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bethanythebogwitch · 7 months

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Wet Beast Wednesday: chitons

For last week's Wet Beast Wednesday I talked about a weird invertebrate whose name starts with "c" so this week I'm gonna branch out from that and talk about a weird invertebrate whose name starts with a "c". Chitons are marine mollusks of the class Polyplacophora that bear a resemblance to limpets, but have a segmented shell that allows for more flexibility. They are named after a form of clothing worm by the ancient Greeks.

(image id: a chiton. It is an oval animal with a flat shell composed if 8 overlapping green and white plates. Surrounding the shell is brown, soft tissue)

Chitons are similar in appearance and ecology to limpets, though they are not closely related. The shell of a chiton is made of 8 plates called valves. Valves are the name of any mollusk shell that is divided into multiple pieces. Most mollusk shells are made of one continuous piece and the only ones that have valves are the chitons, bivalves, and a few weird snails. The valves of a chiton overlap slightly, allowing for flexibility while still giving protection. Chitons can curl up into balls and flex backwards to move over concave surfaces that limpets wouldn't be able to. The valves are imbedded in and held together by a thick, muscular ring called the girdle that encircles the body. In most species, only the sides of the valves are covered by the girdle, leaving the rest exposed to the water. A few species cover more or all of the valves with the girdle. When a chiton dies and the girdle decays, the valves will separate. Individual valves sometimes wash up on beaches and are called butterfly shells due to their v-shaped appearance. The shell is used for defense. Chitons can curl up in a ball when not attached to a rock. If one is attached to a rock, it can suction on, presenting predators with no good way to attack its soft underbelly. Some species have spikes, bristles, or other ornaments on their valves and girdles that can provide additional protection.

(image: a chiton curled up into a ball. Its plates are pale pink and its girdle is white and brown)

Underneath the shell, the chiton's body is soft. It consists largely of a muscular foot that is used for movement. To either side of the foot is the mantle cavity, which consists of channels filled with gills that water is pulled through. There is no distinct head, but a mouth is present on the front end. Inside the mouth is the radula, a tongue-like appendage that is covered in teeth. The teeth are special because they are coated in magnetite, a very hard magnetic mineral that has iron as one of its main ingredients. While the metal is used to reinforce the teeth and keep them from wearing out (in fact, the chiton Chaetopleura apiculata has the hardest teeth of any known animal), it may also be used for magnetoreception. This is when an animal can sense magnetic fields. It is possible that the magnetic teeth of chitons can sense the Earth's magnetic field and help with navigation and migration. Most chitons are herbivores or omnivores that feed on algae, bryozonans, diatoms, and other tiny rock-dwellers by scraping at rocks with their radulae. Some are carnivores that target barnacles and can even eat small crustaceans and fish. They often hunt by holding the front ends of their girdles up in the water. Should an animal mistake it for shelter, the chiton will clamp down on them. Food is forced through the esophagus by a current of mucus moved by cilia.

(image: the underside of a chiton. it is oval and orange all over. Two groves filled with brown gill filaments go down each side of the body, encircling a central foot. The mouth is visible as a small hole on one end)

When it comes to senses, chitons have a few options. Like their gastropod cousins, chitons have a chemosensory organ called the subradular organ used for smell and their feet and girdles are full of sensory nerves. They also have special organs called aesthetes. These consist of light-sensing cells that are just below the surface of the shell. The aesthetes are not true eyes, only being able to distinguish light from dark, though they can tell the difference between a shadow and the effects of clouds moving over the sun. Some species use collections of aesthetes to form simple eyes called shell eyes. Unlike the aesthetes, the shell eyes can form images, though Chitons do not have nerve structures needed to form a high resolution image. Shell eyes are distinct from those of any other animal in their structure. Most animals have eye lenses made of protein-based structures, but chiton lenses are crystalline, made of aragonite, the same material that makes up the shell of most mollusks. Each shell eye is compound. The shell eyes are almost certainly used for predator detection. Fossil chitons have been found dating back to the Cambrian period. but shell eyes have only been found in fossils from less than 10 million years old. This likely makes chitons the most recent animal group to have evolved true eyes. Chiton eyes have also been found to work both in water and air, which is tricky due to the way light travels differently through both mediums.

(image: a close-up of a chiton's shell showing the eyes. The shell is yellow and lumpy with the eyes visible as darker, almost black lumps)

The majority of chitons live in intertidal or sub-tidal areas, making them a shallow water group. A few species have been found living in much deeper water, up to 2,000 meters down. Chitons have been known to have homing behavior as they will consistently return to a safe spot after feeding. How they do this is unknown. Sensing the magnetic field of the Planet may play a role, though it is also possible that they lay down chemical trails to find their way home. Chitons are broadcast spawners, with both males and females releasing gametes into the water. Larvae can swim for a while before moving to the substrate.

(image: microscope images of a chiton larva at 4 different developmental stages. It begins as a round blob ringed with hair-like cilia. As the animal develops the cilia recede and the animal elongates, with a distinct foot becoming visible. source)

I will close by bringing up an animal I only learned about recently but has rapidly become one of my favorite weird beasts. This is Cryptochiton stelleri. Its common name is the gumboot chiton, but some people call it the wandering meatloaf, which is objectively the best name ever. It is the largest chiton, growing up to 36 cm (14 in) and 2 kg (4.4 lbs). Its girdle completely covers its shell, which does make it look more like a meatloaf. They can live up to 40 years and are the first known animals to have the mineral santabarbarite in their bodies. They live throughout the north pacific and have been used as a food source by many different cultures. There may be a lot of bad stuff in the world, but if things get too bad, just remember that we live on the same planet as an animal called the wandering meatloaf that can live for 40 years and has a tongue covered in magnetic teeth.

(image: a wandering meatloaf. It is an ovoid animal with red-orange tissue covering the body. Its shell is not visible, but the ridges where each plate overlaps can be seen through the girdle)

#wet beast wednesday #chiton #wandering meatloaf #gumboot chiton #mollusk #molluscs #marine biology #biology #zoology #ecology #animal facts #marine animals

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raina-at · 25 days

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Hobby

This is another sequel of sorts to this ficlet from last year, but this too stands on its own.

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Sherlock hates it, hates it, when someone calls his violin a hobby.

It’s always the same. People see his violin. Ask him if he plays professionally. When he replies in the negative, they make a comment about how music is such a ‘rewarding hobby’.

Music isn’t a hobby. At least not to Sherlock. Sherlock, to use Mycroft’s words, doesn’t have hobbies. He has obsessions.

Music isn’t an obsession. It's more than that. Music is a lifesaver. It’s a necessity. It’s language, and emotion, and freedom. It’s release valve, expression, relief.

Music is the only thing he’s found that can consume him the way the drugs did, the way a good case does. It engages him, wholly, mind and body and heart. It’s the only time he feels at peace with himself, whole in himself, and yet totally in control. The only limit to what he can express with his violin is his own skill and imagination.

John doesn’t have a musical bone in his body. He’s not only tone-deaf to the point where the tune of Happy Birthday is a challenge to him, but his taste in music is both underdeveloped and conventional. He likes Mozart, and Brahms, and Tchakowski, but he has little appreciation for Locatelli, for example. (John thinks his favourite composer is Mendlesson, but it’s actually not true. The pieces John especially likes are actually Sherlock’s. But Sherlock has never told John this. Every time John asks, Sherlock tells him it’s Mendlesson. Sherlock is the only person who knows John’s favourite composer is actually Sherlock himself. Sherlock doesn’t know why he lies, but it feels like a secret too precious to share. He hoards this knowledge like a glowing ember in the hearth of his mind palace, a source of warmth and light on bad days.)

One of the reasons John is so amazing is that he isn’t musical at all, doesn’t play an instrument, barely ever listens to music, but somehow, he’s the only person who understands. Who seems to know, instinctively, how much Sherlock needs the music. It’s miraculous, and quite inexplicable to Sherlock, how John somehow knows so many of Sherlock’s secrets without having to be told.

John never bothered Sherlock when he used to play, back home in Baker Street. He never told Sherlock to stop playing, even when all he did was screech on the instrument. He never complained, never asked questions. The only times he offered any comment at all, it was when Sherlock played a piece he especially liked.

Sherlock thinks now that he never truly appreciated these moments enough, these quiet times in Baker Street when Sherlock was playing his heart out through his violin, and John was listening.

*-*

It’s hot in Istanbul. It’s August, and the days feel endless. Sherlock’s shirt is sticking to his back and his hair to his forehead as he comes back from trailing the mark the whole afternoon. He’s sunburned and his entire body feels like one exposed, over sensitised nerve ending. He’s uncomfortable and overstimulated, his head hurts from the sun and he wants nothing more than a cold shower and five hours of complete silence.

It’s never silent here. The boiler clanks and the floorboards creak and the neighbours’ telly blares through paper-thin walls. The upstairs neighbours have three children who scream at each other all day, and the right hand neighbours veer between having vigorous fights and even more vigorous sex. The windows overlook a busy intersection and traffic seems to rattle right through Sherlock’s head at every hour of the day or night.

Sherlock lies down on the bed and closes his eyes. He wants silence. Just for a minute. Just for a breath. He needs to find that quiet space inside his mind where he can go when everything outside gets too much.

He puts a pillow over his head to drown out the noise. It helps a little, but not much.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when he feels cool fingers in his wrist, trying to be unobtrusive. “I’m not dead,” he mutters from underneath his pillow.

“You have a pillow over your face and you haven’t moved in ten minutes. Sorry for not jumping to conclusions.”

Sherlock removes the pillow from his head and glares at John. “And where have you been? You were supposed to be back by six.”

John shrugs. “Got a bit sidetracked. Did a bit of shopping.”

“John, we can’t afford to get sidetracked. We’re not tourists, this is not a pleasure cruise. We need to be alert at all times if we’re going to break up Moriarty’s—”

Sherlock breaks off mid-sentence, stunned into silence, because John is holding a violin case. It’s obviously old and well-used, and Sherlock suspects that the violin inside will not be in much better shape.

Sherlock takes the case form John, who’s smirking at him in a way Sherlock finds both annoying and sexy, and opens it with shaky fingers.

The instrument is lovely. It’s clearly well-used and well-loved, but it’s in good shape. He gazes at it for a long time, runs his fingers over the strings, enjoys the wood-rosin smell.

Then he looks up at John, who’s watching him with an indecipherable expression on his face and a small smile on his lips.

“Play something?”

There’s a whole universe of meaning in John’s words and in his blue eyes watching Sherlock with an intensity that would be scary if Sherlock were the type to be scared by extremes.

I’d jump off a building for you.

You did. I’d kill for you.

You did.

Sherlock lifts the instrument out of its case and lets his fingers run over the body, gently, carefully, curiously, the way he wishes he had the courage to touch John.

He rosins the bow and checks the tuning, trying to get his wildly beating heart under control. He’s ridiculously nervous as he lifts the instrument to his shoulder and puts bow to string.

The first notes of music unwind most of the tension in him, the relief feels like breathing out after holding your breath for too long. He plays a few scales, and it feels like water cascading down his overheated senses, leaving cool tranquillity in its wake.

“Play something by my favourite composer,” John says, with a smile in his voice and a sort of greedy hunger in his eyes that makes Sherlock shiver.

“Who’s that?” Sherlock asks, feeling something bold and new emerge between them, in this place where nothing is familiar except the two of them, where nothing is reliable but whatever this is between them, where nothing is certain but that they’re going home together, or not at all. And he wonders if this shivery wanting feeling in Sherlock’s belly is one of the things John knows about without having to be told, a secret they share without ever having spoken a word about it.

John just looks at him for a moment, then he smiles. “You.”

And just like that Sherlock knows what that shivery intensity is. He lifts the violin to his shoulder again and he plays. He says all the things he can’t say with words. Thank you. Your eyes are lovely. I want to touch you.

I love you. So much. With everything I have.

Listen, can you hear it, how much I love you?

And John, as always, listens, and understands.

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Tags behind the cut as usual, please let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged.

@calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @weeesi @peanitbear @keirgreeneyes @meetinginsamarra @lisbeth-kk @salmonsown @jolieblack @jrow @friday411 @givemesherbet-blog-blog

#johnlock #bbc sherlock #hobby #may prompts 2024 #my fic #ficlet

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macgyvermedical · 4 months

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Caring for Someone Who Can't Move

Requested by @control-whump

So here's the thing. Humans are meant to move. Even when we look like we're sitting still or asleep, we are moving. Constantly.

So if there's a reason someone physically cannot move, such as paralysis, unconsciousness, or a problem with sensation or drive to move, there are things we have to do to prevent injury to that person.

Why do we move?

There are a few reasons. The first is that we have blood vessels and nerves throughout the body. Any time we are still, there is pressure being placed on some part of the body- the bottom of the feet, the butt, the back, etc... That pressure on blood vessels means there is less blood getting to that area. Pressure on nerves changes how signals are sent between that part of the body and the brain. When we don't move at all, damage begins to occur to the tissue due to lack of blood flow. Too much pressure for long enough can also damage the nerves (you have experienced a mild version of this when your limb "falls asleep" and gets tingly when you try to move it after a long time of laying on it.)

Veins- while the heart pumps blood out to arteries, veins use a series of valves to push blood back to the heart. This system relies on the muscles around the veins contracting. If they didn't contract, fluid would pool in the lowest part of the body, usually the feet, which would cause swelling. This is also a problem because the lack of blood movement increases the risk of blood clots that can lead to heart attacks or strokes.

Maintenance of muscle tone- If you sat on a couch and "didn't move" for a week you would lose muscle tone. But not as much muscle tone as you would lose if you actually didn't move for a week due to paralysis. Plus, over long periods of disuse, tendons shorten, causing something called a contracture, which can sometimes only be treated with surgery.

If someone is able to move, we usually encourage that first. If you've ever had surgery you know that getting you up and moving is the #1 thing you will be doing as soon as you are conscious enough to do so. This prevents blood clots and speeds healing. The sooner a person can return to normal activities, even assisted, the better off they will be in the long run.

But what if the person can't move- How do we prevent problems related to immobility?

Well, a lot of times we artificially "provide" movement for the immobile person. For example, we turn people every 2 hours (basically leaning them one way for 2 hours and then the other, trying to redistribute pressure and give the nerves and blood vessels a break) to prevent skin breakdown and we do range of motion exercises for the person several times per day to prevent contractures and loss of tone.

Range of motion exercises mean moving each joint in all the directions that joint moves multiple times per session. Here is an example of assisted ROM:

youtube

There are also other things we do to support the person overall, like making sure they have adequate nutrition (makes the skin better at tolerating sub-optimal blood flow), cleaning them up promptly when they urinate or defecate (if urine or feces sits on the skin it irritates it and causes wounds), and making sure there are no wrinkles in the sheets or clothing that presses on particular parts of the body.

What other things do we need to consider if someone doesn't move?

They're probably not able to take care of themselves in other ways, like cleaning themself or brushing their teeth. They are also probably not able to feed themself or clean themselves when they urinate or defecate, or be able to take medication for themself. So all of these things have to be done for the person.

#Youtube #whump reference #writing reference #immobility #nursing care #nursing #care

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aussiepineapple1st · 6 months

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Hidden Wounds

A/N: This is an idea myself and @sunhatllama on Tumblr had while in a discord voice call. We both decided to write a fic on the same thing and seeing how we do it differently to each other. please go check her out!

Chreon Words: 1966 Contains: Whump, injuries, comfort.

They had done it. Finally able to breathe a sigh of relief as they flew over the city of New York, Leon, Rebecca and Chris all resting in the back of the Osprey.

"I think that's all the vaccine." Chris says aloud for everyone to hear, standing up he then begins to tighten all of the valves, closing them up. He reaches over the canisters and pressed the button to cause the ramp to close. With a whir it closed, the wind rushing passed all of them ceasing.

Leon watched the sight as he sat closest to the cockpit, his left hand cradling his right forearm that rest on his thighs. Feeling a sudden burst of dizziness, Leon gives a few blinks, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Did he just need some sleep? No, this was something else, he never got a sudden wave of head spins when he was tired. Yes he was tired, but he knows his body well enough to know something was up.

Now that all of the adrenaline had finally wore off, Leon could feel the immense aching he had in his body, his right arm and torso especially. He had been throw and rolled around from falling off his bike, as well as squeezed and kicked in a short amount of time. He wouldn't be surprised if his inside felt like they were on the outside. Had he not known about a wound he may have sustained?

"Leon..?" Called Chris from the other side of the Osprey. This caused Leon to turn his head towards the taller man, seeing a specific look on Chris' face that told Leon he was concerned. Chris would usually pick up if something was wrong with Leon before he would pick it up himself. Chris also hadn't seen how rough Arias had been with him while fighting, when Chris found the vaccine.

Leon started to sit up straighter, adjusting himself to answer Chris. The edges of his vision becoming black as his ears rang, all sound becoming quiet and muffled. Falling forwards, Chris was already on the edge of his seat seeing the distance in his boyfriend's eyes. Launching himself forwards he manages to catch Leon's head before it hit the metal ground. "LEE!" Chris called with a panicked tone, Leon's face had become a flushed pale, which was what had given Chris a tip that something was wrong.

Leon's eyes were darting around as he looked to settle on something, anything to focus on. Chris brushed Leon's fringe from his clammy face as he removed his gloves so it wasn't so rough on Leon's skin. Chris unzips Leon's leather jacket to get a better look at what was going on underneath.

A black bruise had appeared on the entire back of Leon's right elbow and bicep, reaching up under the sleeve of his t-shirt. Wincing at the sight Chris lifts his shirt to continue examining Leon, his entire stomach was also bruised. He was probably suffering from a few cracked ribs and there was some definite internal bleeding happening.

"DC! GET US TO THE NEAREST HOSPITAL! NOW!!" Chris frets. Looking back down to Leon in his arms.

"Chris.." Leon said barely above a whisper, his hand reaching up to hold onto Chris' forearm as support. Everything was very quickly going to black, Leon's eyes closing and neck going lax as his hand drops to his chest. He was out.

"Leon?" Chris said his name quietly, not wanting to believe his boyfriend had just fallen limp in his arms. "Leon!" He repeats, wanting an answer from him. "Lee! Open your eyes!" He pleads, a hand gently patting Leon's cheek. "Come on, buddy.. Stay with me!"

Nope, it was useless. Chris gathered Leon's limp body and limbs to hold him close to his chest, he needed to keep him warm until they made it to the hospital. Chris, out of nerves was continuously combing his fingers through Leon's hair, Rebecca had also made her way beside them and lay the blanket that was around her body over Leon. Her medical training coming back to her as she makes sure Leon's pulse was staying at a healthy BPM.

After what seemed like forever to Chris, they arrived on the roof of a hospital. Chris carrying Leon over the canisters and over to a stretcher that was waiting for them as well as a few medical staff. Gently laying his boyfriend on the stretcher, Chris moved Leon's fringe from his eyes one more time before they had started to wheel him inside.

Chris followed, Rebecca close behind Chris as she was there to emotionally support her old friend. He was stopped once inside, not being able to follow Leon and the doctors. "Is he going to be okay?" Chris asked the nurse as she guides him and Rebecca to the private guest waiting area.

"I'm not sure sir, but I will make sure to get an answer for you as soon as I can." She says making sure Rebecca had Chris sorted before she leaves the both of them alone.

"Boss, We need to clear the airspace. DC and I will find you once we've found somewhere to land." Nadia relays through the comms in Chris' left ear.

"Copy.." Chris answers as he flops onto the closest lounge. He couldn't rest though, his shoulders tense as he rests his elbows on his knees. Hands clasped together as he bounced his right leg.

Rebecca makes her way to sit beside Chris, sitting down and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Chris? I'm sure he'll be okay. The doctors know what they're doing and I'm sure they'll take good care of him."

With a quick head turn, Chris looks to Rebecca from the side of his eye before looking back to his hands in front of him. "I know. He just.. Collapsed." His brain was still trying to process everything. Was he really that beaten up when he had left to find the vaccine for Rebecca? He couldn't have stayed to help or they would have lost her, right? No the vaccine would have saved her if she had turned, surely...

"I know. He looked really beat up, but so are you. Maybe you should get some treatment while you're waiting?" She suggest, her hand gently patting his shoulder.

Chris gives a hesitant nod, his eyes trailing to the doors he wasn't allowed past, the last place he saw his boyfriend. "Yeah.. I think it might help with the nerves a bit." He agrees.

"There you go. I should also get myself checked, so we can go together, okay?"

Chris and Rebecca both leave together, getting seen to by the duty doctors to get their wounds sawn and cleaned up. The whole process for the both of them taking 20 minutes before they made their way back over to the waiting room they had been guided into. Chris having let the receptionist down at the front entrance where DC and Nadia could find them after they too had their injuries seen to.

The wait for any information on Leon was torture. Was he okay? Did they get him tot he hospital on time before he bled out internally? Had he crashed on the table? Did they manage to fix him up before anything major happened? Chris was a wreck, sometimes pacing the room before Rebecca would tell him to come and sit back down or offer him a hot tea. She had made him so many at this point he had gone to the toilet twice. Finally a nurse walks into the room and Chris' head turned towards her like a prey animal being alerted to danger.

"Are either of you here for Leon Kennedy?" She asked.

"Yes, we are." Chris says immediately standing up and making his way over to her. "Is he alright? It's been 4 hours." He states with a worried tone.

"Yes, he's perfectly fine. I'm here to take you to his room if you would like? Follow me." And without hesitation Chris follows, Rebecca trailing behind so she could relay what room DC and Nadia's Captain was going to be in. Heading in the elevator to the 3rd floor, the nurse leads them down a couple of hallways until they reach a door with P309 on it.

Inside the room was only Leon's bed, a private room. The silence filled with the hissing of oxygen that entered Leon's nose via small tube hooked over his ears. The beeping of the Blood Oxygen machine attached to his right index finger, as well as the whir of other monitors Leon was connected to through sticky patches on his torso, fill the silence. Leon's right arm was in a sling and resting over his chest, elbow in a small cast to keep it in a bent position. An IV and blood bag was attached to Leon's left inner forearm and top of his left hand. He looked peaceful as Chris approached, standing beside Leon's bed and looking over his Boyfriend's beaten body.

"He sustained a large amount of internal damage, they managed to stop the bleeding, but he still lost a lot of blood so they want him to have at least 2 bags before letting his body try and recover the cells on it's own." The nurse starts to info dump, looking over the couple of pages she had on the clipboard in her hands. "He also has bruising to his spinal cord, liver and right kidney, but those are going to heal up nicely. A broken elbow and bruised Humerus, multiple lacerations to his torso and slight dislocated right shoulder." The nurse takes a breath and gives a nod as she hooks the clipboard to the foot of the bed. "Do you have any questions?"

Chris shakes his head, that was a lot to take in. "Alright, I'll leave you three alone then." The nurse says as she leaves the room.

"I'll also leave. I'll bring DC and Nadia to the waiting room we passed on this floor so we're closer. Take your time and I'll come and check on you in a little bit alright?" Rebecca states as she stands in the doorway of Leon's room. She only received a small nod from Chris who promptly took a chair and sat by Leon's side.

After it was just the two of them in the room, Chris finally speaks up. "What the hell happened to you while I was gone?" They had been split up a couple of times during this Op, but he wouldn't have thought Leon faired this poorly.

"Sorry..." Croaked Leon's voice quietly, causing Chris to turn his head up to Leon's face. "I was being reckless."

Chris felt a rush of relief flow through his body as Leon continued to speak, reaching to grab Leon's left hand, gentle not to disturb the cannula in the top of Leon's hand. Standing to his feet, Chris leans in and pressed a gentle kiss to Leon's lips. Once pulling away he stayed close, resting his forehead against Leon's. "You can't be reckless in our line or work. I could have lost you."

"I know.. I'm sorry." Leon apologised, his eyes closed, basking in the love and affection he was receiving from his boyfriend. "I'm just going through a rough patch right now." Leon admits.

"We can talk about it if you want? I don't have anything I need to do right now, I can do it later." Chris admits pressing once more kiss to Leon's lips before he sits back down in the chair he had placed beside the bed.

"Yeah.. that would be nice.." Leon smiles slightly, tears forming along his lower eye lids, giving Chris' hand a gentle squeeze.

🏷️: @greywardensaywhat @maehemthemisfit @growingupnrealizing @starcrossedreaders @sunhatllama

#aussiepineapple1st #chreon #chris refield #comfort #fanfic #fic #injury #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #resident evil vendetta #vendetta #whump

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roosterbruiser · 1 year

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I’m taking the TEAS test tomorrow (it’s kinda like the SAT or ACT but to get into some nursing program) and it’s apparently really hard so how Hangman hyping up his girl because she’s nervous to take it.

𝐂𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐡 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞

𝐚 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐱 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

"Epiglottis?"

You hum, taking a deep breath.

"The structure that prevents food from entering the airways," you answer.

You know you're right--you know it even before Jake presses down twice on the That Was Easy button. It was a purchase he made weeks ago when you mentioned needing help studying for the TEAS.

Jake grins at you, eyes bright. He's even holding physical copies of the flashcards in his hands like a gameshow host, meticulously printing off the study guide you sent him so he can hold them in his hands as he quizzes you.

"Correct!" He cries.

You're past the point of rolling your eyes, even with that television newscaster voice he's put on for this occasion--which was supposed to just be you eating takeout on the new leather couch your boyfriend bought. But when you'd shown up at his place a few hours ago, a couple greasy paper bags and reading glasses in tow, you'd been surprised to find the setup in his living room. Lo-fi playing softly on the TV, lavender essential oil diffusing nearby, mugs of peppermint tea still steaming, That Was Easy button waiting front and center on the coffee table.

"Next," you call with a smile, popping a few more crumbly pieces of fortune cookie in your mouth.

Jake glances down at the cards, still grinning. You haven't so much as stumbled once yet, acing every single question with less than a few moments of hesitation. Even through mouthfuls of chow-mein and crab Rangoons, you've been table to tell him the difference between the mitral valve and the aorta.

"The hormonal influence on blood pressure is the result of the relationship between what two systems?" He asks.

Happily, you take another bite of cookie.

"Circulatory and endocrine," you answer.

You're so confident that you're right that you huff on your nails and pretend to buff them on your t-shirt with a smirk.

Jake loves this side of you. You're a humble person by nature, not one to brag about your accomplishments even if he feels that they far outweigh his. But you're fucking good at what you do--not only are you good at it, you're passionate about it. You are someone that is absolutely meant to be a nurse; he knows it, you know it, everyone knows it.

"Baby," Jake breathes, discarding the flashcards beside him and crossing his arms. He gazes at you, bare-faced and dressed in oversized clothes, lips greasy with soy sauce. Your eyes are glazed with joy and your cheeks are pink, but he can see the tightening of your shoulders. "That's it. You did it."

"Oh, that was the TEAS?" You ask, rolling your eyes with a playful smile. "Super informal! Didn't know they started allowing boyfriends to administer the exam."

Jake sinks into the sofa, which he is more than glad to break in with you and The Golden Tiger, and sighs.

"You know you're gonna pass it," Jake says coolly.

He studies your face--notices the way your eyes just about begin to roll again before they're interrupted by a jolt of nerves running up your spine. He sees the tingle, watches it tickle your nose and make you grimace slightly. You try to play it off, reaching for another crumb of fortune cookie that just isn't there.

"Baby," Jake says softly. You glance at him and he holds your gaze, brows furrowing seriously. "You've got this. Seriously. You didn't miss one. One!"

You nod, tapping your fingers against your knee.

"Yeah, but what if I choke?"

A smirk tugs at Jake's lips.

"If you say something about the Heimlich Maneuver, I'm gonna pour duck sauce on the sofa," you warn with a pointed finger.

He holds his hands up in mock defense and motions for you to come to him, opening his arms. He looks very sweet right now--all cotton sweatpants and broad shoulders and glossy eyes and smiling lips. So, you shuffle to him and collapse on his chest, letting him wrap you up in his arms and hold you tight.

For a moment, you two just inhale each other. He smells like shampoo and sunscreen and you smell like lavender and clean skin. He's warm and solid and you're soft and sweet against him, running your fingers across the length of his chest.

"Baby, you're the smartest person I know," Jake promises. "And I'm friends with Bob."

You laugh, sighing against his shirt. But that bundle of nerves, even if it's only a handful, are sitting heavy at the bottom of your gut. You groan softly and glance up at him.

He cups your cheek, stroking softly.

"Yeah, but what if I forget something? Or I just...don't know the answer?"

Jake scoffs, shaking his head.

"Not gonna happen," Jake says.

And really, he has no way of knowing that it isn't going to happen. Of course he doesn't--he honestly only learned what the TEAS were a short time ago--but he is thoroughly sure of his answer. It isn't going to happen. You are a diligent studier, an excellent student, a bright pupil. You're going to pass with flying colors.

And even though you know you don't have to believe him, you do. You know that he isn't just saying it because he's in love with you--even though he really is in love with you. You know that he isn't just saying it because he wants to be done studying for the night and finally finish that new season of Stranger Things you've been watching. You know that he's just saying it because he absolutely believes it--and so do you.

"Swear it?" You ask, poking out your bottom lip and pinkie in tandem.

He wraps his pinkie around yours.

"Swear it," he answers. He kisses your knuckles, his lips wet and soft.

"Fine," you say, pretending like you're not swooning. You take a deep breath of greasy takeout and lavender and leather and then rest on his chest again. "Fortune cookie me."

Jake does the honor of popping one open for you and cracking it, reading the little slip of paper above your head.

Drawing shapes against his chest lazily, you sigh.

"Well, this is something..." he mutters.

"What's it say?" You ask.

"It says that your boyfriend deserves to be the little spoon tonight since he helped you study for the TEAS and also because he's been so good," Jake says, tone dripping with faux-amazement. "I mean, talk about applicable! I just got goosebumps!"

You're grinning as you snatch the fortune away, reading over it.

But then you bite your lip and glance up at him, brows raised. You can play along--he's read flashcards to you for a little over three hours now.

"Huh," you say softly. "It does say that. Weird."

a/n: I am so sorry this took me so long to get to!! bestie, I hope your TEAS went AMAZING!!! all the love to you!!!!

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lanaxoxoxoxoxox · 10 months

Note

OKAY DIFFERENT IDEA.

when we went on a tour with lovejoy bc were in the band like leandra trumpet<3

wilbur x reader pls:)

LOVE YOUR WRITING<33

LITERALLY SCREAMING THATS SUCH A GOOD IDEA

AHHH BRO UR SO SWEET I LITERALLY AM OBSESSED W UR WRITING

literally in love

musician!bur x fem!reader

warnings: reader called "girlfriend", panic, insanely cute fluff

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

a/n: this request is my literal everything !! i was literally blushing the entire time i wrote this

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

We were in the van on the way to our next gig. Well, their next gig. It was my first one joining Lovejoy, and I'm so grateful I was given this opportunity.

Wilbur looked at me and grabbed my hand and squeezed it. "Y/n, you're going to do lovely, darling. They'll love you!"

I smiled at him, but I was still in doubt. "What if they only like me because they find out we're dating? I don't want anything to happen to your career because of me-"

Wilbur placed his hand lightly over my mouth. "Love, please don't worry about that! They'll love you for you, and if they don't, they better watch out!" he joked.

I laughed and kicked my feet up into my seat and leaned my head on Will's shoulders. He kissed the top of my forehead and started scrolling through the Lovejoy fanart on Twitter, showing me occasionally the ones he really loved.

A couple hours later, we finally got to the destination of the gig. The adrenaline ran through my veins, and I was so incredibly nervous-excited. I grabbed my trumpet case and some wires and headed inside to the dressing rooms. I found my room with a sign on it that said my name and headed inside, leaving the door behind me open just in case the sound directors needed to come in.

My back was facing the door as I oiled my trumpet valves, making sure that it was perfect for tonight. 5 hours until show time. I paused and sighed nervously.

I suddenly felt someone come behind me and hug me. "W-who is that?! I will literally beat your ass." I said in panic.

The someone behind me laughed. "Nice to see you too, darlin'." Wilbur chuckled.

"Oh, hi Will. Is everything on stage okay?" I said, turning around to face him and give him a kiss on the cheek.

He nodded. "Yeah, everything's alright. Just wanted to check in on you before the show."

"I'm doing fine. I just need to tune with Leandra and I'll be okay."

Wilbur hm'd in response. He grabbed my chin and pulled it upwards to look at him directly, and kissed me on the lips. I swear, my legs folded for this man. I wrapped my hands around his neck and smiled into the kiss. He pulled away and nuzzled his nose on mine.

"I love you. Go tune with Leandra now, I don't want you sounding like shit." he joked.

I sneered. I grabbed my trumpet case and Will leaned against the wall frame and crossed his arms and legs, looking and me and my every move. As I walked out, I flipped out and heard a dramatic gasp faintly as I walked farther out to meet Leandra.

Leandra and I took 20 minutes to tune, and another 20 to practice a bunch of songs that we were performing tonight. I knew all the lyrics and notes by heart from hearing Wilbur at the studio or constantly leaving their songs on repeat, but it was always important to practice just in case.

We both got called in with the rest of Lovejoy and their openers to do a soundcheck. Eventually, everything worked out perfectly and we were ready to go. Ash had checked the windows and had said the queue had already started to wrap around the building.

Wilbur squeezed my hand in reassurance and smiled at me before walking over to Joe and Mark.

Leandra and I made a few Tiktoks that we would post after the show, and the nerves were starting to set in. I grabbed my phone off the stand and walked back over to Will and hugged him from the side. I accidentally startled him a little, but I laughed at it and dug my face more into his sweater.

I peeked my head up and stood back up. "How the actual fuck are you wearing a sweater? You're going to be dying of heat on stage!" I said. Mark and Joe laughed at my comment.

"Gonna make sure I serve for the edits." Wilbur joked, winking at me. I felt heat brush onto my cheeks. Will laughed at my reaction.

Our sound director then came in and gave us our earbuds for on stage. Will surprised me by ordering a custom pair with my favorite color that matched his. Everyone else had either black or white ones to go with their outfit.

I stared at the earbuds and then looked at Wilbur. "Will, they're going to see the matching ones and go feral."

Wilbur laughed softly. "That's the point, darling. I need to make sure everyone knows you're mine." I felt myself blushing again and I hit his shoulder.

Leandra looked at us. "You two are disgusting and adorable at the same time." she said, laughing.

Wilbur smiled and looked down at me and kissed me quickly.

And then after that, all I knew was that we were going on stage. Walking on fucking stage. Leandra was assuring me that the crowd will love me, and we were both quickly fixing our valves. I was pretty sure the crowd saw two stands for the trumpet, one for Leandra and one "mystery stand" for me.

All of us came on stage, and the bright lights instantly hit me and I could already feel myself starting to heat up. The crowd cheered and I could see some people wondering who the fuck I am. I laughed in my head at them. Wilbur did his usual introduction, and now, he was supposed to introduce me.

"Now, you guys may be seeing a lovely trumpet player next to Leandra in the back there," he said, pointing at me. Leandra and I waved. "That is y/n! Everyone say hello." he said, dragging out the 'o'. The crowd yelled in response.

Wilbur grinned and grabbed the microphone. "Y/n, could you come up for a second, please?" I nodded in agreement, and walked over to the front of the stage, stepping over the many wires and gadgets on the stage floor.

I grabbed the microphone. "Hey!" I said, smiling.

I gave Wilbur the microphone back. "Y/n is my very lovely girlfriend," the crowd yelled in surprise at his words. "And she'll be playing in the back there tonight! Now, how do we think about getting started?"

The crowd screamed in agreement once again. Wilbur grinned and looked at Mark to start playing the drumkit.

Throughout the gig, Wilbur's energy went skyrocketing. It was honestly really cool to see him like this right near me. He looked at me a couple times during certain lyrics, and I never missed a singular beat with my trumpet. Leandra looked at me with approval.

"Thank you so much for tonight, Brighton! Good night!" Wilbur yelled into the mic. All of us walked off the stage and all hugged eachother.

Wilbur came up to me and kissed me. "You did amazing out there, darling. I told you they would love you!"

I smiled. "Thank you. You sounded great as well." I said, kissing him again and hugging him. Wilbur swayed us from side to side slowly as we hugged. "I'm literally in love with you." I said, softly in his ear.

Let's just say I will definitely be doing this again.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

this took 2 hours to write but it was 100% worth it !! this might be my new favorite....

please support me by liking, replying, reblogging, sending me an ask/request or following my blog! it keeps these works to keep coming out. requests are open as of now!

love you xoxoxo

@lovejoypebblesbrains thank you for the ask!!

#mcyt fanfic writer #mcyt #fanfiction #dream smp #mcytblr #requests open #wilbur soot #lana #wilbur soot x reader #fem reader #musican!bur #MUSICIAN BUR MAKES ME GO BRRRRRR

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diazsdimples · 7 months

Text

Inspiration Saturday!!

I did a bad thing and started a new fic, which will be known as the Musician AU. Basically, Eddie, Hen & Chim are all players in the L.A Philharmonic, Bobby is the conductor, and Buck joins them for one concert as a new hot shot cello soloist. Eddie immediately falls head over heels for the man and him and Buck fuck nasty in many many backstage rooms. This is gonna be a long snippet sorry, I'm scared it's too niche lmao

Tagged by @callmenewbie @wildlife4life @loserdiaz @thewolvesof1998, thank you guys!

Eddie gets to his chair and takes a moment to fully appreciate that it’s his. He’s not played first horn for a while, let alone while being the principal, and he’s pretty hyped. He takes a moment to unpack his horn, slotting the slides carefully into place and pressing the valves up and down to make sure they don’t need any grease. He’s so focused on it that he doesn’t hear Hen sneaking up to his side, clarinet in hand, and almost jumps out of his skin when she speaks.

“So, have you seen our new soloist yet?” she asks, leaning casually against his music stand and Eddie lets out a startled yelp.

“Not yet” he responds once his heart rate has gone back to normal.

Hen picks at something in her teeth. “Apparently, he’s very good, Tracy and Jeff can’t stop talking about him. It’s getting on my nerves”.

“Makes sense that he’s good, you don’t solo with the L.A Phil if you’re shit” Eddie jokes and Hen sends him a flat look.

“You know what I mean” she responds dryly. “Was the youngest in his class at Juilliard and did a stint playing in New Zealand with the NZSO before moving back to New York and playing with the New York Phil”.

Eddie can’t help but be impressed; the New York Philharmonic isn’t easy to get into and from what he’s heard, the NZSO are no slouches either. “He must be alright then”.

“You talking about Wonder-Boy Buckley? More than alright from what I hear”. Chimney is slouching towards them, weaving his way through the chairs and music stands from where he usually sits as principal trumpet. “Cathy says he’s hot. You’d better not let him distract you, Eddie”.

Eddie rolls his eyes playfully at Chimney as he sets his music out on the stand. “I have excellent impulse control, thank you. Haven’t had a random hookup in almost a year, even though Joel’s been repeatedly trying to jump my bones”.

“He does that with everyone, don’t feel special” Chimney replies, and he pats Eddie on the back.

“Why do they call him Wonder-Boy Buckley by the way?” Eddie asks. “Buckley’s a weird name, isn’t it?”

“Buckley is his surname; his first name is Evan” Hen explains while Chimney blows into his trumpet to warm it up. “And he’s Wonder-Boy because he’s so young and hot”

Eddie scoffs at this. Wonder-Boy Buckley sounds like a bit of a prick, honestly.

“Ready for your big moment? First movement of the concerto has a pretty big horn solo, and Bobby is expecting big things from you”. Chimney is looking at him with big eyes and if Eddie didn’t know him better, he’d think the guy was actually concerned.

Eddie won’t lie, he is pretty nervous about it. The cello solo and the horn have a few moments in the piece where it’s just them playing and it’s damn high and fucking difficult. Eddie’s done it in concert before, but that was with a much more minor orchestra and not in front of an audience of 2000+ people. However, Chimney and Hen under no circumstances are allowed to know he’s nervous so he shrugs nonchalantly and says, “yeah, I’ve been practicing it loads and think I’ve got it all sorted. Unless the soloist is truly as hot as you say, I’m pretty sure nothing will throw me”.

It seems the gods are listening to Eddie and laughing at him, because at that very moment, an extremely attractive young man walks into the auditorium with a cello strapped to his back and all Eddie can think is fuck, he’s really fucking hot.

“Oh look, there he is” Chimney says, perking up and Hen’s eyes flit across the auditorium, coming to rest on the man and her jaw drops.

“Holy shit, he’s hot. And I like girls”

“How’s our resident dick-expert doing” Chimney nudges Eddie teasingly and Eddie’s currently making a conscious effort not to drool.

“Yeah he’s – uh – he’s not bad”.

Not bad? Eddie is convinced this is the hottest man he’s ever seen in his life. His muscles bulge as he swings the cello case off his back and sets it on the ground and he flicks his head up to talk to Bobby, his blond curls flouncing delightfully as he does so. Even from here, Eddie can see how his eyes are a piercing blue and he can’t help but notice the way they crinkle as he smiles at Bobby, flashing a set of perfect, white teeth. He’s got some sort of mark around his eyebrow, maybe a piercing? Eddie can’t quite tell from this distance but man, it’s got him feeling things he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Hen and Chimney are sharing a knowing look and Eddie firmly ignores them, instead picking up his horn and beginning to blow some warm air into it. Terry, Amy, Sophie and Grant, his fellow horn players, have all turned up and are setting up, striking up idle conversation with one another as they wait for Bobby to give the order to tune up and start practicing. Hen pats Eddie on the back before returning to her chair and Chimney wiggles his eyebrows as he retreats, flicking his tongue around his mouthpiece suggestively.

(No pressure) tagging @theotherbuckley @eddiebabygirldiaz @wikiangela @fionaswhvre @smilingbuckley @fortheloveofbuddie @fruitandbubbles @watchyourbuck @incorrect9-1-1 @knightlywonders @housewifebuck @monsterrae1 @evanbegins @cal-daisies-and-briars @thosetwofirefighters @disasterbuckdiaz @spagheddiediaz @malewifediaz @shitouttabuck @jeeyuns

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seraphofthesimps · 1 year

Text

A Mechanic’s Manipulation - Yandere Draken x Reader

TW: possessive themes. Word count: 982

“Where the fuck are they going now?”

Over the past 3 days, the little red dot representing your car has traveled all across town, much to Draken’s dismay. A typically rather unbothered man, he hates when he gets like this. No, scratch that. He hates when you make him like this.

Well, it can’t be helped, for now. If you insist on being a pain, you can deal with the consequences. It’s better than him dealing with the excruciating pain he feels every time you leave with someone other than him without so much as a care. All he asks, without actually asking of course, is a simple check in to let him know where you are headed, with who, and why. It’s the least you could do if you honestly loved him half as much as he does you, right?

Thanking every God in the heavens he can that he had the foresight to know you would force his hand like this, he tries to calm down. He took counter-measures for this sort of thing at your last oil change 3 weeks ago. The GPS is only the first tool at his disposal. It has proven quite handy thus far but now it’s time for his trump card to shine.

“Hurry up and make it to a side street. Fuck, how long does it take you to make a turn? This is why I always drive when it’s the two of us,” his impatience fuels his agitation. However, that only lasts as long as it takes the red dot to travel through its current stoplight and into the nearest neighborhood. “There, this spot should do fine.”

One click of the mouse on his auto shop’s computer has him scoffing to himself, proud of how he’s sure to win this battle. You will probably have a bad day, but you did it to yourself. Traveling out of his boundaries, testing perimeters he doesn’t approve of — Whether you knew to ask or not is not of his concern. If you cared the way you should, the way you will one day, the way he’s going to make you, then you wouldn’t even have to think twice. Any second now..

His phone rings almost on command, your name bright across the display. A knowing chuckle leaves his chest as he answers, ready to play the knight in shining armor. All he needs is for you to beg a little. And beg you do, so pretty for him.

“What do you mean the car just shut off? Did you have any warning signs? Are you didn’t hear a noise or anything? That’s strange. Yeah, sure, I can be there in 15.”

Despite his anger with you, he keeps true to his word, leaving you none-the-wiser. As suspected from your Snap Story, you were with an unknown man, a lesser one than himself he quickly notes. Immediately popping the hood, he greets you with that same flirty smile that has you in this situation in the first place. It’s both cruel and humorous how you have the nerve to claim he has the most beautiful smile you have ever seen, yet you still refuse to be called his. No worries, he constantly reminds himself, because his smile is nothing compared to his determination. If he wants something bad enough, and boy it is quite the understatement to say he wants you, he will do whatever takes it to manipulate you into his arms. Like so.

Tinkering around with his wrench and a few bolts under the hood, he twists a valve to release a bit of steam with a dramatic hiss. It’s completely ordinary for that to happen, but he knows you don’t know any better. Your car has always been looked after by him so he knows it in and out. The only problem with it today is that he got pissed off and triggered the automatic shut off he installed last month. Greedy dealerships aren’t the only geniuses that can make use of that nifty mechanism.

“I need to get this back to the shop for diagnostics. I brought the hitch so we don’t need to call in a tow, but I can only fit the two of us in my truck with my tools. You didn’t tell me you had someone with you,” he looks to the eyesore on your left, “You don’t mind catching a lift from someone so we can take care of this right?” His smile fools you every time, telling you he only intends to help. His eyes make sure to do all the talking to your accomplice that is noticeably smarter, yet inadequate to do anything about it under Draken’s size and the false hero veil you allow him to so easily wear and abuse. Luckily for all of you right now, your friend, Draken’s self-declared competition, took the hint and says his farewell. Draken can't help but rumble out a low laugh at the way he sulks away, pulling out his phone to call for a ride as he disappears in the opposite direction. “Talk about a walk of shame,” he mumbles too low for you to hear.

The ride back to the shop is full of chatter, with Draken using the opportunity to pry into your personal life. As planned, he learns what you were doing, who the male you had with you is, and that he needs to make sure he pays him a visit to guarantee he stays far away from you. And as planned, you fall further and further into Draken’s carefully weaved web. Promises of a proper date and confessions of regret about not doing it sooner are what you graciously gift to him as a genuine thank you to your savior. Just like he expected, a little force and manipulation is all he needs to keep you right where he wants you.

#draken x reader #yandere draken #tokyo revengers x reader #yandere tokyo revengers

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mean-scarlet-deceiver · 6 months

Note

How would Nobby react to Gordon? I could either see Nobby trying to impart wisdom onto the young engine only for Gordon to blow him off because “I’m the best engine ever” Or Nobby doing a double take because how did they get another pacific???? This backwater island that was begging to buy any locomotives just bought 2 large steam engines?? How???

Yeah, that pretty well nails it. Well, that nails everyone’s reaction ("How did they get another Pacific????" — and remember that the N.W.R. is acquiring more large engines circa 1922-3 than just Henry and Gordon. Somehow they got a whole shed full of 'em.) But Nobby in particular has some experience with Topham Hatt’s method of procuring engines… so his reaction might be more specifically "What is the catch with this one?" and "Wonder if Hatt actually went to inspect this one first or if this is yet another deal he struck sight unseen and just… hoped for the best." You know. Questions for the ages.

As for Gordon’s reaction to Nobby trying to boss him around impart pearls of wisdom, well, yeah, I think you’ve pretty much called it. I’d say for the most part Nobby, especially at first, would like to very much ignore Gordon. Nobby’s got not only the Furness engines but now all sorts of newcomers into their territory to keep track of (also they keep renumbering everyone so that’s a headache right there), the N.W.R. is not his responsibility and, as of the year Gordon comes, those engines come and go too quickly to bother with them anyhow. It’s not like the new Pacific doesn’t seem to be able to garner all the attention he wants from his own railway.

BUT sometimes Gordon’s… high-spirited behavior must be checked for the sake of station decorum and when Nobby does intervene the tension is HIGH. Coz usually Nobby is only telling him something that a long string of people and engines have told him already, and Gordon would LOVE to loftily sweep his objections aside right along with everyone else’s. But… Nobby has two advantages that no one else around does:

1) Gordon comes installed with respect for preserved engines, they’re the only engines further up the hierarchy than, well, you know. Him. Hierarchy is very important in G.N.R. culture, it’s rigid, and at first no one Over Here thinks Gordon knows anything about etiquette, but it’s just that G.N.R. hierarchy is… different. Unlike, say, the Furnessians, Gordon doesn’t have to defer to humans in general, no not even drivers, or at least drivers-who-didn’t-distinguish-themselves-during-the-Great-Races (oh God, Gordon’s first Sodor driver had nerves of steel, raise a glass); he also doesn't have to respect older engines who are not his direct forbears; hell, at first Gordon manages to even rationalise away nearly half of Topham Hatt I’s authority (Gordon is great at rationalisation, he’s a genius at it). HOWEVER. Preserved engines do outrank him. Unequivocally. So when Coppernob reproves him, Gordon is FURIOUS but… he can’t talk back. But this is also 1920s Gordon, who WILL burst a safety valve before taking anything he doesn’t like. BUT this is a PRESERVED ENGINE. #$%^&@!!!!

So Gordon would fall lividly silent and glare at Nobby in a way that would unsettle or provoke any other engine (Nobby doesn’t give a shit) and just sail into a fuming bout of mental trigonometry, furiously trying to work out some sort of excuse by which he can decide Coppernob is an illegitimate member of what he regards as one of the most respectable clubs in the world. Unfortunately... he can’t do it. (Maybe if Gordon had known Edward Bury had been sacked as loco supe from the GNR after cheating the company, lmao. But I don’t think Gordon does know this.) SO HE’S JUST SO PISSED OFF. How did he get exiled to the middle of nowhere, AND SOMEHOW THERE’S A BOSSY ENGINE FROM THE RAILWAY BOOM ERA kept here in immaculate condition to purely for the purpose of annoying him??! It's — it's — 'disgraceful' doesn't even seem to cover it, somehow. It's like you need more words than that. Hmmm.

Anyway, somehow — even with his resentment topping out at 10000% — Gordon keeps his mouth shut.

Which is stunning. I think the first time it happens, Gordon’s poor driver nearly falls off the footplate. Silence is golden, man.

Nobby himself is a little surprised at how easy it is to check Gordon — unless his temper is maxed out (which is not in fact an everyday occurrence), most of the Seagulls give him WAY more lip, and 133 is currently running him ragged at every opportunity. He’s already observed that Gordon’s temper is equal to his own so was expecting one hell of an argument, not instant submission.

Now, it would take a heart of stone to not be tempted to use this unexpected superpower to fuck with the temperamental young thoroughbred...

... and Nobby ain’t exactly a saint, so he goes right on ahead fully enjoying the ability to yank Gordon’s chain.

2) But after a year this is starting to wear off — like most new engines, Gordon’s "programming" is not impervious to environment and experience, and, when you chuck him to a railway clear on the other side of the country, it’s gonna start crumbling even sooner. As far as Gordon is concerned, he’s been exiled to the WILDERNESS, he had to put up with all manner of indignities (a goods train! a goods train!), the social contract is already in cinders so he does NOT have to put up with Nobby giving him unreasonable orders like "pronounce the 'r' in 'Furness'" and "don’t call your fireman a blasted fool in the middle of my station" and "say 'thank you' to our station pilot or I’ll have you sent back to Doncaster on five separate flatbeds" and "if I’ve told you once then this makes it twice, 'Furness' requires an 'r' sound in the middle, don’t make me say it again."

So things might have changed, but Nobby gets a second trump card up his sleeve after going to the Wembley Exhibition. Coz now he’s acquainted with the Flying Scotsman. And he can not-so-subtly remind Gordon, if Gordon is being especially absurd, that he may well be in a position in the future to tell tales about him to his famous little brother. Maybe even tells Gordon that Gordon can let him know if he has a message for Scotsman, next time he writes… (It’s only Columbine that Nobby exchanges letters with but Gordon doesn’t need to know that.)

At the same time, Nobby kept Scotsman in line during all the months of the Wembley Exhibition by pointedly talking up what a responsible and respectable and restrained engine Scot’s older brother Gordon is, what a fine young engine, I see him every day back home, he’s the epitome of grace (or whatever other quality Scotsman is failing to demonstrate on that particular day).

I expect in ’68 Gordon and Scotsman realized that the wily old crafter had bludgeoned them both by talking each other up behind their tenders to each other, instilling them with low-key inferiority complexes that lasted until roughly that minute. While never once saying anything nice about either of them to their own faces.

(They laughed, but only Scotsman really let it go. Gordon would still get Nobby back for it if he ever saw an opportunity. Not like this consumes him, not at all, but he just, like, listen. He’s aware that there is a score to settle… and Gordon believes in revenge served cold.)

#chatter #coppernob things #ttte gordon

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bethanythebogwitch · 1 month

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Wet Beast Wednesday: scallops

I may have only discussed them once before on this series, but I'm not saying "bye" to bivalves. One of the coolest bivalve subgroups are the scallops. While most Bivalves live in one spot their entire lives, scallops boldly go where no clam has gone before and take to the seas, actively swimming.

(Image: a pile of captured scallops. They are bivalves with shells shaped like hand fans with two wing-like structures near the hinge. The shells have ridges running from the hinge to the outer edge. Small pink ID tags have been glued to them. End ID)

Scallops are members of the family Pectinidae. As with all bivalves, they have two shells that interlock with a pair of valves which form hinges. The two shells are not identical. Most scallops prefer to rest on one valve (usually the right one), which results in that shell growing more rounded than the other one. Growing from the back of the shell near the hinge are two structures called wings, ears, or auricles, which are unique to scallops. Another shell feature unique to scallops is the ctenolium, a honeycomb shaped structure that is used to help distrubute byssal threads. Byssal threads are structures found in most bivalves. They are strong and sticky filaments that attach bivalves to rocks. Most scallops only attach themselves to rocks as juveniles and lose the ctenolium as adults. The scallops shell has a distinctive and usually symmetrical shape. Many have distinctive ridges running from hinge to the front of the shell. These are supported by structures called ribs. These provide extra integrity to the shell, but increase weight, requiring an evolutionary balancing act to get the most benefit out of them.

(Image: a live scallop with the opening facing the camera. Inside the shell is a fleshy structure with multiple small tentacles and two rows of small, blue eyes. There is algae and a barnacle growing on the shell. End ID)

The inside of the shell contains the body of the scallop. A large portion of the interior is taken up by the adductor muscle, which attaches to the inside of both shells. The adductor muscle of scallops is larger and more developed than those found in most bivalves. In all bivalve species, its purpose is to close the shells. Scallops also use it for swimming. The scallop adductor muscle is made of both smooth and striated muscle tissue. The striated muscle moves fast but tires out quicker and is sued for rapidly opening and closing the shell when swimming. The smooth muscle is slower but uses much less energy, allowing the scallop to hold its shell closed for a long time. As with all bivalves, the shell defaults to the open position thanks to a structure called the hinge ligament and require active muscle contraction to close. Most of the rest of the body is the digestive system, reproductive system, circulatory system, and nervous system. The nervous system is a fairly simple nerve net and lacks a brain. Unlike most bivalves, scallops do not intake food through a siphon. Instead, they open their shells to let water move over a structure that filters out food particles and imbeds them in mucus. cilia then moves the mucus into the mouth and through the digestive system. The digestive system also passes through the heart. Around the opening of the shell is a structure called the mantle. The mantle is lined with tentacles that help filter out inedible things from the water.

(image: a scallop with one shell removed to show the internal anatomy. End ID)

Also along the mantle are two rows of eyes, one for each shell and up to 200 in total. Most bivalves don't have eyes. Scallops, being swimming animals, do have eyes and they are strange, not just in comparison to vertebrate eyes, but in comparison to the eyes of other mollusks. Each eyeball has a lens, a pupil, two retinas, and at the back, a system of mirrors that direct and focus light in a similar manner as telescopes. The mirrors are composed of guanine (the same stuff as the "G" nucleotide in DNA) and are shaped like convex squares. There can be over 100,000 mirrors in each eye. For a long time, it was thought that the proximity of the mirrors to the retinas would result in an unfocused, blurry image. It has recently beed discovered that the cells that eye can change shape, potentially adjusting the mirrors for a sharper image. Scallops also have more opsins (light-sensing proteins in the retina) than humans and they may not be evenly distributed, potentially allowing different eyes to see different parts of the light spectrum. While it's not clear how much information the scallops can interpret with their lack of a brain, they at least can tell the difference between ares of contrast and can detect motion. Scallops seem to mainly use their vision to detect predators and to adjust their swimming and feeding behavior.

(Image: a close-up shot of scallop eyes. They are blue balls with a black pupil. End ID)

Now for the reason Spongebob turned scallops into the undersea equivalent of birds. Unlike the vast majority of bivalves, who are either immobile or bury themselves in the sediment, scallops are free-swimming. At least most of them, there are some species that live their lives attached to rock or another structure, like mussels or oysters. The body plan of scallop shells is adapted to facilitate swimming. They have two main means of locomotion called swimming and jumping. Both involve the scallop opening the shell to intake water, then rapidly closing it to force the water out. While swimming, the water is ejected through small holes near the hinge called exhalant apertures. The water is forced over the shell's wings and can be sent out over the left or right wing. Most of the time, they will alternate which wing the water is pushed over, resulting in a zig-zag movement. In jumping, the water is forced out the way it came, propelling the scallop backwards. It usually comes to a rest on the sediment between jumps. Both swimming and jumping cost a lot of energy and the scallop will have to rest afterwards. their locomotion is used to avoid predation, with starfish being their main predators. Some species also have a muscular foot that can extend from the shell and is used to bury the scallop.

(Gif: a scallop swimming over a field of seagrass, showing off the zig-zag motion and its ability to alter its course. End ID)

Some species of scallop are dioecious, meaning they have distinct males and females. Others are simultaneous hermaphrodites while still others are protandrous sequential hermaphrodites, beginning their lives as males and becoming females when they get older. Their reproductive organs are called roe and are red in females and white in males. Scallops are broadcast spawners. They release eggs and sperm into the water column. After a few weeks, fertilized eggs will hatch into drifting larvae called spat. Spat look like miniature, transparent versions of the adults. As they age, the spat will drop to the seafloor. This event has the delightful name of spatfall. The spat use byssal threads to attach themselves to whatever they can find and will remain like that until they have matured. Most species lose their byssal threads as adults, but a few retain them and do not become swimmers. Depending on species, scallops can live for up to 20 years.

(Image: a group of spat housed in captivity They are smaller, transluscent versions of the adults. End ID)

The part of scallops that people usually eat is the adductor muscle, though the roe is also edible. Scallops have been eaten by various peoples for millennia and excessive catching has caused severe declines in wild populations. This has led to the rise of many aquaculture methods for growing scallops from the spat stage. Because scallops are filter feeders, they improve local water quality and when their numbers diminish, water quality worsens. On the other hand, when massive numbers of scallops are raised together in aquaculture, they can cause localized eutrophication, an increase of nutrients that triggers massive microbe growth and reduces oxygen levels in the water. Dredging, the main method of capturing wild scallops, destroys benthic ecosystems, which can take decades to be restored. All of this for a food that tastes like congealed air.

(Image: a scallop aquaculture setup. It consists of multiple nets hanging from the surface of the water, each separated into multiple layers holding multiple scallops. A SCUBA diver is swimming through the area. End ID)

#wet beast wednesday #scallop #scallops #bivalve #mollusk #molluscs #marine biology #biology #zoology #ecology #animal facts #informative #educational #image described

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ttoadsandsnails · 1 year

Text

Alien x reader

This is an old request where the reader wanted an alien like you see in old sci-fi.

Please enjoy!

Word count: 2528

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

“I trust the preparations for your mission are ready K’utzar?”

“Yes sire. All needed materials are accounted for, and the ship has had a proper inspection. I will depart within the hour.”

“Good. You are dismissed. Good luck on your travels.”

“Thank you, sire.” They bowed before turning to make their leave.

The journey down the corridor to the docking bay was a quiet one. K’utzar being lost in thought and worry. It would be the first mission they even have gone on by themselves.

Wringing their hands they attempted to calm down. Everything would be fine right? It’s just a simple sediment and life information retrieval. A routine procedure. What’s the worst that can happen?

At the end of the corridor they place their palm on the scanner causing the doors to slide open revealing the massive room busy with the hustle and bustle of others working on their assigned duties. They catch a few knowing glances from those they pass. Everyone was nervous about their first solo mission. Knowing this gave K’utzar some comfort.

There it was, gleaming like a beacon in the dim sector of the bay. The place they would call home for the next twelve days. The ship was beautiful for a lack of better words. A light blue meshing with white the further you looked up to the nose. The structure, large enough to be a temporary living space as well as hold research materials, but not large enough to draw the attention of locals. K’utzar willed themselves to calm down as the nerves started rising again.

“Let's just get this over with” they said as they entered the open hatch and settled in their seat at the controls. With a firm grasp on the steering mechanism and a few switches being flipped they speak into the comm.

“G-491 ready for departure” they say as the ship whirrs to life, the interior lighting up making a soft glow cast over their grey complection.

“All clear. Proceed with take off” a voice crackled over the speakers. With that they took off out of the bay and on to their destination, a little planet in the Milky-Way. Earth.

With the coordinations set they relax a bit. The trip will take about twenty minutes, giving themselves some time to reflect.

“Everything will be alright” they mumble to themselves what they said earlier, glancing out at the stars whizzing past. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

The sun almost fully set as you got your daily duties finished. You were spending the summer helping out on your grandparents farm while they were away on vacation. It was hard work, but thankfully, most of what you had to do was care for the animals, and keep the plants watered. Avery trailed behind you as you gathered up the tools to store them away in the small barn. Avery was your massive five year old sheepdog who was just a big sweetheart, so when she suddenly halted facing the small dense forest that surrounded the back of the barn with her fur standing erect and her lips drawn in a low growl, you were more than startled.

You whistle for her to come, thinking maybe she just saw a deer, but she didn’t budge. At this point the sky was a deep blue, making it hard to see anything other than what was illuminated by the lights of the barn. Grasping the pitchfork you stamp the handle and whistle once more calling for her. “Avery! Come on! We need to feed the chickens before we head to bed!”

A blinding light pierced through the dark foliage, bright and green in color. It made you drop your pitchfork as you tried to shield your eyes from the intensity of the beam. As sudden as it came it was gone, replaced with a soft glow emanating from far in the forest. A noise much like an air valve being released could be heard. With this Avery bolted in the direction of the light, her barks bouncing off the trees.

“Avery!” you yelled, gathering up your pitchfork and chasing after her. It must have just been another group of teenagers going in because of a dare. You’ve never seen her react this way before though. The light quickly got closer and you saw her standing there barking at the source. Your breath caught in your throat as you gazed upon a…..ship? You were astonished by its appearance. It was like nothing you had ever seen. The light seemed to be coming from inside of the strange vessel.

You swallowed thickly, mind quickly coming to the conclusion this had to be a prank. Whoever set this up had to still be nearby. You furrowed your eyebrows, upset with the situation they had put you in. “Avery heel!” you call to her. She obeys this time, coming to your side but with sharp eyes still fixed on the vessel.

“Whoever put this here needs to show themselves immediately! This is private property!” you demand tightly gripping the handle preparing yourself for the group of teens you always catch out here to come out. What you weren’t prepared for was a small figure to come out of the open hatch of the ship holding up two, three fingered hands. Shock shot through your body as you looked into abnormally large black eyes that were placed on the smooth grey skin that made up this creature's face. It looked like something straight out of a horror film.

Losing the initial shock you roll your eyes. “I’ll admit, that’s an impressive costume, but you need to remove the mask now or I’ll do it for you” you insist with a few steps in their direction. A quiet mumble can be heard but it is indistinguishable. “What was that?” you pause about ten paces away. They twist a knob on the front of their jumpsuit and mumble again.

“Not- costume. No- not- costume.” comes a gabled voice.

Your eyes widen. “What do you mean not a costume? Of course it’s a costume!”

Then they blink.

You gasp and stumble back, ankle catching on a tree root causing you to fall. Avery quickly stands in between you two. The combination of your reaction and Avery's snarling appearance causes the alien to start waving their hands in a plea.

With a slap to the dial on their chest they blurt out, “Please! I come in peace! I am just doing a sample retrieval!”

“A sample retrieval!? Are you here to abduct me!?” horror washed over your features.

“No of course not! I’m here to take samples of soil and plant matter to see if there might be something beneficial in the chemical and structural make up of this planet's matter in comparison to other planets! I have no desire to harm you!” they say stumbling over some words with how quickly they are trying to speak.

It feels like ages pass before either of you make a move. You sigh and slowly pull yourself up. Why me?

“So.. let me get this straight. You’re here to take some dirt and leaves back with you on this” you gesture to the vessel behind them, “spaceship, so you find out if you could maybe use it for something?” They nod quickly. “And you aren’t here to take people?” This time they shake their head side to side.

You let out a small chuckle. A stroke to Avery’s head pulls her guard down and you tell her to sit. Sensing your sudden calmness causes her to calm down fully.

“Alright then. I don’t know why but I believe you. You got a name?” you say with a small smile on your lips. They visibly relax at this, smiling back “I am called K’utzar.”

“K’utzar huh? Well K’utzar, why did you pick here of all places to do your research?” you questioned looking around at the surrounding forest. “To be honest, there isn’t much here but firs and branches.”

“I was told to conduct my research here because it was supposedly desolate of any ‘humans’, but I see now they were wrong” they sigh as they too look around.

“Well tell you what. You need different plants right?” Nod. “And wouldn’t it go faster if you had help?” Nod. “From a local?”

K’utzars face lit up at this. “You mean you? You would help me?”

They looked ecstatic, causing you to give a large smile. “Yes, I’ll help. We can start tomorrow morning if you would like?”

They clasp their hands together. “Yes of course! I-we will start when there is light.”

With a wave of your hand you turn back towards the barn house. “Alright see you then. Come on Avery, it’s bedtime!” With that you make your way back, all the while thinking about the strange friendly alien. Scooping the discarded tools up you shove them back into the barn and quickly check on the animals, exhausted from the day's activities.

With the barn locked, the lights off, and Avery at your heel, you finally head off to bed. Pulling the covers up to your chin you spare a glance out of the window by your bed, and see the dim light still emanating from the woods and wonder what tomorrow will bring with your new ‘friend’.

Light streaming through your window onto your pillow rouses you out of a peaceful rest making you let out a groan pulling the covers over your head. K’utzar! You sit up suddenly, the sheets falling from your head. You quickly throw the covers off and change into a comfortable outfit and pull some boots on. There is a cold wetness on your leg and you look down to see Avery nudging you and whining. “Aw, sorry girl, I’m going to have you stay here today. I promise you can come tomorrow though.” You ruffle her fur and then head out the door and to the forest.

I’m pretty sure it was here? Was it all a dream? “Hello human!” a voice exclaims from behind. You whip around to see them there again, this time holding a box full of tubes and wearing a bright smile.

“Are you ready to begin the day?” Alright, yesterday did happen. You inhale a deep breath and smile.

“Yup! You can call me y/n btw, not just human.”

“Oh yes! Of course!” they stutter out.

“Well, where do we start?”

They showed you the ropes about how to properly collect samples of things using a small scoop that is then placed into a tube and sealed. The tube contained a clear liquid that would dissolve the material on contact then change color depending on what was put in. The whole process was fascinating.

“With your help y/n, I can find different materials much quicker as you know more about this planet.” they expressed, gratitude lacing their voice.

An idea suddenly came to mind. “You need plant matter too right?” You stood up dusting off your knees and looked at them awaiting an answer.

“That is correct. Why?” a puzzled expression crossing their features.

“I have a farm! I grow plants! You could take a sample from plants I’m sure you wouldn’t have access to otherwise. Here come this way.” You grab their hand pulling them along till you reach the field next to the barn. The small field is littered with a multitude of different fruits, vegetables, and herbs. K’utzar glances around at the lush produce, mouth agape.

You let go of their hand, using it to grab a bright red tomato off of the nearest vine and hand it to them causing them to place the box down. “That is a tomato, over there are blueberries, the tall ones are corn, and those are squash.” You tell as you walk them through the plants closest to you.

They turn the tomato over in their hands, observing the way it shines in the sunlight. Dark eyes glance up into your own, they look flabbergasted. “This is all so much to take in. I feel overwhelmed by your generosity. This planet is beautiful so far from what I’ve seen, and there is so much more to do then I first thought” they say as they hand the tomato back. “I have a favor to ask of you.” they lean over and shuffle through the box. In their hands seems to be a notebook? “I was wondering if you would record the names of the plants and the information you know about them. Your knowledge would be a most helpful addition to our research.”

They wanted you to take notes? “What will you do while I do this?” you question as you take the notebook.

“I will continue taking samples!” they beamed. “There is so much work to do! Shall we get started then?”

You chuckle at their enthusiasm and nod. With that you both started on your work, you taking the occasional break to water some plants or check on the animals all the while asking K’utzar where they were from and what it’s like in space.

By the end of the day you two had a sizable chunk of work done. You wipe the sweat off your brow and hand the notebook back to K’utzar. “Here you are. I had a lot of fun helping you today. It sure beats my normal farmwork.”

They place the notebook under their arm and grasp your hands. “Thank you. I enjoyed today with you more than I have enjoyed a day in a long time. You are a wonderful being and I am lucky to be in your presence y/n.”

You don’t know why, but their words caused heat to rise in your cheeks. “Will you need my help tomorrow?” you say looking away because of their intense gaze.

“Yes, I will.”

“I will be here around the same time then.” you spoke quietly, slinking your hands away and heading up the steps of the house.

“I will look forward to our time spent together. Have a plentiful rest y/n.” they shouted at your retreating form.

“You too!” you called back as you swiftly shut the door behind you and slumped against it. In no time Avery was at your side joyously lapping at your flushed face. You laugh and push her off. “Yes hello to you too.” She settles herself down next to you, head placed in your lap while you skritch at her ear.

Today really was great. The idea of seeing K’utzar tomorrow made your heartbeat quicken. The conversations you had today showed you just how kind they are and how much they truly loved their job. You could get used to this. Someone to talk to, share thoughts to, it made you excited for tomorrow.

You promptly stood up, ready to head to bed. As you settle into the soft linen you can’t help but wonder what tomorrow will bring. You turn your body toward the window seeing the dim light still glowing from the foliage. With a grin on your face you are lulled to sleep with thoughts of your new companion.

#reader x monster #monster x reader #alien x reader #reader x alien #monster scenarios #monster romance #my writing #ttoadsandsnails

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witchofthesouls · 6 months

Note

Any chance you'll do a snippet of Donor Tarn finally plowing the nurse?

Your frame's exhausted and your energy has flagged from the triple shift where you needed to melt and reforge new components because Tesarus chose to pick a fight with the only animal this side of the galaxy that's capable of melting military-grade armor outside of ununtrium.

Besides an extended medical stasis, internal scarring, and mandatory physical therapy because you made plans for a blow dart with a powerful sedative to numb the connective nerve relays in a Titan's limb should the mech try to avoid it, the idiot will live another day.

But not even the heedy call of carriage-induced lust could drive away the strut-weary fatigue.

Perhaps it's your facial expression and tone as you look over your shoulder. Perhaps Tarn has had enough of your rocking as you squeeze your mesh and cycle the calipers for the fourth time for some rest, but he gives only a token protest to trying a different position.

Never in your life did you think you had to do this, but here you are, coaxing a mech into an optimal rutting position. A mech who had no qualms over a collar meant for destructive pets (no matter what the sex shop said, you can tell from the quality material and the bell), but fusses over active participation in interfacing.

While he still has that wall-staring habit, he's able to touch you a bit. Large servos with thankfully blunted fingertips wrap around your waist as he carefully moves behind you, berth creaking from weight distribution and bell chiming, that spike is a hefty weight upon your inner thigh.

You're used to a mecha smacking your aft or tugging on a wing with a stupid comment or playful tease since “mounting from behind” is generally the best way to settle heats.

Tarn's quiet. His frame, however, speaks volumes. He's dumping heat into the air as the newly freed back vents hissed and steamed as he came up-right. His field is a heavy blanket and tangled into yours, hunger and want undeniable and it weighs over you, adding to your own. His spike throbs, hot and heavy and still slick, and your valve echoes in sympathy, magnetically drawn to its close perimeter.

You're murmuring words of encouragement as he nudges your valve with his spike. The blunt tip catches but slides across the rim to kiss your anterior node with its ridges. You need to reach between your knees and guide him. It pulses as you use your fingertips to hold him in place to your swollen folds, coaxing Tarn to rock forward to pass the first ring of your valve.

“Good, very good,” you groan as he finally gives enough force and pressure to breach it. You do a firm tug on the leash when he tries to stop, unsure even with his spike crackles with charge inside you, melting your more than willing mesh and nodes primed and pinging calipers to cycle wider.

You're drenched. His spike is just as worked up and blazing to go. Caminus is in such a deep sleep that only city-speakers can interact with him. Deadzone is still dead. And this is currently your life, guiding a severely repressed mech who's a bureaucratic executioner that's deeply confused over natural processes related to sex.

It takes a bit, but you finally have him fully hilted, valve quivering and eager at this new phenomena. You give the leash slack to allow Tarn leeway, and he thankfully picks up the cue.

It isn't a true thrust, more like a strong rock, but he puts his weight into it, and that punches the carrier-coding into an excited tizzy.

A sharp, electrifying shock sizzles up your spinal struts to the tips of your sensory panels that you almost miss Tarn's question to move you.

“That's fine.” If your voice strains, Tarn doesn't comment on it. Actually, he rarely speaks at these sessions, especially what happened when he accidentally triggered his sigma ability.

Tarn shifts your hips, and the new angle surprises the hell out of you. You thought he reached everything at this point.

Apparently not.

Your valve pulses helplessly as the new alignment causes the grooves and treads to constantly slide directly over clusters of nodes, never leaving them instead of inconsistent grazing as well as press the crown directly to the inlet and its surrounding nodes.

That involuntary surprised noise you make causes a spike of worry from the mech, and you feel the intention to withdraw.

NO, went your sparked-heavy frame. You yank the leash, pulling hard enough to jolt Tarn and his hips forward, and charge surges embarrassingly fast along with a high-pitched needy keen from your throat as he catches himself, almost crushing you. The mech covers you completely, and the bell jingles right over your head.

Your frame likes it. Your valve likes it. You like it.

So you do the reasonable thing and pull the leash taunt, wrapping it around your wrist and hand, so Tarn can't get off without ripping a body part.

You cut off hearing because you really didn't want a log of the noises coming out of your mouth. You already have to deal with the intimate knowledge of how much that spike not only excites the carrier-coding, but the deep-frame instincts and your overworked valve as a new wave of lubricant coats said spike and your thighs.

It's bad enough to feel strung out by a stuttering, unsure pace, but you needily meet Tarn's hips because coding demands it.

That leash, the vague thought burbles somewhere that's still rational and not spike-hungry, is the greatest last-minute joke purchase you've done.

And the thought flitters away when Tarn finally hits a good and steady rhythm as he's guided by your yanking. Soon, with every harsh pull, your chamber gets heavier and heavier, which delights the carrier-coding as a new wave of charged transfluid registers to it.

Moremoremore, it chants, and your sensory panels flare out with the wide expanse tilted and trying to tempt another Seekerkin by exposing seams. Bite me, your frame screams as another overload crashes over you. Valve clenching hard enough to keep an imprint, shrieking in overwrought pleasure as another burst of transfluid hits the back of it, and your frame jolts forward, only held in place by his grip and frame. Make a claim!

Luckily, Tarn remains blissfully ignorant of Seekerkin behavior and wingcant cues, and will remain so because you won't tell him.

And because Tarn is awkward and polite and very much a professional outside the walls, you send a quick prayer to Solus that he'll never bring up whatever is currently coming out of your mouth, even as you squirm and yowl like a turbofox in heat.

Suddenly, it's over.

You're both full and empty. Trying to come down from the carriage-induced high and turn your hearing back on.

Your entire self is gasping, vents wheezing as the tertiary systems struggle to cool your frame since Tarn is just as molten against your back.

Your belly is full, and your valve is empty, and it hates that fact. It drools and twitches, even left gaping, calipers blunted to their widest setting, it still wants. You're pretty sure if your chamber isn't currently stuffed to the brim, the pesky coding would have triggered a frame-lock to keep that spike inside you before it tucked away.

You have no idea how you managed to get your legs to take your weight, but you're fairly sure you did a full body rub as you choke out a thanks. Tarn looks just as flustered as well. Even his treads sag, separating out to rapidly cool down, biolights burning a searing bright pink.

Because his pelvis and thighs and berth are a mess. It's absolutely safe to bet that you look just as well used and destroyed.

You wobble out and into the hall towards the direction of your habsuite and the medbay because you're not picky on the location to crash and recover.

#ask #transformers #transformers idw #idw #mtmte #the donor clause au #tarn #reader insert #cybertronian!reader #valveplug #cybertronian biology #cybertronian culture #maccadam #my writing #nickel is getting her money's worth with your skills #tarn is getting wrecked #aka how to train a skittish tank with a dog leash

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c00kiesart · 4 months

Note

Hey, I just wanna say I really like those mha ocs u made! The two girls and that one curly haired guy. Can we get more details on them? Anything u wanna say about them?

Oh yo?? Thanks for showing interest my man?? I’ll put it all under the cut so I don’t flood anyone’s screens

Let’s start off with my gal! cuki chokochi, she’s in the hero course at UA by the name “Precious pockets” and her quirk is, u guessed it, portal pockets! she can store basically anything inside ANY pocket/bag and be the only one to access it! She even knows how to sew to add more pockets, It can’t be organized for shit so she takes a while to find stuff but she is incredibly versatile on the field! she def keeps you on ur toes! But don’t fret normally she’s sweet as she is fluffy, And fun story actually, the reason why her design is kinda misleading is cuz the first quirk concept I had for her was a beast transformation quirk, but the idea was already taken by a canon character and thus had to be changed xD Izzy actually helped spark the pockets idea, I just liked the design too much to fully redo it. Her horns are unevenly grown and she’s a little insecure about her furry features but her friends reassure her she’s lovely way she is, she likes fairy kei/decora fashion but can’t wear too many layers due to her fur, and her favorite things are waffles and stars. she’s also dating iida, she helps him learn to relax.

Next up is my bestie @needs-to-stop-looking-at-valves ‘s girl! Kokomo kiri. she’s in the support course and has a real knack for creating countless new support items/costumes. Her signature is brass knuckles lol and her quirk is nightmare noms, She can make nightmares reality just by eating them from her victims minds when asleep, thanks to her eyes she can visually see their dreams. They can even look different based on the contents of said dream. Once eaten, she can conjure up very convincing illusions and use all your senses against you, She’s a master at mimicry and can even make someone fall asleep just by making eye contact, it’s why I designed her eyes to be hypnotic swirls! basically nightmares are her fuel, but if she gets too backed up she vomits a black sludge that if touched can make one more prone to fear. It’s actually why her hands are permanently stained. She also suffers from insomnia, she’s an acquired taste for sure and she speaks very weirdly but she just loves in her own special way! Albeit she’s very crude and impulsive. And very blunt. with a super dark sense of humor too. But I promise she’s nice! She wears a beanie to hide her messy bed head and Her favorite things are banana bread and bats, she’s dating sato. And yes. He makes her banana bread whenever she wants.

And lastly but not LEAST we have our absolute LAD tomonari jishaku! Him and cuki are in the hero course together! He goes by the name “checkmate”. Cuki gives him confidence whilst kiri keeps him humble. By bullying him. but she loves the nerd, she really does. His quirk is magnet, he has metal protrusions on his chest and arms, with the left hand he pushes and with the right he pulls, he’s super skilled and trains hella hard but if he over uses it’s a lotta stress on his poor nerves. despite his very anxious and quite frankly pushover demeanor, when the time calls for it, he for sure can kick your ass. He just needs a little encouragement?? Don’t we all? He’s a huge video game nerd and he actually tends to avoid cursing, and conflict. his favorite things are pineapple pizza, pink lemonade and photography. He has pictures hung up everywhere and He’s dating tetsutetsu. They’re very homo gym bros

And all together this trio is called the creation crew, like how the big three call themselves. Well. The big three! These guys all create things in their own ways, pretty fitting team name if you ask me, And if you really read this far? I SUPER appreciate it! ✨

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hiramaris · 9 months

Text

Dusk til Dawn

Part 13

Summary: Following Episode 9. And spoilers for Episode 10.

Author’s note: As Episode 10 is just released I just want to say heads up for those who are not yet finished. Completing the game without spoilers really made a difference, and as much as possible I want everyone to experience that. And for those finished, I’ll gladly welcome you to my domain where MC took a different route.

Disclaimer: I do not own Duskwood or any of the related characters. Duskwood is created by and owned by Everbyte Studio. This fanfiction is intended for entertainment only. I am not making any profit from this story. All rights of the original Duskwood story belong to Everbyte Studio.

Warning: Mentions of blood, suicide, violence, pedophiles, drugs, gun, murder, sex offenders, kidnapping

Shits started to go down the moment those words left your mouth. What did you expect anyway? You had unintentionally hit a raw nerve. Ted had poured his heart and soul reminiscing that night, and yet you have the audacity to laugh at his misery.

You didn’t really mean to laugh, really. Laughter sometimes escapes us in moments of intense emotion, not because we find something funny, but as a release valve for relief.

It was a relief that Hannah and Richy may not go to jail after all these. Because Ted had already admitted that he pushed Jennifer on the road, thus the crime committed wasn’t actually done by them.

You understood Ted's suffering. Under different circumstances, in a life where you weren't bound by the law, you might have reacted similarly if Jill's death had gone unpunished. Your empathy for Ted's situation ran deep. Yet, you were starkly aware of the reality you existed in—one that demanded adherence to the law, no matter how difficult it might be. They may call you a hypocrite all they want, but your top priority right now is to keep everyone safe.

Ted also needs help, psychiatrically speaking.

You’re not entirely sure, but you can see bits of physiological manifestations of his mental illness. His mental instability could be a potentially dangerous weapon against you all. The unpredictability of his actions was a looming threat. That’s why you need to pin him down— fast.

Something in your demeanor must have given Jake a signal because suddenly, his resistance flared to life. With a swift bite and a kick to Ted's shin, he managed to create enough space to scramble away, taking Richy along.

A stifled laugh threatened to escape you— it was a desperate attempt on Jake’s end, and you didn’t quite envision it before that Jake would have the guts to bite someone’s hand.

The small trickle of blood at the corner of Jake's mouth was evidence of the pain he had inflicted. Ted's angry growls confirm that he’s not pleased with what Jake has done.

So, with Jake out of the way, you launched yourself at Ted without hesitation. The revolver in his hand had just gone off, a deafening bang that temporarily left your ears ringing. But your focus was unwavering, and you met Ted's attempt to regain control with a swift move to disarm him. You managed to deflect his aim, causing the bullet to miss its mark. The metallic tang of adrenaline filled your senses as you grappled with him, determined to subdue the threat he posed.

The dimmed surroundings gave you the disadvantage not to mention the addition of fighting a full-grown man. In the midst of grasping for dear life in his hands and the gun, you caught a glimpse of Hannah, Jake, and Richy. Jake had positioned himself protectively in front of Hannah and Richy. It seemed Hannah was too overwhelmed with the current events to notice that her brother was just in front of her.

"Jake, help Y/n!" Richy rasped out behind Jake when he saw how dangerously close the gun was to your abdomen. That made you shoot back to the horrible reality.

Hannah froze at the mention of Jake’s name.

Usually, under normal circumstances, it would be best to outnumber the culprit but given Richy’s relative lack of experience in fighting, he might be shot first before you. He’s also injured. Jake is also injured, and even if he may have experience in fighting, his concussion will only slow him down. As of now, you're the best chance you've got, and you pray to the deities above that you no longer believed in long ago that they'll be able to help with the slimming luck you only have.

“Jake, no!” You shouted as you saw Jake try to move towards you. “You have to go NOW! Don’t come near me!”

“B-but—”

“Just do it!”

Ted's chuckle cut through the tension. “You think I would let anyone leave this mine?” Ted chuckled darkly as he leaned closely on your face, his breath chilling against your skin. His whispered words hung heavy in the air. “I just told you. No one will ever leave this mine alive.”

“As if I'd let that happen,” you snapped back, focusing on prying the gun from his grip.

Your priority right now is to disarm him. You can’t take the risk of having him fire it on anyone.

You suspected Alan had already called for backup at the entrance by the Grimrock. It is a matter of choice now: it’s either you all die, or he’ll be captured. He’s desperate, and that makes him more dangerous than ever.

With a burst of strength, you managed to make Ted stagger backward, pressing him against the wall. You motioned the three to get out of here and Jake readily nodded in agreement, understanding the severity of the situation.

"We have to help, Y/n!" Richy protested, struggling against Jake's grip. His desperation was palpable, his eyes wide with concern for you and the dangerous situation you were in.

“We have to go.” Jake's voice was urgent as he decisively snatched the laptop from the table, his movements quick and purposeful. He pulled Richy and Hannah away from the escalating conflict, his protective stance shielding them from the potential danger. You could see the fear and determination in his eyes, his focus solely on ensuring their safety. Meanwhile, your battle with Ted continued— a life-and-death struggle that demanded your full attention.

You were acutely aware of the weight of the situation. The gun held by Ted was a deadly threat, and your unwavering goal was to disarm him as swiftly as possible.

“At this point, we’re just going to be a liability to her,” Jake's words cut through the chaos, a stark reminder that your priority was to keep them safe, even if it meant leaving you to face Ted alone.

Amidst the clash, a fierce blow struck your face, sending a jolt of pain through your skull. Your jaw clenched in response, determination overriding the pain as you tightened your grip on Ted, refusing to back down.

“A hard face I see,” Ted grunted, a twisted smirk on his face. “No wonder you seemed unbothered to my threats.”

Despite the blood trickling from your nose, you shot him a wolfish grin. “I think you've underestimated me.”

This fucker has a sick punch you admit. You didn't want to be deterred by that so with a fire in your eyes burning brightly as you pressed forward, your head still throbbing from the earlier blow, you slammed your forehead on him, leaving both of you momentarily stunned.

Before Ted could regain his bearings, your palm crashed down on his wrist, exploiting his momentary weakness. The gun slipped from his grasp, hitting the ground with a loud clatter. The sound was a welcome confirmation of your success in disarming him.

Shaking off the residual dizziness, you moved with swift precision. Your foot struck out, kicking the gun away from his reach. In the same fluid motion, you advanced, your boot connecting with his stomach. The impact sent him hurtling backward, his body colliding with the table. A cacophony of splintering wood accompanied his fall as the table shattered beneath his weight, leaving him sprawled among the debris.

As you stood there, panting slightly, you couldn't ignore the fact that Richy and Jake were both eager to join the fight. This was their battle as much as yours, yet your experience told you that their involvement wouldn't bode well. Jake's injuries left him barely able to stand, and Richy's weakened state from blood loss only added to the danger. As much as you value their willingness to help, you can't allow them to worsen their conditions by joining the fray.

Disregarding the blood that continued to flow from the reopened wound on the side of your head, you closed the distance between you and Ted. But in the midst of your advance, you didn't anticipate his sudden move. A knife materialized in his hand, seemingly from thin air, and he lunged toward your leg. Your reflexes kicked in, and you managed to evade just in time to avoid the full brunt of the strike. Still, the blade grazed against your pants, leaving behind a stinging sensation that served as a harsh reminder that Ted at all fucking costs, should not reach anyone from the three. He’s fully capable to fucking kill someone, and you’ll be damned if you let something happen to them.

"That's it. I'm going in," Richy's voice strained as he struggled against Jake's grasp. While Jake's weakened state made it easier for Richy to wriggle free, the blood loss had left Richy even more vulnerable.

It was a rare sight to see Richy losing his characteristic calm and rational demeanor, and for him to be losing his cool right now means this looks way worse than you imagined. It's a wonder you're still able to keep up with Ted.

Muscle and strength were undoubtedly in Ted's favor, a fact you were acutely aware of. Your typical strategy of using agility to outmaneuver your opponent and turn their strength against them was hindered by the persistent ache in your head from the concussion. Despite this setback, you found yourself pushing through, driven by a potent mixture of adrenaline and determination.

As your breaths came in labored pants, you raised a palm, the blood from your head wound now smeared across your skin. "It's okay, it's okay..."

It was not the best reassuring gesture you could muster but you have to stop Richy. As of now he didn't give much impression that he can give the right call when his judgment is clouded by emotions, it is best to let him stay out of the battlefield.

You let out a harsh breath and tried to get your shit together.

"Richy, listen to me—" your voice caught in a groan, your chest heaving. “You know this mine better than I do. Take everyone to Grimrock. I've got this, hah...”

****

As the tension escalated, Jake was forced to take charge of the situation, guiding both Richy and Hannah forward.

Along the way, as he furiously types against the laptop, he realizes that the stream the culprit had given you was a fake one and was programmed to loop all this time. He also found out that this laptop is also connected to a massive surveillance camera network within the mine. So, to speak the mine is probably riddled with these cameras, lurking in shadows and corners, watching every step they take including the one inside the room you’re currently in under the watchful eye of one such camera.

There’s also an unknown source that had successfully breached their way inside this laptop which essentially had stopped the looped stream minutes ago.

Which means… anyone who has access to the link must have heard and watched what had transpired earlier, and what is currently transpiring in real-time.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath as he shuts down the laptop. He halted, his eyes darting around their surroundings. And then, he spotted it – another camera, the fourth one he'd noticed since they'd left that room.

He had little sense of how far they had come from the exit, but he’s quite sure that they are significantly far enough from you and Ted. He mostly relied on Richy for directions since Ted had destroyed all his gadgets and phone, however, the mechanic seemed lost in his own thoughts, his mumbling refrain of 'It's all my fault' haunting the air like a grim mantra.

Hannah, on the other hand, was a mere shell of herself, overwhelmed both physically and emotionally. Her wide-eyed gaze darted around, barely conscious of her surroundings. He has no idea what happened there before he woke up but the two seemed pretty shaken up more than before.

Though his own memories remained foggy, Jake pushed through the mental haze, focusing on the present moment.

Jake's injuries weighed heavily on him, making every movement a strenuous task. He cursed softly under his breath, knowing that his strength was waning fast. Despite the pain and the nagging worry of potential arrest once they reached Grimrock, he pushed those thoughts aside. The current priority was ensuring the safety of his sister and Richy, especially knowing that you were out there, risking your life for them.

He has to make Hannah and Richy get out of this mine alive. Only after that could he think about returning to you. No matter what.

"Richy," Jake's voice was firm as they reached yet another fork in the tunnel. "Where to?"

“I... I think we should go back.”

That snapped the remaining patience in Jake. “Get yourself together.” He hissed quietly. “We have to get out of here. That is the only way we can help, Y/n.”

“No,” Hannah spoke for the first time in a long while. Her lips trembled as she continued, “this is all my fault… Y/n shouldn’t — Agent Y/l/n shouldn’t risk their life for some murderers!”

Confusion tightened Jake's features. “What are you talking about. Hannah?” he demanded, reaching out to steady her shoulders. “You’re no murderers.”

“No, no, no!” Hannah pulled away; her eyes filled with anguish. She dashed towards the dark tunnel they had come from. Her figure was easily swallowed by the darkness of the mine.

"Hannah!" Richy cries out for her.

No, Hannah...

Jake made a motion to run after her, but a sudden surge of pain pierced his head.

He crumpled to his knees, his hand pressing against his forehead. He tried to sit up, only to be hit by another wave of agony. He groans as he tries to sit up but a sharp beam of light cuts through the darkness, followed by an authoritative voice that echoes off the walls.

“Freeze! This is Duskwood Police!”

****

“I knew there would come a time Richy would betray me,” Ted muttered, his voice dripping with bitterness. His eyes shifted toward the direction they had gone, a hint of anger in his gaze. He started to take a step, his intent clear, but you are not having any of it. He’s going to need to get through with your corpse first before he can leave this room. “Still,” he chuckled darkly. “He did a good job doing the dirty work for me.”

You spat out blood and grinned. “May I remind you he’s never been on your side to begin with?”

“True.” Ted's lips twitched in an almost begrudging acknowledgment. He raised his fist, the knife gleaming menacingly in his other hand while you stood there within a careful distance with an annoyingly sly grin.

Ignoring the ache spiking up with every inch of your body, you settled into your usual fighting stance. One leg was positioned forward, the other slightly back, creating a solid base. Both fists were raised defensively in front of your head, elbows tucked in tightly to protect your sides.

Everything is fucking painful but you didn’t allow yourself to feel anything. Anything but rage. That's all you should feel. Maybe rage would suffice enough to make you stand, to make you walk, to make you fight.

Ted seemed almost amused as he casually tilted his neck, producing an unsettling crack that echoed through the air. His previous grin morphed into a snarl; his eyes filled with a deadly intent. “I’d never want a murderer on my side anyway.”

He decided to move first, the knife swinging fast like a bullet. You just hop back casually, the knife hitting nothing but the air. A wide, almost manic grin spread across his face. Another jab was missed, and then another; one to the right and another to the left.

You quickly realized that Ted is planning to keep this pace up for a while, knowing that if he continued like this given your injuries, you wouldn’t be able to keep up with him before long.

While you're confident in your combat skills, whether up close or at range, your endurance is practically top-notch. You're also aware that Ted has the upper hand in terms of strength and speed at the moment due to your injuries. Nonetheless, you've noticed that while his strength and speed are commendable– he lacks precise muscle coordination, which allows you to deftly evade his jabs.

As the fight raged on, it became evident that Ted's patience was wearing thin. Time seems to slow down as he notices that he has yet to make contact with you. Despite his best efforts, he's only hitting the air. Even your injuries couldn't suppress your movements from being so agile and fluid that he could barely keep up.

“Come on,” you taunted, a playful grin on your face. “You think you’ll be able to catch your self-proclaimed murderers if you can’t even finish off little ol’ me?”

You’re not sure if it’s quite possible to make a person angrier than this but you must have struck a nerve as Ted’s punches came in quick succession, but you are still able to move with such speed, barely needing to shift your weight to evade his blows. Your hands casually rested at your sides, almost mocking Ted as he grew increasingly frustrated.

Minutes passed like a blur, and you continued to evade Ted’s attacks with your god-speed movements. It’s starting to wear you out but still; you manage to go beyond your limits. Even when he had finally cornered you against the wall, you were able to sidestep just in time, causing his fist to collide against the hard wall leaving a large dent against it.

You were always one step ahead. With each punch, you sidestepped, twisted, and ducked with great precision, using quick footwork and careful movements to evade his attacks. You spun and shifted, your movements were seamless and well-timed, making Ted’s' parries miss their mark time and time again.

A second of distraction was all you needed as you quickly rounded behind him, stomping your foot on his back.

You grinned happily as you hop back on your feet and went back to your original stance; hands tucked securely against your arms, patiently waiting for him to stand up.

Ted collided with the wall with a grunt, his tight grip against the knife loosening as it fell to the ground. He didn't expect you to attack back. Nonetheless, he recovered and backed off. That kick was far stronger than he anticipated.

Ted now knew he had underestimated you, and this was no longer a battle he could take lightly. He took a deep breath and charged towards you, this time with more caution in his movements. You could see the determination in his eyes, and you knew that the real battle was about to begin. You have been relying on your evasive skills alone for far too long, and you decided it was time to change up your strategy.

You stepped to the side, avoiding his attack, and countered with a quick jab to his ribs, followed by a hook to his jaw. The blows were quick and powerful, but you didn't stop there.

You followed up with a low kick, sweeping his feet from under him. As Ted fell to the ground, he stood up just as fast as he fell. You didn't let him recover from that and landed a kick to his back. He grunted in pain, but you didn't stop.

You delivered a series of punches to his sides and stomach, each one more powerful than the last. Ted tried to block and dodge, but your attacks were too quick and too precise.

Finally, you backed off, giving him a moment to catch his breath or more precisely, give yourself a break because ‘Goddammit, I think I’ve pushed myself a little too hard.’ You think. You just hoped they had already gotten out of here.

You tried to hide the grimace on your face as you stood there, waiting for him to get back up.

“Aren’t you going a little overboard protecting those murderers, agent?" Ted questioned; his breaths uneven as he regained his footing.

“The only murderer I see right now is you,” you retorted with a teasing expression, you ran your fingers through your hair, brushing away the dried blood hindering your vision.

“Fool!” This only provokes Ted to charge at you again. This time, his kicks were even more forceful and aggressive than before, and you could see that he was putting all his strength into the attacks. However, you remained unfazed, still smirking as you evaded his blows with ease. Although there were moments when he nearly landed a hit on you, you managed to block them just in time with one arm.

You noted though that if you weren’t a trained agent, even though you managed to block his attacks, they are still strong enough to leave a bruise or worse, break a bone to a normal civilian with no fighting experience or whatever.

After a moment of pure evasion from a parry of attacks from Ted, your smile widened as you noticed a glaring blind spot that everyone could see in broad daylight.

As Ted threw a careless punch, you swiftly ducked and moved to his right, unleashing a series of quick, harsh jabs to his ribs. He grunted in pain and swung wildly at you, but you ducked once more and followed up with a roundhouse kick to his face. The blow left him dizzy and disoriented, causing his attacks to become more and more inaccurate.

As he threw another punch, you swiftly yanked his arm and tossed him away. You watched as he turned around and surged back towards you, ready to attack once again. But you were ready for him this time, swiftly ducking under his arm and delivering a punch with such incredible speed and force that may seem impossible for someone who is injured. Your fist made contact with his chest, sending him hurtling into the wall with a thud.

“Finally…” you panted as you crouched in front of his unconscious form, checking for signs of consciousness. Confirming his state, you knew that this was the one-in-a-million outcome you had hoped for.

The suspect was alive, Richy and Hannah had escaped, and you were left victorious. Thoughts of Jake's safety lingered, but you held onto the belief that he would find a way to save himself. If not, you were determined to come to his rescue.

With a sense of satisfaction, you stood up and turned to retrieve the ropes you had been tied with to restrain Ted.

Suddenly you heard a bang.

It was so sudden and loud that you weren’t able to react immediately. Only when you felt the sharp stinging pain against your side did you realize that you had been shot. Warm blood began to pool against your palms as you tried to put pressure on them. You look back at the source and to your horror, Ted with a revolver in his hands has begun to rise from his place. A sickening grin plastered all over his face.

"Got you," his raspy voice cut through the air.

The pain was too much. You have only been fighting earlier out of sheer will and adrenaline, and now that they finally wore off plus a gunshot wound, the pain you are feeling is spiking up all over so bad that you can’t even determine which one hurts the most.

You tried standing up, but it only made you fall on your back as you clutched your side in pain.

Ted’s grinning face looms over you menacingly. “You have put up a good fight, Agent. I’ll give you some credit. However, this is where you will say goodbye.”

Ted raised his revolver, and time seemed to slow down. The movies had always depicted this moment — life flashing before your eyes. Faces of loved ones, friends, and memories cascaded through your mind. Each cherished moment, each unfulfilled promise, they all surged to the forefront.

Images of Jake, Richy, Lilly, Dan, Cleo, Thomas, Hannah, and Jessy flooded your thoughts.

All your moments with them— with her came flashing.

All moments of what could have been came spiraling. All the possible dates, the traveling, the camping with the gang. All those you promised to give her.

You won’t be able to keep your promises.

How could something that hasn’t yet begun start to end right in your very eyes? Was it really meant to be this way?

Maybe.

It’s okay. You tried to convince yourself. They’re safe now. You can rest.

You close your eyes, acceptance slowly creeping up to cover up the pain. You waited for the gunshot.

A beat of silence occurred.

But none came. Only to hear a soft hiss of a swing was heard and then a crack.

“Y/n!”

You dared to open your eyes and saw a pair of warm gray eyes meeting your own. “H-han…” you tried to speak but found it difficult to even breathe.

“I've got you… I've got you,” she whispered, offering a shaky hand to help you up. You grunted, your vision going white from the hot pain. Nevertheless, your eyes fought hard to spot Ted.

There he was, sprawled across the floor, blood pooling around his head. Beside him is the bloodied metallic baseball bat that he had swung at you earlier. An understanding came through you.

“I-I hit him…” Hannah tries to explain between sniffs. “He was… he was going to shoot you..! I didn’t— I don’t know what to do. I j-just can’t let him kill you. I’m sorry.” Her tears fell, her grip on you trembling.

You squeeze her other hand that supports you. “I… h-hah it’s okay, Hannah. You— you didn’t kill him.”

As if to prove his point. Ted's laughter broke through his pain, filling the room. He laughed, a haunting sound that soon morphed into sobs. Both of you watched as he crawled on the ground, his movements feeble. Hannah had hit him pretty hard.

“Jen… I’m sorry…” He sobs, eyes staring at no one in particular. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry. I missed you so much…”

You can only watch him break down. You’re sure his ragged sobs will forever be embarked in your mind. You truly felt sorry for him. But there’s no way out of this one.

Abruptly, his sobs ceased, leaving behind an eerie stillness that engulfed the mine. Ted's gaze shifted toward you and Hannah, his eyes vacant, as though grappling with his inner demons.

It was during this unsettling stillness that you noticed Ted conjure a lighter from thin air, its faint glow illuminating his twisted grin. He ignited the lighter's flame and then released it, allowing it to fall to the ground with a soft hiss. Suddenly, the damp soil underfoot ignited, setting off a chain reaction of fire that raced through the room and beyond the tunnels.

Only then do you realize that the damp soils from the ground weren’t because of water, they were gasoline!

Fuck it. You didn’t expect Ted to resort to suicide, and of course, he thought that’s the best way to bring down you two. Even at the expense of his own death.

The roaring fire's fury consumed the surroundings, the air thickening with smoke and chaos. As the flames surged ever closer, Hannah's grip on you tightened, pulling you away from the encroaching inferno. “Come on!” She fights back the tears as you hear Ted’s one last scream of agony before everything goes silent.

“You should go…” You managed to rasp out, the pain evident in your voice. “Hannah, I’m just going to slow you down…”

“No!” she shook her head vehemently. “I can’t leave you here!”

You managed a weak chuckle, your body straining against the pain. “You’re as h-hah— stubborn as Lilly… but I’m here because I want to s-save you. And that still stands true right n-now…”

Hannah’s grip on your hips tightened. Her pace suddenly goes faster as she helps you navigate through the tunnel with slight ease. Luckily the fire here isn’t as bad as where you came from, but you know it will eventually catch up if you don't hurry.

“This might be hell coming its way up here to come and make me pay for my sins.” Hannah's laugh was tinged with bitterness and tears. “I’m done running away. But I’ll be damned if I let you get caught in this mess again. Let me save you this time, Y/n.”

~~~~~

A/n: Hi! Good evening (morning or afternoon) to y'all. Sorry, this took so long. As I have said, I find it quite challenging to write a fight scene that would be satisfactory but I tried my best. This is not beta-read just yet because my eyes are so tired from finishing the chapter hahaha but nevertheless, I think it's worth it. Lemme know what you guys think in the comments. I shall rest my eyes now so I'll probably respond to y'all tomorrow. Adios!

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lunalillyhbhb · 1 year

Text

Lea's home

Chapter 2 pt.2

The climb up to her room is filled with worry, anxiousness and a little bit of lust.

My thoughts are running everywhere: I don't want to be fired; I hope she hasn't found out; I want to steth her; I hope Lea's safe; How did she learn about this; I want to palpate her neck vein; I need to fix this; I want to palpate her heart; I want to keep my job; I need to steth her-

Just a jumble of all too many things.

Before I know it, I'm at her door. I hear the shower going inside. I lightly knock on the door and hear a soft "come in". I make sure the corridor is empty, and slip inside her room. My heart pounds as I scan the room and wait for her to come out.

Promptly I hear the shower turn off, and after a few seconds Mrs. Nicole emerges from her bathroom, draped in nothing but a bathrobe, her hair wet and dripping, her face flush from the warm water, but with her glasses still on. She locks her foxy eyes on me, and walks towards her bed and sits on it, before tapping the space beside her motioning me to sit beside her on the bed.

"How've you been doing?" she asks, her silky voice alluring me, holding me in place.

"I'm doing well Mrs. Nicole. Lea and her family has treated me well, and work is going smoothly." I speak fast and slurred, trying to focus on calming my nerves. I quickly sneak a glance at her breasts against my wish and quickly flick my eyes away, noticing her very clear pulse on her neck and under her left breast, pounding away steadily and at a slightly quick pace, probably from the shower.

What I wouldn't give to place my steth there-

"And how is college? Is your studies progressing smoothly? I hope nothing's hindering your progress towards your goal" her voice is dropping steadily, doing things to me. A warm sensation grows in my lower abdomen.

"Everything's going smooth Mrs. Nicole, I'm keeping up to date with all my material." Why's she bringing up this small talk?? Is this a way to intimidate me? Is she indirectly threatening to ruin my college life?

"That's great, my dear" she says, with a hand reaching towards me a stroking my cheek. Is she....by any chance.....drunk?

"Mrs. Nicole, are you okay? Is there anything I can do for you?" I mean, she did call me to her room, and she has yet to tell me why.

"I hear you're a medical student, yes? You see, I am getting old, and with my age I am noticing a few problems. Every now and then, I feel slightly out of breath, and my heart palpates a lot. It lasts for a few minutes at a time. Do you have any idea what these symptoms are?"

Omg. Is this what I think it is? This can't be real. She's asking me about a heart related issue? How do I interpret this? Is she genuinely asking for my advice, or is she insinuating that she knows I do "heart checkups" on Lea?

Wait.... whatever it is, doesn't this also mean that this is my chance to finally palpate her? Finally, after dreaming about it for so long, I finally have a (questionable) reason to palpate her beautiful breast.

"are you currently feeling palpitations?" She nods eagerly, her eyes widening a bit.

"I might need to palpate your chest area, do you mind?"

"Yes dear, please, and feel free to move around my boobs, I know they're in the way and I've seen doctors having to move them aside."

I waste no time and immediately palpate over her bathrobe, above her breasts and slowly make my way down. I gently untie the front of her robe and palpate her sternum, feeling a slight sternal heave. My brain is now divided into 2 parts: Analyzing the meaning behind a sternal heave, and bathing in the sensation of how amazing her heart is. I make my way to her point of maximal impulse, and it's almost like her heart is eager for me to touch it, pushing its apex as close as possible for me to feel it with minimal efforts.

"Wow Mrs. Nicole, your heart is really amazing" I say, quickly following up with "I can feel a heave, but I might need a stethoscope to carefully listen to the valves before I give any further advise. Unfortunately I don't have mine on my right now..."

She gets up and quickly makes her way to a small compartment in her desk and pulls out a Littman stethoscope and makes her way back to me. She stands in front of me, and hands me the steth. "Wear it" She commands, and I put it on without missing a beat.

I start putting things together slowly: Why does she have a steth? How does she know that sometimes doctors move breasts of heavier build people to properly hear their heart? I can't believe I'm thinking this, but is it remotely possible that....she's a cardiophile, like me? Or is this just my wishful thinking?

"Steth me, now." She orders, and i place the cold steth on her bare skin, in the pulmonic position and there I hear it: the beautiful strong heartbeat of a sexy woman, right at my fingertips.

Bu-thump Bu-thump Bu-thump

I stutter out a "It looks fine Ma'am."

She removes my hand of her chest and beckons me to get up. She then leans on the headrest of her bed, scoots her legs over to one side, and pats the other side.

"This position might help you hear clearer."

My mind is completely blank. I do as she says and obediently sit. She then says "I gave you the tool, now use it properly. Steth me."

I go in order saving the best for the last, first her aortic valve, her pulmonic, her tricuspid, and finally my favourite: the mitral valve.

Bu-thump Bu-thump Bu-thump Bu-thump

As I go in order, her heart rate picks up from a 90 bpm to a 120 bpm, and she now starts panting, her cheeks becoming more flushed. Her pounding heartbeat is becoming more and more visible, her PMI becoming more clearer and prominent. Her neck veins are pulsating hard, and it takes all my will power to not feel it. She places one of her hands on my own and pushes it strongly to her chest.

"What are you hearing? Describe it to me."

"I hear your valves, pushing hard and fast. It sounds beautiful and strong." All my medical knowledge leaves me, and I am left alone with my leud thoughts, my pounding heart and the most beautiful muse in front of me. All I would ever need.

"I can make it go faster.....for you....." she says, slowly, looking at me intently. With her eyes fixed on me, she pulls my other hand toward her chest, slowly caressing herself with my hand. Her eyes flutter close and she bites her lip, stifling a small moan threatening to escape.

"Your heart... it's pounding so hard.... I want it to go faster."

She looks at me surprised. Now I'm the one giving her instructions. It seems to have caught her off-guard. I stop stething her and she whimpers a bit. I pull off her glasses, revealing her full face, cute and flushed, now seemingly under my control.

"Don't stop your moaning. Moan for me. Make your heart go faster for me." Her hands have become weak and fall away, and allows my fingers to play around her nipple which has been hard for a while, begging for attention. I rub it slowly, twisting it and squeezing it gently, watching the once strong woman crumble under my touch, her fierce face melting into a flushed mess due to my touch.

I fully understand why she called me to her room. She's wanted this from me. She must've noticed me staring at her and knew I was the one she needed. The way her body quivers, tells me she's wanted this for a long time now. Getting drunk was her way of letting it happen. So now, I must give her what she's asked for.

"My heart's beating fast, steth me" she tries taking control but I don't budge. I look at her coldly, waiting for that magic word.

"Please!" She begs. That's more like it. I put my weight against her body and press the steth into her chest, and she moans. The warm feeling was now fully raging in my clit, throbbing with my heartbeat.

"Can I *huff* please... listen *huff* to yours? Please?"

I remove the steth, my ears feeling lonely, and place them in hers, and guide the bell to my own apex. My heart leaps out with excitement, hammering away strongly, as if showing her who's heart is best.

"Touch yourself" I order her, and her hands go down and insert inside easily, her underwear wet in anticipation. She rubs her clit and listens to my heartbeat hammering inside, pounding harder as I watch her twitch and moan. My heart is doing this to her. I did this.

She tried to reach for my vulva but I swat her hand away, "Did I tell you to do this? No. You only touch what I tell you to." She whimpers and nods.

Seeing this strong and powerful woman obey my every word is everything I've dreamed of with her.

I lay down on her chest, listening to her raw heartbeat. This pushes her to her climax, and I feel the wave of orgasm hit both of us. As I continue to touch her nipples, and slip my other hand into her clit and rub sensually with her fingers, both covered and wet, panting and heaving, her moaning loudly. With a final quiver, she cums and collapses down into the headrest, and I leaning on her chest. We listen to each other's heartbeats in silence till we both calm down and our breathing gets regulated.

"I've wanted you to listen to my heart since Lea introduced you here" she says, in between small breaths. "I also noticed how your relationship changed recently and how she watches your heart every time you're in the room. I wanted that for me, too."

I look at her, mildly shocked that she noticed. Maybe it takes one cardiophile to understand another.

"I thought I lost that, but I noticed you never stopped looking at me. Every time you're in the room my heartbeat picks up and you notice it. Every time it shakes visibly, you're the only one who notices. I've wanted you for a long time, and I was happy when it looked like you wanted me too."

I'm filled with happiness, and am so grateful that she was on my side. I knew that Mrs. Nicole would never betray me, and that I could trust her and her heart. Because today, her heart was mine to control. She belonged to me.

I let her listen to me for a while until she fell asleep, and I monitor her heart go back to a steady 60 bpm. Her neck veins go back to being slightly visible, and her apex pulses against her chest slowly.

I let my fingers linger on her neck, her breast, her nipples and her clit, slowly massaging it. I finally get up, turn off the light, and leave the beautiful Mrs. Nicole alone.

I pack up my things and leave the house, just on time to see Lea pulling up. I wish her good night knowing that if I stayed a bit longer she would call me to her room as well, and I'd had enough work out for now.

As I reach home, I think on how now, I have 2 very different yet very beautiful hearts that belong to me, and how I look forward to playing with them in the future.

#female heartbeat #cardiophile fic #heartbeat fic #wlw #stething #cardiophile #fast heartbeat

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