#team nitrile

[nen-kaii]

nerf is doing pretty well for his first time on the field, especially with ester's help! :)

#tf2 oc #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 soldier #tf2 fanart #soldier tf2 #medic tf2 #nerf or nothing #ester eifren #team nitrile

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3][Pt.5][Pt.6][Pt.7]

Danny was sitting in the back, his backpack obnoxiously taking up the seat next to him, when the door to the lecture hall creaked open near silently.

“What are you in here for?” Danny asked the guy who crept into class. He sympathetically took his backpack off the Seat of Shame and allowed the guy to sit down. Funnily enough, they had the same hair and eye color.

“Gen Ed. Undecided. You?” The guy grunted quietly back.

“Environmental studies. I’m Danny.”

“Tim.”

With the implicit understanding of two people in a required class they could not give less than two fucks about, Tim and Danny tuned back into the lecture. When the class was assigned group work, Danny looked over to see Tim softly snoring, head slammed down on the table.

“Tim. Wake up, dude.” Danny poked his shoulder.

“Huh? Class over?”

“Nah, we got group work. Discussion board.”

“Oh shit, thanks for waking me up. Wanna team up?”

Danny shrugged. “Sure. We should aim to post it in the middle so the professor doesn’t read our answers to the class.”

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Any idea what we’re talking about?”

“Kind of?”

“Good enough for me.”

——

Tim Drake kept seeing Danny Fenton around on campus.

“Danny! Dude, what are you doing?”

Danny turned, gloved hands full of crumpled trash. “Picking up after the student population, apparently.”

“Didn’t think environmental studies was that serious.”

“Global warming is very serious, you jerk,” Danny smirked at him, crossing the grass to put the trash into the trash can. “Reduce, reuse, oil shouldn’t be spilled in water and all that.”

“Basic stuff,” Tim grinned. Nice, he basically had a friend past Bernard now!

They were friends, right?

“And yet humanity fails to comprehend it. Incredible. Incredibly stupid that is.”

“They get it. Major corporations just don’t care.”

Danny sighed. “True that. You on your way to your next class?” He took off his biodegradable gloves off (nitrile and nylon, baby!) and chucked them into the trash.

“I’ve got free time, actually. Prof cancelled for his daughter’s surgery.”

“Oh, shit, that’s rough! You wanna go downtown and join the strike?”

“A strike? What for?” Even as he asked, Tim hiked his bag higher onto his shoulder, ready to go. They fell into step as the two left campus.

“Apparently, Quillan Pharma was doing some shady shit at their manufacturing plants. I think it’s like killing kids, and pouring toxins into the ground.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah. Oh! Poison Ivy’s gonna be there!”

Tim blinked. He casted a sideways look at Danny. Sure he’s been here long enough to know… but it couldn’t hurt to check. “You know she’s an eco-terrorist, right?”

“Okay, but like… people suck sometimes. And all she’s asking for is like don’t kill the planet. And she doesn’t do that whole mind control thing too much anymore! The Sirens are so cool. Plus, one of my best friends at home might actually kill me if I don’t try to get her autograph. Poison Ivy is like, Sam’s personal hero.”

Tim snickered. “Yeah, okay. Mind if one of my friends join? His name’s Bernard.”

“The more the merrier,” Danny nodded. “Ooo! Hot chocolate. Want some?”

Danny bought three drinks as Tim trailed behind, texting Bernard.

“He said yes.”

“Cool! We should meet up somewhere before the drinks get cold.”

Well, Danny got the autograph. Tim got a new friend, and Bernard got a drink from his crush.

——

“Oh, you’re the glowing dude that Batman always talks about!”

Danny blinked, eyes scanning the wing-like cape and the yellow emblem on the hero’s suit. Danny was indeed glowing, stars and nebulas freckling across neon green skin, and glowing hair the color of a white dwarf star, tinged with the blue from his ice core.

“I… have absolutely no idea who you are,” Danny lied, like a liar. He’s found a surprising niche of entertainment in messing with the local vigilantes and he’ll be damned if he missed this opportunity.

He heard a snicker from the comm lines as Red Robin visibly brushes it off.

“I’m Red Robin. Why are you picking up trash?”

“Picking up after you humans, apparently.”

The both of them blink, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu. A moment of awkward silence passed before they both shook it off.

“Are you here to help? No offense, but the track record for you people is terrible.” Danny strode over and grabbed a bag. He opened it, and shook it at Red Robin’s face. “See? Batarangs, these odd bird looking ones, the R’s. Seriously, pick up after yourselves!”

“Oh, woah, can we have these back?”

Danny yanked the bag back before Red Robin could get close. “Pay me. These were incredibly tedious to pick up. Especially the batarangs. I mean, I even found a whole bunch of old rusted ones in the middle of the bay. What did you do, dump an entire bag in there from the air?”

Red Robin sighed and took out a wad of cash, with tracking fluid all over it. Danny grimaced, smelling the odd scent on the money. “That’s not real cash. It smells off. Are you trying to give me counterfeits because you’re broke?”

Red Robin gaped, oddly offended. “No! They’re real!”

“Doesn’t smell like it. It’s stinkier than the trash. Go get the one with the money, the litterer. Tell him I’ll be back the next full moon. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” Danny grumbled, disappearing on the spot to watch Red Robin flounder with the stack of cash and the piles of dead bodies on the shore.

“What the fuck even is my life these days?” Red Robin wondered out loud, stuffing the cash back into his pocket. He looked over the plastic wrapped bodies and slumped, sighing.

Oddly enough, Danny felt a sense of sympathy. Well, he’s not getting paid for sympathy. He’s not getting paid at all tonight, actually. Danny flew off, plunging once more into the depths of the significantly cleaner waters, and used his ice to scoop out oil stains.

Danny glanced around and sighed. He had a lot of work to do.

——

“So you’re saying he’s like a werewolf mermaid fae child immortal god thing, right?”

Bruce grunted.

“B, what the hell are you smoking these days? You know drugs are bad, right? Do we need Superman to give you that PSA?” Jason snickered.

Tim, massaging his arms from having to haul an ungodly amount of dead bodies, grunted. He’s so similar to Bruce that it gave the people currently in the cave hives.

“He said full moon. I don’t think we can track him with regular stuff. The bugs kept shorting out.”

“Oh boy,” Dick sighed. “Don’t fall off the spiral cliff, Tim. You’ve got midterms to think about so no stalking the guy.”

“Yet,” Tim shot back, changing out of his suit.

Bruce grunted, setting aside a huge stack of cash.

#let Tim Drake go to college you cowards #he got his GED in this one boys #let Tim fucking age #danny phantom #batman #tim drake #dc x dp #dcxdp #dpxdc #danny the tired college student #bamf danny phantom #siren au??? #sea cryptic Danny #bro I had war flashbacks to discussion board group work #terrible why do I do this to myself #the batarangs in the middle of the bay was from when Bruce tried to kill the joker and himself #Danny: people just can’t clean up after themselves these days #sea cryptic! danny au

[nolita-fairytale]

bad moon rising | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader

summary: in another lifetime, you meet mikey berzatto by chance one halloween night in nyc.

or, the fic based on this headcanon

warnings: angst, use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n, second person pov, drug usage, high mikey b, swearing, family drama, depression, not a happy ending

wc: 3.7k

a/n: i wrote about grief again. shocking, i know. thank you all for your interest based on the headcanon it came from and thank you for your patience. i wanted so badly to post this around halloween and have been sitting on it since the better part of last year as one of my wips. finally, finally, it's here!! i took a slightly different approach than the headcanon, but i think it still does it justice. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the carmy taglist.

this what-if fic takes place october 2021 because it's make my heart surrender-canon that mikey and reader never met; reader x carmy are best friends and colleagues but it has not gone further than that.

masterlist

Halloween, in another lifetime:

“Can I get hands, please!” Carmy shouts out to the entire kitchen, only to be met with a strong chorus of ‘hands’ in response.

His team works together like a well-oiled machine; a tight run ship, led by a captain near-suffocated under the weight of the chip on his shoulder. 

“Chef!” you hear the sound of your general manager’s voice ring through the kitchen, causing many a-heads to turn. She rarely comes into the kitchen during dinner service unless it’s serious. Her eyes lock with Carmy’s as he looks up from his expo, as if she’s about to deliver bad news. 

His mind races through the possibilities, preparing to solve the next oncoming crisis. Could it be an undercooked steak? An overcooked duck breast? Another complaint of ‘too salty’ or ‘underseasoned?’ 

“Chef, you uh… you have a visitor,” she says instead–the last thing he expects to hear. 

A visitor? 

“Wh-?” 

“Someone’s here to see you. Says he’s your… brother??” Carmy’s ears begin to burn, as he searches for your face amidst the chaos, your gaze there to catch him even from across the kitchen. Your presence feels reassuring, like a strong man in a storm. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s knee deep into service and he cannot get the sound of tickets being added to the expo out of his head. He opens his mouth to say something but he’s uncertain any words come out of his mouth, unsure of what he’d even say. You send him a reassuring nod, and it’s as if in one look, you’ve made the decision to go. 

“Chef, you good?” Carmy hears you ask the head pastry chef. 

“Yeah, we got it. But don’t take too long,” she answers with a curt nod of approval. 

He watches as you nod again, this time in recognition of your boss’ answer, as you pull the food-grade nitrile gloves off of your hands, discarding them in the nearby trash can. Without a word, you follow Kate closely behind, exchanging a few words with her as the two of you disappear to the front of house. There’s a war inside of Carmy as he watches you go–a pang of guilt and a feeling of relief–that whatever it is, you’ve agreed to take care of it. 

In all of the years that he’s been in New York, no one’s come to see him–the possibility of it happening now, let alone as a surprise, feels improbable. 

Must be a prank or some shit…. 

It couldn’t really be Michael, could it? 

As you seek out the answer, your feet carrying you faster than you anticipated, you realize that you’re searching for a face you’ve only seen in photographs. Kate follows closely behind while you push through the front door of the restaurant only to find a man pacing just outside of the restaurant, a ghostface mask in hand. You can tell he’s been sweating, the circles under his eyes just as dark as the ones you’ve become so familiar with in Carmy, with an anxious look in his eyes as his gaze turns towards you. 

He’s certainly not the larger-than-life older brother you’ve seen in the sparse amount of pictures that Carmy’s shown you.  

“I got this, Kate,” you mutter over your shoulder with a confident nod, letting your general manager know that you’re good on your own. “You sure?” she asks you quietly. 

“I’m sure,” you answer, watching as a disappointed look spread across Michael’s face as soon as he sees that: 

“You’re not Carmen.” 

“Uh… no. I’m not,” you reply, hearing the front door to the restaurant close behind you. The man swears under his breath, and you watch as face changes from disappointment to annoyance quickly, as you try your best to come up with an explanation that may satisfy him. “He uh… he can’t come out. Not right now. So he sent me.” 

Michael scoffs with a shake of his head, his eyebrows quickly rising and falling incredulously as he takes another drag off his cigarette. 

“Shit... the guy can't even make time to see his big brother?" he asks, the annoyance obvious in his voice this time. 

You take a step towards him, your arms folded across your chest. 

“I’m sorry. I-, I don't think he was expecting you,” you answer, much more compassionately this time. 

“Right,” Michael mumbles, barely loud enough for you to hear. You watch as he throws the butt of his cigarette down on the pavement, before stamping it out. 

“It’s just-. He would if he could. I know it. It's just a busy night. I-... we're doing 200 covers tonight and uh... well, he runs the kitchen so,” you try again, and you can practically feel the disappointment (and resentment) burying itself deeper in Michael. 

“Yeah, no thanks, lady. You don’t need to explain it to me. Jagoff can’t even make time to say ‘hi’ to his brother. Sends you to do his dirty work instead,” Michael dismisses you, bitterly. 

He takes a beat. And then another, as if he’s accepted that he’s not going to see Carmy after all. 

“Why don’t you come inside? I’m sure-,” you offer, taking another step towards him. 

“‘S alright, sweetheart,” he dismisses you again, this time gentler. “You don’t need to make up for his bullshit.” 

You open your mouth to say something—anything in defense of Carmy—but you’re certain that nothing you have to say will be enough for your best friend’s older brother (save for Carmy coming out here himself).

With a nod, you accept defeat, turning to go back inside. But there’s something that stops you—like you just can’t just go back inside without trying to remedy the situation one last time. This time all you say is:

“I don’t know how long you’re in town for but… we should be off by midnight.”

Michael only offers you a sympathetic smile before you slip back inside. 

—---------------------------------------

It’s not until you and Carmy are packing up your things to head home that he brings it up—his mysterious visitor—hesitant to ask the question that’s been eating at him all night. 

“So uh… was it really him? Michael?” he asks you, cautiously, as he watches your face carefully for any kind of reaction. 

“Uh… yeah. I mean, at least the guy I recognized from your pictures,” you reply, hoping that the answer (or the fact that he missed his brother) won’t break his heart. 

A beat.

“What’d he want?” Carmy asks, trying to mask his curiosity as best as possible. 

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “Seems like he found himself in the city. I didn’t ask. I didn’t… know if you wanted me to.” 

Carmy tries again. 

“Oh no. It’s-, no I didn’t-, no, it’s okay.” 

He takes his time, making up his mind about what he wants to say next. 

“It’s weird, right? Guy can barely pick up the phone to say hello but… he can show up unannounced and just like-, expect me to drop everything?” he asks you—the look in his eyes telling you that his mind is miles away. 

“I- I don’t know, Carmy,” you reply, heavily. “Are you… do you wish you had gone instead of me?” 

Carmy’s quiet as he follows you out of the back door of the restaurant, thinking his answer over. 

“I don’t know,” he answers slowly, a lack of confidence as the words fall out of his mouth. “Maybe?” 

He’s not sure how he’s supposed to feel and right now he just feels… ambushed, which only makes him want to shut down. 

Instead, Carmy changes the subject back to your post-work plans, the two of you debating what kind of post-shift late night meal you’re going to have before settling on a few slices of pizza on the way back to your place. You and Carmy cut through the alley to the front of the restaurant so that you can begin your late-night sojourn, and it’s only when he spots something odd that he stops you. 

“What the fuck?” Carmy cuts you off, holding an arm out in front of you to stop you from walking any further. 

You follow his line of sight right over to a figure moving towards the both of you. In the brief glimpse you’ve gotten of the person moving towards you, all you can see is a quick flash of the ghostface mask they hold in their hands as a bus drives by, obstructing your view. 

Carmy’s heart stops, fear filling his chest as the bus speeds by, the person getting closer and closer until…

“Michael?!” Carmy shouts, squinting as he sees the man approach. His expression of pure shock leaves his jaw agape, rendering him speechless as he scrambles to try to find better words that: 

“What-, what the fuck are you doing here?” 

“Shit,” Michael scoffs playfully, with a chuckle, his breath uneven from the light jogging pace he’d kept. Michael takes note of the arm his younger brother’s extended, shielding you from him. “What? Can’t your big brother come surprise ya in the big city?” 

Carmy shoots him a look that says, ‘when have you ever done that’ and Michael nods knowingly, his eyebrows quickly raising, then lowering as he makes peace with the fact that he’s never been that guy. 

“Me and Deb… we came up for the weekend,” Mikey admits with a heavy sigh. “Tried to do something nice for her but, you know, broad’s been a real bitch-.” 

“Mikey,” Carmy warns, taking a tone you recognize—the kind he uses when he’s going to yell at the saucier for a broken mornay. 

“Right,” Mike course corrects at the volume of a mumble, heaving a heavy, yet disarming sigh. 

Carmy nods slowly as he allows some part of him to relax, his arm falling away from you as the two of you exchange a look. 

“We uh…. Got into another fight. She’s on her way back to Chicago now,” Mikey explains, the disappointment evident in his voice this time, almost as if it were an apology. 

“Sorry,” Carmy mutters quietly, as you exchange a look with him. 

“Nah it’s-, she’ll get over it,” Mikey brushes off with a shrug, his tone shifting as he extens an arm out to you.

“Fuck, where are my manners? I never properly introduced myself earlier. I’m Mikey. Mikey Berzatto,” he grins with a charm and confidence that’s been absent in both of your interactions with him till now. The smile that spreads across his face is contagious as he looks from you to Carmy, then back to you. “Shit. I’m sorry. ‘M fuckin’ jagoff, interupting your night like this. I should probably get-.” 

“No!” you protest, almost too quickly, earning a look from Carmy. “We weren’t-, we were just getting off work and were gonna grab a bite. Maybe even… a drink?” you suggest, a hopefulness in your eyes as you turn towards Carmy. 

“Yeah?” Michael asks, his interest piqued. 

“Uhm. Just gonna grab a bite actually,” Carmy forces out, sending a glare in your direction. 

“You know what’s crazy? I know a spot. With food. And drinks,” you challenge him, silently begging him to just go with it. 

“You cool with that, Carm?” Mike asks this time, looking from you to his younger brother once more. It’s the first time that Carmy thinks Michael’s ever looked to him for approval. 

Carmy’s quiet for a moment, torn between wanting to burn it all down or declare a gleeful ‘yes’ because at least Mikey wants to spend time with him. 

“Um. Uh. Yeah. Yeah okay,” Carmy finally agrees. 

“Alright, let’s fuckin’ do it!” Mikey rallies. 

And as he turns to go, your voice instructing him that it’s only a few blocks from here, you and Carmy fall into stride, just a few steps behind Mikey. 

“I’m gonna kill you,” Carmy threatens you—though there’s no weight to it—through gritted teeth. 

You shove him playfully, bumping your shoulder against his side as the two of you walk, answering with a promise that: “You’ll thank me later.” 

—---------------------------------------

You sit on one side of Carmy, Mikey on the other, and you can see why Carmy looks at his older brother like he hung the sun, the moon, and the stars above. There’s something different about Michael—something different than when you met him just hours ago outside of the restaurant—as he corrals the three of you into a round of shots. 

As the shots of tequila arrive at the bar, Carmy dismisses his, his attention fixed to the still-full whiskey on the rocks he’d ordered earlier, just to appease his older brother. He watches you carefully as you and Mikey clink glasses before throwing back your own respective shots. 

“Carm?” Mikey asks, nodding towards the third, untouched shot glass. 

Carmy hesitates. 

“It’s fine. I’ll take his,” you jump in, half as an attempt to give Carmy the out he so desperately desires, and half because, admittedly, meeting the great Mikey Berzatto makes you a little nervous.

Before anyone can protest, you reach out, picking up the shot glass, before tapping it down against the bar top, fearlessly throwing it back. Michael watches you with a sense of amusement, as your face crinkles in response to the sting of the liquor and the bitterness of the lime you chase it with. 

He smirks, sharing a knowing look with his younger brother that says, “I like this girl,” which in turn only causes Carmy to blush. Before Mikey can say anything more, the song that blares through the speakers changes, earning his attention as he hears the familiar words:

“I see the bad moon a-risin' I see trouble on the way I see earthquakes and lightnin' I see bad times today”

“Alright, alright. Think it’s a little too on the nose if I admit that I love this song? On Halloween? C’maaaaaahn,” Mikey asks, almost as if it’s a confession in reference to the easily recognizable Creedance Clearwater revival hit. 

“No! No, I love this song,” you’re quick to assuage his hesitation as your eyes light up in response to his recognition. 

“You got good taste, kid,” Michael notes confidently, winking in his brother’s direction. “I like this girl, Carm.”

Only this time, he says it out loud. Carmy only shakes his head, the blush already running across his cheeks taking a deeper shade of red. 

“Yeah, yeah. Uh. You both uh.. Like music,” Carmy smiles, gesturing from you to his brother. At least this is going a lot better than he expected it to, he reminds himself. 

“Oh yeah?” Michael asks, clearly intrigued. 

“Oh that’s right!” you exclaim, simultaneously. The excitement that brews within you has you stumbling over your words as you manage to get out:

“You’re-, oh my god! The Lennon jacket!” 

“What?” Mike asks, shooting you a funny look. 

“I’m sorry. I just-. I realize I’m not-,” you stammer over your words, trying your best to explain your earlier exclamation over your own excitement. 

“You gave Carmy the denim jacket – the 1950s selvedge Wrangler!” 

“Just like the-,” Michael starts, the two of you finishing his sentence at once with: 

“... just like the one John Lennon had!” 

“Marry this girl, Carm. Marry her right now. Tonight! Or I will,” Michael encourages, slapping his hand down against the bar. He speaks with so much bravado and conviction that you can only imagine that there was none left for Carmy. “Fuckin’ christ. I never should’ve let you two meet,” Carmy groans on an exasperated exhale as he shakes his head once again. 

“Oh c’mon, Carm,” Mikey rouses him, with a playful eye roll. 

“It’s totally my favorite jacket of his! I-, well, it’s a long story but we actually became friends over the jacket because he spilled a drink on me and-,”

“Ahhh real smooth.” 

“No! No, it was okay, I promise. I-, I don’t know if we would’ve gotten to know each other if he hadn’t so-. Call it a lucky jacket, I guess,” you smile, stealing a look in Carmy’s direction. He shoots the smallest smile back to you, cognizant of the fact that Mikey’s observing the entire interaction. 

As you begin to tell Michael the story about the aforementioned Lennon jacket, it could be minutes, hours, or days that pass, once you and Mikey finish trading facts about music like they’re trivia cards. It’s almost as entertaining as watching Mikey and Carmy go at it, bouncing facts about the history of denim like you’re at the French Open. 

You excuse yourself to the restrooms—partially because you really have to pee and partially because it seems like this evening is going well—wanting to give both brothers some time alone. And as soon as you’re out of earshot, Mikey’s on Carmy like an FBI Investigation. 

“This your girl, Carm, or what?" he asks with a casualness to his voice that sets off alarms in Carmy’s head. 

"Mikey, stop it,” Carmy dismisses him, hoping more than anything for this to be the end of the conversation. 

Instead, Mikey scoffs, shaking his head as he downs another shot. 

"Then at least tell me you're hittin' that." 

“Michael!" Carmy hushes his brother, a warning and protectiveness in his voice this time. 

"Are you fuckin' serious right now, Bear?” Michael pushes further. “What, you're telling me you're not when she’s walkin’ around in your jacket, talkin’ about wearing your clothes to your big brother and I’m supposed to think-?" 

"She's not!” Carmy cuts him off. “She doesn’t do-, she’s.... my friend. Jus’ give it up alright.” 

"Shit. Wish I had a friend like that. Ya friends, kid, or are ya... you know... friends?" Mikey smirks, earning a venomous glare from his younger brother. 

Carmy shakes his head in response, jaw clenched, as he stares down at the bar top, a feeling inside of him that he doesn’t like when he even thinks about Mikey looking at you like that. 

"Shit, I thought I taught you better than that, Bear." 

There it is again.

That feeling. 

He’s not sure how to name it, but it’s enough to make Carmy want to deck his brother right then and there as it rises inside of him. 

"I'm serious, Mike. We’re just friends,” Carmy spits out. He’s much more serious this time. “Cut it out." 

But Michael’s too quick, his voice growing louder as he interjects on the tail end of Carmy’s insistence.

"Oh come on! The chick's smokin' fuckin' hot. And I can tell that you like her. I'm not blind, Carm. I see the way you-."

And if it’s as if something snaps inside of Carmy as he exclaims: 

"Don't talk to me like you know what's going on in my life! Fuck!" 

"Carm-." 

"Can't even pick up the damn phone and then you just... waltz into town acting like everything is okay?!” he fumes, standing up out of his chair. 

His face grows redder with each word, and it only confirms Mikey’s suspicions: that his little brother is absolutely a goner for you. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Carmy like this and he’s torn between feeling proud of his kid brother or pissed that the kid’s turning this around on him. 

"Well, if you ever bothered to come home. You know mom's been askin' about you since you never fuckin’-,” Mikey roars, eager to relinquish the hotseat here.

“Oh don't bring mom into this!" Carmy protests.

It’s your voice that snaps him out of it—brings him back to earth as he hears you ask:

“Everything okay?” 

Carmy can practically hear his heart pounding away in his ears; can feel the blood rushing through his head as he takes a deep breath. He swallows, takes a beat, then turns to you. 

“Yeah uh. I think we should go,” he states, his voice uneven and tense as you try to get a read on either brother. 

“Uh… yeah, I guess we can-, um,” you stammer out, wondering how things went from good to hell in a matter of minutes. Carmy mutters something about getting your stuff as you try your best to put the pieces together. 

“It was uh, nice to meet you, Mikey,” you say softly, as soon as you get your coat on. 

“Yeah. You too, sweetheart,” he nods, something distant in his voice. Carmen scoffs at his brother’s usage of the word before tugging on your arm. 

You wait a beat, in anticipation of some kind of goodbye between the brothers, but there is none as you follow Carmy out of the bar. 

—---------------------------------------

Halloween, again — in this lifetime:

When Carmy comes to, he can hear the faint sounds of an episode of Pasta Grannies in the background, uncertain of what time it is. 

“Hey, you. You fell asleep on the couch and I didn’t have the heart to wake you up,” you say, as he begins to sit up. Carmy blinks his eyes a few more times, watching as you make your way from the kitchen island over to the couch, taking a seat at his feet. 

“Did you still want to watch a scary movie? You know, in the spirit of the holiday?” you ask him with a soft chuckle. 

All Carmy can remember before falling asleep was what he was thinking about: what it would be like if you had met Mikey. It’s something he thinks of often, especially as the two of you grow closer—as your relationship gets more serious—and it’s something he hates that he’ll never be able to give to you. 

“This was his favorite holiday,” Carmy manages to get out, the sleep heavy in his voice. 

You’re not all that surprised. Carmy’s been on edge lately and you assumed it was because Mikey’s birthday’s coming up. But this… this makes sense too. 

“I wish I could’ve met him,” you smile, reaching out for one of his hands. 

Carmy nods. 

“Yeah. Uh. Yeah. Think he would’ve loved you.” 

Maybe a little too much, he thinks to himself. 

“You think so?” you ask with a vulnerability and a desire for reassurance that catches Carmy off guard. 

He nods with much more confidence this time, offering you a soft, sympathetic smile.  

“Yeah, sweetheart. I know so.”

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #comfort and chaos #still into you #make my heart surrender #michael berzatto #mikey berzatto #jon bernthal

[dangerkittenclaws]

hi hun!!

your recent writing with vessel was SO darn cute. i have a request if you're still taking them !! (feel free to ignore if you don't like the idea , etc!)

i'm an absolute sucker for soft fluffy vessel, so what if the reader and vessel were in a relationship and reader works on the team as their makeup artist !

feel free to include anything you'd like , im sure it'd be great no matter what !! feel free to ignore if it's too much!!

thank you ! <3

Hiii!! Thank you so much for your kind words! Sorry this is a tad short! <3

vessel x artist!reader

warnings: none, just soft and playful vessy all to yourself :))

When you got hired as the band's makeup artist, you didn't quite know what you were getting yourself into. Painting four men in black paint every weekend? Easy enough, right? But since the first show, Vessel had taken a liking to you and was always a little more flirtatious than the others, coy even, at times. A few teasing words between the two of you became commonplace until Vessel had invited you out to dinner. You had thought it was a group dinner, but when you got to the restaurant, you realized it was just the two of you! That night he asked you to be his girlfriend.

But tonight as everyone was getting ready for the show, you were feeling a bit self conscious. You had seen an offer put out for a theater company looking for an artist in your hometown. You needed some reassurance, or rather a push in the right direction to apply.

“Do you really think I’m that good?” you asked Vessel as you were digging through your makeup kit, finding your essentials to cover his body for the night.

“Of course, what do you mean?” He gives you a small kiss on your temple before sitting down in the backstage chair. You pull on a pair of nitrile gloves after you find your large sponge and pour out the black liquid onto it.

“No, I mean, do you think I’m good enough to do something else, like professionally?” You kneel between his legs and start to cover his torso heavily, smearing and blending until it’s evenly distributed across his skin. You see his muscles ripple against your light touch and you look up at him expectantly.

“What about you being a touring band's makeup artist isn’t professional?” He looks down at you with seriousness in his eyes. You laugh nervously, continuing on upwards towards his chest.

“You know what I mean! What if I… went into theatrical makeup?” You kind of cringe inwardly, you know that its a little ambitious for your skillset. You focus on dabbing paint as if it would hide your own embarrassment.

He grabs your chin lightly and makes your eyes meet his. “Then I think you’d make a great artist for them, love.” He sees your eyes look away from his momentarily, not believing.

He gives your chin a little squeeze, “No, seriously. You can do more than play with one color, I’ve seen you do it. You can make that image in your pretty little head come to life.”

The redness in your cheeks spreads across your face. You open your mouth to reply but Vessel is a little quicker with a smirk on his face.

He leans down to grab your wrist and pulls you close enough that his lips graze your ear, “But I do like having my own personal artist cover me every night.”

#dangerkittenclaws #sleep token #sleep token fanfic #vessel x reader #sleep token fanfiction #vessel sleep token

[the-slasher-files]

[CALL OF DUTY]

A LIFE WITH HER

SIMON "GHOST" RILEY x FEM!OC

Hello friends! It has been a while, but I'm excited to return and do more exciting things! So, this piece is an introduction to a new oc I have been working on, Simon's girl. Her name is Cholena "Raven" Belanger, name is pronounced Ko-LEE-nah. A beautiful, powerful and now civilian Metis woman. This fic is angsty comfort with hints of smut and gore... I hope you enjoy as much as I do 🔪🤍 MASTERLIST

A long sigh departed from rose tainted lips, the breath was deep and bone rattling. Almost 40 hours straight in the hospital, running around to codes of all types, tending to wounds, directing 3 teams beneath her, and doing all the paperwork as coworkers shifts changed over and over again.

"... Fuck..." Green eyes cascaded down to the blue gloves that were now drying in deep brown once bright crimson.

"Stay with me now, solider," the thumping of the helicopter blades above you drowning out your strained voice. The words were more for yourself as you held your teammates shoulder together. You could feel his heart pounded with the blood that drenched the bandages. "... Almost there"

He was fading and you didn't have enough medical supplies here, not in the air, all you could do was give directions through the radio for the medical staff on the grounds to be prepared for 3 soldiers you saved. You saved them. You hoped you did as the man's breath below you wanned. "Come on... fuck..."

Finally, the helicopter landed. It had felt like hours, painful, hopeless hours sitting in that plane, and you were left there. Slumped on your knees as the men were taken away, your men that you prayed to any god listening that they would go home to their families, but you knew that there was no god above you as the red faded to brown.

"Cholena?" There was a faint voice, "... Hey, Cholena?"

Keen emerald eyes flew upwards as the gentle hand squeezed her shoulder, flinching it off in the wake of a flashback.

It was her coworker, the one who was her equal and switching her out on the shift, took a step back with his hands face up in defence and presenting no threat. Jonathan knew of your past, obviously not understanding it completely, but there were times she spilled the truth of her PTSD.

"Sorry," He whispered, "...hey, it's ok. He lived,"

There was a held breath that she released, one she wasn't aware that was held. Relief washed over her tense frame as an innocent man riding his motorcycle home and was struck by a car could go home tonight. But, she couldn't ease the tension as that feeling of relief was quickly numbed. This woman lived through wars, saw death more than anyone in her team would ever know, and faced it multiple times herself, somehow living today. She was numbed to this. It was just another day.

"Co, please go home... get some sleep and long shower, okay?" Jonathan stared at the dried blood on the once sterile gloves, then back to her eyes. "Text me tomor—"

Interrupted by the coder on his lanyard going off, quickly giving a pat on her shoulder and running off down the white-walled hallway, "Go home! Get sleep!" He yelled back, trying to be some type of light to get her to smile... and it worked.

With a shake of her head, the smile slowly faded, peeling the nitrile gloves off and getting herself ready to go home. Home. A strange word to her as she spent the past 2 months more between the cold cement walls of the hospital than in the comfort of a home she shared, half the time alone. One more week. It repeated in her head, that British accent across the gritted phone lines.

Tense muscles guarded by heavy black tactical gear stood in front of the sink, emerald eyes, bloodshot and staring as the water washed you clean. It was too hot but you couldn't feel it. Just scrubbing over and over again the pores of your skin, rubbing them raw and steam coating your face. The water ran clear long ago, but all you could hear was the screams calling your name to help, to save them.

"Raven... Raven, shit" A voice lay unheard.

Quickly shifting around your frozen body, he turned off the tap, grasping your shoulders and turning you to look at him. Look within the deep amber masked in smeared paint. Grounding you as your hands shook desperately clawing at his vest, tears streaming heavy and collapsing within solid arms that held you up.

"I couldn't save them... I could've. I-I could've... Ghost" Your body broke against him, sobs caught into him like he could take care of it all, and he wished he could. On days like these, he wished you never thought about being in the military, you should be home, nestled in the arms of your lover and watching some dumb tv show and falling asleep in peaceful bloom.

"I know angel, I know," He clenched tightly around your frame, protecting you "One more week, just one more week"

Throwing the bloody scrubs away into the neon hazard bins, Cholena changed into some jeans and just threw on a larger, much larger hoodie that kissed halfway down her muscular thighs, the smell faded but it was still his regardless. Saying goodbye with silent waves, the exhaustion began to creep in as each step led her closer and closer out of the god-forsaken building.

Shrugging her military-issued backpack on one shoulder, she walked through the automatic sliding doors and stepped into the pitch-black night as it was softly raining. Rounding to the back of the hospital and towards the train station, beaming street lights above had her attention drawn to a black truck and a man leaning against it, cigarette in hand.

"No trains tonight, sweetheart," The familiar voice, one of comfort and home, hit her like a bullet, a gunshot clapping like thunder, it made her stop for a moment to process that he was actually here.

"Simon..."

He walked forward, tossing the cigarette to the cold, wet pavement and she walked faster, meeting him more than halfway under the warm glow of the lamp above. Reaching only a foot apart, Simon's body covered in hers in an everlasting shadow, his phantom that she welcomes whole. Sweet lotion of shea butter and coconut met fire and metal that mixed together in cascading rain making reflections at their feet.

This was something they always did when meeting again and again, no matter the territory, sand, snow, rain, concrete, rubble, blood and gore. They let their senses adapt to each other before utter absorption.

"You're home," Soldiers don't have homes, but he made one in her.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be" Simon admitted the truth openly for her to bare and she took it all without question.

Wrapping her hands around his thick neck, green eyes meeting warm hooded amber, easily, as if she was nothing, he lifted her with strong hands supporting her thighs. As many times as he would hold her, she never failed to seem so small. At first, it was out of place when Ghost held her, like a rabbit seeking comfort within the paws of a wolf, but something in their souls fit together in a bloody puzzle and now it was home.

"God, I missed you," she exhaled all her stress as if he could ease all her pain and tucked into his neck, shuttering with exhaustion and the overwhelming feeling of having him back.

He didn't respond, and he did not need to. The rumble of a storm at sea grew within Simon's chest, and she heard it, clinging closer as if it was possible. Slowly, the scent of tantalizing pine and musk sprouted as her nose brushed under the mask. It was just the simple balaclava allowing you to see the shape of his face and the yellow that brushed through brown wartorn eyes. She never pushed for him to take it off. It was his security and his alone. When Ghost was ready to fall into the shadows, he would, always there beneath the skin, but that was when she would protect him the most.

Secure gloved hands began to wander, muscles flexing each time he could feel her shake within his hold, and Simon brought his head back, about to speak, but she beat him to it, tensing slightly, "J-just a long shift,"

Another rumble, softer this time, rolled through him, "Well, let's get you home, pigeon,"

Whenever Simon called her that, he knew it would earn a smile, perhaps a huff of sweet laughter, one that he wished he could hear forever. Everyone called her Raven. It was her call sign. Even her family used it as an honour, and no one questioned it. The onyx long hair, her feather-light touch even while stitching brutal wounds, the way she was ever graceful with sniper and was a beacon of life and death altogether. Not to count out her indigenous roots calling to her the title, a feather often within her hair on the battlefield, creative, cunning with an intuition like no one else on the team. She was a raven, glorious to him in every way, so the fact that he called her pigeon would almost be an insult.

Moving effortlessly, Simon placed her in the passenger seat of his truck, the leather slightly squeaking when Cholena took off her backpack. Eyes watching as the love of her life got into the seat beside her, a warm smile gracing her as he looked massive within the closed space.

The armoured truck was parked in the dimly lit garage of the safe house. Everyone had found a spot in the old farmhouse to settle in for the night, but you couldn't sleep, and neither could he.

"Ghost," Your moans filled the truck. Trying to stifle the noises begging you to scream, "Please. Fuc-"

"That feel good, huh?" Accent thick with pleasure as he leaned across the middle console, your head buried within the crook of Ghost's neck. His devastating hands taking what he wanted and giving what you needed. "So fucking needy for me,"

He hummed lowly, sounding more like a growl as calculated eyes watched his fingers slip in and out of your cunt, dripping on the seat and cascading along inked skin. Curling knuckle deep inside sent a shockwave through you, shaking and biting his jacket with gentle mumbles and whines. Ghost could feel you were close, fisting your soft black hair to make you pull back with a hiss.

"Look at me when you cum," He groaned feeling your walls clench tightly around strong fingers and you let go. Your teeth biting hard on your bottom lip to not make a sound, your legs shaking and dark brown eyes observing you, eating you whole as you came undone. "Such a good girl"

Ghost whispered now, the hard skull of his mask bowed against your forehead. You saw him, not the commanding force but the man beneath the bones and viscera of a legend, and he allowed it. He was safe with you between the fogging windows. It was just you and him in your world, cupping his jaw as he mirrored the actions.

"Such a beautiful girl," Simon spoke, barely above a whisper as Cholena nuzzled into his hands. Green eyes speaking to his brown in a dead language they brought back to life.

"Such a handsome man," She replied smoothly "my handsome man"

His eyes crinkled with a smile beneath the mask, placing a kiss on her forehead. Simon was still adjusting, not quite ready for his lips to feel hers, for him to feel 100% human yet. His mind was still half inside the battlefield being the embodiment of his callsign and haunting over the ones he protected with his life.

Cholena's soft fingers grazed down Simon's body, releasing her own tension and grounding him back to her at the same time. "Let's go home," She found herself whispering, eyes becoming heavy and body letting go in his presence, relaxing and easing, slumping into the seat as he gruffly nodded.

As he drove away from the city, the rain and darkening of fewer city lights lulled her into a soft sleep. Their fingers interlocked naturally together the whole drive, brown eyes floating over to watch her peaceful state reminding him that he was safe, he was home and he was hers.

Pulling into the driveway of their forested home just outside of the busy city, Simon turned off the truck and released a sigh. A shutter rolled through him this time, sharing a similar exhaustion and flood of relaxation. It was time to be a man again. Pausing for a quiet moment, his eyes closed, the freehand holding the steering wheel reached up to the soft fabric on his face and pulled the balaclava off. Strong, chiselled features made his face, scars and healed broken bones made him who he was, a man she loved wholeheartedly, but someone he strayed away from most of his life. Keen amber caught his reflection in the rear-view mirror and he stared almost as if he couldn't recognize who he was without the skull mask.

"Simon," She whispered groggily, even half asleep she could feel himself begin to crawl within his own head and her small hand flexed on his.

Cursing lowly he got out of the truck, rounded the vehicle and opened her door. Simon grabbed her bag first before he picked Cholena up bridal style trying not to shift or wake her much.

Flashes of fire, blurred black and white melted together in your vision. You could taste the copper and feel the smoke burning through you. It was hot, pure violent hellish heat consuming your soul. Were you screaming or crying as your breath felt like broken glass slicing through your ribcage? No one was listening except the reaper. It didn't matter.

It was a landmine that went off and no one could see it until bodies were broken and the building beside you had collapsed. Concrete, rebar, wood, and electrical had all come down within seconds and you were gone. The world turned and your team was gone.

Blood seeping through your gear made wide streaks in the dirt around you, barely able to lift your head, but your body tried to crawl away on pure instinct. In and out, the world faded. Tasting your life force being torn away so brutally. And you couldn't hear the voices on the radio anymore, no screams or calls for you, everyone checking on position and counting the injuries.

"SHE'S HERE"

A black shadowy figure stood before you, it was him, death coming to take you and your lids closed.

"S-stay, NO, STAY WITH ME. RAVEN... Cholena, keep those eyes open!" A barking scared tone made your eyes flutter open, only seconds at a time before falling back into darkness.

A white skull now covered in soot, bore down at your helpless frame that was clinging to life. He kept talking, orders yelled and words directed at you that were no longer understood, Ghost had never spoken this much in war but the rumble in his chest kept you sane. With every jostle of your body, you felt something horrid, it would catch on soaked clothes and send violent shocks through you. It was bone being held together by your gear. It was your spine.

"Simon..." Your voice was weak but you whispered his name, his real name over and over. He wasn't your reaper.

"Simon..." Cholena whined, nuzzling into his hoodie as she was set down on the big comfy bed, "don't go"

"I'm not going anywhere, angel... Never"

"I'm not going anywhere, angel... Never"

#finally done!!!!! #im so excited for this and to make this character #hope you love it! #my writing #Cholena Raven Belanger #oc #orginal character #simon ghost riley #cod #call of duty #x reader #x you #imagine #cod fandom #fanfic

[whumpbump]

Stop Fighting Me

Cw: emeto, noncon drugging, blood, mcd

As the car sped down the winding road, Hero began to retch.

Looking back in the mirror, Villain said “Not on the seats!” But they were too late as Hero spread an ocean of bile across the suede upholstery.

Wiping their mouth, Hero groggily began to cry out in apology. Tears running, snot bubbling, they felt so awful. If not for the poison and antidote battling it out in their system for dominance, Hero would have made a stronger effort to get their head out the window. If they would’ve lost their composure at all at that point.

Focusing back on the road, Villain tsked to themselves before grumbling “it’s ok, you can’t help it but you’re damn well gonna be cleaning it up after you’re better.”

12 hours earlier:

Villain slunk back into their living room with an ice pack, turning on the television to the local news. “-once again, Team Super has defeated Villain. Will Villain EVER learn?” The broadcasters chuckled. Villain chuckled back mockingly but watched like a hawk for Hero’s big moment. After all, they were the one that delivered the devastating blow to Villain’s pride.. and face.

After seeing Hero accept their valor medal, they sent a text from their burner cell to Hero, fuming.

‘Do you think you could’ve hit me any harder today? That fucking hurt.’

‘I’m sorry, the Team has been getting suspicious of why I never bring you in. I had to make it believable and you’re a terrible actor. Love you. xoxo’

Sighing, Villain laid back and let the pain killers take effect as their face changed to shades of purple and blue.

Back at Team Super’s base, Team Leader stood at the head of the table looking at all but one of their teammates. Hero was on their way to the debriefing of the morning fight. Late, again.

“Let’s start.”

“Hero’s not here, Team Leader.”

“I know. Hero really surprised us out there today and with it being caught on the news, we can’t kick Hero off the Team now.”

Team Leader held up a small vial of clear liquid.

“I propose-“

Hero burst through the door apologizing profusely, something about needing to text their mother, wouldn’t happen again, couldn’t leave mom on read again.. they stopped when they didn’t receive the usual jeering responses. Looking around, they saw their peers’ eyes darting back and forth.

“Wh-what?”

Quickly palming the vial to the closest Team Member, Team Leader turned to Hero and said “well, you proved you can certainly save the day! We were planning your congratulatory party as the newest member of the Team. Great job out there today.”

Hero blushed and took their seat as the Team resumed their meeting. They hoped that their poor excuse of defending the town with doling out a single black eye would be enough to keep the waters calm for now.

“-and Hero?”

Embarrassed for being caught off guard, their eyes shot up at Team Leader.

“Don’t be late to your own party. It starts at 5pm sharp.”

They were all smiles as they left for their dorm to tell Villain.

‘Ok but just be careful. I don’t trust them not to do something to you.’

‘You’re just jealous you’re not getting a party thrown in your honor lol.’

Villain rolled their eyes. Ouch, that hurt actually. They sighed in discontent as they dragged themselves to their closet to pull out their nice clothes. Something wasn’t right. Weeks of complaining to Villain about bullying and borderline abuse to now having a party thrown for them all for giving Villain a black eye, this wasn’t Villain’s first rodeo. Something was wrong. The Team Super THEY knew was definitely up to something.

At 5pm on the dot, Hero stepped in front of a crowd and was handed a drink by Team Leader to give a speech. At 4:57pm, Villain watched a member of Team Super secretively pour a vial into Hero’s cup as people mingled.

Following from a safe distance, they watched Team Member toss the vial into the trash and circle back to the group. Snapping on nitrile gloves, Villain pulled out the vial carefully to read the label. “Oh thank goodness I have the antidote to that.”

The crowd began to cheer and Villain hurried over to see Hero lift their glass and take a large swig.

Villain knew time was running out as soon as the poison hit Hero’s mouth so they bustled over feigning excitement to congratulate Hero for their victory.

Trying to get Hero away from everyone was going to be a problem. Team Super was surrounding Hero. Ok deep breath, here we go.

“Hero!! Hero I’m your biggest fan!” Villain flailed their arms around, garnering everyone’s attention. Hero blushed and looked at their team for help. Team Member turned towards Villain, not recognizing them without their mask, and quietly asked them to step aside.

“I want to talk to Hero! They saved my LIFE today! I must THANK them!”

People were starting to stare as Hero pushed through, sweat starting to bead on their forehead. Through labored breathing, they focused their eyes on Villain, trying to smile genuinely. Villain pushed a drink containing the antidote into Hero’s hand.

“HERE Hero, a drink on me! For SAVING me!”

The crowd cheered. Smiling with a dopey expression, they knocked back the entire thing.

Ok, good, good. Now for an exit strategy… Villain was interrupted by Team Leader who politely smiled, took Hero by the shoulders, and said “I think Hero has had one too many. Thank you and goodnight!” The crowd cheered once more.

Shit. Ok, where are they taking Hero? Villain stayed back but watched Hero be escorted out to the back of the building to a waiting car. Perfect! Villain took off toward a side exit.

Sneaking around the building, they saw Team Leader shoving Hero into the back of the car as Hero weakly pushed at them to get off.

“Nnnno I-I wanna stay.”

“Sorry Hero, you uh-heh you don’t look that well. I’ll take you home. Look, I warmed the car up for you and everything.”

Sending Team Member back in, Team Leader said “it’ll kick in soon, I’ll drop them outside city limits in the woods. We’ll tell them Hero went on to bigger better things.”

As they exchanged words, Villain scurried around the car, opened the door, and took off as the teammates parted.

“HEY!” Team Leader and Team Member took off after the car for 15 feet or so before Team Leader grabbed Team Member’s arm. “Keep the party going, no one is to know about this. I will handle it.”

Team Leader took flight, high above the trees and looked for the taillights.

Present time:

Villain checked the rear view mirror to check on Hero again when they saw two glowing eyes closing in.

“Crap. Team Leader is almost on us. Evasive maneuvering, hang tight!”

As Villain sped down the road, they came up to a red light. Without thinking, they passed through the intersection leaving honking cars in their wake.

“hEY! That was a RED LIGHT!”

“Keep your focus on NOT vomiting on my seats, thank you.”

After taking a few quick turns, they pulled into Villain’s driveway.

Throwing open the back door of the car, Villain grabbed Hero from under their arms to hoist them up only to be met with flailing arms.

“NO! NO! Those were my FRIENDS!” Hero belched, tasting bile and felt it rise in their throat. Seeing them turn green, Villain dragged them to the grass. Hero tried to push Villain away again once they were done. Desperate, Villain shook them by the shoulders gently.

“Stop fighting me, Hero, they tried to kill you.”

“W-what?”

“Come on, let’s get inside. I’ll tell you more inside.”

“No! You tell me now!”

“Please, Team Leader will be here any minute. Let’s just go inside.”

“W-We should ask Team Leader for their side of the story.”

“How stupid are you?! Team Leader tried to poison you!” Villain was losing composure. Tears threatened to fall as their voice wavered. Hero was their person. Their love. How could they not see the team was acting against them?

Hero stiffened at the insult. Villain reached for their hand only for theirs to be slapped away.

Staggering, Hero tried to stay upright but was doing poorly.

“Please, my dearest, I’m sorry. You’re not stupid but you’re very, very sick. Let me help you.”

Weeping openly as snot dripped, Hero gagged and vomited for the third time. Having enough of waiting, Villain escorted a weak Hero into their home and down to their basement.

At that moment, Team Leader flew overhead and stopped, taking notice of the car and vomit. “You thought you could get hide,” Team Leader chuckled to themself as they broke the back door open. Knowing neither would be in top fighting shape, they entered without care.

Villain apologized profusely as they set up an IV line for Hero. “This will only hurt for a second-“

They never finished their sentence. They were shot across the room in an electric blast coming from Team Leader’s open hand.

Slipping into a coma, the last thing Hero saw was Team Leader standing over them.

Alt ending A (Villain and Hero die)

“Tsk, tsk, poor Hero. How could Villain do such a terrible thing to you?”

As Villain watched from across the room, blood spilling from their mouth onto their dress clothes, Team Leader took a nearby syringe and injected air into Hero’s heart. They waited a minute for Hero’s breathing to stop. An unusually clean death on Team Leader’s part, but hey. They can’t be caught for murdering someone, now can they?

Turning to Villain, they smiled wickedly. “Looks like you two can be together after all. In the afterlife.”

Team Leader left after delivering a swift kick to Villain’s chest.

Villain’s eyes glazed over as death took hold of them. There, they would stay, gazing at their love until some poor, unfortunate soul disturbs their tomb.

Alt ending B (no one dies but Team Leader wins)

Villain picked themself out of a hole in the drywall. Spitting out blood, they turned a murderous gaze onto Team Leader.

“Step. Back.”

Team Leader smiled pleasantly.

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll-“

“You’ll what. Kill me? You won’t. Actually. Because you’re under arrest.”

Cops swarmed the basement in riot gear and overtook Villain immediately. Hero was removed and airlifted to the Team Super Headquarters where a med bay was prepared.

Villain was sentenced to life in prison. They may as well have died that day, they would never know if Hero was ok and they would never be the same.

Hero was kept in their coma with no attempts to wake them. It was better this way. The public was outraged at Villain, Hero couldn’t testify, no one had to die. That was the end of it.

Alt ending C (happy ending)

A warm sensation. It traveled up and down Hero’s arm. They opened their eyes to see Villain absentmindedly rubbing their arm. They squeezed Villain’s hand to let them know they were present.

Villain pulled their eyes away from the news station reporting the most recent update from the current court case City vs. Team Super to give out an excited yell.

“You’re back!”

Smiling, Hero nodded.

“You kept fighting. I knew you would.”

#whumpee #whumpblr #whump blog #whump ideas #whump #whumper #caretaker x whumpee #bad team leader #bad team members #team whump #hero x villain #hero whumpee #cw emetophobia #emeto tw #emeto #cw blo0d #tw blo0d #tw blood #cw blood #cw vomit #tw vomit #cw mcd #cw major character death #noncon drugging

[antilocaprine]

For the kiss prompt: frenrey, 19? 🥺

(Kiss Prompt List)

This might be the shortest length of time between getting the ask and posting the prompt fill so far. Go team.

19. ...for luck.

Most of the patrons had cleared out of the casino, but Gordon still checked under the tables as he sauntered through the card room. Alarms were ringing on the floor below where Dr. Coomer and Bubby had the cutter set up, drilling through the main safe door. He’d left Tommy glaring at a slot machine, and Benrey was clearing the next room over.

Gordon shook his head. He still didn’t know where Benrey had come from, but Darnold was able to hook him into their radio channel nearly instantly, so he must have had the right earpieces and shit ahead of time. They’d been careful in the lead-up, but technically, Benrey was around back when they were making vague plans to rob banks if they ever got out of Black Mesa alive. Maybe he’d been talking to someone else in the Science Team. Tommy had been looking around a lot before the heist - Gordon thought he was just being cautious, but maybe he’d been looking for Benrey.

And speak of the devil…

“Yo, you wanna play?”

Gordon glanced over. Benrey was idly spinning a roulette wheel.

“Sure,” Gordon said indulgently. They had time. He waved a blue-gloved hand at Benrey. “Red.”

“Huh?”

“Red?” Gordon raised his eyebrows. “I’m betting it’ll land on red?”

“What will?”

“Jesus,” Gordon growled. “Do you even know how to play that?”

Benrey looked down at the wheel. “This? Yeah, sure, you just…” He jerked his hand and the wheel spun wildly, colored bands flashing until it slowed to a stop.

“Nice,” Benrey said.

“That was - nothing happened. You just spun the wheel, there’s nothing there.”

“Yeah? And I had fun, soooo what’s your problem?”

Gordon threw up his hands, even though one was holding an AMCAR. “Fuck it, fine, whatever. You do you, man.”

Benrey muttered something too quiet for Gordon to hear, then his head snapped up and he raised the flamethrower. Gordon whipped around and fired a shot off at the dark-suited casino security guard before Benrey could reach him with the flames.

“Nice.”

“Thanks,” Gordon chuckled, ears ringing a bit as he propped the stock of the gun against his hip. “Just trying to keep you from committing fratricide or whatever.”

“Huh?”

“They’re security guards, you’re a security guard…”

Benrey nodded. “Cannibalism,” he said.

Gordon snorted. “What? Are you eating them?”

“No? Gross.”

“Then it’s not cannibalism, that’s only if you eat them. Although,” he tilted his head. “Would it even be cannibalism? They’re human, and you’re…uh…”

“Not,” Benrey said helpfully.

“Yeah, exactly.”

“So it’s cool to eat them?”

“Yeah,” Gordon said, then his brain caught up with the conversation and he blanched. “Wait - no! No, don’t eat people, that’s fucking weird, don’t do it.”

“Uh…okay.” Benrey gave him a shifty look, and Gordon decided he should drop this topic before he learned something he didn’t want to know.

“Hey, look, craps!” he said overly brightly, hoping Benrey would take the distraction. “I’ve played this!”

Benrey followed him over to the craps table, eyeing the lines and numbers on the green fabric. Gordon scrabbled through the scattered chips left by panicked patrons until he came up with the red dice. He shoved the rest of the chips out of the way and raised his fist, rattling the dice inside.

He had only ever played craps on dates, so it was some kind of muscle memory that had him holding his fist out toward Benrey, who regarded it with bemusement.

“For luck,” Gordon said, just as he realized Benrey had no fucking idea what he was supposed to do. He opened his mouth to tell him to blow on Gordon’s fist, but then froze. Benrey had leaned forward and placed a smacking kiss to the back of his curled fingers, his lips warm and scratching slightly against the nitrile gloves. Gordon’s breath caught and he stared blankly at Benrey, who straightened up and gave him a level stare.

“Well?”

“Uh - I, uh - yeah, okay,” Gordon stuttered, feeling heat crawl across his cheeks and up his neck. He fixed his eyes on the table and tossed the dice, which bounced across the green and came to rest with matching numbers up. Gordon’s stomach sank, even though nothing was actually at stake.

“Oh, whoa, nice job,” Benrey said. 

“What - why is that a nice job? It’s snake eyes.”

Benrey shrugged. “One is…number one, so two ones is like…the best, right? First place.”

Gordon stared at him for a moment, then decided that explaining the rules wasn’t worth it. “Sure, man,” he sighed.

“We’re number one,” Benrey said blandly, and Gordon snorted.

“We sure fucking are, buddy. C’mon, let’s go see if they’ve got the safe open yet.”

Gordon didn’t even think about it before reaching out and snagging Benrey’s free hand to drag him out of the room. Fucking muscle memory. He was never going back to a casino after this. 

Benrey didn’t seem to mind, at least. He clasped his palm to Gordon’s, tangled their fingers together, and trotted to keep up with Gordon’s longer stride. “What kinda game was that, again?”

“That was craps,” Gordon replied, and didn’t notice Benrey’s quiet snort. They’d just rounded the last row of slot machines, where Tommy was standing ankle-deep in a pile of quarters. “Holy shit, dude, you’re making bank!”

“Yeah, it’s actually really easy, Mr. Freeman,” Tommy said brightly. “You just have to turn, um, match the pictures.”

Gordon looked more closely at the slot machine and realized that the glass front had been smashed and the rollers manually turned to display three lemons. One of the rollers twitched spasmodically, like mechanical death throes.

“Good, uh - good job, Tommy,” he said.

Tommy bent down to grab a double fistful of quarters and stuff them into his pockets. “Where have you guys been?”

“We were crapping,” Benrey said immediately.

“PLAYING - we were playing craps,” Gordon said loudly. Tommy straightened up and raised his eyebrows, his eyes flickering down to their still-joined hands, which made Gordon remember he was holding Benrey’s hand. He yanked out of Benrey’s grip and readjusted his gun self-consciously.

Tommy, wisely, didn’t comment. “Were you, um, did you win?”

“We’re number one,” Benrey replied, and Gordon chuckled a little hysterically.

“Yep, yeah, we - we’re number one. Twice, even.”

“That’s right,” Benrey grinned.

Then something exploded downstairs and Dr. Coomer bellowed gleefully. A new alarm started screaming, and there was no more time for playing games. They took off down the closest staircase, Tommy’s pants jingling with every step and Benrey sending jets of flame over the banisters at shouting guards. And Gordon shoved all thoughts of holding Benrey’s hand and feeling his lips on Gordon’s fingers deep into a box in the back of his mind to deal with later.

They had a heist to complete.

#hlvrai #my words #kiss prompts #snippets #askbox #on anon #payday stream au #swearing #mentions of cannibalism #gambling #i took one look at the craps wiki article and just gave up #that bitch is so fucking long and i do not care enough for a silly little thing #so my apologies for the myriad of things i probably got wrong #all i know about craps comes from that early scene in the first iron man movie

[moral-terpitude]

Misadventures - Part Two

do you remember the knife I kept · the sharper it got, the more you wanted me to use it · I was lying to you, but you were lying too

Warnings: mentions of scars, injuries, alcoholism.

Word Count: 1,810

“Okay, I don’t know about you, but I need a break.” She stretched, arms above her head as he turned to look at her, eyes almost bleary. “Were you sleeping?”

Her brows knitted together as she took off the black nitrile gloves and removed her glasses, setting them down and shutting off the light.

“No,” Tommy hesitated, wondering if it mattered, “Almost.”

As he sat up he watched as she dug through her bag, tapping the new pack of cigarettes between her hands as she looked for a lighter, and quickly ripped off the cellophane.

“Hey,” Hannah poked her head in the room, her shock of dark hair entering the room almost before she did, “no one has been in all day, do you care if I go?”

Quinn shrugged, giving a small nod, the gold filigree earrings that hung threaded through stretched lobes flinging around as she moved, “That’s fine. I didn’t figure anyone would walk in with everyone else being out of town. Just shut the open sign off. I have my keys, I’ll lock up later.”

He watched the exchange, trying to figure out who in the situation was in charge as the other girl departed.

“So, I’m nosy,” Quinn began, flicking the lighter twice to make sure it worked, “what’s the scar on your collar bone from?”

He chuckled, a nod of his head gesturing at the pack of cigarettes, “I’ve been trying to quit but share one of those and I’ll indulge you with the story.”

She relinquished the them, passing off the lighter as well, “I have to grab a sweater I’m freezing, the door is just through the hall to go outside.”

As the metal door clicked closed, he was surprised to see her standing there in the teal sweater he thought long gone over the last few years, but Tommy lit the cigarette, saying nothing as she waited in silence.

“When I was younger, I was rather, hotheaded, for lack of a better way to put it,” she nodded, unbothered by the statement as smoke rolled from between her lips, “discovered it made me a rather good rugby player though. Broke me collar bone playing professionally, recovery time was up to a year, and by the time I could’ve went back, I had bought and flipped enough property that I didn’t need to.”

She shifted, stretching and trying to shake the thought of bone crunching and breaking.

“Timing was good,” he ashed the cigarette, taking a drag from it again before speaking, the way he let his head fall back she found rather attractive, “I would’ve been offered an opportunity for the Olympic 7s team and they ended up getting demolished by Fiji after doing well in the quarterfinals,” he shrugged, “and I’m a sore loser.”

She shrugged, taking a drag on the cigarette, “Well, there’s always a silver lining.”

“Yeah?” He took in the words, nodding as he weighed the words next before he said them, “Well, I think I’ve found the one for all the pain you’re putting me in today.”

She chuckled, a grin forming as he mirrored her position, leaning on his unadorned shoulder against the brick wall. Quinn’s curiosity was truly piqued. “Oh? Do tell.”

“We’ve met. Before.” he nodded once as he spoke, trying to find a way to carefully continue without things being awkward, “And it seems my suspicion was correct that you stole me sweater.”

Quinn took a deep breath, sucking in her bottom lip to clamp it between her teeth as she hung her head. Warmth crept up her neck, trying to think of anything she could remember from being in New Orleans and coming up blank, other than the tattoos she had done, and departing the state hungover and motion sick, nothing rang a bell. “How do you know it isn’t my sweater?”

She almost gasped as she looked back at him, that fucking swan! She knew she recognized it from somewhere.

Her smile and the way she quirked an eyebrow told him the comment was in jest.

Tommy could tell, as her tongue traced the inside of her top lip, fiddling with the backing of the opal that sat perched above the swell of her lips that it was a nervous habit.

“Chelsea’s standings are usually terrible, no one would support them for any good reason.” He cleared his throat before continuing, “You have a tattoo between your shoulder blades of an Egyptian vase, you got it done the week you were in New Orleans, it has black and grey peonies in it. It was new. I only know because it still had the protective film on it and you told me not to fuck with it.”

“It’s called Saniderm.” The words told her all she needed to know, and Quinn’s ears went red as she took a deep breath, trying to hide the smile that threatened to come to her lips, “Well, if they’re so terrible, why do you support them then?”

“I have my reasons.”

She hummed, blowing smoke between her lips.

“Just like I’m sure you have your reasons for not telling me your real name.”

“What did I say my name was?”

“Avery.”

“Well, I didn’t lie. It’s my middle name.” He nodded slowly, not interjecting before she continued, “Listen, I don’t remember any of it, getting blackout drunk on a regular basis has a way of doing that to people, functioning alcoholism is a fuck of a thing. Good news is I haven’t drank since I snuck out of your hotel room that morning.”

“Always a silver lining,” he conceded, keeping to himself the thoughts that bubbled to the surface of hair pulling and her screaming his name.

“Okay,” she clapped her hands together once, the spent cigarette butts discarded in a coffee can filled with sand, “go get comfortable, I’ve just got to wash my hands.”

Q: Oh Jesus Christ Hannah, I’m getting painfully stoned later.

Quinn discarded the sweater back in the closet, taking a moment to regain her composure in the bathroom. Her phone beeped at Hannah’s response.

H: Why, what happened?

Q: Well, I still have a few more hours to spend with the guy I fucked in New Orleans 😬

H: That’s where I recognize him from!

She took a steadying breath, shaking her head at the response, and returning to her portion of the studio.

“It’s actually not Egyptian, although, I suppose that probably wasn’t the focal point of what you were concerned with,” Quinn smirked as she came back, now once again in the grey wrap shirt she had wore before departing, and returned her glasses to her face, “it’s actually a Greek Amphora vase.”

His brow furrowed, “Amphoras were used for the transportation and storage of grain and liquid, were they not?”

Quinn opened her mouth to continue, but closed it once again out of surprise at not having to explain what it was for once.

“My sister deals in antiques.” Tommy offered the clarification without prompting as he situated himself once again face down on the table.

“Amphora vases were also used for grave markers,” she grasped the machine comfortably in gloved hands, perching on the chair once more, “let’s get started again before I bore you with the details of the whole thing.”

He remained relaxed as she applied the power to the foot pedal of the machine once again to make it come to life.

“I have no choice other than to be a captive audience,” he turned his head so she could hear the words better over the sound of the machine, “I am rather stuck here, so you may as well enlighten me, eh?”

She didn’t look up but could feel him watching her as best he could, not that there was much he could see out of the corner of his eye.

“Okay,” she sighed, “the particular depiction of this one, is Achilles slaying Penthesilea, Queen of the Amazons. It depends on which variation you read, but I prefer the version where the Amazons were revered for their fighting spirit, rather than being used as a tool to show the disparity of independent women. It was…just a symbol of something I wanted to put death to, to close a chapter, I suppose.”

“That sounds like something my sister would say,” he chuckled, “so you like art?”

“I went to school for art history, actually,” she felt her shoulder tense as she moved her arm to continue the line she was working on. No matter how many times she pulled a long line, Quinn always felt like she had to fight some incoming intrusion of messing it up, “I was supposed to keep working at the MoMA, that was my job when I moved here and back home I worked as a Exhibition Assistant after I graduated, but the MoMA is where I met Hannah and I ended up here not long after pursuing an apprenticeship.”

“You purchased the shop from Gianna?”

Quinn sat straight as she wiped some of the excess ink so she could see the purple stencil once again.

“Yes. You know her?”

“She was who I expected when I emailed about an appointment with the owner. She did the one with the swan. Not that I’m complaining about the outcome.”

“I bought the shop from her a few years ago. She’s in Pennsylvania now, but she was my mentor for my apprenticeship.”

“I guess I’m in good hands then, eh?”

Quinn smiled, ducking her head to continue working. There was silence between them for awhile, only her music playing over the speakers, before he spoke again, almost startling her.

“So where is home?”

“What?”

“You said ‘back home’, where do you consider that to be?” He had turned his head once again so she could hear him clearly.

“Oh,” she sat straight once again, letting the machine go quiet so that he would have a break also, “Michigan. The west side of the state. Technically, New York is my home now though, that’s just where I grew up.”

She heard his contented hum before the buzz of the machine came to life once more.

“And for you?” Quinn figured it was the polite question to ask, regardless of if she had seen where he was from on his passport or not.

“England, Birmingham. My family is there, but I live here now, for business.” He didn’t sound sad about it, although something resigned to the fact in his voice made her sense that it wasn’t the right way to direct the conversation.

The silence took over once again, and Quinn realized, as she worked her way through the familiar lines, that it wasn’t uncomfortable. She didn’t feel awkward or embarrassed. So, he had seen her fully naked as she couldn’t remember it, of her own accord. It, somehow, wasn’t the worst thing.

She took a deep breath, letting out a quiet sigh as she tried to not let her mind wander that train of thought as she continued working.

#peaky blinders #tommy shelby #peaky fucking blinders #peaky fookin blinders #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x oc #modern tommy shelby #modern day au #modern!tommy shelby #modern thomas shelby #modern!tommy #modern peaky blinders #quinn meyer #misadventures

[skyfire85]

From the 08th MS Team, SGM Karen Joshua's "GM Head" and Sgt Terry Sanders' standard RX-79(G), along with a GM from the 07th Team and a GM Sniper. Aside from the GM head, Karen's suit has partial dust covers (made from nitrile gloves) but was otherwise built stock. Sanders' suit, meanwhile, has full covers, as does the 07th Team GM. The Sniper is the old kit from 1999 and has much less articulation, but it looks the part at least. All four kits have G-Rework's decal sets, panel lining, dirt washes, and weathering powders.

#gunpla #plamo #plastic model #gundam #gundam 08th ms team #08th ms team #mobile suit gundam 08th ms team #RX-79G

[akatsukirites]

Excerpt from Chapter 14: 8 - Surprises

She tells him ‘Rain Country doesn’t usually have landslides.’ as he drives them to a village in the foothills Masang Kang. The official reason they’re going is to confirm damages done to an Ame-owned hydropower plant. They tell her ‘All staff have been accounted for, Lady Konan.’ and she talks to her assistant on the phone. He expects that she’ll want to go back to the office, but she directs him otherwise.

Instead, they come to a triage tent outside the village. She busies herself, assisting medical personnel and talking to members of the rescue team. Konan introduces him as her ‘associate’, which only mildly tames their deeply suspicious look of him into tolerance. Kisame is used to tolerance. It’s just about the best-case scenario.

“The Prime Minister is here,” he reports.

She continues arranging boxes of nitrile gloves, crouching on the floor. “Is he requesting my presence?”

“No. I just thought you should know.”

She stands up and tucks a strand of lavender hair behind her ear. “Thank you. It’s good to know he’s supporting the effort. Should we address him?”

It’s the first time she asks for his advice. He tries and fails to hide his surprise.

(Read the full batch update on Ao3)

#[♣️–vdwrites] #♣️–kisame #♣️–konan #naruto fanfiction #konan #kisame #kisakonan #♣️–to heaven we'll never reach #♣️–ficpromo #hoshigaki kisame

[nen-kaii]

NERF!!! my lovely little soldier oc for team nitrile.

#nerf #nerf or nothing #team nitrile #tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 soldier #soldier tf2

[sydmarch]

just randomly remembered when at an old job we had this "team building day" where we all took a truffle making class & they gave out these nitrile gloves to wear but they were all so small & one of my friends who was a pretty tall guy w really big hands was trying to put the gloves on & getting REALLY mad about it but whispering quietly bcus the instructor was talking so in the quiet but angriest voice he's like "what the fuck is this.... gloves for toddlers..." & im there holding back tears to keep from laughing

#one of my current coworkers is actually dating him i should ask her to ask him if he remembwrs that lmao #its funny there were no referrals or anything i just found that out when she started & were going over our histories shes like wait you #worked at place? do you know name? hes my boyfriend & im like YES OMG!! #& its especially funny bcus aftwr that i remembered shortly bwfore i left there he had gotten back into dating & was showing us thia girl #off tinder he had met with a few times & were all teasing like HER? shes way too pretty for you! #& IT WAS MY NOW COWORKWR LMAO THE TIMELINES MATCH UP EXACTLY #texticles

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

Building blocks for RNA-based life abound at center of our galaxy Nitriles, a class of organic molecules with a cyano group, that is, a carbon atom bound with a triple unsaturated bond to a nitrogen atom, are typically toxic. But paradoxically, they are also a key precursor for molecules essential for life, such as ribonucleotides, composed of the nucleobases or 'letters' A, U, C, and G joined to a ribose and phosphate group, which together make up RNA. Now, a team of researchers from Spain, Japan, Chile, Italy, and the US show that a wide range of nitriles occurs in interstellar space within the molecular cloud G+0.693-0.027, near the center of the Milky Way. Dr Víctor M. Rivilla, a researcher at the Center for Astrobiology of the Spanish National Research Council (CSIC) and the National Institute of Aerospace Technology (INTA) in Madrid, Spain, and first author of the new study, said: "Here we show that the chemistry that takes place in the interstellar medium is able to efficiently form multiple nitriles, which are key molecular precursors of the 'RNA World' scenario." Possible 'RNA-only' world According to this scenario, life on Earth was originally based on RNA only, and DNA and protein enzymes evolved later. RNA can fulfill both their functions: storing and copying information like DNA, and catalyzing reactions like enzymes. According to the 'RNA World' theory, nitriles and other building blocks for life needn't necessarily all have arisen on Earth itself: they might also have originated in space and 'hitchhiked' to the young Earth inside meteorites and comets during the 'Late Heavy Bombardment' period, between 4.1 and 3.8 billion years ago. In support, nitriles and other precursor molecules for nucleotides, lipids, and amino acids have been found inside contemporary comets and meteors. But where in space could these molecules have come from? Prime candidates are molecular clouds, which are dense and cold regions of the interstellar medium, and are suitable for the formation of complex molecules. For example, the molecular cloud G+0.693-0.027 has a temperature of around 100 K and is approximately three light years across, with a mass approximately one thousand times that of our Sun. There's no evidence that stars are currently forming inside G+0.693-0.027, although scientists suspect that it might evolve to become a stellar nursery in the future. "The chemical content of G+0.693-0.027 is similar to those of other star-forming regions in our galaxy, and also to that of solar system objects like comets. This means that its study can give us important insights about the chemical ingredients that were available in the nebula that give rise to our planetary system," explained Rivilla. Electromagnetic spectra studied Rivilla and colleagues used two telescopes in Spain to study the electromagnetic spectra emitted by G+0.693-0.027: the 30-meter-wide IRAM telescope Granada, and the 40-meter-wide Yebes telescope in Guadalajara. They detected the nitriles cyanoallene (CH2CCHCN), propargyl cyanide (HCCCH2CN), and cyanopropyne, which hadn't yet been found in G+0.693-0.027, although they had been reported in 2019 in the TMC-1 dark cloud in the constellations Taurus and Auriga, a molecular cloud with very different conditions than G+0.693-0.027. Rivilla et al. also found possible evidence for the occurence in G+0.693-0.027 of cyanoformaldehyde (HCOCN) and glycolonitrile (HOCH2CN). Cyanoformaldehyde was detected for the first time in the molecular clouds TMC-1 and Sgr B2 in the constellation Sagittarius, and glycolonitrile in the Sun-like protostar IRAS16293-2422 B in the constellation Ophiuchus. Other recent studies have also reported other RNA precursors inside G+0.693-0.027 such as glycolaldehyde (HCOCH2OH), urea (NH2CONH2), hydroxylamine (NH2OH), and 1,2-ethenediol (C2H4O2), confirming that the interstellar chemistry is able to provide the most basic ingredients for the 'RNA World'. Nitriles among most abundant chemical families in space Final author Dr Miguel A Requena-Torres, a lecturer at Towson University in Maryland, US, concluded: "Thanks to our observations over the past few years, including the present results, we now know that nitriles are among the most abundant chemical families in the universe. We have found them in molecular clouds in the center of our galaxy, protostars of different masses, meteorites and comets, and also in the atmosphere of Titan, the largest moon of Saturn." Second author Dr Izaskun Jiménez-Serra, likewise a researcher at CSIC and INTA, looked ahead: "We have detected so far several simple precursors of ribonucleotides, the building blocks of RNA. But there are still key missing molecules that are hard to detect. For example, we know that the origin of life on Earth probably also required other molecules such as lipids, responsible for the formation of the first cells. Therefore we should also focus on understanding how lipids could be formed from simpler precursors available in the interstellar medium."

#space #science #Astronomy #physics #news #astrobiology

[disastertrash]

I assembled this Quick Access Pouch for NET/CERT deployments. It clips to my belt.

Contents:

- CERT Field Operations Guide

- XL Emergency Blanket (Hi viz orange & silver)

- Pocket Prep Guide (it has a map of the city's supply cache deployment cites).

- Headlamp

- Pencil

- Sharpie

- Pen on retractable lanyard with badge clip. (So I don't lose my pen.)

- Triage tape (Missing from pic: white and yellow tapes)

- Pocket knife (for cutting tape)

- 3 pairs nitrile exam gloves.  

(I also carry a NET gear backpack with other gear and supply refills.)

I put this together after a train derailment exercise. Digging into our packs repeatedly slowed us. And some people would grab something out of a pack and rush to survivors. Teams were getting separated whenever someone ran back for a forgotten backpack. 

To avoid that chaos, I put this pouch together. I also have a quick access tourniquet. But it clips to the outside of my backpack.

#PortlandNET #CERT #Disaster Response Gear #Quick Access Pouch #disaster preparedness #disaster preparation #DIY #first aid #disaster first aid #Community Prepper #prepper

[scottguerra65]

Compressed Gasket Sheet With Aramid Fibers, Nbr Binder

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Our team of experienced engineers can work with you to design and manufacture the proper gasket in your application, making certain that it performs your actual specs. The MULTI-SWELL™ 3760 is the last word problem solver for these light-weight flange and covers the place nuisance oil and water leaks plague most industrial facilities. compressed non-asbestos gaskets L430 is a general-purpose sheet jointing material with superior mechanical properties. It is constructed with premium aramid fiber and a high-quality nitrile rubber binder. It is effective for use with mild natural and inorganic acids, diluted alkalis, basic chemical substances, synthetic oils, petroleum and petroleum derivatives. An economical basic service grade compressed non-asbestos gasket sheet material. Made with NBR (Nitrile Butadiene Rubber) binder for gentle service in piping and tools with applications in steam,hydrocarbons and refrigerants. 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The compressed, non-asbestos (CNA) gasketing line provides a big selection of elastomers that provide distinctive sealability and excel in a variety of companies. The unique mix of aramid fibers, fillers and elastomeric binders provides improved torque retention and drastically lowered emissions levels. In case a more durable material for the ring-type joint is used, the groove of the flange can be broken as the flanges are tightened (the hardness values for ring joint gaskets are given below). R-type ring joint gaskets are available in oval or octagonal cross-sections and manufactured based on API 6A and ASME B16.20 to swimsuit API 6B and ASME/ANSI B16.5 flanges. The inside ring offers safety in opposition to inward buckling and media erosion, whereas the outer ring facilities the gasket on the flange and acts as a compression limit. This kind is good for standard raised face and flat face flanges, offering enhanced structural integrity and alignment. The diameter of a spiral wound gasket could vary between a couple of mm and up to 5.000 mm, and the typical thicknesses of spiral wound gaskets ranges from 3.2, 4.5, 6.four, to 7.2 mm. A flange gasket is a kind of sealing element designed to fit between two sections of pipe which would possibly be flanged together. Each producer, after all, makes use of particular codes to designate several types of spiral wound gasket in manufacturing, however the typical designs are recurring whatever the producer. In summary, flange gaskets are essential elements in piping systems, ensuring leak-free connections between flanged pipe sections. Their effectiveness in sealing joints makes them indispensable in maintaining operational effectivity, security, and environmental compliance across many industries. It is suitable for saturated and superheated steam, oil, dilute acids and alkalis, hydrocarbons, solvents and refrigerants. Gasketing A high quality non-asbestos gasket material manufactured with artificial fibers and SBR binders. Recommended to be used in sealing water, low pressure steam, air and gases and service conditions as a lot as 750 F. L420 is a general-purpose sheet jointing material with good mechanical properties.

#cna sheet gasket #compressed non-asbestos gaskets #compressed non-asbestos gasket sheet material #non asbestos gasket #non-asbestos gasket material

[klostergreer85]

The 9 Most Common Kinds Of Gaskets

Our design consultants will help you in deciding on the suitable material on your gasket functions. They base their recommendations on your wants and specs to accommodate the suitable temperature, chemical, vibration, abrasion and movement requirements on your application. Silicone is nice for top temperatures and Neoprene supplies glorious resistance to oil, ozone, and oxidation and is prevalent in petrochemical operations. From rubber to metal, every sort brings its distinctive set of properties, and understanding them is essential to optimizing performance in various applications. Gasket sheets, also referred to as "gasket paper", are sheets of gasket material that can be cut and used as fast, cost-effective replacements for gaskets. They are generally created from strong, versatile materials similar to cork, rubber, graphite and nitrile, and are utilized in different industries to create leak-free seals. Available in a wide selection of sheet sizes and thicknesses, gasket sheets are perfect for bespoke fittings or to create instant replacements without having to attend. As the trusted supplier of gasket solutions for numerous business and army markets, we satisfaction ourselves on constantly delivering a seamless customer experience. Our comprehensive portfolio features a broad number of commonplace sealing and protective products, customized design and fabrication providers, and individualized distribution options. The frequency of maintenance will rely upon the sort of gasket or sealant, the application, and the operating circumstances. With metal core coated gaskets, either side of the core are coated with a versatile, malleable sealant. A sturdy metal core prevents pressure seals and a soft core ensures exceptional sealing. Fishbone Gaskets are direct replacements for Kammprofile and Spiralwound gaskets. They are absolutely CNC machine manufactured from similar materials but the design of the gaskets has eliminated inherent brief comings. The added "Stop Step" prevents the Fishbone gaskets from being over compressed/crushed, usually attributable to sizzling torque strategies on plant begin up. These gaskets usually have a a lot larger stage of quality management than sheet gaskets and generally can withstand a lot higher temperatures and pressures. The key downside is that a stable metal have to be greatly compressed in order to turn into flush with the flange head and forestall leakage. The material selection is harder; because metals are primarily used, process contamination and oxidation are risks. Founded in 1961 as the Industrial Gasket & Shim Company, Inc., our firm started making shims and gaskets for companies within the Pittsburgh area. Since then, we've been rising and developing our capabilities, and in consequence, today have drastically expanded our offerings beyond gaskets and shims. We have grown from three employees (in 1961) to over 120 today and our shopper base has grown from Western Pennsylvania into a world enterprise. In 2012, we modified our name from Industrial Gasket and Shim to IGS Industries, Inc., to mirror our increasing capabilities and worldwide reach. At Frank Lowe, we provide a full complement of industrial-grade cork starting from prime quality all the method in which as much as high spec materials. In both case, we'll match your utility needs with one of the best cork material. For most of these assemblies, silicone liquid gasketing products present the best seal. We value your deadlines and might guarantee you that your orders are shipped on time. DRC continues to implement the most recent expertise within the design and manufacturing of our custom gaskets. Here at Denver Rubber Company, we're the largest snow plow blade retailer within the region! Our design team has combined quality materials with the newest expertise to create the highest commonplace snow plow blade yow will discover. This gasket sort provides an extremely tight seal and is thought for their long-term reliability hence could be usually discovered amongst older seals or flanges. Gasket is a packing designed for inclusion between rigid mating elements in essentially stationary relationship to prevent leakage. Gaskets are produced in various shapes, sizes, scores and designs out of various materials for the medium to be contained. It is necessary to make the sealing end properly otherwise it's going to cause leakage. A surface that's too smooth can permit your gasket material to blow out under pressure. This insures the floor is flat, but with enough floor finish to bite into the gasket underneath compression. NBR is typically used in the automotive and aeronautical business to make gasoline and oil handling hoses, seals, gaskets, and grommets. Nitrile’s capacity to tolerate a spread of temperatures from 40° to 226 °F making it a super material for functions requiring a extensive range of temperatures. Nitrile, like pure rubber, can be attacked by ozone, ketones, esters, and aldehydes. Most rubber gaskets are present in industrial settings which makes them unknown to most people.

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