#ag land for lease

[exclusivefarmland]

https://www.exclusivefarmland.com/blog/exclusive-farmland-cultivating-dreams-connecting-roots-your-path-to-health-wealth-and-green-living/

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

You mentioned years ago that you once worked on a project restoring former coal mine land, trying to get plants to grow and break up the compacted soil and so on. Do you know how the site is doing now? I hope you don’t mind me asking, but it sounds like a very cool project and I would love to know if it worked!

Oh, extremely well! The trees are about a third of the height they should be for their age, but there's a little woodland there now. This year my uni is taking over the lease for the site, so investigations continue. We got a lot of papers out of it. Plus, we proved that if you get the trees to grow in, you increase other biodiversity, like birds and earthworms and small mammals and lizards (the place is alive with lizards every summer, actually. Sometimes they sit on your bag.)

The main project site is here, if you want a gander.

[headofocs-inklesspen]

Nothing says “in my early twenties” quite as much as sitting on the floor eating cheap ramen late at night after work. This is just being in your twenties, it’s an experience that just naturally happens somewhere along the way.

[nadvs]

please can we have sleeping with the enemy reader taking care of rafe with his hangover (from your last blurb) 😚😚

aaaa yes omg the fluff! (and the everyone but them can see it trope!) (and the overdue confession!) 🙂‍↕️

based on this fic, continutation of this blurb

rafe can’t even open his eyes yet. he feels like he’s an inch away from death.

about a month ago, he moved out of his dorm and into a house with a group of his teammates. it was a nightmare securing a lease on a house because of the reputation athletes have left on the landlords off campus.

but because rafe was the one who worked so hard on getting the house, and because he’s the team captain, he got the biggest and best room, ensuite attached.

it’s in the top floor. it’s quiet. it gets the best ac. but no amount of ac can make the sickening heat of the hangover he has this morning any better.

he finally opens his eyes. she’s not beside him. if he remembers correctly, he asked her to sleep over last night. and… goddamn it, he called her his girlfriend.

there’s a good chance he scared her away. they’re best friends who hook up sometimes. that’s it. no matter how much his teammates - at least the ones who have the balls to - fuck with him about it.

a few nights ago, a girl struck up conversation with rafe at a party and one of his buddies told her not to bother because ‘he’s basically married’ and the crazy thing is, he let her believe it. he hasn’t hooked up with another girl in ages. he hasn’t wanted to.

it got to him. maybe that’s why he slipped up last night, calling her his girlfriend. if he remembers right, it’s like they agreed to being something more in a roundabout, drunken way. or maybe she was just humoring him and is planning to let him down easy when they’re both sober.

she’s in the kitchen, wearing one of rafe’s shirts, cutting up what little fruit the guys have lying around. the blender was a bitch to clean, tacked with residual protein powder.

she’s awake before everyone, making rafe a smoothie to help cure his hangover. this is 100% girlfriend behavior. she’s doing the absolute most. she knows that.

she tells herself it’s because they’re best friends. she’d do the same for any other friend. but doing it for rafe feels so much more gratifying than if she did it for anyone else.

as she drops banana slices into the blender, she thinks about the regret that washed over rafe’s face last night.

she wonders why he so obviously wished he hadn’t called her his girlfriend. was it because he accidentally exposed what he really thinks of her? or because he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea?

she blends the smoothie, cleans up and pads upstairs to rafe’s bedroom. when she opens the door, he’s sprawled out on his bed, down to his boxers, the duvet half-covering his body.

she’s seen him naked so many times before. but this weirdly feels like it’s the most intimate they’ve ever been.

“did you take my clothes off last night?” rafe grumbles, staring up at the ceiling.

“somehow,” she answers. “i fell on my ass trying to pull your jeans off.”

“oh, yeah,” he laughs. he heard her fall to the floor in the dark. it was hilarious. but then he clutches his head. even laughing hurts. “fuck.”

“imagine how bad you’d feel if i didn’t force water on you last night. you’re welcome, by the way,” she says.

she places the glass on the nightstand and sits on the edge of the bed, glad she only had a couple of drinks last night.

“i made you a smoothie. you need to replenish.”

his tired blue eyes finally land on her. he takes her in, the way her brows are knitted in concern, the way she looks in his shirt.

“and your blender was disgusting,” she adds. “it’s pretty sad that a whole group of grown men don’t know how to properly wash dishes. it took me forever to clean it.”

“you’re talking too much,” he rasps, massaging his temple with his thumb.

normally, she’d tease him back. she knows he’s joking. but the joke doesn’t land. she looks away.

in the sober brightness of the morning, she realizes she feels stupid. they agreed they were just friends, but she’s playing house and acting like a girlfriend to someone who either doesn’t want her like that, or does and won’t admit to it when he’s not drunk.

she doesn’t mind taking care of him. but she’s catching feelings. how can she be friends with someone when every second that passes that they’re not more than that feels like a little dose of rejection?

they’ve always been direct with each other. at some point, that stopped. at least on her side.

“i’m fucking with you,” rafe clarifies. “thank you.”

she scoffs. he hardly ever has manners. she must really look mad.

“sure,” she says. she leans forward, picking up and handing him the smoothie, knowing he’s too tired to get it himself. “do you remember what you said last night?”

rafe’s eyes dart away. he rakes back his tousled hair, sitting up slowly to hold the smoothie. tortuously slow, he takes a sip, making her wait for his answer.

“what’d i say?” he mumbles.

she tilts her head, her lips in a firm line. he said he wouldn’t be embarrassed the next day. he’s acting like he is now, though. or maybe he really doesn’t remember.

she suddenly feels bad for pushing this heavy of a conversation on him when he’s clearly exhausted and feeling so terrible.

“we’ll talk about it later,” she says. it gives rafe a wave of anxiety. maybe she’s planning to let him down gently. to tell him they can’t be more than friends. “hydrate, got it?”

she stands, pulling his shirt off over her head.

“where are you going?” he asks, watching her bend over to pick up last night’s clothes.

“home,” she says. “text me if you wanna hang out later when you feel human again.”

she leaves. he lets her.

he’s in a funk the rest of the morning. he eventually finds the strength to take a shower. he eats his first meal at three p.m.

when he sees the blender on the drying rack in the kitchen, his chest tightens. this isn’t normal. he shouldn’t miss someone he saw just this morning. but he does.

and whatever happened last night is hanging over him. if he knows her, he knows it’s bothering her, too.

he texts her: feeling human again. u busy?

she replies: i’m free and starving.

he smirks at his phone. pick you up in 30

when she sinks into the passenger seat of his suv, she’s uneasy. jittery. as if this is a first date. but when she takes in how tense he looks, she pushes all her feelings away.

“what’s wrong?” she asks. “you good?”

“i’m… this feels weird,” he admits. she stills. so it’s not just her who senses it.

“weird how?”

“what do you wanna eat?” he asks. “where am i going?”

“you’re staying here until you tell me what’s up.”

rafe chews on his lip. he turns his key, shutting the car off, parked in front of her dorm building. he knows there’s no point in arguing with her. she can be stubborn.

“weird how?” she repeats.

“like… i’m nervous or something.”

rafe has known for a while now that he’s someone else around her. or maybe he’s actually himself, and she’s the only person who coaxes it out of him.

“nervous?” she echoes. rafe is only ever nervous before an important game, and even then, he’s more hyped up to win than anything.

he can’t take it anymore. he’d rather rip off the bandaid.

“be straight with me,” he says. “what’d i say that you wanted to talk about?”

she can’t recall the last time she felt so shy around him, if ever.

“do you remember calling me your girlfriend?” she says.

he shuffles in his seat, expelling a heavy breath.

“if i fucked things up, just say it,” he rasps.

“so, you remember?”

“yeah.”

“do you remember how you said you wouldn’t be embarrassed for saying it?”

“yeah,” he mutters sharply. “can you get to the point?”

“can you not be a dick right now?” she says.

he sighs. can’t she tell he’s anxious?

“are you?” she says. “embarrassed, i mean?”

“no,” rafe begins. “i’m annoyed that i said it. it made things awkward.”

“it did,” she agrees.

“okay,” he huffs. “so what now?”

she clasps her hands together in her lap, looking out at the side mirror. she could just say they can forget about it. grab takeout. go back to normal. but going back to normal kind of feels impossible.

“my friends always tell me we act like a couple,” she finally says. “this morning, i was washing your dishes and organizing your fridge and i thought, they’re right. this is the kind of stuff a girl in a relationship does. but then i was like, no it’s not like that. we’re just best friends. but then last night... you said you’d be a good boyfriend.”

“mhm,” he says, bracing for the rejection. the let’s just be friends. or worse, the things are too weird now and we should probably stop hanging out.

she swallows hard.

“i wanted to know if… did something change? were you just drunk or do you actually want to…” she trails off.

for once, it feels odd saying her thoughts out loud to him. because he was always as adamant about not wanting commitment as she was. things have gotten so messy all because he blurted something out last night.

rafe stares at her profile as she looks out the window. she’d fiddling impatiently, like she was the night they first talked at the bar months ago, waiting for someone to take her drink order.

“the guys mess with me about it, too,” he tells her. “they say we act like we’re married or some shit.”

she quirks her eyebrows. they basically do. they see each other almost every day. they bicker. they’re constantly subconsciously touching, whether it’s through joined hands or bumped knees. they have too many inside jokes. they take care of each other. she reminds him of things he can’t afford to forget, like appointments or exams. he makes sure she eats and he pays for everything they do together.

“i don’t look at other girls,” he confesses. “and i know you get hit on when you go out, but it never goes anywhere. i… okay, yeah, fine, something did change at some point. i don’t know when.”

for the first time since she got in the car, she cracks a smile. they’re best friends who are ridiculously attracted to each other and joined at the hip. if that’s not a relationship, what is?

“are we already kind of dating?” she says, finally meeting his eyes.

rafe breathes a chuckle, the heaviness in his chest lifting all at once.

everything was always so easy with her. he assumed it’s because they had no expectations between them. but that wasn’t it. in reality, they had been quietly meeting each other’s expectations without having to try.

“yeah. we are,” he says.

her eyelids flutter as she looks down, gazing at his hand splayed over the dark denim on his thigh. her stomach is numb. her mind is buzzing.

“how’d you get so lucky?” she teases.

rafe doesn’t even have it in him to joke back. he needs to touch her. he leans forward, cradling her jaw, capturing her lips in his.

they’ve kissed a thousand times before. but never like this. this is a kiss that says there’s an understanding that she’s his and he’s hers. and maybe it took them a while to realize that, but now that they’re here, they’re not going back.

(continuation)

[whoreforjisung]

Pervy neighbor Jisung one-shot ✨

-Might continue the story in multiple parts if people are interested! I still have many ideas when it comes to pervy jisung

-Content / tags / warnings: smut / non-idol au / perv!jisung pining for new neighbor reader / masturbation (m,f) / ji is a little bit of an asshole / non-consensual pictures / one use of “noona” / drug and alcohol consumption / brief mentions of Felix, Minho, Changbin, and Seungmin

-Names are used as faceclaims only, and do not reflect the actions and personalities of real people

-Word Count: 6.2k

-I am very new to tumblr, and this is my very first time writing anything like this, so it is not proof-read or edited. Constructive criticism welcome!

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As a full-time freelance artist, you luckily had the liberty to pack up your cherished belongings and move to wherever you desired whenever you liked. That’s how you ended up landing yourself in Seoul at the ripe age of 24. It might sound silly, but you had a lifelong dream of living in a cozy apartment with a decent-sized balcony area. When a listing popped up during an impromptu trip to Korea, in Seoul nonetheless, for a manageable price, you immediately jumped on it. It was game over as soon as you visited and saw the beautiful balcony with a wrought-iron spiral staircase. After reluctantly returning home, it was hard to contain your excitement in the weeks leading up to your move. You were already eagerly selecting furniture to buy, as well as decorations, and brainstorming ideas on how to use the space as soon as you finalized the lease.

As you finally pulled up to the new apartment, you couldn’t contain the wide smile that crept across your face as you shielded your eyes from the sun, admiring your spacious balcony. Just the thought of being able to curl up at dusk with that book you’ve been meaning to read for ages on the hammock chair you purchased for it, had you teeming with excitement. It kept you in a positive spirit as you lugged boxes containing your possessions one by one up the stairs and into your new home. That was, until you accidentally dropped the large framed painting you were attempting to transport, sending it tumbling down the stairs leaving hundreds of glass shards in its wake. The sudden noise startling your cat, Newt, from his peaceful slumber in his carrier. He reacted with a hiss and a few agitated meows.

“Would it kill you to keep it down? Some of us are trying to WORK here! FUCK!” You look up from your kneeled position on the stairs as you’re scrambling to pick up the glass shards, and your eyes meet a young man with a scowl on his face, leaning over the balcony opposite to yours. He has a pair of headphones dangling around his neck and is clutching a can of beer, fingernails adorned with black nail polish. “I’m so sorry! I should’ve been more careful. It won’t happen again!” You replied as you continued picking up the pieces. “Whatever. Can you do something about your hairball? It’s making my damn ears bleed.” He angrily snapped in response, pointing towards Newt’s carrier. You could tolerate the first comment, but who did he think he was to so directly insult your pet like that? “Just because I caused a minor commotion doesn’t give you the right to be so rude to a complete stranger. Since I’m no longer disrupting you, Why don’t you close the window, remove the stick up your ass, and get back to your oh-so-important work while I quietly move the rest of my boxes into my house. Sound good?” He didn’t seem to have a response for you, instead opting to toss back the remainder of his drink, crushing the can and tossing it directly towards your feet before shutting the window. Taking a deep breath, you grabbed your dustpan from the box labeled “cleaning supplies” and swept up the rest of your mess (along with “mystery jerk neighbor’s” added trash) before moving the final few boxes, as well as the cat carrier inside.

You were so grateful the place came furnished, as you promptly slumped down on the green velvet couch, allowing yourself to take a quick breather before taking Newt out of the carrier, letting him explore while you unpacked his necessities and began assembling the cat tree. By the time sunset began to roll around, you had made a decent amount of progress unpacking and building a good amount of your living room and kitchen furniture, including your hammock chair for the balcony. After brewing yourself a cup of tea and grabbing the book you intended to read, you finally made your way to your new outdoor relaxation sanctuary.

After situating yourself in the chair, draping a thin blanket over your legs, and taking a sip of warm green tea, you let out a content sigh as you finally opened your novel, ready to immerse yourself into the story for the next hour or so. You made it through exactly 2 1/2 chapters before “mystery jerk neighbor” made his second appearance. This time, followed by a small white puppy and the unmistakable smell of weed. Now, you normally wouldn’t consider yourself to be the petty type, but his disrespect towards you earlier prompted you to throw some back his way in retaliation. When he took a long drag and proceeded to start coughing up a lung, you shouted “Keep it down would ya? Some of us are trying to READ here!” Mirroring his first words to you. “Oh that’s realll original” he replied with a pained rasp between coughs. Rolling your eyes, you redirected your attention back to your book, assuming that would be the end of the distraction.

A small handful of pages later, a loud “YOOOO FELIX” pierces through the silence as he starts a phone call. Placing a bookmark to save your spot, you close the book and set it on your small side table. After a few minutes you return , donning your noise cancelling headphones. You’d be damned if you were going to let him ruin your highly anticipated reading time after a long and exhausting day. A peaceful 10 minutes later, he retreats back into his own apartment- much to your delight. However, your joy is short-lived as he soon returns with an acoustic guitar slung across his torso and takes a seat. Unfortunately, you quickly realize his strumming penetrates through your headphones. So much for noise-cancelling. Completely losing your focus and not wanting to engage with him any further, you decide it’s time to head inside and get yourself ready for bed. After a much-needed shower to rinse off the sweat and dust that had accumulated on your body throughout the day, you continue your nightly routine. Slipping on a pair of panties and one of your many oversized sleep shirts, you head to the kitchen to finish your cup of tea while absentmindedly scrolling on tiktok. After setting your mug in the sink and brushing your teeth in the bathroom, you finally turn into bed and listen to Newt’s content purrs as he cuddles up to you, both of you quickly drifting off to sleep.

You curse yourself for setting your alarm so early as you’re jolted awake by the incessant, absurdly high-pitched beeping at 8:00 AM. You did have a specific reason for wanting to wake up so early though, as you remember your plans and reluctantly drag yourself out of bed. Your first task of the day was grocery shopping, so after brushing your teeth and twisting your hair up into a claw clip, you threw on a pair of sweatpants with a black cropped hoodie and began your walk to the nearest market.

Arriving after about fifteen minutes, you began working through your ingredients list. You stopped at an herb stall with a middle-aged woman behind the booth. One of your many plans for your balcony space was to install a fresh herb garden, so you engaged in small talk with the seller as you selected various herbs to purchase. “Do you sell cat grass?” You asked. Suddenly, a young man with blond hair springs up from under the counter. “You won’t find any here at the market, but I can show you where to get some!” You’re taken aback by the deep voice that comes out of him, as well as his strangely friendly offer. Sensing your apprehension, the woman adds “Oh don’t worry dear, you can trust him! Yongbok here is our designated neighborhood helper.” She smiles at him as she pats his back. “Oh uhh okay. I have a few more things to grab here first, if that’s okay?” You reply, setting your items down for him to ring up. A few minutes later, you finished picking up the rest of the items on your list and returned to the stall to let him know you were ready. “I’ll be back in about twenty minutes Auntie!” He called back to the woman as the two of you walked away.

You found it surprising how talkative he was. He told you his name was Felix, he grew up in Australia, but moved to Korea when he was seventeen, and he loves cooking, baking, and gaming. Even though you just met him, you were happy you shared some of the same interests, and honestly a little part of you hoped this wouldn’t be the last you’d see of him. The short walk led you to a large apartment complex. Felix told you his friend, Minho, is a huge cat-lover who grows his own cat grass, so you figured this is where he lived. It seemed like he spent a lot of time at Minho’s place, as the security guard immediately buzzed you both in as soon as he saw him, greeting him with a wave.

Felix knocked on the door as you arrived at, presumably, his friend’s unit. You could hear multiple voices from outside the door, and began to feel a little bit anxious. The door opened to reveal quite possibly the buffest man you have ever seen in person before. He quickly pulled your new acquaintance into a bear hug, shouting “FELIX IS HEREEE- and who’s this?” He added as he broke away, noticing you. You shyly introduced yourself to him, still standing in the doorway before Felix enters, pulling you both in. Feeling slightly overwhelmed by the amount of people present, you keep your gaze trained on the floor as he ushers you into the kitchen. “Hey Minho! This is the girl I texted you about. You know- the cat grass” He explained as he gestures toward you.

You pry your gaze from the floor to see an -admittedly, beautiful man holding a spatula and wearing an apron that says “world’s best Mom” on it in hot pink lettering. As you struggle to stifle a giggle, he quickly explains that he received it as a gift from his friend Seungmin. Since he can’t leave the kitchen while he’s cooking, he instructs Felix to take you to his study, where he has prepared a small pot for you to take home. As you enter the study, you notice a sleeping figure on the black leather couch in your peripheral vision. It wasn’t until you quietly retrieved the pot, turning to exit the room, that you recognized the person sleeping. He was your mysterious jerk neighbor! You had to admit though, as much as your very limited interactions with him pissed you off, he looked kinda cute peacefully sleeping like that- with his dark, curly hair cascading over the side of his face, cheeks all puffed out and lips formed into a devastating little pout. It was hard to believe this was the same man as the asshole that lived across from you. Once you realized you were staring at him, you shook your thoughts away and silently made your way back into the living room. Thanking Minho and bidding farewell to everyone else, you and Felix began your trek back to the market.

Arriving back home shortly after dropping Felix off and giving him your socials, you got to work putting away your groceries and began to tackle the daunting task of unpacking and organizing your belongings. In order to not burn yourself out, you made sure to take breaks every few hours. During your breaks you would work on artwork, watch an episode of the kdrama you were currently immersed in, play with Newt, crochet, and stretch- even doing a little bit of yoga in the evening.

After you were satisfied with the progress you made for the day, you booted up your computer and logged on to Miroh- a new labyrinth MMORPG you had found yourself getting absolutely sucked into lately. You didn’t find the time to game as often as you would have liked to, but when you did, you preferred to set aside a good four hours or so in order to ensure you’d make a decent amount of progress with every session. After several failed attempts to demolish the octo-cyclops boss of the S-Class dungeon- in order to acquire its exclusive armor set, you were about to call it quits for the night when a random player requested to join your party. You accepted the request from _doolsetnet, sending a gratitude emote as you entered the dungeon for the umpteenth time that night, this time with another player at your assistance.

Your morale was high as you successfully cleared the second stage almost flawlessly, mentally preparing for the third and final stage. It started off well, but as the boss’s rage intensified, so did it’s attack speed. You both took a few good hits, your health bar depleting rapidly. Your helper still had a good three-quarters of their health to spare, and enough mana to cast one spell. The boss only had about a quarter left on its health bar- two more good hits and it would go down. You unmuted your mic to request a heal from your partner, which they promptly offered. With your health bar restored to half-full, and your mana charged for two attacks, you were finally able to hear the sweet, sweet cries of defeat as you slayed the beast. You jumped out of your chair, raising your fists in the air and letting out a loud “FUCK YESSS! TAKE THAT YOU ONE-EYED SLIMY CUNT” as the game rewarded you with the gorgeous mother-of-pearl armor set you’ve been ogling for months- complete with an iridescent helmet showcasing the monster’s eye. You sent user _doolsetnet a thank you message, and attached a gift containing a couple hundred gold along with a few of the rare armor dyes you had extras of. They responded by shooting you a friend request, which you accepted, and a rare weapon skin you also had your eye on. After logging off for the night, you hopped in the shower, brushed your teeth, crawled into bed with Newt in your arms, and fell asleep.

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The day you moved in was a rough one for Han Jisung. All morning he worked tirelessly, trying to perfect the song he was commissioned to produce for a high-profile client. Each time he finished editing and emailing the file, he was always met with a problem. The beat overpowers the vocals, the guitar is too quiet, the bpm is too fast, too slow- it was impossible to please them with this song, and he was going to absolutely lose it. As a perfectionist, he couldn’t let it go until both him, and the client, were both one-hundred percent satisfied. He was running on about six hours of sleep in the past three days, with a concerning lack of food and over-dependence on coffee, energy drinks, and beer. He could barely rip his focus away from the project long enough to shower and make sure his beloved puppy, Bbama, was still well taken care of.

When the blaring hisses and sharp beeps of the moving trucks breached through the music he was working on, he nearly screamed out the window at them to shut the fuck up, but he still had self control. Honestly, it was his fault for procrastinating even though he knew someone would be moving in across from him today. He tried to drown out the noise for the next hour, and when the trucks pulled out, his focus finally pulled in again. He locked in- diligently toiling away at the project, until two hours later, he had the latest revised version complete. Making sure he took all of his client’s requests into account, he submitted the file and began the waiting game. Anxiously pacing around his apartment and biting his nails for another hour, he received an email notification. He sprinted to his computer, not even bothering to take a seat as his hand hovered over the mouse for a few seconds in anticipation. He slid the cursor over the most recent email in his inbox, squeezing his eyes shut and chanting a quiet “please, please, please..” he clicked the mouse and slowly opened his eyes, scanning the results. “Mr. Han, We always appreciate your hard work, and are nearly content with the song. There are just a few small tweaks we would like to- “MOTHERFUCKER” he threw himself onto his couch and muffled an anguished scream with his pillow. He nearly started bawling due to the overwhelming frustration and crippling exhaustion.

The deadline was tomorrow, and he would have to rework the godforsaken song for the sixteenth and last time. He had to make his next submission perfect- or risk losing one of his most important clients. He peeled himself off the couch, sauntered over to his fridge to grab yet another can of beer, returned to his desk, took a few deep breaths, and got to work. There was one specific part of the song that needed reworked. He began playing the same fifteen seconds repeatedly, closer and closer to losing his sanity as he just could not pick out what was wrong with it. Another ten times- still couldn’t place it. Twenty more times, and then he caught it- at the very end of the segment. His full focus on the next loop, he cranked the volume and listened intently, not even daring to breathe in fear of it disrupting his flow. The last five seconds coming up- this was it.

A loud crash broke his focus, followed by the shrieking howls of an agitated cat. That was his last straw. He slammed his left fist down on his desk, still clutching his beer can in his right hand. Shooting out of his chair he flung open the sliding door and stormed to the edge of his balcony. He started yelling before even thinking, just letting all of his pent-up rage out on whoever his new neighbor was. Once the red-hot fury died down, and he actually saw the unfortunate victim of his outburst, he retreated in embarrassment. She was a girl who looked to be in her early to mid twenties, around the same age as him. Kinda cute too, and he threw his fucking beer can at her! God, what the hell was wrong with him? He wanted to crawl into the fetal position and just disappear forever. Unfortunately for him, though, he still had the grueling obligation of completing his wretched assignment. He stretched, cracked his knuckles, and got to work once more.

A painstaking six hours later, he checked over the email again, to refer to his clients requirements. Making damn sure he remembered EVERYTHING this time, he went through a mental checklist. He listened to the full song one more time, paying close attention to the fifteen second segment he had reworked dozens of times. This time, he had swapped the guitar for a bassy synth to create a break at the end of the pre-chorus, and he honestly felt satisfied with the outcome. He might’ve entered a state of delirium after twenty-four restless, stress filled hours, and slipped into a rather cocky mindset. He was happy with the song at last, and the client would be content with it too. Honestly, they were lucky to have a producer like him working with them. He was a musical genius. After confidently re-submitting the file for the final time, he rolled himself a much-deserved joint. He gave little Bbama all the belly rubs and smooches he had missed the last few days as he made his way to the balcony for a stress-relieving smoke.

Jisung took a few deep drags, feeling increasingly calm with every exhale, until his breath caught in his throat upon noticing you lounging on your balcony straight across from him- seemingly deeply invested in a book. The smoke in his throat burned, launching him into a painful coughing fit. He silently prayed that you wouldn’t notice, and mentally cursed himself when you did- repeating his same harsh words to you earlier, absolutely dripping with sass. He threw back a half-assed reply, wishing he could’ve put more effort into it, and was rewarded with a nonchalant eye-roll. Oh, it was game-over for him now. One thing Jisung could never control himself around, was a person who simultaneously gave off the vibes of a dom, while exuding just the perfect amount of brattiness- just enough for him to want to mercilessly fuck the attitude out of.

He decided right then and there to “test your limits”- so to speak. He dialed up his buddy Felix, making sure to greet him as loudly and obnoxiously as he could possibly muster. Only to be met with disappointment, as you just sighed and closed your book, withdrawing back into your living space. Maybe he jumped the gun- and assumed too much too soon? Oh well, he’d have plenty more chances to get a rise out of you, and began plotting his next move as he continued his conversation with Felix. When you returned wearing headphones, and sat back down to resume your book- completely ignoring him, he immediately felt his dick tightening against his pants, begging to be freed. He didn’t have you all wrong- quite the contrary. He had you just right, and the little bit of tantalizing cleavage your tank top revealed to him was the perfect tease, your breasts slightly squeezing together with every page you turned.

He attempted to mess with you a little more, even bringing out his guitar, in the hopes of disrupting your reading just enough to prompt an annoyed outburst. (And maybe even impressing you a little bit with his skills). When you once again retreated inside, and didn’t return, he figured you just went to bed this time. It was like all of his pent-up frustration throughout the week sent itself straight to his manhood. He was throbbing as he fell back on his couch, palming himself over his jeans. He had to use his imagination, having only his limited view of your cleavage to work with, but that wasn’t a problem for him.

You were straddling his lap on his couch, plush thighs squeezing either side of his as you slowly and tortuously ground yourself against his aching length. In this scenario, you had caught him sneaking a peek at you through the window and stormed over, angrily knocking on his door to confront him. You were yelling at him with your arms crossed, squeezing your tits together and giving him the perfect view. -He finally released himself from his denim prison, wrapping his hand around his thick, hard length, and letting out a sigh- When you noticed where he was staring, and looked down to see the prominent bulge in his pants, you forcefully pushed him down on the couch, climbing on top of him. Yanking the nape of his curly hair, you compelled him to look up at you, chastising him for being a dirty pervert. “You disgusting piece of shit- can’t even be scolded by a woman without getting yourself all hot and bothered.” You spat at him as he let out a whimper. “How pathetic” the way you breathlessly enunciated that word had him fisting his angry cock furiously, thighs twitching and breaths panting as he felt his chest tighten. He was so close already- probably due to his lack of jerking off for the past few days.

When you crept your hand up his chest and around his throat, harshly squeezing your fingers around it, he came. All over his hand, shirt, pants, couch, and even spilling a few drops onto his floor. He can’t even remember the last time he came this hard- it was probably one of the first times he ever masturbated. He didn’t even get to the best part in his scenario, the part where he takes over, flipping you onto your back and burying his face between your legs, eating you out like you’re his last meal while you’re whining and begging him to take you, as you release all over his fingers and face. He felt himself twitch, and looked down in disbelief to be met with yet another raging boner. God, the things you did to him, and you didn’t even know him, or his name. It just made the whole thing that much hotter. He’ll make sure you’ll find out soon, though, so the you in his fantasies can scream it for him.

After cleaning up his mess, and slipping into a clean pair of sweatpants, he made his way over to his fridge, and grabbed himself a cup of water. Chugging it down to soothe his dry throat, he glanced out the window- his eyes falling on you. You were wearing nothing but a large t-shirt, barely covering the curve of your ass, as you leaned over your kitchen counter. Sipping on a mug in one hand and scrolling on your phone in another, you were unknowingly giving him some quality material to work with. He made sure to engrain that image of you in his mind, taking note of every detail of your legs, including your tattoos, for next time.

The next morning, after getting a few hours of sleep and clearing his brain fog, he was mortified to say the least. He made himself out to be a complete asshole to his new (hot) neighbor, and immediately proceeded to ferociously pump himself dry to his imagination of said neighbor. Embarrassed was an understatement. He groaned as he got out of bed, heading into the bathroom to brush his teeth. As he refilled Bbama’s food and water dishes, he decided he should apologize to you for his rude behavior.

A little while later, he found himself standing outside your door, preparing his fist to knock. As he heard your footsteps nearing increasingly closer, he panicked and made a beeline to the end of the hallway, tucking himself around the corner. He caught his breath, noticing you exiting your unit and heading down the stairs. He was startled by his phone buzzing, pulling it out of his pocket to read a text from Minho. “Get your ass over here NOW. I know you haven’t eaten well in days and I’m preparing some bulgogi.” He honestly didn’t even notice just how hungry he was, being too distracted by this work, and- well, you, to care. He pulled himself up and made his way over to Minho’s.

He immediately flopped down on the couch in the study after greeting his friends. They knew him- and his current work dilemma, well enough to understand he didn’t have the energy for socializing until he got a good rest, so that’s exactly what he proceeded to do. Seungmin kicked open the door when their meal was ready, jolting Jisung awake. He drug his feet to the kitchen, joining Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, and Suengmin at the table and taking his seat. While quite literally stuffing his mouth, he listened to his friends converse and argue, adding in a few comments muffled by the food stored in his cheeks. His interest piqued when Changbin mentioned the girl that came by, turning to Minho and sending him a puzzled look. Since when does Minho invite girls over? His older friend noticed his expression, and responded by explaining that Felix had brought her over because she was on the hunt for cat grass. “I can’t deny though, she was just my type. I’ll have to ask Felix if he got her number.” Hyunjin piped up, wiggling his eyebrows.

Seungmin shot him a side-eye, pinching his arm and causing the other to yelp while chastising him for his fuckboy attitude. Jisung on the other hand, was intrigued- asking Hyunjin to describe her appearance, practically begging, honestly. Who could blame him? He was currently down bad- astronomically, even. After listening to Hyunjin’s description, agreeing that she did, in fact, seem very attractive, he rewarded his friend with a description of the goddess that had just moved in next door to him. Hyunjin was practically drooling as he described her perky tits and thick, tattoo-adorned thighs in great detail, prompting Seungmin to manually shut his jaw. “No more horny talk over the meal I slaved away at all day, to prepare for you ungrateful degenerates!” Minho shouted, bringing the conversation to an abrupt halt. After finishing the perfectly-cooked bulgogi and cleaning up after themselves, Jisung walked home, with Hyunjin in tow, begging him to let him crash at his place. Hyunjin lived only a block away from him, so he knew the only reason was so his friend could get a look at you. Cursing himself for his overly-enthusiastic recounting of your gorgeous body- only having seen the lower half so far, he pushed Hyunjin towards the opposite end of the fork dividing the paths between both of their residences.

When he returned home, he cracked open a can of beer, bringing it to his lips as he looked out his window, once again catching a glimpse of you. He quite literally spit out the liquid he was holding in his mouth, as his gaze was met with your ass pointed directly towards him, your back arched towards the floor, and arms outstretched while you contorted your body into what seemed to be a yoga pose. He silently praised whatever god might exist for you leaving your curtains open, and wearing the shortest compression shorts, as he stared- dumbfounded. He could literally see the outline of your pussy, leaving barely anything to his imagination. He wasn’t proud of it at all, but simply his memory would not suffice. He just had to snap a pic. He laid down on his bed as he pulled down the waistband of his joggers. Staring at his new favorite picture,

He began to slowly stroke himself as his imagination ran wild.

This time, you were doing yoga on your balcony when you caught him staring. You didn’t seem mad, quite the opposite, however, as he watched you sit down and part your legs, not breaking eye contact as you shoved your fingers in your mouth, slowly sucking on them. He watched you leisurely trail your other hand down your chest, squeezing your right breast, and releasing a pretty moan muffled by your fingers as you grazed over your nipple. He wondered how your moans would really sound. Would they be as needy as he’s picturing them right now? He hoped he would get the chance to find out. He imagined you releasing your spit-covered hand from your mouth, placing it on your inner thigh and leaving wet trails as it inched further and further to your puffy cunt, obstructed by your tight compression shorts. Still not breaking eye contact with him, you slid the garment to the side, as well as the tiny red thong you wore underneath in his fantasy. Giving him a mouth-watering view of your dripping heat, you plunged two fingers in, gasping at the feeling of fullness. You closed your eyes as you slowly pumped in and out, letting the quietest whimpers grace his ears. You lifted your head and offered him a sexy smirk, beckoning him to “come here” with your two glistening fingers. He brought his hand to his mouth, spitting into it and resuming its position wrapped around his needy cock. The added lubrication allowed him to increase his pace- still careful not to go too fast and risk missing out on the best parts of his scenario again.

He started to let out a few breathy whines as he imagined himself knocking on your door. You answered quickly, grabbing him by his shirt and pulling him in before closing the door, and leading him to your bedroom. He kicked off his shoes somewhere along the way, and you sat on the edge of your bed, instructing him to kneel on the floor between your thighs. He trailed sloppy, open mouthed kisses up your inner thighs as you tangled your hand in his curls. He broke away to remove your shorts and thong, giving him a clear view of your arousal. He caught a whiff of your sweet scent, flattening his tongue and slowly lapping up towards your clit. You responded by pulling on his hair and grinding yourself against his face, causing him to release a deep moan, the vibration had you shuttering against him. He slipped his ring finger in, the cold metal of his ring contrasting with the warmth of your walls caused your eyes to roll back. You let out a loud moan as his middle finger joined the other inside you, relishing in the juxtaposition of slight pain and pleasure, as he stretched you out. You used his fingers to fuck yourself towards him, allowing his undivided attention to focus on sucking and circling your clit. This had you absolutely reeling, crushing his head between your thighs and coming undone, rewarding him with the most filthy, sinful, screams as his face was coated with your sweet nectar. He looked up at you as he sensually plunged his fingers into his mouth, licking up your release, and groaning at the taste. Your eyes glistened as he stood up, looking down at you as you returned his gaze through your lashes. You lowered your focus to the tent in his sweatpants, taking in the perfect outline of his curvature as you parted your legs and begged- no, pleaded with him to fuck you. You promised you’d be good for him, make him feel good, let him use you. The incoherent mumbling faltered as he sandwiched himself between your legs, and pulled his waistband down- his hard, leaking dick slapping against your abdomen. He hoisted your legs over his shoulders, keeping a strong grip on them as he finally plunged himself deep into your soaked cunt. He allowed you to adjust yourself to the stretch, choking out a guttural groan and a “fuck.. noona!” (He has no idea how old you are, he just has a little bit of a fixation on the idea of you being slightly older than him. He’ll unpack that another time.) As he imagined feeling you clench around him- and he felt his cock twitch violently in his hand- he blew his load all over himself, feeling the warm liquid coating his fingers and abs.

Panting heavily, he still couldn’t look away from his phone in his grip, displaying the picture he took of you. He wanted -needed- to know what it was like to see you up close in the same position. After taking a few moments to collect himself, he walked past his window on the way to the fridge. Seeing you sitting in front of your computer, back tensed in what appeared to be frustration, he tried to maneuver his vision around you to get a peek at what you were working on. He figured you were an artist, as you had all kinds of equipment set up around your living room- canvases, easels, and a cart full of what appeared to be paintbrushes and paints. He wanted to see if you were working on a digital art piece, and nearly came in his pants when he finally caught a view of your computer, instantly recognizing the images on your screen. You weren’t working on art, you were playing Miroh- his current favorite MMORPG. He opened his phone camera and zoomed in to try to get a better view of the game. Adrenaline surged in his chest as he saw the familiar Octo-Cyclops he has beaten countless times. In fact, he helped many players through that dungeon in the Miroh discord server he was an active member in. This was his time to shine. He captured a picture of your screen, hoping to make out your username. Sure enough, it was legible.

He practically sprinted to his computer and logged into the game, quickly typing in your tag and requesting to join your party, which you immediately accepted. He got to work preparing his inventory and chuckled to himself when you sent him a cute emote to thank him in advance for helping. At the third stage of the boss fight, he was playing defensively- letting you take the brunt of most of the attacks while he conserved his mana for a healing spell. As he watched your health bar start to deplete, he was preparing to heal you when you unmuted to beg him for help in the sweetest voice. He smirked as he released the spell, effectively restoring your health and mana, allowing you to fire off your last two attacks, defeating the boss. He smiled to himself as he heard your sailor-mouthed victory chant. Browsing his inventory for his rarest extra weapon skin, he attached it to the friend request he sent you before logging off and heading to bed. He was overflowing with pride with himself for being able to send you a nice gesture, even if it was anonymously.

[reasonsforhope]

"Faced with declining membership, aging buildings and large, underutilized properties, many U.S. houses of worship have closed their doors in recent years. Presbyterian minister Eileen Linder has argued that 100,000 churches may close in the next few decades.

But some congregations are using their land in new ways that reflect their faith – a focus of my urban planning research. Some are repurposing their property to provide affordable housing, as the housing crisis intensifies across the country.

Take Arlington Presbyterian Church in Arlington, Virginia. In 2016, the church sold its historic stone building to the Arlington Partnership for Affordable Housing to construct a 6-story complex with 173 apartments, known as “Gilliam Place.” The building still houses space for the congregation, as well as La Cocina, a bilingual culinary job training facility and cafe. In Austin, Texas, St. Austin Catholic Parish is partnering with a developer to build a 29-story tower providing 200 beds of affordable student housing, in addition to new spaces for ministry.

Other houses of worship are pursuing similar projects today.

Same mission, new projects

Faith-based organizations have been building housing for many years, but generally by purchasing additional property. In recent years, however, more houses of worship are building affordable housing on the same property as the sanctuary.

This can be done in a variety of ways. Some congregations adapt the existing sanctuary and other faith-owned buildings, while others demolish existing buildings to construct a new development, which may or may not have space for the congregation. Another option is to build on excess property, like a parking lot.

Depending on how a development deal is structured, a faith-based organization may receive proceeds from the sale of its land, or from leasing their property to a developer – funds which they can then spend on ministry or on a new space for worship. If a new development includes space for the congregation, sometimes they rent out those spaces when the space is not being used for worship, which can also financially benefit the congregation.

Faith-based organizations often see these projects as a way to do “God’s work.” In some instances, they include community services beyond the housing itself.

Near Los Angeles, the Episcopal Church of the Blessed Sacrament in Placentia partnered with a nonprofit affordable housing developer – National Community Renaissance, also called National CORE – to develop 65 units for older people. The complex also includes a 1,500 square foot (140 square meter) community center. The city’s diocese has a goal of building affordable housing on 25% of its 133 properties.

For some congregations, these are mission-driven projects rooted in social justice.

In Washington, D.C., Emory United Methodist Church redeveloped its property and constructed The Beacon Center – which has 99 affordable housing units, community spaces, and a commercial kitchen that provides job training for recently incarcerated people – while preserving the sanctuary. In Seattle, the Nehemiah Initiative is working with Black churches in the Central District, a historically African American neighborhood, to redevelop its properties into affordable housing to keep residents from being displaced."

Potential to evolve

As states and cities struggle to provide affordable housing, studies have been conducted from Nashville to New York City on the amount of land faith organizations own, and their potential as housing partners.

In the D.C. metro area, for example, the Urban Institute found almost 800 vacant parcels owned by religious organizations. In California, a report from the Terner Center at University of California, Berkeley found approximately 170,000 “potentially developable” acres of land owned by religious organizations and nonprofit colleges and universities...

When thinking about the redevelopment process, Arlington Presbyterian member Jon Etherton told me, “the call from God to create, do something about affordable housing was bigger than the building itself.”"

-via The Conversation, July 19, 2024

[saintsenara]

wait how bougie was Tom Riddle Sr.? How nice would his Manor have been? Was he like an actually Lord with a title and stuff?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

in half-blood prince, dumbledore refers to tom riddle sr. as "the squire's son" - which allows us to state with certainty that he was a minor aristocrat.

however, the word minor is important here.

there are - historically - two levels of aristocracy in britain. the first are the peers of the realm - which refers to families which hold one or more of the titles of duke, marquess, earl, or viscount. these are the elite of the elite - these gradations of nobility were created in the middle ages as a way of distinguishing those who held the titles from other noblemen, usually because of a close relationship [often one of blood or marriage or both] to the king.

the titles are hereditary by male primogeniture, and the holders - while this is no longer the case - used to have political power [such as the right to sit in the house of lords], simply by virtue of their birth.

[this is why they're called "peers" - it refers to them historically being close in status to royalty, and therefore expected to serve as royal advisors.]

there is another class of peer - a baronet - whose title is similarly hereditary, but whose position doesn't come historically with the right to sit in the lords or advise the king by virtue of birth. [baronets may - of course - have been members of parliament, or royal advisors selected at the king's discretion, but this would be separate from their title. a duke, in contrast, could historically expect to request a meeting with the king simply because he was a duke.]

while some families have historically been ennobled at the king's discretion, access to any of these titles is pretty much restricted to the small group of families who've held them for centuries.

but below the peers of the realm, there is a second, more minor class of aristocracy, the landed gentry - of which a village squire is a textbook example.

historically, what is meant by "landed" is an ability to live off of the rental income of one's country holdings, which would be leased to tenant farmers. that is, they are landlords in the original sense of the term - lords of the land. this is what tom sr. tells us his family does in half-blood prince:

“It’s not ours,” said a young man’s voice. “Everything on the other side of the valley belongs to us, but that cottage belongs to an old tramp called Gaunt, and his children. The son’s quite mad, you should hear some of the stories they tell in the village - ”

what is also meant by "landed" is that the family in question is of the upper-classes, but that they are still "commoners" - which in this context doesn't imply a value judgement, but which is a socio-legal term which simply indicates that they don't hold an aristocratic title such as duke, earl etc.

[and gentry families certainly aren't common in terms of financial standing... the most famous member of this class in literature? fitzwilliam darcy, whose ten thousand a year is something like thirteen million quid in today's money...]

gentry families might be very old - they might have received their lands from the king in the middle ages as a reward for knightly service, and it's interesting to imagine generations of gaunts and riddles brought up alongside each other in little hangleton - or they might be comparatively newer - tom sr.'s great-grandfather [feasibly born c.1810] could have been a self-made victorian industrialist who bought the lands from the original holder and established himself as gentry.

by 1900, it was becoming much harder for the gentry to live on rental income alone, and many would also have had jobs. these would have been elite, and very frequently were in politics, the civil service, the military, or the law. tom sr's father - whom the films call thomas, so let's go with that - might, for example, have served as a high-ranking officer in the army [including during the first world war], be the local magistrate, or be the local member of parliament.

in terms of titles, thomas riddle would almost undoubtedly be sir thomas - and this is how it would be correct to address him. but this title would be a courtesy, and it wouldn't be hereditary unless the riddles were also baronets [which it's entirely plausible that they were].

which is to say, tom sr. would not have a title while his father was alive - although he would have the right to be referred to formally in writing as mr thomas riddle esq. [esquire]. the correct form of verbal address for anyone other than friends and family would be to call him mr riddle, although the riddles' servants would probably refer to him as mister tom.

tom jr. would not have a title while his father or grandfather was alive. if the riddles were baronets, he would technically inherit the title after he kills the rest of the male line... but given that tom sr. never acknowledged him and his existence was presumably unknown to the riddles' lawyers this wouldn't be something which happened in reality. the estate's executors clearly took control of the riddles' property, the land was portioned off and sold, and the house became a standalone property for sale.

the riddle house - which is a name used informally for it in little hangleton, it would have a different "proper" name - is described in canon in ways which show that it's a typical manor house, which means it would look something like this:

these houses are obviously very impressive, but they're tiny in size in comparison to the magnificent stately homes - places like blenheim palace, chatsworth, burghley house, holkham hall - lived in by the titled aristocracy. the riddles would entertain - for example - by giving house parties, dinner parties, hunting parties, etc., but they wouldn't have a ballroom or a dining hall capable of seating hundreds.

[they would probably also own a property - probably a flat or small house - in london.]

they would have servants, but not colossal numbers - they would undoubtedly have a butler but not footmen, and the upstairs maids would report to the butler since they probably wouldn't have a housekeeper. they canonically have a cook, who probably had one or two kitchen maids assisting, and they canonically have a gardener - frank bryce - who probably doesn't have any assistants. they may, depending on the size of the estate, have a gamekeeper. sir thomas undoubtedly had a secretary and a chauffeur, and his wife might have a lady's maid. tom sr. would have had a nanny and then been educated until at least the age of eight by a governess, but would then have attended a prep school [either day or boarding] until the age of thirteen, and then gone to a boarding school, from which he likely went on [on the basis of social class rather than talent] to oxford or cambridge.

the family would have enormous social influence locally. most people - and also businesses - in little hangleton would be their tenants, and they would also probably have a say over the appointment of the local clergyman [an important figure in the community in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries], since the parish church is likely to have been something called a "living" - the thing which turns up again and again in jane austen - which means that the church and its parsonage technically belongs to the landowner, but is granted to the vicar as a freehold while he's in post.

gossip about the riddles' doings would also be the main source of local interest - the servants were dining out for months on tom sr.'s elopement and return.

so they're something resembling celebrities - but they're local celebrities. nobody in london - and even nobody in cities we can imagine are nearer to little hangleton, such as liverpool - would particularly know or care who they were. tom sr. might have made it into the london gossip columns if he was part of a particularly scandalous "set" [a group of friends] who socialised in the capital, but these mentions would have been fleeting - and the press would have been much more concerned by the doings of members of his set who were genuinely titled or who were legitimately famous.

[this is the reason why mrs cole doesn't recognise the name. if merope had said her son was to be named cecil beaton after his father, she may well have been prompted to hunt him down...]

so tom sr. is elite - but he's elite in a way which is extremely culturally-specific, and which is [just like the portrayal of aristocracy in the wizarding world - the blacks, for example, are far less aristocratic than the riddles in terms of canonical vibe] often exaggerated into the sort of pseudo-royal grand aristocracy which the british period-drama-industrial-complex makes such a big deal of.

and tom jr.'s character is affected by this in a series of extremely interesting ways.

by which i mean that, in terms of blood, he's probably the most aristocratic character in the series - the absence of grand aristocracy in the wizarding world would mean that [were he raised by his father] he would come from a social background which was equivalent [even as it was divided from them by virtue of being muggle] to any of his fellow slytherins, and would help him easily blend into their society because the manners, genre of socio-cultural reference points [he would recognise, for example, that quidditch heavily resembles both rugby and polo], accent and way of speaking etc. that he would possess would be broadly indistinguishable from those of his pureblood peers.

[this is why justin finch-fletchley and draco malfoy speak in essentially the same way.]

but he would then be given the enormous boost in cachet - one which would genuinely elevate him above the rest of his cohort - of his maternal line.

and we see in canon that this does bestow some privilege on him among his peers while he's in school:

Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed again. Harry noticed that he was by no means the eldest of the group of boys, but that they all seemed to look to him as their leader. “I don’t know that politics would suit me, sir,” he said when the laughter had died away. “I don’t have the right kind of background, for one thing.” A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other. Harry was sure they were enjoying a private joke, undoubtedly about what they knew, or suspected, regarding their gang leader’s famous ancestor.

where he's let down socially is that people like slughorn - to whom he can't reveal his slytherin ancestry and hope to maintain cover for his wrongdoing - don't think he's come from anywhere particularly special. this is because he has a muggle father - absolutely - but it's even more that he has a muggle father who, since he left him to be raised in an orphanage, was presumably working-class.

what the young voldemort lacks is any socio-cultural familiarity with the muggle class performance which the class performance of the wizarding world parallels. abraxas malfoy boasting about how important his father is would be something a tom jr. raised by the riddles could match - "oh yes, my father gives to all sorts of causes too. in fact, he was invited to buckingham palace because of it." - establishing himself as an equal in terms of class and social influence even if he isn't an equal in blood.

what actually happens in canon is that the orphaned tom - with his uncouth manners and his working-class accent - has no hope of gaining any sort of social equality with his posh peers.

so he becomes determined to outrank - and humiliate and control - them.

[geeneelee]

Woohoo!!!!!

[ID: New York Times article

Biden Administration to Bar Drilling on Millions of Acres in Alaska

The administration will cancel drilling leases in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge and set aside more than half of the National Petroleum Reserve.

Image of three caribou on a snowy landscape. End ID.]

In its most aggressive move yet to protect millions of acres of pristine Alaskan wilderness from oil and gas exploration, the Biden administration announced it would prohibit drilling in 13 million acres of the National Petroleum Reserve and cancel all the existing leases in the Arctic National Wildlife Refuge.

The new regulations would ensure “maximum protections” for nearly half of the petroleum reserve, but it would not stop the enormous Willow oil drilling project in the same vicinity that President Biden approved this year.

Climate activists, particularly young environmentalists, were angered by Mr. Biden’s decision to allow the Willow project, calling it a “carbon bomb.” Since then, the administration has taken pains to emphasize its efforts to reduce the carbon emissions that result from burning oil and gas and that are driving climate change.

“We have a responsibility to protect this treasured region for all ages,” Mr. Biden said in a statement. “Canceling all remaining oil and gas leases issued under the previous administration in the Arctic Refuge and protecting more than 13 million acres in the western Arctic will help preserve our Arctic lands and wildlife, while honoring the culture, history, and enduring wisdom of Alaska Natives who have lived on these lands since time immemorial.”

[joemothersfavoritechild]

“across the street”

-1.5k words

-mike schmidt x fem!reader

-no trauma au

an: i’ve never written anything like this, so pls let me live lmao ik that it’s corny. this is more self indulgent than anything, but the mike schmidt hype has hit me hard 😭

summary: you move into a new place and meet your neighbors

————————————————————————————

A sudden knocking pulled you out of your sleep, causing you to sit up on the couch. You looked at your surroundings for a moment, trying to remember where you were.

You had just moved into the house that you were leasing the night before, and still had so much to unpack. It was on the smaller side, a two bedroom one bathroom, but it was a steal for the price. Boxes were strewn around the room, and your eyes landed on one particularly large one. Your bed frame, which was still taped up. Leading you to fall asleep on the couch last night.

Another knock, smaller than the first, was heard. You hopped off the couch, suddenly remembering the cause of your early morning. You ran a hand through your hair, double-checking your outfit. Of course, someone had to knock as you were in pajamas; an old oversized t-shirt, and some black shorts.

“I’m coming, sorry!” You yelled, speed walking up to the front door.

Before you could look around you, you tripped on a box next to the couch. You fell, and landed directly on your ass, shouting out a loud curse.

“Fuck.” You muttered, rubbing your stubbed toe. At least your socks took the brunt of the pain.

“Are you okay?” A muffled voice asked.

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Sorry, this is embarrassing.” You rambled, mostly to yourself.

You took in a deep breath, what a morning. You stood from the ground, now directly in front of the large wooden door. You tried your best to compose yourself before you were unlocking and swinging it open.

Standing in front of you was a little girl. She had bangs, a huge smile, and a big tupperware box in her small hands. Next to her was a young man, around your age. He was definitely attractive, in jeans and a grey sweatshirt. You looked at him for a little longer than socially acceptable before speaking.

“Hi.” You said with a small smile.

“Hi!” The little girl replied, her smile mimicking yours.

“Uh, this is my sister, Abby.” The cute guy said, gesturing towards his sister. You followed his movement with your eyes, landing on her again. You smiled at her before he continued.

“I’m Mike-“ He said before he was interrupted.

“We live across the street,” Abby said loudly. He glanced at her, nodding at her comment. You held back a laugh at his annoyed expression. They were siblings, alright.

“We made some cookies, thought we’d introduce ourselves.” He finished.

You made eye contact with him, finally, too overwhelmed to do it before. God, was it a mistake. How could you control yourself when he was so fine? He had brown hair, brown eyes, and a soft expression on his face. You were fucked.

You introduced yourself, Abby complimenting your name.

“Thank you so much for the cookies, I bet you did all the work.” You said, winking at Abby. She quickly nodded, and her brother bumped into her playfully with his hip. She giggled, handing the box over to you.

“Do you guys want to come in and try these with me? My house is a mess, but it’s whatever.” You asked, hoping that he would agree.

Abby looked over to Mike for his approval, she muttered a tiny “please”. He seemed to be contemplating before you continued.

“I have milk.”

“Okay.” He said. You opened the door further at his answer, leading them into your house. Mike closed the door behind you all.

You took them to your kitchen, which was thankfully the cleanest place in your house. You set the box on the island, opening up your fridge, and grabbing the half gallon of milk you had bought. You grabbed your only glasses and filled them up. You set one in front of each of them.

“You guys caught me on a good day, with the milk.” You joked, noticing Mike’s small chuckle.

Cookies were dispersed, and you groaned as you bit into it. You nodded in enjoyment, taking a small sip of milk.

“These are good.” You said to yourself.

Abby nodded enthusiastically, “I already had some before we came over.” She said.

You laughed at her comment and looked over to Mike, who was looking at Abby with the same exasperated look from earlier.

“You had to taste test them, I understand.” You said to her.

Abby looked at her brother, and then back towards you. He looked confused for a second but then spoke.

“Oh- um, what brought you to the neighborhood?” He asked, popping the rest of his cookie in his mouth. You wiped the crumbs off your hands before answering.

“I work at the hospital over here, so I decided to get a place to myself that was closer.” You said simply.

“Oh, that’s awesome. So you live by yourself?”

“Yep, just me.” You answered, wondering about him. “What about the two of you?”

“Just us.” He said simply, you nodded at his answer.

“Abby, how old are you?” You asked, trying to include her in the conversation more.

“I’m about to turn ten.” She replied.

“What about you?” Mike asked, bringing your attention back to him.

“I’m twenty-one.” You answered. His eyes lit up for a second.

“Twenty-two,” He said, pointing to himself. You smiled at his goofy gesture.

You were so screwed, you had a thing for dorks. Fuck it, you thought. Might as well try.

“Why don’t we exchange numbers? That way if you needed a favor, or a babysitter,” You said, looking at Abby’s smiling face. “And we could go out for lunch or something.”

He raised his eyebrows for a second but quickly recovered.

“Yeah, yeah,” He squeaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “That would be great.”

He quickly reached into the pocket of his hoodie and unlocked his phone. He swiped for a second before handing it to you, already on the contacts app. You smiled, putting in your number and name with a “<3” next to it. You returned it to him, noticing his eyes on you.

“Um, Abs. Can you give us a second?” He said, shooing her out of the kitchen.

“You can turn the tv on if you want, Abby. The remote’s on the couch.” You added, she nodded and sent her brother a thumbs up. You smiled at the silly action.

He seemed to need a second to compose himself, so you used his silence to grab the glasses and rinse them out in the sink. You heard the tv click on in the background. As you were placing the cups in the dishwasher, Mike cleared his throat. You turned back to him.

“Were you serious about the babysitting thing? If not, that’s fine. We can just get lunch or something-“ He rambled, you noticed the way he wasn’t rejecting you. You cut his sentence short.

“I was serious, about both.” You clarified, and he nodded at your response. He turned around for a second, looking at his sister. He looked at you again and walked closer to you. He lowered his voice before speaking again.

“This is embarrassing, okay? I really need someone to watch her, but I don’t know how much I could pay you. I haven’t been able to find someone that we can afford.”

“Mike, you don’t have to pay me. She’s a good kid. And I live across the street, it’s easy. Just text me when you need, and I can change my schedule.” You said, feeling helpful.

“You would literally be saving my life.” He expressed, rubbing his eyes with his hands.

“Of course,” You said, looking past him and into your cluttered house. “Could you maybe do me a favor instead of paying me?”

He looked at you through his hands.

“Would you help me build my bed frame? I had movers bring in the big stuff, and I could’ve paid them to build it, but they were already so expensive and-“

“Yeah.” He breathed out.

“Yeah?” You asked, not sure what to say.

He nodded, looking at you like he was trying to see through you. Then he looked down at his phone and smiled. When he looked up again he had a light pink on his cheeks.

“What?” You asked.

“Nothing. Uh, we’ve gotta go. I need to get Abby to school, but it was great meeting you. I’ll text you. About babysitting and lunch, okay?”

“Okay.”

He nodded again, a small smile on his face. He rounded Abby up and you walked them out. You stood against the doorframe, while the two of them stood in front of you.

“I’ll text.” He repeated.

“I’ll wait.”

The two of you smiled at each other for a second, neither wanting to walk away. You liked this weird banter the two of you had.

“Do you think he’s cute? ” Abby asked, voice monotone.

Your eyes widened, and you started laughing. This was going to be fun, you thought.

————————————————————————————

**I do not give anyone permission to use my work as your own, respectfully

this belongs to @joemothersfavoritechild **

[beneathsilverstars]

Siffrin+Loop system backstory/timeline for my modern AUs!

Age 4 - ▮ is in a major car crash with their family. Their eye is injured, and their parents and sibling die. They split; ▮ has most of the memories, and is inconsolable when they front. ▯ only vaguely remembers events from before the crash without much emotional attachment, and explains that ▮ died along with their family, and being a ghost hurts. They're adopted by their grandmother.

▮ fronts and has a meltdown whenever they hear their name, hear anything about their family, or are forced to drive in a car. Their grandmother gets their legal name changed (to something she knows was on their parents' potential-baby-names list) and moves to a city with great public transit. After going a while without encountering their triggers, ▮ fades out. ▯ mostly fronts at home and a different alter mostly fronts at school.

Age 11 - Their grandmother dies and they enter foster care. ▯ misses their grandma and has trouble adjusting, so they go dormant. The composition of the system changes to adapt to changing circumstances as they're moved between foster homes. Mal stays the most consistent through this time period; it doesn't front often, but its memory is the least spotty, so it tries to keep the rest of the system somewhat organized and consistent and careful. It's kinda annoyed by everyone else coming in and out and making a mess, but better them than it.

Age 16 - They get a shitty part time summer job, and Siffrin pops up to front for it. He's very disconnected from the rest of the system; he doesn't remember anything he wasn't fronting for, and he can't access the same headspace everyone else is in. He's good at quietly adapting to whatever situation he finds himself in, at least. Mal is the only one who can pop over to Siffrin's headspace and talk to him, and it pulls Siffrin away from the front for someone else to take over when it's time to go home. The job ends and he sleeps for a while, and then they get another job and he fronts for it again.

Age 18 - They leave the foster care system and move into an apartment with some college students. Without school or a foster home to return to, Siffrin stays at the front unless something triggers someone else out, which happens less often as Siffrin gets better at holding onto the front and avoiding triggers. They spend the next couple years moving between shitty apartments and shitty jobs.

Age 22 - Siffrin becomes almost-sorta-friends with two roommates, and they stick together for the next lease term. He lands a job with slightly better pay than normal and a decent shift lead, but a particularly cruel manager. One of the roommates starts dating someone who's kind of an asshole.

age 23 - The other roommate unexpectedly has to move out of town, leaving the remaining two with higher bills. After a couple months with no luck finding someone new to sublease or at least move in at the next lease term, the roommate's partner moves in. The roommate often gets into fights with their partner, who is turning increasingly abusive, and Siffrin can't do anything to help. Some headmates from the childhood subsystem start fronting more often again, which is stressful to Siffrin since they have no idea what happens during that time, on top of their own increased dissociation. Mal isn't being very talkative, either, and what it does say is pretty harsh.

age 24 - The decent shift lead at work quits and gets replaced by someone worse, but Siffrin can't afford to change jobs and make any less money, since the abusive partner isn't contributing to bills. After a particularly bad incident between the roommates and then a disastrous attempt to convince the nice one to leave, Siffrin splits into Loop and a new version of Siffrin.

Loop keeps the memories of ages 22-24 (and nearly nothing before that), and copes with them by thinking of all people outside of their system as empty things acting out their roles, rather than real people with feelings and the ability to change. Siffrin keeps the memories from before meeting the nice roommate (though they're a bit foggy by now), and his personality resets a bit accordingly to what he was like three years ago. Loop is fairly aware most of the time when Siffrin is fronting and can chat with him, but Siffrin still totally misses anything that happens when he's not at the front. Loop continues fronting at work, and at home when either roommate is home, and just pulls Siffrin to the front when it's safe. The childhood subsystem stops fronting entirely now that someone else is here to deal with everything.

Since Siffrin is now free from the work/home stress, they're able to find and work a second job, and then another which allows Loop to quit the first. Siffrin mostly fronts for these new jobs, but Loop steps in when Siffrin gets too anxious. When the lease at the current place is up, the two jobs together are enough for them to get a shitty studio apartment with no roommates to worry about.

Age 28 - Siffrin and Loop have found a decent balance. Loop's not fond of Mal, but Siffrin chats with it sometimes. Both Siffrin and Loop still refuse to go anywhere in a car; Loop knows it's some sort of major trigger but doesn't know why, while Siffrin just happens to always choose a different option no matter how inconvenient. They've switched jobs a couple times, and none of them are great, but it could be worse. They've stayed at the same studio apartment this whole time, which also isn't great, but it could be worse.

Mal can still choose to hang out in either the Sif+Loop headspace or the childhood subsystem's headspace. At some point, when they're feeling safer, headmates from the childhood subsystem (especially ▯) will start fronting a tiny bit now and then when triggered by reminders of important memories. Loop is just as cut off from them as Siffrin is, and the moments are so tiny that it's hard to differentiate them from just zoning out, but eventually they'll figure out that there must be at least one more headmate they don't know about.

Find more info on the "current" state of the system in my original headcanon post!

[whencyclopedia]

George Washington

George Washington (1732-1799) was an American military officer and statesman who led the Continental Army to victory during the American Revolutionary War (1775-1783) and served as the first President of the United States (1789-1797). Often regarded as the ‘Father of His Country’, Washington remains one of the most revered and iconic figures in U.S. history.

Early Life

George Washington was born at 10 am on 22 February 1732 at Pope’s Creek plantation in Westmoreland County, Virginia. He was the first of six children born to Augustine Washington, a wealthy Virginian landowner, and his second wife Mary Ball Washington; George also had four older half-siblings from his father’s first marriage. Little is known about George’s childhood. His early years were mostly spent on the family property of Ferry Farm on the Rappahannock River, and he likely attended school in Fredericksburg, Virginia, where he excelled in the subjects of geometry, trigonometry, and mapmaking. When his father suddenly died in 1743, 11-year-old George inherited Ferry Farm as well as ten enslaved people. Too young to fend for himself, he went to live with his eldest half-brother, Lawrence Washington (b.1718), at Mount Vernon. George idolized Lawrence, who he came to regard as both a father figure and a best friend.

George’s aptitude for mathematics led him to consider a career as a land surveyor, a respectable path to wealth and social advancement. In 1748, at the age of 16, he embarked on his first expedition into the Shenandoah Valley to survey the property of his influential neighbor, Thomas Fairfax. The next year, he earned his surveyor’s license and, through Fairfax’s patronage, was appointed surveyor for Culpeper County. Over the next three years, Washington completed 200 surveying expeditions and measured a total of 60,000 acres along Virginia’s western frontier. But just as George's career was taking off, Lawrence came down with tuberculosis. In November 1751, he went to the Caribbean island of Barbados in the hopes that the tropical air would improve his condition. George accompanied him, and contracted a painful case of smallpox during his brief stay on the island. George soon recovered but Lawrence was not so lucky, as he died shortly after returning to Virginia in 1752. After his brother's death, George started leasing Mount Vernon from Lawrence’s widow and became the legal owner of the property after her own death in 1761.

In 1753, George Washington reached the age of maturity, and was eager to find a way to make a name for himself. He would soon have an opportunity. The French had begun to construct forts on the forks of the Ohio River, fertile territory that had been claimed by Virginia. In November, Washington was sent as an envoy to demand that the French vacate the Ohio Country at once. On his journey into the west, he was joined by Christopher Gist, an experienced frontiersman and guide, and Tanacharison, a Mingo chieftain called the ‘Half-King’ by Virginians. It was Tanacharison who gave Washington the Seneca name of ‘Conotocaurius’ or ‘Devourer of Villages’, in reference to Washington’s great-grandfather, who had helped expel Native Americans from their lands in Virginia. The small party reached the French Fort LeBoeuf during a snowstorm; although they were received cordially by the fort’s commander, Washington’s demands were firmly rebuffed. Washington then embarked on his trek back to Virginia which included several perilous episodes. While crossing the icy Alleghany River in a raft, Washington fell overboard, and likely would have drowned had Gist not pulled him from the water.

George Washington as a Land Surveyor

Henry Hintermeister (Public Domain)

Continue reading...

[shewhoworshipscarlin]

Anderson Bonner

Prominent Texas landowner and businessman Anderson Bonner was born enslaved in Alabama around 1839. Not much is known about his younger years. Family history states that Bonner was given as a wedding present to the daughter of his former master, who moved him from Alabama to Arkansas. Anderson may have been “refugeed” in Texas during the Civil War when nearly 100,000 enslaved people from neighboring states were forcibly brought there by slaveholders to avoid the Union Army freeing them as it gradually occupied more of the Confederacy. If Bonner was in Texas by 1865, he—like other Lone Star state enslaved people—gained his freedom when Union General Gordon Granger and Union Troops under his command arrived in Galveston on June 19, 1865 and pronounced the end of slavery. That announcement became the basis for the Juneteenth holiday.

Sometime in 1865 Bonner married a woman known only as Eliza. Over time the couple had ten children, Anderson Jr, Newton, William, Ed, John, Andy, Mary, Martha, Charlie and Nash. Bonner arrived in Dallas, Texas, around 1870 with his brother Louis, and sister Caroline and they worked on a farm in the White Rock Creek area. Bonner by this time had acquired modest wealth. The 1870 Census lists his financial worth at $275 or approximately $5,456 in 2020 dollars. On August 10, 1874 Bonner purchased sixty acres of land, signing the deed with an “X”, as he never learned to read or write. He soon began leasing his land and the houses on it to cotton growing sharecroppers. With the money he earned, he bought more land. Bonner eventually amassed over two thousand acres of land in what is now North Dallas and the Dallas suburb of Richardson. The Medical City Dallas Hospital now sits on what was once the Bonner farm and the North Central Expressway divides Bonner’s original property.

Census records in 1900 reveal that six of the ten Bonner children still lived on the Bonner farm. Cotton, corn, and fruits were grown on the family farm worked mostly by Bonner, his children, and sharecroppers. Bonner’s sister, Caroline married into the Fields family, and one of her children married into the Giddings family, both prominent African American families of Dallas in the late 19th Century. In 1903, Eliza was killed in a oil lamp explosion in the family home. Sixty-four-year-old Bonner then married a woman named Lucinda, but the couple had no children.

Anderson Bonner passed away at the age of 82 in 1920. He was buried in White Rock Colored Union Cemetery (now White Rock Garden of Memories Cemetery), in Addison county. His descendants established the Anderson Bonner Endowment Scholarship that helps support Richardson Public School students who attend Prairie View A&M University. The first public school for black children in the North Dallas, the Vickery and Hillcrest school was renamed the Anderson Bonner School before its closing in 1955. The city of Dallas officially named the park west of Medical City Hospital, Anderson Bonner Park in 1976. The park consists of 44.1 acres of Bonner’s original land.

[meaningofaeons]

. . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ ࿐ྂ majesty

hsr x f!reader // royalty manhwa au ⊹ outline — bereft of all dignity and cast out from your homeland after being accused for a crime you did not commit, you, the sole daughter of one of four great duchies and a known villainess throughout the land, find yourself banished and alone. however, just before you can be dropped off in a border town to start your new life, the terrifying duke of the north comes like a reaper in the night to take the remains of your life. now, however, you find yourself waking up in your room ten years prior to your supposed demise. with this new lease on life, can you correct your wrongs and find a way to the end of the line, avoiding your destined death ending along the way? ⊹ characters — sampo koski, jing yuan, gepard landau, dan heng, kafka, stelle, blade, ▉▉▉▉▉▉ ⊹ notes — this will be a series featuring the hsr characters in a royal-setting, reverse-harem style au, with a choose-your-own-ending feature at the end. ⊹ taglist — @xphantasmagoriax @thatweirdcheshirecat @sparkleasteroid @fluffy-koalala @chopid @just-a-fuegoleon-fangirl @bigbrain411 @koraneki @cupsof-pinkdrinks @anima-m @hoo-hoo @crazydreamcat @nayukiyukihira @lucensei @kurosin @liesatemyocean @the-dumber-scaramouche || reply to this post to be added to the taglist for this series!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ masterlist

⊹ prologue. ⊹ chapter I. trepidation ⊹ chapter II. (coming soon)

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀ important links

⊹ character intros ⊹ locations ⊹ families/factions ⊹ story notes ⊹

⊹ tag guidelines —

#majesty - indicates all posts related to this series #majesty: hsr - hsr-specific majesty posts #majesty: genshin - genshin-specific majesty posts #m.asks - asks related to majesty #m.updates - updates related to majesty

⊹ note (6/11/23) —

hi everyone! another quick update!

character intros have been updated to add some more minor characters!

locations, families/factions, and story notes tabs have been added! the story notes tab lists the age ranges for characters and other basic stuff about the world and storyline.

thanks for the support! hoping to have chapter I done soon!

（=´∇｀=）

[goodwhump-temp]

William Riker Whump | Star Trek: The Next Generation

His rizz is too good for his own good

SEASON 1 1x01 Encounter at Farpoint pt2 - Briefly unconscious, evaporated 1x02 The Naked Now - Knees buckle, becoming infected with the silly virus 1x04 The Last Outpost - Stunned, electrocuted unconscious, punched, threatened 1x06 Lonely AMONGUS - Betrayed, stunned/blinded 1x08 The Battle - Worried for Picard 1x09 Hide and Q - Forced to play Qs game, tempted, makes Picard worry 1x14 11001001 - Seduced/distracted, heartbroken 1x18 Coming of Age - Interrogated 1x20 The Arsenal of Freedom - Trapped in stasis, weak 1x21 Symbiosis - Electrocuted hostage, collapses 1x22 The Skin of Evil - Dragged, drowning 1x24 Conspiracy - Restrained, pain, pushed, kicked to the ground, punched multiple times, falls on glass table, unconscious, held, mind controlled, nerve pinched

SEASON 2 2x02 Where Silence Has Lease - Being hunted, trapped, aggravated 2x08 A Matter of Honor - Bullied by Klingon crewmates, bitch slapped/trips 2x12 The Royale - Trapped 2x13 Time Squared - Talks about depressing childhood 2x14 The Icarus Factor - Sees dad for the first time in 15 years, depressed, avoiding, fighting his dad, knocked down multiple times 2x18 Up the Long Ladder - Injected, memory loss, missing cells, cloned 2x21 Peak Performance - Badass, battle simulation turned into a real attack 2x22 Shades of Gray - Calf punctured, nervous system being attacked, passes out, brain stabbed/stimulated, induced sadness and pain (all in one whump episode)

SEASON 3 3x01 Evolution - Inhales toxic nitrogen oxide 3x03 The Survivors - Caught in a trap, hanging upside-down 3x09 The Vengeance Factor - Rizzler, heartbroken/sad 3x14 A Matter of Perspective - Thought dead, acting strange, arrested, guilty until proved innocent, punched multiple times 3x16 The Offspring - Sexually harassed/flustered 3x17 Sins of the Father - Confrontation, annoyed 3x18 Allegiance - Worried, confrontation, gaslighted 3x20 Tin Man - Annoyed 3x21 Hollow Pursuits - Confronts Mad Murdock (🤓), choked, feels insulted 3x23 Sarek - Punched, intense argument 3x24 Menage a Troi - Captured, unconscious, imprisoned, held at gunpoint 3x26 The Best of Both Worlds pt.1 - Annoyed (same), undermined/insulted, knocked down, unconscious

SEASON 4 4x01 The Best of Both Worlds Pt.2 - Sad the whole episode 4x03 Brothers - Trapped 4x08 Future Imperfect - Inhaling toxic fumes, coughing/choking, passes out, wakes from coma, aggravated, captured, imprisoned 4x10 The Loss - Worried 4x14 Clues - Stunned unconscious twice 4x15 First Contact - Hospitalized, severely injured, unconscious, punched multiple times/beaten unconscious, internal bleeding, injected dangerous drugs, weak, forced to kill, passes out, dying 4x17 Night Terrors - Aggravated, paranoid, tired/insomnia, scary hallucination 4x23 The Host - Shuttle shot at, awake during symbiote implantation surgery, erratic vital signs/blood pressure, slowly passing out, dizzy/stumbles/caught, weak, lightheaded, overwhelming pain, symbiote being rejected, sickness/pain worsening, collapses

SEASON 5 5x04 Silicon Avatar - Caught in storm, watches friend die, glum 5x06 The Game - Mind controlled 5x10 New Ground - Smoke inhalation, coughing 5x12 Violations - Paralyzed, traumatic flashback, passes out, noticed missing, comatose 5x14 Conundrum - Amnesia/identity erased, rizzler at maximum potential 5x15 Power Play - Shuttle crash landed, struck by lightning, unconscious, pain, broken arm, punched, shot/stunned 5x16 Ethics - Emotional 5x17 The Outcast - RIZZ ALL DAY ALL NIGHT BROTHER, emotional, brutally heartbroken 5x18 Cause and Effect - Falls to the ground, dies multiple times 5x20 Cost of Living - Life support failing, difficulty breathing, sweating profusely, passes out 5x21 The Perfect Mate - Rizz noticed, victim of rizz 5x24 The Next Phase - Thinks friends are dead 5x25 The Inner Light - Worried

SEASON 6 6x01 Time's Arrow Pt.2 - Worried 6x03 Man of the people - Forced on, scratched/pain, bleeding, worried 6x05 Schisms - Insomnia, agitated, dazed, felt trapped, abducted, restrained 6x07 Rascals - Held at fazerpoint, held hostage, threatened 6x09 The Quality of Life - Beard insulted 6x10 Chain of Command, Pt.1 - Stressed 6x11 Chain of Command, Pt.2 - Angry, confronts commanding officer twice 6x15 Tapestry - Forehead laceration 6x18 Starship Mine - Hostage, punched to the ground, almost passes out, mouth and nose bleeding, knocked out from loud noise 6x19 Lessons - Weak 6x21 Frame of Mind - Forehead sliced, (some of these are repeated multiple times), shaking, anxious, reoccuring head pain, paranoid, hallucinating, memory loss, stitutionalized, injection, increasingly agitated, intense stress/fatigue, scared, captured, parietal lobe damaged, 'neuroshock,' reoccuring bleeding, 'shoots' himself, surgery 6x24 Second Chances - Nervous, copied, twin heartbroken, hanging 6x25 Timescape - Clawed forehead, knocked down, frozen 6x26 Descent - Shot at

SEASON 7 7x03 Interface - Talks about mothers death 7x04 Gambit Pt.1 - Close friend dies, denial/avoidant, angry, emotional pain, physically aggressive, knocked down, captured, nervous system painfully electrocuted multiple times, slapped, kicked 7x05 Gambit Pt.2 - Shot unconscious, presumed dead 7x06 Phantasms - Tube sticking out of head (datas nightmare), attacked, infected 7x12 The Pegasus - Worsening guilt, stressed, broken rib, badly bruised, past revealed, confronted, part of large conspiracy, job threatened, confrontation, arrested 7x15 Lower Decks - Tired 7x18 Eye of the Beholder - Watches somebody die, guilt 7x19 Genesis - Spikes stabbed on his back, pain, worsening memory loss, transformed to beast, agitated, shot unconscious 7x24 Preemptive Strike - Held at fazerpoint, betrayed

[swissboyhisch]

Welcome to New Jersey

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Reader

Summary: Quinn arrives to New Jersey and has his first training with his brothers and new team.

Word Count: 1020

Request: Yes "Can you do a part 2 to Hughes Siblings Acquired"

PART 1

THE MASTERLIST JOIN THE TAGLIST HOCKEY DISCORD

Newark Airport was busy. Busier than the family expected for a weekday evening that’s for sure. The boys wore hats, hoping to delay people recognising them and coming up for a signature. The four of you were standing in the arrivals. Waiting for a certain someone. Huggy. 

“Calm down,” Luke groans as he watches Jack bouncing off on his heels.

You chuckle, “Like that will happen. Remember your draft night?”

The three of you laughed at the memory. Jack ignored your reminiscent conversation, his eyes bouncing between the gate your brother would walk out of and a nearby board showing the arrivals. Flight AC 462 from Vancouver. Landed. It was only a matter of minutes now. 

“He’s landed,” Jack states.

You were tucked into Nico’s side as the group watched on as other passengers exited through the door. One by one people would pass. Then you spotted him pulling along a large suitcase. The familiar mop of hair. You nudged Nico and discreetly pointed in the direction of Quinn. It didn’t take long for your younger brothers to spot their other older sibling. You whipped out your phone quickly, just to take a small video to send to your mum. 

Quinn was ambushed by Luke and Jack as soon as he was close enough to touch. Nico and yourself stay out of the chaos of tornado Jack. Once they finally let go of your twin, you pulled away from Nico and was quick to embrace Quinn. It felt like it had been ages since you last saw him. 

“Missed you squirt.”

You smiled softly, “Missed you too Huggy. Glad to have you here with us.”

“The siblings are back together again,” Jack smirks. 

Nico laughs, “watch out New Jersey.”

Quinn and Nico did the little handshake they’ve done since you and Nico had been dating. The five of you made your way to your car. You climbed into the passenger seat, Nico in the driver’s and the three boys into the back. Quinn planned to stay with you. Though you all lived in the same apartment complex. Along with a few of the other guys from the team.

When your lease finishes in a month, the plan you had come up with last night with Nico was that Quinn would get your apartment and you’d move in with your boyfriend. Keep everyone in the same building complex. Saves your parents time when they come to visit. 

“Welcome home Huggy,” You grinned, opening your apartment door and allowing Quinn into your home.

He dumped his suitcase in your spare room before the group settled on the couch. Jack pulled up UberEats, no-one willing to cook anything, and looked at the options. Everyone argued, well the Hughes siblings argued over what to get for dinner. But you all agreed that pasta was a good option, especially for all the players’ diets. 

You all agreed on Scary Movie, the first one. A classic parody movie that you had all seen before but enjoyed it enough to have playing in the background. You and Nico were cuddling up on one end of the couch. Luke was at the other end. Jack had chosen the bean bag you kept in your apartment. And Quinn took the single seater. A couple snacks were spread across the coffee table for dessert. A lot was from your secret stash you kept hidden from Jack. And Luke. But they liked to raid your cupboards and fridge for food nearly daily.

After the movie came to an end, Jack and Luke went back to their apartment whilst Nico went and grabbed some clothes before coming back. 

The next morning there was a morning skate and you had work to do. Quinn’s first skate with the New Jersey Devils. Nico made breakfast for the three of you while you got ready for your morning. You carpooled to the arena after breakfast. A quick hug between you and Quinn. A kiss shared with Nico. Then you three parted ways. The boys went to the lockeroom to change whilst you made your way through the arena to the media office where your gear was stored. Today you were doing social media tasks. Taking some pictures of all three of your brothers on the ice together for the first time. 

You were first on the ice. Doing a few laps whilst you waited for the team to come out of the changeroom. Nico was first to step onto the ice. He came up to you, skating around you in circles. You had to be quick, shifting your focus from your partner to your brothers coming out. Quinn was the first to join the few players. Repping the new jersey. Jack followed behind your twin with baby Lukey coming out third. He had a new number; 28 instead of 43 as Quinn had seniority. 

“Hey squirt,” Luke grinned as he spotted you sitting on the ice. 

You look up from tying up your skates to see your baby brother leaning on the wall in front of you. “What do you want shithead?”

“Love you.”

Soon you were skating around with your camera around your neck. Snapping pictures of Quinn, Jack and Luke messing around during training. Even Nico joined in. It warmed your heart seeing everyone, your closest people, bonding and embracing your twin. Welcoming him to the team. 

Nico skated behind you, hand grazing your lower back. A large smile aimed at you as he passed. “Looking good.”

“Neeks,” You blushed.

“A downside of living here, dealing with the love fest that is Nico and squirt,” Jack comments.

“Leave us alone.” You shove Jack who topples. The boys around laugh at the sight of Jack splayed out on the ice. You send your younger brother a smirk, “Get better Jackie-boy.”

As morning skate finished, your co-worker called for you and your brothers to pose for a picture. Then you pulled Nico in for the picture. Making sure to get Dawson to take one on your phone to allow you to send the picture to your parents.

“Welcome to the Devils,” Jack says once more.

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