched his finger dance around the bike, taking in the rough exterior of his hands up close. They were so much bigger now, amongst other things –

“So how’s that seat?”

You blinked, bringing yourself out of your horny stupor. “Oh, um – comfy. Very comfy.” You cleared your throat. “So … is this for a customer?”

“It’s mine. This is a personal project,” he explained, leaning slightly to the left, closer to you. “I wouldn’t be working on anything this late except if it was for me.”

His eyes were on you again, drinking you in as you sat on the bike. He placed his hand on the fuel tank, so close to yours. Your stomach was definitely doing flip-flops now, especially when you noticed the way his eyes raked down your figure. You wished you’d chosen something better to wear, something other than a pair of jeans and a cropped hoodie, but you’d only expected to be getting work done in the waiting room today. Not to be confronted by your old school crush. But it looked like it didn’t matter to him. The way he was looking at you … it felt like you were naked.

“It really is nice to see you again,” he said, voice just slightly above a whisper. His stance changed and he moved to stand between your legs.

You bit your lip for a moment. “You already said that.”

“You’re right. Uh … I …” He looked down at his hands, flexing them, breaking his nerves. “You just … look very pretty … sitting on my bike.”

You looked down at yourself. The way you sat with your legs spread wide was anything but attractive, and it wasn’t like you were wearing a cute, little dress. “I do?”

But when you lifted your stare again, his face was so much closer to yours. He was leaning down now, bracing two hands on the leather seat, and trying to pretend like he wasn’t inhaling your perfume. You just smelled … so good. Like strawberries and apples and … cherries. Red, ripened cherries. And the way you were sitting on that seat, eyes wide and cheeks blushing from being caught earlier. Fuck, it reminded him of the first time he saw you in high school. He had been a horny teenager, of course, but the way he saw you tie that cherry stem with your tongue … you were the first person he ever jerked off to the thought of. He had never made a move on you – ever – but at this moment, he was glad. Because things would’ve been different, and you never would’ve ended up loitering at his shop, and you never would’ve been sitting so pretty on his bike, all these years later.

“I just …” He trailed off, words failing him, as he lifted a hand to skim it over your jawline. “You can tell me to stop.”

But you didn’t. You wouldn’t. Your eyes simply batted up at him, leaning into his touch when his fingers caressed your cheek. Your skin immediately flushed. You were so soft, and warm, and god, did his skin prickle when he touched you. 

“Can I tell you a secret?” He muttered, voice gravely. You nodded instantly, and his thumb went to trace the outline of your lips. “I had always been … jealous that Mikey got to you first.”

Had your feelings in high school been reciprocated and you didn’t even know it? You licked at the corners of your lips, your tongue quickly flicking his thumb in the process. “You were?” You asked, already feeling yourself getting wet from just him tracing your lips. “I … never really liked Mikey anyways.” You then shook your head. “It feels silly to talk about this so many years later –”

Draken turned your face back to his, looking into your eyes sternly. “You never liked Mikey,” he said, point blank, pressing his thumb onto your bottom lip.

Without hesitation, you wrapped your lips around his thumb, swirling your tongue around the fingertip. You shook your head at his question.

His breath hitched. Just the sight of your lips around his thumb had him adjusting himself in his pants. He could feel his cock start to swell with need, causing him to mumble a soft, “Fuck,” under his breath.

You weren’t just wet now. You were soaked.

You slipped your mouth off his thumb, leaving a tiny trail of spit. His face immediately got closer, his lips grazing yours. He could tell they were soft, and even your chapstick smelled like cherries. God, how could he be so hard already? “I liked you back when we were teenagers,” you confessed, reaching out to hook your thumbs in the belt loops on his coveralls. “I was too scared to say anything, and Mikey … he’d just been there. Right place at the right time. We really didn’t feel anything for each other.”

Your words stirred something within him, something more than jealousy. Was it regret? The fact that he could’ve had you, all those years ago, if he’d just manned up and asked. He could’ve fought people all day, but when it came to asking out the girl he liked, he’d sat back, let his best friend pop your cherry. It should’ve been him. Fuck, it could’ve been him. 

His lips pressed to yours instantly, needing to taste the sweetness on your lips. His tongue darted out, swiping at that cherry flavor, and he moaned. Actually moaned. Draken wasn’t known to be weak for anyone, but you … you had always been a different story. You pulled him in closer by his belt loops, tipping your face up as he leaned over you. His mouth devoured yours, his tongue slipping past your lips once again to explore your mouth. He gripped the edge of the seat, his other hand cradling your jaw, and you wanted him so much closer. If he just put his knee between your legs, you could –

There it was. He did it, placing his knee right in the perfect spot. You bucked your hips up, setting a slow grind against his knee as he kissed you with feverish intent. Moans fell from your lips and into the kiss, making the tent in his pants grow bigger every passing second. He was so fucking hard now, and he needed more of you. He would have more of you.

“No, stop,” he muttered, breaking the kiss and moving his knee away. You huffed with disappointment, wanting that delicious friction once again, but when you opened your eyes, he was staring at you with purpose. “Please, let me taste you.”

You nodded dumbly, eyes blown out with lust. All you could say was, “Okay.”

In another life, you would’ve said something endearing, or maybe even hit him with a little dirty talk. But you absolutely couldn’t right now. Your head was swimming, the image of him unzipping your jeans and taking them off felt like it was out of a fever dream. Is this what it felt like to drown? No, you were breathing – just about – and Draken was throwing your pants off to the side, kneeling before you. Your legs spread wide as you sat on the bike. Surely, there could’ve been a better place to do this, but the way he was staring at your soaked panties, pushing them to the side to take in your pussy … you knew there was no stopping him. This was just his first course of the night.

His tongue dove between your wet folds, drinking you in like a glass of lemonade on a hot summer’s day. You knew you were done for when his arms wrapped around your legs, holding them apart, giving himself better access to one thing he’d craved for years. He rolled his tongue over your swollen clit, enjoying the sounds that slipped out of your mouth. You muttered obscenities, bucked your hips without thinking, pulled on his slicked-back hair. Anything to give you more friction on your precious, aching clit.

He dragged his tongue down, pushing it inside your warmth, collecting the arousal and groaning like a man starved. Fucking his tongue into you, he angled his nose to brush your clit, and you just about mewled. You had spent so many years either having mediocre sex or stressing over this stupid job, when this – this man you had been in love with in school – was here the whole time, just dreaming about the day he could eat your pussy. So much time wasted, so many fake orgasms, while Ken Ryuguji owned your favorite auto shop, so close to you and right under your nose. 

You were pretty sure the seat on this bike had to have been ruined. Draken was turning you into a wet mess, making your hips buck against his face. His lips wrapped your beloved clit, sucking and pulling, needing more – so much more – of you. Slipping two fingers inside you, he pumped them fast. It didn’t take long for his fingers to curl and find that sweet spot that had your core trembling around him. He didn’t know what he’d do if you came on his face. Honestly, he’d probably cum in his pants on the spot.

“C’mon … c’mon … you can cum in my m–mouth –” He was practically begging, his voice muffled from deep within your thighs. “Tastes so, so good … fuck, Cherry, fuck –”

You couldn’t stop yourself, couldn’t even think about anything but the way his tongue lapped at your clit, before you were cumming on his tongue, your arousal smearing all over his lips. He moaned the second he got just a hint of your essence, burying his face more into your legs. You tasted better than candy, than cherries, than menthol cigarettes. He could spend forever between these thighs, drinking you in and listening to your desperate moans.

Once your body stopped shaking, he dragged his tongue one last time through your folds, making sure he didn’t miss a drop. You yelped from the overstimulation, and when you opened your eyes, he was rising from in between your legs. His licked at your slick still staining his lips, bringing your mouth to his again, letting you taste yourself. Your hands fisted into his shirt, downright desperate for more of him. As if reading your thoughts, he pulled back.

“I know it’s not ideal, given the place we’re in, but …” He cradled your face in both in his hands, as if you were just a baby bird. “Can I fuck you, Cherry?”

You nodded without hesitation, already drunk on his touch. You weren’t exactly sure how he planned on doing this. I mean … you two were in the dirty workshop area of an auto repair shop. This wasn’t exactly the best place to have sex. But then he was adjusting your position on the motorcycle, laying your head down by the handlebar and pulling your legs on both sides of the seat, your ass resting nicely in the curve. His hands were quick to roll off your panties.

“Ken,” you called out, sitting up a little and dragging your hand up. His white tank bunched up at the waist. “Wanna see more of you …”

Draken was so goddamn hard in his pants, his cock throbbing with the anticipation of being inside you, but you were just so pretty and he was putty in your hands. He let your palms explore him, lifting his tank top up so you could see what the fabric had been concealing. He’d really filled out since school – his arms were toned, his abdomen more defined. He looked like the statue of Apollo, all lean and muscled, but with just the right amount of grit. You liked that he never got his dragon tattoo removed (although, that would’ve been very painful), and that his piercings remained the same. Everything about him seemed untouched, but he’d just gotten better with age. Just the sight of him made your mouth water.

You leaned back down on the bike, bringing him down with you. Your lips pressed against his hungrily, and he was so, so tempted to slip his tongue into your mouth, when he felt his cock hard as a rock in his pants, aching and pulsating. His mouth broke away from yours, and he whispered, quite hopelessly, “I’m so sorry, but I really, really need to be inside you or my dick is going to explode.”

A chuckle escaped your lips, and just the sound of it made Draken smile. You nodded, urging him to continue, and he quickly unzipped the bottom half of his coveralls. He took his cock out: it was long, curved, pink at the tip, and leaking precum on the shop floor. All the more reason to be inside you; he couldn’t have his mechanics seeing that on the floor and wondering what he was doing after hours. He pulled a condom out from his wallet and slid the ribbed rubber on. Lifting both your legs onto his shoulders, your ass was almost rising off the seat and he positioned himself between your thighs, noticing the way your slick was smeared all over his seat. He grunted at the sight of it, slamming his cock into your without thinking.

You cried out, feeling him so deep so quickly. He held your legs up, leaning down as far as he could, and muttered, “Fuck, I’m sorry – so sorry – just … needed to be inside you. Needed to fuck you on my bike.”

You hand came up to cup his chin for a moment. “S’okay,” you promised, “just fuck me like you should’ve done years ago, Draken.”

He knew he told you to call him Ken, but just the nickname falling your lips in such a filthy manner had him groaning. Draken pulled out of you until only the tip remained, and then pounded his cock back inside you. You keened, trying to close your legs, but he held them up by his shoulders. He set a fast pace inside you, unable to keep his moans at bay, and slipped one hand off your leg to snake his fingers up your hoodie, pushing it up to your chin. Pulling your breasts out from your bra, his eyes clouded and played with your sensitive nipples. “So good,” he muttered, teeth sinking into his bottom lip for a moment. “Feels so, so good … needed you for so long, Cherry.”

“I know, I know, Draken,” you whimpered, locking your arms around his neck to bring his face closer to yours, your thighs now curling against your chest. Your back ached against the seat and your legs burned from the uncomfortable position, but you wouldn’t dare push him away, not when he was filling you like this. 

With his lips just grazing yours, he tugged on your lip, making you moan, and he fucked into you harder. Your nails were now dragging down his shoulders, leaving marks that he’d think about forever. “Fuck, I’m s’deep … so deep inside you. You’re so warm, so wet – fuck, I’m so close already.”

“Wait for me,” you begged, sighing as his cock curved against your sweet spot. “Wanna cum with you, Draken.”

“I know, Cherry,” he grunted, his pace relentless. Fuck, this was all he ever needed, all he wanted to do, forever. It felt like you were made to take him. “Touch yourself f’me. Cum together … we’ll cum together.”

You nodded quickly, moving your hand in between your bodies, finding your puffy clit so easily. A whine escaped your lips as you fingers rubbed little circles, getting you so close already. You just needed a little push. Draken was slamming into you, his breaths fanning your cheeks, and when he felt your legs start to shake, your walls clenching just a little, he almost died. “Such a good girl …” He cooed, nose brushing yours. “Touching yourself f’me so nicely … fuck, you take me so well … yes, yes, you’re so close. Just like that.”

Your fingers rubbed a little faster, and you knew your orgasm was imminent. With him pushing into you, filling you completely, and the stimulation on your clit … you felt your lips purse into an O-shape. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Draken. I’m gonna … fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

“I know, I know,” he groaned. “Fuck – gonna cum too. That’s a good girl … doing so good – fuck –”

His release came first. He had been close for so long, Draken was surprised he’d been able to hold back. He came with a loud groan, spilling himself into the condom, and it was only seconds later that your jaw went slack with pleasure. His name fell from your lips in a whimper, and you kept rubbing that aching clit through your orgasm, going tight around his cock. He wouldn’t stop fucking into you, even when your orgasm subsided, needing to feel you clench around him for just a moment longer. The way he filled you wasn’t like any other. You never wanted to feel empty again. You couldn’t, not when you knew how Ken Ryuguji felt inside you.

When you both eventually stopped trembling, he gently placed your legs back down on the sides of the bike. They felt sore and limp, but that was the last thing on your mind. You opened your eyes at the same time, and you both couldn’t help but laugh at the position you were in, the absurdity of it all. The workshop smelled like gas and oil, and you were surrounded by broken-down cars. But you two had fucked like you were in a bedroom, on a soft mattress, rather than a motorcycle. You hand went over your mouth to suppress your giggles.

Draken smiled with you, and then removed your hand, liking the way you laughed. “I know it’s been a long time coming, but … can I take you out some night?”

You couldn’t stop smiling even if you tried. “I’d like that, Ken.”

His cock had gone soft, but he was still nestled inside you, basking in your warmth. Draken wished he could be inside you forever, with your fingers playing with his hair. He would give anything for this moment to last, but he knew this position on the bike had to be the most uncomfortable for you, and he needed to take off this condom. He chuckled under his breath.

“Also, in case you were wondering,” he said, lips pulling into a smirk. “You can loiter around my waiting room anytime.”

[werevampiwolf]

They also used to use some clay and just... attach a lit candle to the top of their heads.

Basically, any instance you can think of of "surely, they didn't do this in the mines", they absolutely did do in the mines.

Children whose job was to crawl through tiny tunnels hauling minecarts? Absolutely, it's cheaper to make smaller tunnels, so you need smaller people. They also have jobs like "sit alone in the dark and open and close the air vent. If you fall asleep, you get beaten, and possibly everyone in the mines below you dies." You don't even have to pay them as much as adult men.

Bringing birds into the mines as living gas detectors? Of course, the birds have tiny, sensitive lungs and if your bird dies, that means it's time to get the fuck out. Miners actually would become so attached to their canaries that Canary Rescue Devices were invented to be able to lock the cage airtight and pump a little tiny tank of fresh air into it to hopefully save them.

The most terrifying moving ladders possible? It's called the Man-Engine.

Doesn't look too bad, but here's a real one.

There's usually no other way in or out, and you don't start getting paid until you reach the bottom, so don't dawdle. It's powered by a waterwheel, so if you're in its way, it's not stopping, you're just getting crushed. It's also hanging from a single joint on each side. The Levant mine accident happened when that joint broke with over 100 men on the Man-Engine. Everyone that was on that side of the lift fell down the shaft, and dozens died. Most the ones that lived got lucky enough to land on top of the pile of bodies and it broke their fall softer than the solid rock, though they still had horrific injuries and were trapped at the bottom of hole in the dark, surrounded by corpses, for hours, until they could be rescued. And the people on the other half of the lift had to cling to the wooden beam for hours and hope that they didn't fall too. That is, the ones that weren't knocked off by falling bodies or the giant broken wooden structure that's collapsing next to you.

All the pictures I included are from the past, but rest assured, the mines aren't much better today, especially in places with lax labor laws. You can find plenty of photos and videos of modern children, as young as four, and possibly even younger, who are made to work in the mines, either due to effectively being enslaved or just by circumstances like extreme poverty. And before anyone starts thinking "oh, that's just third world countries, we're better than that over in the western world"... 1, most of those mines exist to supply us with things, like cobalt for batteries for electronics, and 2, we have child labor over here too. Migrant kids who work in the fields with their parents, poor kids paid under the table to work in factories, kids who's parents own a business and are allowed to put their child to work in it. Right-wing American politicians are even pushing to increase child labor in the USA.

Carbide or acetylene mining lamp, sauce here.

[fangswbenefits]

Sharing is Caring (II)

Summary: Things get complicated, but you find yourself sharing a bed with Miguel… once again. Too bad someone else is in the room.

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader

18+. Sharing one bed. Semi-public. Blue balls. Sexual tension. Mutual masturbation. Creampie. Implied cockwarming.

* ˚ ✦ Part 1. (you don’t have to read it to enjoy this one, though)

You were fucked.

Extremely fucked.

Not only had the anomaly managed to slip through your fingers, effectively disabling the trackers scattered around, but you were also fucked, because now you were left to deal with the aftermath of a very intimate encounter with Miguel.

It was nearly five in the morning and the night was nowhere near being done. Fortunately, it had stopped raining, which helped with visibility and grip, and having Lyla assist you as in replacing the faulty sensors was also very much welcome.

“Sensor 24 up and running,” the AI’s sing-song voice announced, as the device bleeped green.

You leapt over the railing, shooting a string of web to the side of the hotel, so you could swing through the window.

As you landed with a clumsy thump, you noticed Miguel had already gotten back from his reconnaissance check.

He looked positively… pissed off.

Great.

“Lyla, call her,” her grumbled, checking his watch.

“Already did,” she announced, appearing by his shoulder. “Want me to run a diagnostics of the perimeter once again?”

“Do it in five minute intervals,” he said flatly. “The anomaly must be nearby.”

You removed your mask and considered sitting on the bed, but were soon reminded that not even thirty minutes ago, you were getting fucked by Miguel.

A shudder ran through your body.

“You okay?” he asked, his narrowed eyes on you.

You shrugged. “Sure.”

The problem with having impromptu sex was that now you were left to deal with the soreness between your legs, and the frustration of an orgasm that never came to be.

Did Miguel feel the same way?

Your eyes roamed his body, and you find yourself glaring at his-

“Hey! I need you to focus,” Miguel said with a snap of his fingers. “There’s still a chance we deal with it tonight.”

You were about to snap back when a loud distorted buzz filled the room, swirls of flashing lights nearly blinding you, as the inter-dimensional portal expanded quickly in pulsating waves.

Through came Jessica Drew, followed closely by Peter B. Parker.

Fuck.

“What are you doing here?” Miguel growled, pointing at Peter.

“What?” he asked, eyes widening in confusion.

Miguel wasn’t known to be a very patient man, and you reckoned his patience was now hanging by a thread. “I called for Jess. Not you.”

Jess let out an exasperated sigh. “Easy, Miguel. We were both on the same mission.”

He straightened up, but crossed his arms. “Right.”

“Care to explain why I had to leave to be here?” she went on, resting on hand on her swollen belly. “How did you lose track of the anomaly?”

He exchanged a brief look with you. “The sensors didn’t alert us in time.”

That was true.

“Weren’t you supposed to be monitoring, regardless?”

“We dozed off,” you chimed in. “Momentarily! Just for a while.”

Not really true…

Jess glanced at you, suspicion written all over face.

“Sleeping on the job,” she then chuckled, eyeing Miguel deviously. “Didn’t think you’d ever do that, Miguel.”

He narrowed his eyes menacingly. “We weren’t sleeping. We were just resting our eyes for a moment.”

A blatant lie.

“What’s that on your neck?” Peter suddenly asked with a worried look on his face.

Oh….

You let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the tender hickey spot. “Bug bite.”

“Allergic reaction,” Miguel blurted out at the same time.

Fuck.

You shot him a murderous look.

Jessica arched an eyebrow. “Which one is it?”

“An allergic reaction to a bug bite,” Miguel said with a shrug, growing visibly annoyed.

A wave of relief washed over you momentarily. That seemed plausible enough.

But…

“Oh, really?” she asked with a knowing smile. “What bug? A spid-”

But Miguel was already cutting her off. “We don’t have time for this!”

Peter walked to you, craning your neck to the side. “You should have it checked. It looks serious.”

Ah, Peter… ever the innocent.

“Jess, you stay with us,” Miguel says, dragging Peter away from you at once. “We need an extra pair of eyes.”

She frowned. “No. Peter stays. I need to get some sleep,” she said, patting her belly.

“No!” Miguel growled.

“Actually, I was thinking of heading back home,” Peter drawled out, rubbing the back of his head. “Mayday should be waking up soon.”

“And I’m pregnant,” Jess shot, holding her chin high.

Peter swallowed and fell silent. The deal was sealed.

“Lyla, any updates?”

The hologram popped up instantly. “No, boss.”

Jess glanced over at you one last time, before stepping into the portal once again. “You should really have that checked. Whatever bug did that seems… vicious,” she then slipped into the vortex, which vanished behind her.

You momentarily froze in place, feeling the dread of realisation hit you like a ton of bricks.

She knew.

“I’ll be right back,” Peter drawled out with a yawn and a stretch, disappearing into the bathroom.

The moment you heard rhe door click shut, you turned to Miguel.

“An allergic reaction to a bug bite?” you hissed.

He scowled deeply. “Because simply saying bug bite sounded ridiculous.”

“She didn’t believe it, regardless.”

Miguel was suddenly towering over you, his face twisted in annoyance. “Then why does it matter?”

“Because… you gave me a visible hickey!”

It was a silly thing to get upset about. There were worse things in life than having Miguel O’Hara marking you as a result of built up sexual tension.

But you didn’t want to give in.

“Got carried away,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah…”

He cleared his throat. “But I have a problem.”

You looked up at him. “What problem?”

“Well…” he said, glancing at the bathroom door.

“Peter?”

“No!”

You clicked your tongue. “Then what?”

His placed both hands on his hips and glanced down.

Your eyes followed suit.

Oh.

Oh.

“What? Why are you… what?” you stuttered in disbelief at the sight of the outline of his hardened cock.

“Biology, remember?” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s not going away.”

You somehow managed to tear your eyes from the impressive bulge. “Go jerk off, then!”

He had you walk back until you hit the wall behind. “It won’t go away.”

Had you just given Miguel blue balls?

“How’s that my problem?” you huffed, staring intensely into his crimson eyes.

“This is all your fault.”

“Oh, really? I thought we were blaming Biology.”

Before Miguel could retort, the sudden squeak of a door being swung open, had you slipped past him.

Peter emerged, eyeing you both. “Oh, I see what this is.”

Miguel had to move strategically in order to hide his raging boner from him. “What do you mean?”

“I know what’s up with you two,” Peter said, with a playful grin. “All the whispering and whatnot.”

Great.

Were you two that transparent?

“Huh…”

Miguel had pursed his lips.

Peter paced closer to you, eyeing you with a knowing smile. “You’re deciding on Jessica’s birthday present, right?”

You blinked a few times and heard Miguel exhale nearby.

“Right? I knew it!” he threw his arms in the air as if he’d just won the lottery.

In truth, you were simply baffled at how innocent Peter could be. The immediate weight that was lifted off your shoulders was enough to draw a laugh from you.

“Sure!”

“Of course, Peter,” Miguel said, voice dripping with his trademark sarcasm. “We went on this mission, so we could go through birthday checklists.”

A layer of pride settled on Peter’s face. “Ah! You’re growing soft, Miguel.”

You winced at his poor choice of words.

“But fear not!” he said as if he was about to fight off the anomaly himself. “We’ll take turns watching. You two can get some rest and properly plan it out,” he then pinched his thumb and index finger together and dragged them across his lips. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Miguel didn’t budge at first, but you were all too grateful to stop this insane conversation altogether.

“Thanks, Peter.”

“Of course,” he smiled widely, pacing to the open hotel window, leaping into the the sky night.

You shot Miguel one last look before slipping inside into the comfort of the bedsheets, welcoming the softness.

But you were sorely mistaken if you thought Miguel wouldn’t have followed you.

Your heart skipped a beat. Or two.

You had turned to face the wall, hoping he’d take the hint, and leave you be.

But once you felt his erection pressing into your ass, you knew you were a goner.

There was something extremely empowering about having a man like Miguel be so needy and desperate.

He scooted closer until his breath fanned your ear. “Can you just…”

You scoffed, pride swelling inside you. “Go ask Biology to jerk you off.”

“Whawt?”

“You keep blaming it, so…”

Silence fell between you two.

His hand then came to grip your hip. “It’s you.”

“I didn’t catch that,” you said, feeling his thumb rubbing gently, as he pushed the top half of your suit increasingly higher.

He rolled his hips into you, letting out a shaky moan in your ear that had your skin raise with goosebumps.

You flipped onto your other side to fully face him, and Miguel immediately took your lips with his, kissing you hungrily.

His hand dragged the fabric all the way up until he managed to expose one breast, breaking the kiss only to move down to suck on your hardened nipple.

The thought that he might be too much vaguely crossed your mind. For the second time that night you were meeting a side of Miguel that you had never seen before.

A side you much preferred.

Your fingers dragged through his hair, silently praising him.

In no time, you watched his digital suit disintegrate, giving you full access to the beautifully sculped body underneath.

He gripped your wrist and lowered it until your fingers grazed his cock. Knowing fully well what he craved, you wrapped them around it, earning an immediate jerk of his hips.

“Miguel…” you moaned, letting him freely fuck your hand, spilling more and more precum.

He released your nipple and had his forehead resting on your shoulder, his hand on top of your, making sure you squeezed tighter and tighter.

It didn’t take long for your hand to be soaked with precum, making it easier for him to slide up and down.

You squeezed involuntarily and a gush of wetness spilled into your underwear, your body yearning for him to fill you up with his cock.

He moved his hips deliciously, and you focused on taking in the wet sounds that filled the room as well as his breathless grunts.

But such bliss was short-lived as you heard Peter bolting into the room with a swish of his web.

Well…

Miguel immediately stilled, letting go of your hand.

You didn’t let go of his cock, instead peeking over his shoulder only to find Peter rolling out a sleeping bag on the floor.

He then turned to face you, and your head immediately slumped against the pillow, eyes on Miguel’s.

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

Peter’s voice was but a whisper. “Your heart rate is accelerated.”

Ah… spider senses.

“Yeah… I’m just a bit tense… it’s fine,” you muttered, feeling Miguel’s cock twitch in your hand. “Go get some rest. I’ll take over.”

“Oh! Thank you,” he beamed. “Mayday has been giving us terrible nights, and I could use a few minutes.”

You watched as he fluffed out his pillow before settling down on his back with a yawn.

Miguel’s breathing has steadied momentarily and you eventually let go of him.

But he quickly got a hold of your wrist.

The implication of that action wasn’t exactly subtle and you widened your eyes.

“No,” you mouthed right away.

His crimson eyes had darkened and you spotted his fangs from behind his lips.

You shook your head vehemently.

This was a bad idea.

But as soon as Peter’s snores tore through the room, you felt your heart clench.

“Peter is right there… he will hear it!”

He pressed an urgent kiss to your forehead. “We’ll be quiet. I’ll help you be quiet,” he promised, pressing his cock further into your already soaked crotch.

Your eyes fluttered shut, and just as you were about to let out a low whimper, you felt his hand cover your mouth, effectively reigning it in.

“Quiet.”

The other travelled down painfully slowly, palm grazing your exposed breast briefly, before resting just above the waistline of your suit.

“You have to be quiet,” he warned in a barely audible tone.

You nodded and he lifted his hand from your lips.

“We shouldn’t…” you muttered under your breath.

But your words were not matching your actions, as you dragged your hand covered in precum across his hard chest, taking your time to gently rub his nipple with your thumb.

You thought Miguel had stopped breathing altogether, but soon realised he was merely attempting to hold back a moan.

His fingers quickly slipped past the the waistline, finding your clit and drawing small circles. You had to bite your lip hard to suppress a whimper, rolling your hips into him.

You found his cock again, gripping it desperately and giving him a few pumps that matched the tempo of his strokes.

The thrill of indulging in such experience even when someome else was in the room, and with the increased chances of being caught, merely added to the pleasure you were already feeling.

“You’re doing good,” Miguel praised you through a shaky breath. “So good…”

Impatience took over and you wiggled out of your bottom half of the suit, allowing you to grant him betterr acces, as hou parted your legs.

He immediately seized it and slipped one finger inside.

You had to clasp your hand over your mouth to keep from groaning, eyes fluttering shut.

His breath was on your ear again. “Can you take one more?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice. A second finger immediately joined the first one, slinding inside effortlessly.

Feeling that you had managed to keep yourself under control, you dropped the hand covering your lips to grip his cock.

“And another one?”

You shook your head, fearing that would be too much. He pressed a kiss to your neck with a sigh, as he fucked your hand in a slow rhythm.

The knots of pleasure in your lower abdomen let you know that you were headed towards the precipice. You kept on riding his fingers relentlessly, your mind suddenly hazy from the feeling of being so full of him already.

“I’m close…” he mouthed, his breath shaky and cock twitching.

He had bared his fangs, and you thought you’d combust on the spot, realising he was truly overwhelmed with pleasure.

Finding your voice again, you whispered sensually, “Where do you want to cum?”

His eyed widened, pupils fully blown.

Your hips faltered briefly, grazing your clit across the palm of his hand. “Inside?”

He pressed his eyes shut and dug his fangs into his lower lip. “I won’t last.”

“I know,” you moaned, dragging thumb across his tip, feeling more droplets of warm precum coating your skin.

Peter suddenly let out a loud snore that made you jolt.

“Are you close?” Miguel asked.

“I’ll be with you inside me.”

You shifted on the mattress, and he removed his fingers from you at once, a wet sound filling the room.

Your body shuddered from the loss, but you soon felt his tip proding your entrance.

Before you could take another breath, he jerked his hips and slipped past your fold effortlessly.

His hand was on your mouth again, and this time you could taste yourself, as he struggled to keep your moans at a minimum.

It was also evident the sudden position was taking a toll on him. His steady pace was faltering with each passing second.

You soon entered the familiar point of no return, feeling an intense wave of pleasure tear from within you, blinding your vision with each pulse and contraction. It took all of your not to moan out loud even against his hand, the few shreds of sanity having a hold on you.

Miguel joined you, clearly not able to withstand the rhythmic squeezes around his cock as you reached your high.

Your caught a glimpse oh him biting the back of his other hand hard. He would for sure draw blood with his fangs, but you couldn’t even stay properly focused.

He bottomed out as deep as he could, spurts of cum coating your squeezing walls.

The two of you were struggling to breathe, shallow pants surrounding you.

“Oh my god! Butterfly!”

Peter…

You jerked away from Miguel in distress but with him still buried deep inside you, catching a glimpse of Peter sitting on the floor, breathing rapidly.

“Go back to sleep. It was just a dream,” you said with a smile.

Miguel pulled you into an embrace. “You did good.”

“Me? Not Biology?”

He scowled deeply.

“You can slide out now…” you whispered with a yawn.

Miguel didn’t move. “I want to stay a little longer likes this.”

Masterlist

[sparkriddledfever]

I want the transformers to experience the weird stuff on earth. By weird stuff, I mean the paranormal/supernatural. Or just humans picking stuff up that others cant? You know how some people tend to feel stuff that's not even there or sometimes see things.

I know they tend to use logic a lot and probably brush it off as it being paranoia, but I just know they would definitely get creeped out seeing their human just stare at an area and not say a word for a bit.

Like imagine one or two of them are outside with a human, all chatting until that human randomly gets spooked and shuffles over to one of them or just stops talking and stares at the trees surrounding the area.

Of course, they're going to automatically be on guard cause the human is acting weird suddenly. They can't pick up anything until the human casually goes "you know how you walk into a room and everybody turns to glance at you and go back to what they're doing but instead they havent and they just stare at you? Yeah, we're being watched right now. The treeline."

Or like the bots that have sensors can pick things up but there's nothing near them? They would probably think their equipment is faulty yet there's nothing wrong with it.

Many thoughts indeed

[currentloser]

wrong room

pairing: choi seung-hyun x reader word count: 2466 summary: After a long, hard day of work you end up accidentally crashing in Seung-hyun's room for the night. tags: strangers to mutual crushes, there was only one bed, generally seung-hyun being teasing as usual

( ao3 )

After a long day of working, all you wanted to do was simply go back and crash. After working so much, you were so tired every step felt like you had the body of a zombie. You were half-aware when you checked into the hotel room, not even catching what the receptionist told you as you squinted down at your key set. Your eyes crossed over as you attempted to make sense of the numbers, making your way down the hall.

Squinting, you try to rub your eyes to no avail. You stopped in front of what you were sure must’ve been your room number. The dim lighting did nothing to help your already poor perception, grabbing onto the handle as you tried to stop from falling asleep standing up. 

1104. Yeah, this was definitely your room. Probably.

You muffled a yawn behind your hand and fumbled for the keycard, pressing it up against the sensor beside the door. The lock beeped, and the door pushed open. That was all you needed, stumbling inside. You barely had the energy to remember taking off your shoes by the door before you flopped onto the closest surface you could find. Your bed- so soft and warm, enveloping you.

Sleep came so easily, you didn’t question why the sheets weren’t made.

—

“...Why are you in my bed?” A deep voice asks, breaking through your sleepy haze.

Your brain lagged, stuck somewhere between a dream and reality. You groan and swat in the direction of it, assuming it was all your mind attempting to disrupt your much needed sleep. You tug on the tight sheets, pulling them over yourself and roll away.

Again, the deep voice spoke, “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

That was definitely real. A real voice, in your hotel room. You cracked your eyes open sluggishly, not yet awake enough to worry. You met a pair of dark brown eyes that sparkled with amusement. Choi Seung-hyun. Lying beside you. In the same bed.

Your breath caught as realization dawned on you, and suddenly sleep was as far away as it had ever been. Your brain fired on all cylinders- the unfamiliar scent of cologne wasn't yours, and neither was the weight of the comforter you crawled underneath. Still, the warm man was just inches away from you.

Oh. Oh no.

Seung-hyun arched a brow at your lack of an answer, propping a fist beneath his chin and tilted his head in your direction as the truth finally set in, “Good morning?”

You bolted up so quickly you can feel your body tense in response, “This isn’t my room.”

“Nope,” He chuckled, entertained rather than angry, as he had every right to be.

“I swear… I thought-” You felt in your pocket and looked to the nightstand where his watch, his phone, and a glass of water sat. None of it was your own, because of course it couldn’t be. Your stomach dropped, “Oh my god.”

“Relax,” Seung-hyun finally sat up, ruffling through his bed-headed hair with a yawn, “Not like you crawled in on purpose.” His lip twitched slightly into a grin, “Unless you did?”

Heat rushed to your face, “Absolutely not.”

He hummed and pushed himself out of the bed, gesturing to the bedside table yet again. You hadn’t caught it before, but at some point you had taken your keys out of your pocket and left them there. He stepped around the side of the bed and grabbed them, placing them into your hand.

“Your room was actually the one next door,” He hummed, his voice obviously amused.

Finally, the reality of the night before started to set in on you. The blurry numbers, your autopilot to your room, but the way the card decided to work, “Wait. How did I even get in? My key shouldn’t have let me in.”

“Hotel’s got some faulty locks. The manager mentioned it yesterday,” He sighed softly, “I never imagined this would happen, though.”

Your stomach flipped. Of course it did, because you ended up in the entirely wrong room. You immediately push your keys into your pocket and turn around, making your way to the door. Without a clue on how to handle this poor societal faux paus, you instead stop by the entrance and kick your shoes on, sparing a glance up to him before you scamper out.

“Aren’t you at least going to buy me breakfast before you run off? You should buy someone a meal before you sleep with them,” He teases, tugging on his sleep-rumpled shirt and putting it back to its place.

“I’m never going to live this down…” You whine, bracing your hand against the wall and hiding your face against it.

“I was actually just about to order food,” He speaks conversationally, and plops right back down against the bed with a long yawn, “You owe me for trespassing. Go and get it for me.”

Suddenly, his demeanor has changed. At first you were free to go, and now he was ordering you around? You freeze at the door and adjust yourself into your shoes yet again, reaching for the door and getting ready to bolt. If only for the sake of getting out of paying for what wasn’t even your fault.

“When I first saw you, I was gonna kick you out. You slept so peacefully though, I knew I could make you do a favor for me… I don’t feel like moving. So, how about you make up for breaking and entering by fetching me something decent to eat?” Seung-hyun propped himself up on his hand, grabbing his wallet and holding it out to you.

As impossible as the man was, he had a point. You felt terrible for breaking in, so you take off your shoes yet again and snatch his wallet from him. 

Crossing back, you tug on the door and glance back toward him, “I’m picking what we eat.”

Seung-hyun merely waves you off, gesturing you out the door. You step out into the world with a short sigh, picking your favorite cafe to stop at. You stuff your breakfast sandwich into a takeout bag along with a coffee for yourself, awkwardly tucking it against your chest. Managing to carry it back through the narrow hotel hallway was enough of a challenge, until you took a sharp turn at the corner.

A passing guest that didn’t so much as glance in your direction elbowed you, and suddenly your cold coffee spilled against the front of your shirt. You’re cold, and your shirt is soaked in a matter of seconds. You stare down at your now-empty cup and hold back every impulse in your mind telling you to just yell at the world for your misfortune. You lean down and grab the trash, a headache starting to form at the front of your mind from this stress.

An uneven stain spread that you attempted and failed to swipe away, already soaked into the fabric you wore. You shook your head and hit the stain behind the bag of food, hoping it would be enough to distract him as you stepped in. Using the keycard, you swipe into his room and step in, toeing off your shoes yet again. True to his word, Seung-hyun looked like he hadn’t moved an inch from his spot on the bed.

Upon hearing you enter, he sat up from his spot and gazed over at you, immediately looking down at your shirt, “Huh.”

“Don’t start,” you groan and leave your shoes at the entrance, crossing the room and setting down the bag, tossing your trash.

Unfolding it, you came face to face with a large, oversized shirt. Unmistakably his own.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Seung-hyun murmured, “Just, I couldve sworn you left with a different shirt.”

“You just said you wouldnt- fine, whatever,” you sigh and take your sandwich, angrily taking a bite and holding onto the bag, holding it out toward him and shaking it.

Seung-hyun ignored your offer, rolling off the edge of his bed before going to the corner. You watched as he crouched down, unzipping his luggage and digging through the nicely folded clothing, making a mess of it. He gave a little hum as he tugged out a black fabric and turned to you with it, gesturing before tossing it your direction. You stepped forward, catching it mid-air and stepped back to look over it.

“Better than a towel, right?” He asked, sitting on the floor to dig into his handwich, “Go get changed, before it starts to get sticky.”

Nodding along, you blindly wandered into the hallway. Luckily, the layout of his hotel room was just like your own. You tossed off the old stained shirt- still soaked, and pull yourself into his. It’s warm and the fabric smelled like his cologne and what mustve been his detergent. Unable to help yourself, you tug the collar to take in a deep breath of it. You took a lot breath out, sighing as you step out with your wet rag of a shirt. Self consciously, you grab at the bottom hem and tug it back down over yourself.

As you made your way back, you eyed Seung-hyun, already halfway done with his food. He barely looked up from the table as you returned, “Better?”

“I didn’t have much else to wear, so,” You huffed and joined him.

He finally glanced over, his lips pressed together, “Looks good on you,” he smirked, his glance lingering just a moment too long.

There’s something genuine to his tone. His gaze remains fixed on you for that moment, flickering over you another time. As if he was making a mental note to remember this moment. That thought sends heat up the back of your neck. You’re suddenly hyper aware of how his scent is clinging to you, his shirt.

You click your tongue in disapproval and sit down beside him, digging into your own. It’s nice to forget about the coffee fiasco and breaking into his room, even for just a moment. The two of you eat in relative silence. Not awkward, but easy. You kept catching his gaze wandering over to you and how his shirt fell over your arms, much too big for you. As you finish and you clean the counter of any crumbs, Seung-hyun leans back against the floor.

He propped himself onto one arm, tilting his head in your direction, “Hm,” He leaned forward instead, gently grabbing onto your arm and reaching up to your shoulder- gently brushing crumbs you had leftover, “I meant it when I said you wear my clothes well.”

Seung-hyun doesn’t miss the flush rise to your cheeks, and he smirks again, “Maybe I should start charging your rent.”

“Rent? I’ve already grabbed you food, don’t go roping me into anymore.”

“Yes, but my shirt just fits you so well,” He hums and leans in, “I might have to reconsider.”

Your fingers twitch against the fabric at the reminder, the fabric suddenly soft against your skin. Judging by the look on his face, he’s enjoying your flustered reaction far too much. You raise your hand to your cheek, willing yourself calm again and hiding your blush, “You’re impossible.”

“Yet here you are. In my hotel room, wearing my shirt and eating breakfast with me,” He mused, “Almost like you belong here.”

You push yourself back against the table, “I should get back to my own room.”

Seung-hyun tsks, shaking his head, “Too late for that now.”

His voice is casual, but something about the way he says it makes you hesitate.  It’s enough to stop your escape attempt. You settle back at the low table, finally daring to properly look back to him. His expression somehow manages to look entirely neutral, meeting your gaze with a straight face. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, “Oh?”

Seung-hyun nods, all mock-serious before a smile cracks through, “You look like you belong here. My own personal disaster.”

“I don’t even know your name,” You point out, crossing your arms and leaning back.

There’s a strange tension in the room, one where you’re not sure how to react to him. You reach up to the nearby couch and grab the decorative pillow, tossing it toward him. He catches it effortlessly, tossing it between his hands for a moment. He pulls his hand back, closing one eye and aiming toward you. Then, he let go and let it drop casually just behind him.

“Seung-hyun. Though, from your reaction I thought you recognized me," He squeezed the pillow behind him, "You’re violent.”

You crossed your arms and retorted, “You deserved it. Personal disaster. Really?”

At that, his troublesome smirk grows wider, “Trouble magnet? Walking curse? Maybe just mine-”

You lean over, pushing him out of the way to grab the pillow from behind him. You brace it between your hands and push forward, pressing it against his chest and pushing forward. Instead of making him topple backwards, he’s ready for your assault. He catches you by your wrist instead. The shift leaves you unbalanced, gripping onto the pillow before you’re tumbling forward as he leaned back.

Somehow in the struggle, you end up on top of him- his hand still squeezing around your wrist. Your breath catches as you dare to meet his gaze. His expression flickered, something unreadable hidden behind the mischief he enjoyed taunting you with. For once, Seung-hyun had gone silent. He instead seems content on watching you, his thumb beginning to rub small circles against your wrist.

Time slows. The silence hangs between you, thick and charged. You should move- push off, roll away, anything except for staying there. His grip is warm, his faze is dark and unreadable, and the very thought of it feels impossible.

“What?” Seung-hyun finally speaks and tilts his head, his voice dropping an octave- he knows exactly what.

You swallow hard, “Nothing.”

His grip tightens just slightly, “This? Doesn’t feel like nothing.”

Seung-hyun started to lift himself off the floor, still tilting his head halfway. You freeze in place as his breath begins to ghost over your lips. It’s warm. Your pulse jumps, and more out of embarrassment than anything else, you twist your arm and pull away from his grasp, finally managing to pull yourself off of him and chuckle softly. You tug at his oversized shirt, looking to the door. The feelings blooming in your chest- squeezed tight around your heart, seizing you in fear.

“I should go back to my hotel room, this was nice,” You whisper, pushing yourself to standing.

Seung-hyun’s hair had fallen over his face, looking about as disheveled as you felt, “You can keep the shirt. Let’s talk again later.”

Your body burns with embarrassment. This man is going to be the death of you.

taglist: @petersasteria, @sherrayyyyy

[delight-angelsbliss]

s1 nr30 with metal sonic pls!! where the reader made the letter and metal detects their letter in the trash somehow if it's not too much to ask!! ty<3

Prompt: writing a letter only to throw it away

Warnings:

Notes: it feels so good to finally be writing again after a while!! I hope you have an amazing day and valentines spent with ur loved ones <3 edit: this got out late because I was having issues with Tumblr resetting this so some requests might be on hold until I get that fixed

A robot that doesn't feel, Aka metal sonic! It doesn't feel nor does have a need for physical contact which makes him the "better" sonic right? So why did nobody treat him like something that is a true organism?

So why did you try? Everytime he sees u the fans in his body immediately try to cool his heating body so it wouldn't overheat

The faulty in his code made his "thoughts" wander away from his tasks and that thought was of you how was he able to get so distracted by a mere mortal like you

He didn't know how he could control these disruptions or why they were there but if he knew one thing he knew it was because of you

He knew that everytime he saw u going easy on him or still having respect for him that his body would start heating rapidly

it would be reasonable to confront the disruption right?

His mechanical body was seen walking through the streets, on his way to your apartment

He didn't know if he could feel or even WAS feeling something but even then he didn't want to just waste the opportunity to see you

Was it a bad thing to show up empty handed? He didn't know, but for some reason it didn't matter all that mattered right now was that he was going to your place

After a while he finally reached your apartment building, your window was open and an easy entrance for him

As the robot was climbing through the window his sensor notices something, a piece of paper in the trash

His curiosity gets the best of him

His metal claws screech against the the trash can before he picks up the paper

It was a white letter with many pink hearts but what Intruiged him the most was the fact it was addressed to Metal sonic

The more he reads the more he understands you feel the exact same way as he does

Right on cue, you walk through the entrance door, towel on your wet hair and fresh new pyjamas

Your face heats up as you notice the letter in his hands

"You didn't read it.. Did you?"

Metal only looks at you in response, nodding his head, it's sad he doesn't have a mouth to talk

Silence fills the room, it felt so wrong to be here but also so right

Your voice cuts through the silence

"Do you wanna stay the night?.." You ask, unsure if he would agree or not since he now knows you're in love with an inorganic robot and might be weirded out.. Is that even possible?

How wrong you were, just maybe the robot can reciprocate your feelings for him

[anticidic]

steampunk skk au...the worldbuilding...the lore...the clothes...the machines...

Chuuya as an airship pilot and Dazai as his untrustworthy engineer

But also Dazai as a watchmaker maybe? I just know that he should invent crazy contraptions like a mad engineer instead of a mad scientist. He whacks his little wrench around fixing and breaking things, and Chuuya has to hold back choice words for him when Dazai fixes one thing, then breaks another. But that's what Chuuya gets for wanting illegal modifications on his ship to use it for sky racing.

Dazai also wearing those rounded aviator goggles on top of his head at all times, and usually has grease or oil smudged on his cheek.

He makes pets out of machines, so he has a mechanical hound at home and has been trying to install an emotion sensor in his dog so it can detect human emotions as well as display its own, but he hasn't been successful yet. His dog has a bowl for oil it drinks from and eats bolts and nuts as its meal.

Heck, just exploring Dazai and creation as a theme in the au. He feels bad destroying his creations when they don't turn out well. He has a little malfunctioning bird with a wing that doesn't work and it often repeats itself because he installed a faulty voice box, but Dazai doesn't have the heart to deactivate and recycle the poor thing for a future project. He feels like he's taking away a life. Existential dread hitting him hard with every creation he makes so he starts going mad

He's normal enough around Chuuya to keep up appearances, but if Chuuya ever came into Dazai's workshop, specifically the attic or basement, he'd get whiplash from the machinery lying around and the cuckoo birds repeating themselves like clockwork. They're talking on the main floor of Dazai's workshop, and every time there's a pause in their conversation, Chuuya hears a distant "Cuckoo…cuckoo…" from down below

Chuuya knocks and hears a dog barking and he's like what the hell and didn't expect Dazai to have a pet robot dog

Chuuya: "Am I hearing things? Is that a broken clock?" Dazai: "It's a failure." Chuuya: "Why don't you take out the battery or something so you don't have to listen to that?" Dazai, looking away and trying not to flinch: "That'll kill it."

Dazai's a bit dramatic about it but as a creator it pains him to ruin the things he makes. The reflection of his inside portrayed in his broken creations because maybe he feels like that about himself.

BUT since Dazai is a creator, him making gifts for Chuuya… watches, maybe a compass for his airship travels. Maybe he can make Chuuya a little bird to match Dazai's. Dazai’s one and only perfect creation is for Chuuya.

Chuuya could be “lost” like in terms of he doesn't know if he wants to remain a airship pilot or if he wants to spend the rest of his life with Dazai. A brass compass also made with precious metals like nickel and bronze.

When gifted it, Chuuya asks how does he know the compass is pointing in the right direction, and Dazai says, "You'll know it in your heart."

[needlepokes]

how to write a diabetic character: CGM edition

is your diabetic character wearing a CGM? do they have to? CGMs these are Continous Glucose Monitors that can detect how much sugar is in your bloodstream.

How are they different than tradtional fingerprick (blood) tests? they take blood sugar readings 24/7, and provide you with how your sugars are doing at all times, rather than just at that moment. This leads to tremendously better control over blood sugar.

The way they work is that they can "sample" your blood sugar by testing your subcutaneous tissue for sugar levels then adjusting that value.

However, they're less accurate than a fingerprick (blood) reading and will often "lag" behind by about 15 minutes.

SO if you have a character who is expereincing low or high blood sugar - they'd get an alarm on their CGM, and then they might take a fingerprick reading to make sure. CGM false alarms DO exist and it can cause some very annoying situations.

A less careful/depressed/struggling/burnt out character might A. not care or "sleep through" alarms B. not double check with a finger prick C. not care that they're wearing a CGM - pump into stuff or just rip it off (although they are very expensive!).

can you mute them? yes, and a character might choose to do this while they're sleeping, having an exam, or if they know they're about to fuck up their blood sugar.

how long do they last? the libre ones last 14 days. the dexcom ones last up to 10 days.

can you shower with them? yes

can you swim with them? yes

can you have sex with them on? yes, and i've read very funny anecdotes from diabetics having to pause during sex because their cgm was beeping

are they expensive? yes! sometimes, they're covered by insurance, but not completely. If a character is in poverty, or do not have insurance, they likely would have to rely solely on fingerpricks.

Who usually uses CGMs? they are very widespread between T1Ds and are increasingly being used by T2Ds as well.

can you share the readings on multiple devices? yes! your character might share their info with their SO, parents, roommates, close friends...etc. It is genuienly one of the most telling signs of a close relationship between people - because those people will see your "mistakes" and decisions.

where do you stick them? the libre ones (circular ones) officially just go on the back of your arm. The dexcom ones can go on just about anywhere that's "soft" - stomach, thighs, back of arm, chest...etc.

does putting them on hurt? sometimes! the way they are installed involves a needle going into the skin then sitting in the subcutaneous tissue. This can sometimes cause some bleeding, and soreness for a few hours.

Often times the process is completely painless, but this is not the case for everyone. A thinner character might struggle to find a place "cushy" enough for a cgm.

can you put them on your own? yes the process is made for one person to stick it on, but i've seen some couples on instagram act all romantic and sappy about applying it together, so that should give you some ideas for your diabetic characters' budding romances ;)

Some CGMs are just naturally faulty, i'd say about 4 sensors is a busted one, and in that case you'll have to replace them - which most companies just do without any hassle.

do they work with insulin pumps? some insulin pumps can work in tangent with CGMs and provide feedback for the user to automatically generate the correct doses of insulin, depending on their current blood sugar.

do they come off easily? depends on who you're asking. some people swear up and down that they never last and have to put on patches, which are admittedly very cute. Weather, clothing, and how clumsy a character is all factor in this. For me personally i just put them on raw and keep them together by sheer willpower.

CGMs can cause anxiety in diabetics. The constant flow of information can easily burnout people, and this can possibly be the case for any diabetic character you might write. Seeing arrows going down or up can be very distressing, especially knowing how painful some of the consequences are. I personally take breaks for both myself and my wallet from using CGMs to avoid burn out.

nonetheless, CGMs are WONDERFUL pieces of technology that have personally made me much happier as a diabetic, freer and a lot more independent.

does your character want their CGM to show? lots of people, including myself don't like revealing their CGMs - but your character might like showing them off!

and lastly - my favorite thing about CGMs - taking them off and having a "naked" shower once a month where i dont have to worry about it coming off. - They look like this:

[agapi-kalyptei]

CrowdStrike not-hot-take 4

OK so the reason why this wasn't even MORE of an issue than it could be is that as the faulty update has been rolled back pretty quickly, computers that were turned off during that time were unaffected and after turning on, the still-old-version of the Falcon Sensor (the software that caused the crash) would not install the faulty update.

As it was still night in USA at the time, this probably saved tens, maybe hundreds of thousands of computers from the bug.