#and 5. plant development

[unopenablebox]

for reasons [did the 'taking classes' year of grad school in 2020/21 and was desperate not to be on zoom anymore] i only took 7/8 required credits for my phd when i was supposed to and now have to take a class. already kind of cringe and undignified given my advanced age in grad school years. but i couldn't even use it to take something like linalg that i actually need training in because it only counts toward my degree if it's a biology class. not only do i absolutely not need anyone to teach any biology topic to me at this point, because my job is to interpret and synthesize primary biology literature, but i also already took every even faintly relevant biology course in college, some of them twice, the majority of them at grad level with graduate students. and they were taught better and more effectively, because my undergraduate institution simply had better pedagogical practices than *** by basically any metric.

all of this has cashed out to me taking the paper-reading course about my field taught by one of my committee members, because it only meets once a week, i've read half the papers before, and it's graded on class participation which is my best stat. unfortunately, because it's taught by one of my committee members, i can't admit that i am taking it literally only for credit and would be capable of teaching the class given a couple of weeks to prep, and instead have to pretend that i am concerned about it meaningfully impairing my career that, while i have an encyclopedic knowledge of early embryonic development in flies and worms, i'm really more familiar with late embryonic development in mammals. this is requiring some contortions.

[theythemmer]

once again appreciating the fact i can draw whatever i want. anyway do yall think they went to the same med school

[hayatheauthor]

10 World-Building Aspects You Probably Overlooked

When crafting a fictional world, it's easy to focus on the big picture—epic battles, grand landscapes, and memorable characters. However, it’s also important to flesh out your world-building to create a ‘real’ world. Some aspects to consider when world-building are: 

1. Local Cuisine

Consider the types of food your characters eat and how it reflects their culture, geography, and economy. Unique dishes can reveal societal values and local ingredients.

2. Currency & Trade

Explore the forms of currency used and the trade systems in place. This can include bartering, precious metals, or unique items as currency, influencing economic interactions.

3. Timekeeping Practices

Different cultures may have their own methods for measuring time, whether it's a unique calendar system, seasons, or celestial events, affecting daily life and traditions.

4. Cultural Taboos

Consider the unspoken rules and taboos that govern behavior in your world. These can drive conflict and character motivations, adding depth to societal interactions.

5. Local Flora and Fauna

Unique plants and animals can shape the environment and influence the culture, whether through medicine, food sources, or as part of local mythology.

6. Rituals and Festivals

Incorporate unique rituals or festivals that celebrate historical events, seasonal changes, or important life milestones, providing insight into cultural values and traditions.

7. Language Nuances

Explore dialects, slang, or even the use of sign language that reflects the culture and social dynamics, enriching dialogue and interactions between characters.

8. Architecture and Housing Styles

The design and materials of buildings can reflect climate, resources, and cultural values. Unique architectural features can tell a story about the society that built them.

9. Social Hierarchies and Classes

Examine how social structures affect character relationships and interactions. Class distinctions can influence everything from daily life to political power.

10. Environmental Impact

Consider how the natural environment shapes societal behaviours, resource usage, and conflicts. Climate and geography can drive migration patterns and societal development.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

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[bluemoonbun]

Reader is implied to like feminine things, though gender identity is kept ambiguous.

Damian was a good brother. That’s what he always told himself. He was a good brother, a good son. He was cold, rude, and erudite, but he was able and willing to help anyone who needed it.

When he arrived at Wayne manor, Bruce told him the general run down of why you were to be avoided when it came to anything vigilante related. You were still pure, a year younger than Damian but without any of the pain. The only one in the Wayne manor that could have a shot at becoming a normal person. Damian envied that, but kept it to himself. His anger often boiled to the top, drops of green venom dripping from his mouth when you tried to annoy him into spending time with you.

Your complaints of him ignoring you was scalding water on his already raw nerves. Why would you complain about not being the center of attention for five damn seconds? He would trade anything for the life you had. A life where you could lay around after school and never worry about a rogue bullet lodging itself in your arm, or a poisonous plant releasing psychedelic spores into an open wound.

You could and would never join the Robins. You were weak; it was in your blood. Always sickly, always the pacifist. You wouldn't survive a day in his life. And you weren't living his life; you were living his dream.

But apparently the effort the family was putting in wasn’t enough.

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed that the manor felt… off about two weeks before the fight with Joker. He couldn’t trace it for the life of him at first. When he realized by the second week that he hadn’t spoken to you in days, or really seen you around the manor at all, he wrote off the worms writhing in his stomach. You must’ve been busy with a class assignment and had little time to annoy him with your demands of time together.

After the fight, however, he was a war of a thousand emotions. How dare you leave them? Why would you turn away an easy life fat on nepotism for a group of murderers, con men, the dredges of Gotham’s society?

Were you truly that desperate to be acknowledged that you’d turn your back on the family who did everything for you? He hopes you’re happy there, since you were clearly so upset at not being given attention.

Over time, however, things start to change. A few days after Jason made a full recovery, Damian looked at one of the drones Tim managed to get a chunk of code from. It took a lot of trial and error, and the development of an entirely new program to grab some of the code before it bricked itself, and enough all nighters and energy drinks that any doctor would faint, but it was managed. The code was dense, optimized to work with the least bloat possible, well tagged variables, and even a handful of comments in the code.

//Buy Bane those Boston Donuts from the donut shop on 5th //Why does this code need to be here so it doesn’t auto brick itself. What is in the code protecting it from the wrath of God //Louie likes Texas barbecue ribs. Possible treat? //DO NOT FEED THEM WHOLE RIBS. COOKED BONES BAD. //SINCE WHEN WAS THIS VARIABLE A STRING??? IT WAS AN INT 5 LINES AGO //Help the hopeless lesbians get together. //Would Harley and Ivy dating make Harley my mom or Ivy my big sister? Both???

His eyes skimmed the retrieved comments, laughing at a few. It seems that Bane, Poison Ivy, and Harley Quinn were the most common subjects of the notes, though a few mentioning the Iceberg lounge asking what non-alchoholic drink you’d like added, or Riddler offering you another puzzle to keep your mind active. Even Joker was mentioned, though it seemed mostly transactional.

It was strange seeing you in this light. You seemed to have a lot of spice in you, but a heart made of gold. You were definitely surprised whenever one othe villains offered to take you on some trip to amusement parks, regular parks, even just willingly watching anime with you. It was odd to see. Surely someone at the house did those things with you? He didn’t but he was extremely busy with school and vigilantism. Jason was legally dead, so surely he had all the time in the world.

“How was I supposed to relate to them? They’re what, 12 and into shit like that one with the cat looking dog thing and the robot girl. I have shit to do. Y’know, managing Crime Alley?”

Well, Dick had come over to hang out plenty of times. Surely he’d spent at least a few hours with you every now and then? “I have an entire team and criminals to manage of in another city, Damian. I don’t have as much time as you think to do whatever it was with them they’d wanted to do”

Maybe Tim? “I have college and stuff, Damian. And I don’t have the energy to put into hanging around them. I’d probably just be sleeping most of the time.

Bruce? “I have to manage you, Gotham, and the Justice League, Damian. I barely have time for myself.”

… Alfred? “I tried, Master Damian. However I’m constantly pulled thin between so many tasks. Besides, all you have is school most days, and you’ve had summer vacations and weekends. Shouldn’t you’ve had plenty of time to spend with your younger sibling?”

… He did have the most time outside of vigilantism. And it took him a week to realize you were missing.

You had to realize that they were under extreme stress though, right?He couldn’t spend all his free time with you. He had his own friends to hang out with. How were you two even supposed to relate?

One day at dinner, the thoughts were thrashing in his head, slamming against soft tissue and tearing through brain matter. He aimlessly poked at the food on his plate.

“You alright, replacement?” Jason asked, pausing in his extremely rare dinners with everyone else. Alfred had promised him a tray of fudge to take home this time around, and nobody made fudge quite as good as he did.

“… They were gone for two weeks.”

Everyone stopped eating as he continued.

“Two weeks. Two full weeks before they showed up at that fight. Did anyone here even know? I only noticed after a week and assumed they were just holed up in their room with a class assignment or something.” He was rambling. Everyone was quiet and looking at each other. How did it manage to slip past everyone? They were detectives, for Christ’s sake.

They were your family.

—

Dinner ended with guilt wrapping around their throats and pulling.

Eventually, all of them found themselves in your room. It had been emptied, but showed no signs of struggle. All the small items, the comforter, and your clothes were gone. But what was taken left something behind. Copies of photos of you winning state level competitions, letters requesting your attendance at seminars, photos of gold medals and blue ribbons spread across the floor. Most damning of all was the most recent photo. A certificate by some big time tech company being handed to you. Edward Nashton stood behind you, a firm, reassuring hand on your shoulder.

When had this happened? They never remembered hearing of something like this. A news clipping on the back told them it was maybe a week before you left.

“The Wayne prodigy stated that their family had more important things to see to than such an occasion. I can’t imagine something more important that either of my kids being recognized by a multi-million dollar tech company! I remember postponing an anniversary with my husband to celebrate our child placing second in the science fair. But I guess that’s just the Waynes for you!”

That’s just the Waynes to you.

But it’s ok. He can make it better. He can be a good big brother. He can spend time watching anime with you and decorating your room with lace and fairy lights and go makeup shopping with you. You just need to come home. Now.

---------------- Taglist! Ask to be added! Edit: It is now closed!

@jjsmeowthie , @jsprien213 , @ladyrosemone

[david-lynch-ate-my-son]

Title: Relative Fiction

Part: 1/?

Fandom: Animal Kingdom

Pairing: Andrew "Pope" Cody x Reader

WC: ~6k

Summary: Lena's in a foster home, Smurf is making moves to gain custody, and Pope is out of hope.

Enter: Lena's sweet, dependable, entirely-too-respectable next door neighbor with a very interesting proposition.

Or

The one where Pope enters into a marriage of convenience and gains so much more than he bargained for.

Warnings: Possibly too much eye narrowing and jaw clenching, use of the word "simulacrum" (but I genuinely couldn't think of another way to say what I wanted to say), exposition bomb

The first time Pope called you by your real name, as far as you knew, was on your wedding day. 

The entire affair felt like something out of a Hunter S. Thompson novel–the chapel in Vegas with its electric blue, shag carpeting, the plastic wisteria plants draped from the ceiling and trailing down the walls, the Elvis impersonator slurring his way through your vows, and a very confused (very high) Craig who’d been dragged out to Nevada to act as witness.

And yet, the most surreal moment was when Pope actually said your name at the altar–not “kid,” which was what he usually called you–but your legal, god-given name.

It had sounded foreign on his tongue–like a gauzy simulacrum of the name you knew–and you were so thrown that Elvis had to nudge you with his elbow to remind you to say, “I do.”

Pope’s gaze was always a blade, sharpened and direct. Cutting across rooms, through bullshit, to the heart of things. You knew it freaked some people out, having all that attention held so tightly against their throats. But you liked it; liked knowing that he was taking his time to look; that you could almost feel him prodding, nudging, grasping, looking for something (only he knew what) and refusing to be subtle about it.

And in that moment, at the head of the aisle, exchanging vows, the blade sunk deep. Pinning you with a singular focus you’d never felt before, like a moth mounted to styrofoam. All that blue, swallowed in an instant as his pupils dilated, then constricted, holding your gaze.

Before the words, “you may now kiss the bride,” were even halfway out, Pope was dragging you down the aisle and into the chapel’s front office to sign the marriage certificate.

You were certain the clerk was half-swooning at how tightly Pope grasped your hand, knuckles turning white. How impatient he was for the marriage to be legal. You’d smothered a wry grin; it was desperate, sure, but it wasn’t romantic.

You’d never been the type of kid to dream about her wedding day. You’d gone through phases where you imagined yourself married to Nick Carter (objectively the cutest Backstreet Boy) and then later Bam Margera (you developed a thing for bad boys in high school). But in those fantasies, it was always about the man standing at the end of the aisle, not the dress or the flowers or the first dance.

Growing up thumbing through your parent’s wedding album had taught you that great spectacles of love often worked as sleight of hand–a misdirect from something far less shiny and far more hollow. 

So you didn’t mind the ill-fitting ring purchased at a nearby pawn shop or the gas station bouquet wilting in your grasp. At the cut of it, none of the details really mattered.

What mattered was the man standing next to you, the wedding certificate, and the little girl whose future depended on getting it signed as quickly as possible.

“Do you have any dirty laundry I can use?”

Skidding around the hallway corner and into the kitchen, you came to a halt in front of Pope. He was exactly as you’d left him 5 minutes ago–sitting with straight-backed alertness at the breakfast counter and staring with familiar intensity through the living room to the front door. While you’d been nervously skittering about the house, fluffing throw pillows and spit-cleaning smudges on door frames, he’d been maintaining the same position with the composed stillness of a sniper.

But your question briefly jolted him, as he turned his head slightly in your direction.

“What?”

“Dirty laundry,” you repeated. “So I can add it into the laundry basket with mine. Right now it’s just my stuff in there and I’m worried it’s going to look suspicious.”

His brow furrowed, a look of confusion, then concern, flitting across his face.

“Do you think they’ll come in the house again?” he asked, now turning on his stool to face you fully.

He was impeccably dressed, as usual, in a freshly-ironed, short-sleeve button-up, bootcut jeans, and clean leather boots. But his fists, clenching and unclenching against his thighs, ruined the veneer of composure.

“Honestly, I don’t know,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair. Pope tracked the movement. You knew he’d picked up on it as a nervous tic. “Normally, I’d say the home visits they did before signing off on the temporary placement would be enough. But, you know…” you trailed off, shaking your head.

Pope’s jaw tightened and his eyes darted away. But you caught the look of guilt that scorched through him before he could hide it.

You wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but you’d been through this song and dance enough times to know it would be a useless endeavor. You could take the whip from his hand, but a martyr would always find another way to self-flagellate.

And the sting of it was, his instinct to self-blame wasn’t entirely wrong. You’d fought tooth and nail for DCFS to allow Lena’s temporary placement into your care, and the shitstorm it had kicked up certainly wasn’t due to your track record.

A high school art teacher with a supplementary degree in school counseling, you were the perfect candidate to entrust with Lena’s care. You didn’t drink or do drugs, you’d never even had a parking ticket, your credit score was an impeccable 850, you’d shown up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for jury duty both times you were selected, and you recycled religiously.

Hell, you even drove a goddamn Subaru. You were DCFS’s wet dream.

Pope, on the other hand…

It wasn’t just the litany of charges marring his record that was the problem, but the way he’d flown off the handle when DCFS intervened to place Lena in foster care. To say her case worker wasn’t a fan of Pope was an understatement. You considered it a minor miracle, what you’d pulled off, and still couldn’t believe that Lena would be back home–intact and within arm’s reach–in just a few short hours.

“Just to be safe–even a pair of jeans I can throw on top of the pile will do.” You knew you were probably being ridiculous, but the idea of having come so far just for one minor detail to derail the whole plan had you feeling paranoid.

Pope eyed you for a moment, thoughtfully, before standing up and unbuttoning his shirt. You made a pathetically half-assed attempt to look away as he revealed his pecs, then his upper abdominals, then his–

“Here–” he tossed the shirt your way, “you can add this to the laundry basket. I’ll get another one.”

He walked past, and you tracked the movement of his back muscles for only a moment before ducking into the bathroom to artfully arrange his shirt atop the pile of your dirty clothes in the hamper.

You could hear hangers clattering in the main bedroom–formerly Baz and Cathy’s room–and pushed down the weirdness that thought brought up.

It had taken quite a bit of coercion for Pope to allow you to move into the main bedroom, and he still approached it with the wariness of a cat circling a cage, but where else were you going to sleep if you truly meant to pull this whole thing off?

You’d already leased your own house next door to a new tenant, and you both agreed that this marriage needed to look as real as possible for Lena’s sake. She had enough going on without you asking her to lie to her teachers or caseworker. So if anyone asked her whether her Aunt and Uncle slept in the same bed at night, or ate breakfast together in the morning, you wanted her to be able to say “yes.”

It was a situation you and Pope were still adjusting to. 

You were once again nervously pacing the length of the kitchen by the time Pope returned, wearing a new shirt. He paused, eyes following your movements back and forth, head tilted to the side. 

“Sit,” he said. His voice brokered no argument; not because he was being particularly stern, but because his voice always brokered no argument.

And–god help you–you obeyed immediately, taking up his former post at the breakfast counter.

He approached in that slow, deliberate way of his, never breaking eye contact. Stopping on the opposite side of the counter, he leaned down onto his forearms, his eyes level with your own.

“You need to relax.” He didn’t say it quite as a command, but it definitely wasn’t a request.

You scoffed. “You’re one to talk, you–”

“Relax.” He repeated, more forcefully, leaning in just a fraction of a centimeter, but filling the remaining space with the heat of his gaze.

After a moment, you took a deep breath, nodding.

“Only one of us can afford to be unstable right now.” There was a near-imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Track record says it’s most likely to be me.”

You pursed your lips, trying not to smile, and Pope’s eyes darted down at the move.

“Okay, yeah.” You relented. “You’re right. I’m calm. Can we just go over everything one more time?”

“That would make you feel better?”

“Yeah. Maybe. A little.”

“Okay.”

To tell the truth, the plan had been fucking insane since its inception. You’d known it was insane, too, which was why you’d spent three restless nights lying awake in bed, turning it over and over in your head like a wishstone, before you’d even approached Pope about it.

But you couldn’t stop thinking about Lena’s little face pressed against the car window, staring after her Uncle Pope, as the DCFS officer drove away.

And, god, the hunted look in Pope’s eyes when she’d finally disappeared from sight and he’d collapsed to the front steps of Cathy’s house, head in his hands.

That man loved his niece; not out of some moralistic, familial obligation. But truly loved her. Like he was cradling a light–watching it grow and feeling warmth for the first time.

And you knew that exact feeling, because you loved Lena too.

You’d been her neighbor, technically, since before she was born. The year you’d started your teaching job at El Camino, you’d moved into the bungalow right next door and instantly hit it off with Cathy.

She was a little serious and had a tendency to withdraw into herself at the oddest moments, but she also had a huge heart and reminded you of the older sister you’d always dreamed of as a kid. Someone responsible and steady, who you could confide in and watch trashy TV with.

Baz was another story.

From the moment you’d met, he’d struck you as arrogant and almost a little detached. It puzzled you, sometimes, how someone as dependable as Cathy could end up with someone as….weasley as Baz. And their affection for one another, while it seemed genuine, often flipped from hot to cold in arbitrary turns (always determined by Baz’s moods and whims, it appeared, and never Cathy’s).

Once Lena was born, your opinion of him only got worse.

Cathy worked a lot, and her hours at the bar weren’t always predictable. At first, it seemed like Baz was making a genuine effort to pick up the slack and take over childcare whenever he could. He changed diapers (occasionally), brought Lena to mommy-and-me classes (when he wasn’t busy with other things), and even took her on long afternoon walks (though you always found it a little suspicious how many bikini-clad women seemed to cluster around the stroller when he’d park it at the beach).

That effort lasted about two months. Then, it just seemed like he got…bored with it all. Like he figured he’d given full-time parenting the good old college try and found out it wasn’t really “for him.”

He started fucking off to god knows where at all hours of the day and night, leaving Cathy with a colicky kid and practically no money for daycare or a babysitter.

Which was where you stepped in. School let out at 3:20pm (2:50 on Wednesdays), which meant that you had afternoons free to look after Lena. And really, she wasn’t too much of a difficulty. Early on, you realized that if you rigged her baby chair to your oscillating fan just so, the back and forth movement soothed her right to sleep.

You couldn’t really go out on weeknights anyway, what with all the grading and lesson planning you needed to take care of. And having Lena by your side, even if she wasn’t much in the way of company at that age, made you feel less alone.

Which was how you became Lena’s auntie. Became the person who cleaned up her scrapes when mom wasn’t around, sang Joni Mitchell songs to put her to sleep, and taught her all the best clapping games to show her friends at school.

And until a little under a year ago, aside from Cathy, you were the only steady adult presence in Lena’s life.

Then her Uncle Pope got out of jail and suddenly there was someone else buying her ice cream and taking her to the park after school.

At first you may have been a little jealous, sure. After all, you weren’t used to Lena ditching you, preferring to spend time with someone else, and it kind of hurt. But then you actually met Uncle Pope and–yeah–you got it.

There was something about all that quiet intensity that was intoxicating. Watching him was like staring down at a glass-bottom boat, only catching the slightest movement toward the surface but knowing there were leagues of life beneath.

And for a kid like Lena, who’d been starved of attention from her sole male role model for so long, you could only imagine what it was like to have someone like Uncle Pope suddenly hanging on her every word.

She perked up when he came back into the picture. It was subtle–kind of like her uncle, everything with Lena was a little subtle–but it was there. And she talked about him a lot when it was your time with her.

Uncle Pope says I’m a good color-er. He asked if I could do him another picture like the one I did with the dolphins but I told him I had to think about it because it took me a whole recess to draw it and I’m supposed to play fairies with Jenna at next recess.

Uncle Pope got me chocolate ice cream today. He never gets ice cream but he says grown ups don’t like sugar like kids, is that true? You like ice cream. Are you a grown up?

Uncle Pope said the friendship bracelet you made me is cool. Can you show me how to make one for him? But maybe blue instead of pink. I don’t think he likes pink.

And if you also spent a little extra time thinking about Uncle Pope, who had to know, right?

All he seemed to wear were those damn short-sleeved button-ups, so who could blame you for lingering a little too long on the bulge of his biceps or the veins of those thick forearms whenever you caught a glimpse of him through your window picking up Lena.

Even before his curls began to grow back out, his face had a kind of gladiatorial-beauty–too rough to be classically-handsome but compelling in its resoluteness. The recent addition of those reddish-brown curls added something so soft to the harsh line of his mouth, the cold blue of his eyes. A clash of concepts you couldn’t look away from.

So damn compelling.

Then Cathy had ‘disappeared’ and Baz had been shot and bled out mere feet away from your front door. 

Lena’s entire center of gravity, which had been losing stability and shifting from underneath her for months (maybe years), collapsed. 

Watching Pope contort himself into unfamiliar shapes to hold Lena’s world together–rearranging his schedule to give her something constant to trust in, softening his edges to provide comfort, begging (probably for the first time in his life) for the opportunity to prove himself worthy to care for her���it broke something open in you.

It flayed you wide, peeling back layers of flesh and sinew and metallic-tanged viscera. Laying bare the infected heart of you–a splinter planted in your youth and left to putrefy–the injury that screamed–

Why didn’t anyone care about me that much?

Why wasn’t I ever worthy of such devotion?

Where was the devil-hero who would destroy the world to save me?

So yes, the plan had been fucking insane. 

I know we’ve only really been acquaintances up until this moment, but do you want to get married and petition the family court for temporary custody of Lena with the goal of eventually working toward your full adoption of her?

But what could you say?

Truly, what could you do?

Your nerves immediately dissipated the moment Lena walked through the door.

As you’d suspected, her caseworker had insisted on a “final” walkthrough before the official handoff. She’d forced Lena to wait in the car, peering through the passenger window with too-tired eyes, while she scoured every corner of the house. Opening the pantry and assessing the array of (healthy, organic) foods available, turning every tap on and off again, letting the shower run long enough to test for hot water, inspecting every corner of Lena’s bedroom and closet.

All things she’d done before–multiple times. All completely unnecessary.

But it was a show of power; a reminder, specifically aimed at Pope, that he was under surveillance. That no place was sacred and nothing his own. Not even his home.

For his part, Pope had stood silently at the living room window, not sparing a glance at the social worker, but instead locking in on the outline of Lena in the car parked across the street.

You’d done what you could to cut the tension, answering all the case worker’s questions and steering her away from Pope any time she wandered too close. But you didn’t take your first deep breath until she was out the door and Lena was dragging her Frozen suitcase across the threshold.

“Hey, bean!” You smiled, dropping to your knees and opening your arms for Lena to walk into. “We missed you so much. We’re so glad you’re home.”

Lena’s hug was weaker than normal, but she tucked her little face into your neck and you felt some of the tightness in her shoulders melt.

As you were giving her a good squeeze, you could practically feel Pope’s energy burning into your back, impatiently waiting his turn.

In all the time you’d known Pope, you’d never seen him be particularly affectionate, physically, with anyone. But with Lena, he was different–holding her hand, hugging her goodbye before school, brushing her hair out of her face when it got too unruly. And you could tell he was done waiting his turn for a hug.

You stepped back and watched him kneel down, grabbing Lena and pulling her into a tight embrace. With his face turned toward you, you watched him close his eyes as dual feelings of relief and guilt contorted his features.

He was so often studiously, carefully blank– tightly controlled and able to bank his reactions under a blanket of inflexible coolness–that seeing the unrestrained emotion steal over him felt strangely intimate. 

You wanted to reach out and comfort him–place your hand at his nape or pet your fingers through his hair. But you didn’t want to intrude on the moment.

So instead, you clapped your hands together, injected some pep into your voice, and announced, “I made birria for dinner–are you hungry?”

Pulling back from Pope’s hug, Lena shrugged and made a non-commital noise before heading down the hallway toward her room.

Still on his knees, Pope turned slightly to follow her progress, mouth tightening. Once Lena was out of sight, he shifted his stare toward you.

“Give her a little time,” you tried to assure him quietly. “It’s been a long, tiring day for her.”

From his expression, you could tell he didn’t feel assured, but he nodded anyway, standing to follow you to the kitchen.

“I’ll finish up dinner,” you said, opening the fridge. “You fix the table.”

Dinner was a quiet affair. Aside from asking, “are you and Uncle Pope really married?” Lena didn’t have much to say. She pushed her food around her plate, took a few bites when you encouraged her, but mostly sat quietly with a pensive look on her face.

Her silence agitated Pope, if his furrowed brow and clenched jaw were anything to go by. He kept shooting you pointed looks across the dinner table, as though he was waiting for you to say or do something to magically fix her.

But you knew it was best to give Lena a little space to readjust and find her footing. The last thing she needed was someone making her feel like her natural reaction to all the recent trauma was somehow wrong. Or making her feel guilty for not acting a certain way when she was just trying to figure things out for herself.

When dinner was over, Lena ambled off to brush her teeth and get ready for bed. You grabbed Pope as he brought his dishes to the sink.

“Hey, hold on a sec.”

He stilled instantly, his gaze dropping to your hand on his forearm. Instead of letting go, you gave into instinct and ran your thumb over the tender skin of his inner arm in a soothing gesture until his eyes came back to yours.

“I’ll do the dishes. You put Lena to bed, read her a story. Just sit there with her for a bit and let her soak up some good juju from your presence.”

He stared.

“Good juju?” The question was skeptical.

“Yeah, you know,” you gestured vaguely with both hands, “positive energy.”

His brows twitched downward.

“Positive energy?” he repeated, blinking. He held his arms out at his sides, looking askance.

You snorted a laugh.

“Yeah, I guess positive energy might not be the right descriptor.” You tilted your head back and forth in thought for a moment. “Protective juju, how about that?”

Pope studied you for a moment, eyes flitting across your face, then nodded. He turned to walk toward Lena’s room before stopping suddenly in his tracks and turning back.

“Do you know how to load a dishwasher?”

The question was so abrupt, it took a moment to register.

“Uh, yeah?” You meant it as a statement, but in your confusion, it came out with the lilt of a question. All the meals you’d eaten so far in the house had been small enough that you’d hand washed the dishes, so this was the first time you’d be using this particular dishwasher. But still, it wasn’t like Baz and Cathy’s dishwasher was from the future. “Who doesn’t know how to load a dishwasher?”

“The right way.” He narrowed his gaze. “Do you know how to load it the right way?”

“Like plates on the bottom and cups and bowls on top?”

Pope made a frustrated, growl-like noise and started back toward you. 

“No no no!” You threw your hands up, stopping his progress. “Lena! Bedtime story!” You pointed back toward Lena’s bedroom just as the sound of her opening the bathroom door made its way down the hall. “The world will not end if the dishwasher isn’t loaded correctly, I promise.”

He didn’t look entirely convinced, but Lena’s bedroom light flickering on in the hallway drew his attention and he was forced to capitulate.

“If it’s not right when I unload it tomorrow, you’ll be hand washing the dishes from now on,” he grumbled as he walked away.

“No I won’t!” You called after him, smiling to yourself.

You heard him pause, as though seriously contemplating turning back around, before eventually continuing to Lena’s bedroom.

By the time you were done with the dishes, Pope had finished reading Lena her story. He didn’t use funny voices, or project particularly loud, but he read with a sort of rhythmic cadence that carried into the kitchen. So you knew the moment he was finished with that night's chapter of Blue Willow.

On your way to the main bedroom, you stopped just outside Lena’s door and quietly pressed in closer, eavesdropping. You caught the last half of whatever Pope had been saying.

“--would have got you out of there sooner if we could. I never wanted you to be anywhere else but here, you know that, right? Lena, tell me you know that.”

There was a desperate vulnerability in his voice that you’d never heard before, and you suddenly felt guilty for listening in. Before you could hear Lena’s response, you continued down the hallway to get ready for bed.

The entire time you’d been preparing for Lena’s arrival, Pope had slept on the couch, insisting that you needed your space. But now that Lena was in the house, that particular sleeping arrangement was coming to an end.

You tried not to overthink it as you brushed your teeth. While you briefly considered exchanging your normal sleep outfit of a big t-shirt, no bra, and men’s boxers for something a little more full-coverage, you decided against it. If Pope couldn’t handle the possibility of seeing a little nipple poking through your shirt, he’d just have to get over it.

You were walking out of the en suite when he came into the room. He stopped in his tracks so quickly, it jolted you, and you dropped the earring you were removing from your ear.

“Sorry,” he muttered, bending down at the same time you did, hand bumping yours as you both reached for the earring. “Sorry,” he repeated lowly, withdrawing his hand quickly, as if your touch burned.

“It’s okay,” you brushed it off with a chuckle. “You just surprised me. I can be a little jumpy.”

You both straightened, and while you turned to place the earring on the bedside table, you tried to ignore the heat of Pope’s gaze on your legs. It sparked a keen awareness up your spine; buzzed pleasantly at the nape of your neck.

“Lena down for the night?” you asked, turning back around in time to see Pope’s eyes dart away from your ass.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” You climbed under the covers and began nestling down. “Is it alright that I take the right side?”

Pope nodded, shifted uncertainly from one foot to the other, then walked into the en suite, closing the door after him.

Turning out the lamp–the only light in the room–you rolled onto your side away from the bathroom door. You didn’t want to make things any more awkward by staring straight at him when he walked out.

As much as he tried to hide it, you could tell he was skittish about this part of the whole arrangement. Knowing what you did about his personal life and his past, though it wasn’t much, you wondered if he’d ever shared a bed with a woman for more than a night.

The idea that you might be the first person to lay next to him night after night gave you a secret little thrill. Made an inappropriately proprietary feeling take plant its fingers in your chest.

Contemplating that thought, you tried not to react when the bathroom door creaked open and Pope padded quietly over to the bed. He hesitated briefly on his side before slipping under the sheets.

You waited to feel the customary wiggling and moving about indicating that he was getting comfortable, but Pope’s side of the bed remained dead still.

Glancing over your shoulder, moonlight from the window illuminated his figure–flat on his back, sheets pulled up to his chin, arms at his side, staring straight up at the ceiling. Like a corpse or a Pharaoh in a sarcophagus.

Rolling your head back over, you shoved your face in your pillow to stifle a laugh. There was probably something clinically wrong with you that you were charmed by how unsettled he seemed to be with the entire situation.

Once you had your giggles under control, you were about to say “good night” when Pope spoke.

“She isn’t talking.”

He said it quietly, but with weight.

You rolled to your back.

“Yeah.”

“Why isn’t she talking?” He continued staring straight up at the ceiling.

“She’s always been a quiet kid.”

“Not this quiet.”

“I know.” Running a hand down your face, you paused to gather your thoughts. Unlike Pope, you had some experience in this particular area. All of your pre-service teaching had been at Title 1 schools, and you’d acted as a support system for plenty of dispossessed kids navigating the system. Too many, really.

So while Pope was going into this with Lena blind, you weren’t. And you knew it would be up to you to help guide them both.

“It’s going to take some time, Pope. The last few months have been so unstable for her, just one sucker punch after another. When kids go through stuff like this, when they’re not sure what they can trust or where they’ll be the day after tomorrow, they enter into survival mode. They’re not thinking about laughing with their friends and doing schoolwork and playing with their toys. They’re just focused on what they can control–themselves. Which is why it’s going to take a while for Lena to loosen some of that control and relax.”

“When they’re not sure who they can trust?” Pope’s head snapped toward you, his voice still quiet, but with a dangerous undercurrent. “Lena knows she can trust me, okay?”

“No,” you turned your head toward him as well, “that’s not what I said. I said she’s not sure what she can trust.”

“What’s the difference?” His tone was accusatory, defensive.

“Andrew.” You rolled over completely, facing him squarely and holding his heated gaze. “Lena is a smart kid. She knows she can trust you–I believe that–but she also knows that you can’t control every circumstance in the world. She’s lost her mother, her father, and even briefly, her home–all in the span of a year. And none of that had to do with her trust in your ability to take care of her.” You gave him some time to absorb your words. 

He made a choked, frustrated noise. Then, he sighed, resigned.

“Well then what am I supposed to do?”

“We.” You corrected. “We are going to give her routine, stability, and time to adjust. Kids are resilient. She’ll find her footing sooner than you think, as long as we keep the ground she’s standing on steady.”

It was quiet again, for a long moment. You almost assumed the conversation was over, preparing to roll back into your sleeping position. Then Pope spoke again.

“What if I’ve already fucked her up?” He whispered, so quietly you almost didn’t catch it.

“You didn’t.” Your answer was immediate.

“How do you know?” Still whispering.

“How do I know?” Shaking your head, you took a deep breath, not sure where to start. “First of all, if Lena were somehow fucked up–IF,” you emphasized, pausing until Pope turned his head back toward you and caught your eyes, “which she isn’t…it wouldn’t be your fault.”

He started to speak, but you cut him off. “I’ve known Lena since the day she was born, and she’s had a lot of less-than-stellar influences in her life, but you are not one of them. You’ve never yelled at her, belittled her, forgotten her at daycare, or left her alone at a party past midnight.” You didn’t have to say Baz’s name for him to know who you were talking about; the stories you’d heard from Cathy could fill a case worker’s files to overflowing.

“Secondly,” you continued, starting to rile yourself up a little, “even if things have been bumpy and you weren’t always able to shield her from the bad stuff, you’ve been trying. Genuinely trying. Kids see that–they know when someone gives a fuck about them, and it counts for a lot more than you think it does.”

Pope swallowed visibly, his lips twisting as he thought.

“And third, Lena’s just a good fucking kid. At her core. She’s smart and funny and she cares about people. That’s not going to change because DCFS took her away for a little while. Trust me.”

You fell back against your pillow with a huff, staring up at the ceiling once again. Pope’s side of the bed rustled as he rolled over to face you, stared for a moment, not speaking, then rolled to his back once again.

“Okay,” he finally said.

Just that. 

Okay.

He said it without conviction, less an agreement and more a surrender. Like he didn’t know how to respond and so just gave up.

Worrying your lip a moment, you contemplated your next thought before you said it out loud. It’s not that you were particularly precious with details about your past, or that it was something you safeguarded out of a misplaced fear of vulnerability. But there were times you still felt trigger-shy about overplaying your hand, emotionally, and you worried that what you were about to admit might be a step in that direction.

“Look,” you rolled back over to face Pope, who turned his head toward you. “I spent two years in foster care when I was just a little older than Lena. It was not like her situation with a sweet house in the suburbs, yeah? It was messy and chaotic and scary. And even still, when I was sent back home, I didn’t want to go. That’s how bad it was with my family.”

You tried not to get distracted by the way Pope’s gaze narrowed and darkened, or the look that crossed his face that you couldn’t quite describe.

“I would have given everything to have someone like you looking out for me back then.” Pausing, you swallowed as an unexpected surge of emotion tightened your throat. “Everything. But even without someone to ride in and save me, I ended up just fine. And I’m not half as strong as Lena is. So when I tell you that you haven’t fucked anything up, believe me.”

“Okay.” 

This time, when he whispered it across the pillow, you almost believed him.

As you drifted off to sleep, you considered that maybe Pope was going to need as much care and guidance recovering from this whole incident as Lena was.

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

//the slightest of shaking you

Sonic's ego is actually used for the delight effect on his friends hhhgh your killing me with wholesomeness/j

I wonder though, is there's ever any nonverbal platonic methods aspecSonic could have developed?

Aroace Sonic pt 8 (no they're not dating)

Sonic’s got all kinds of ways of showing affection. Obviously there is more than just these, it’s just all i doodled last night before passing the heck out in bed hgLKJSDF

1. Sonic usually moves away if anyone expresses active verbal dislike of his physical affection; Knuckles is the exception to that rule. He would genuinely throw Sonic through a wall if he actually didn’t like what he was doing, no words required. But Knuckles is touch starved! He doesn’t know how to do this whole physical affection thing, and most everyone else is kinda nervous about crossing boundaries with him so it means he gets very little touch. Sonic notices that and instead of drawing attention to it, he just invades personal space like the gremlin he is and no one questions it, chalking it up to his usual antics. Knuckles gets a safe place to get the physical affection he needs without worrying about how it looks and Sonic gets to love his friend, it's a win-win. (Rouge is p much the only other person chill with touching Knuckles casually since she’s just comfortable with physicality and not the least bit nervous around him.)

2. Speaking of Rouge she and Sonic are very silly with physical affection because Rouge is extremely comfortable expressing herself physically and Sonic is chill with p much any small gestures because its just another way of showing affection. Platonic cheek kisses and aggressive flirting are pretty normal for them! They find it funny to fluster other people this way.

3. Sonic will very randomly just plant his hand on someones face if they're standing close enough. No context, no warning, usually they're not even part of the conversation that's happening and he doesn't move it off unless they move it themselves or it's time to leave. (He does this whenever he notices someone zoning out or look like they might be lonely since they aren't part of the main conversation to make them know someone else notices they're there and cares.)

4. Sonic's physical affection is so incredibly casual that if you're around him long enough it kinda starts to fall of your radar and you just stop noticing when it happens, (i.e Tails.) It's much more common than his verbal compliments so it ends up pretty commonplace. Physical touch is actually his first go-to unless the person is really touch-averse.

5. Falling asleep on people is his ultimate weapon because they're less likely to try and escape if he's asleep (cat sleeping on lap rules sorry.) The other reason is because they're free to be as soft as they want without worrying about him using it to gloat at them later. (A lot of stuff this dude does is hecka strategic.)

[reasonsforhope]

"A recent World Meteorological Organization report called heat waves the “deadliest meteorological hazard” from 2015 to 2019, affecting people living on all continents, and setting new national heat records in many regions.

‍Canada’s top weather event in 2021 was British Columbia’s record-breaking heat, according to Environment and Climate Change Canada. The temperature in Lytton, B.C., hit 49.6 C on June 29. The following day a wildfire destroyed 90 per cent of the town, killing two people and displacing 1,200 others.

Heat waves also exacerbate existing health issues, including cardiovascular and respiratory disease. They’re associated with increased hospital admissions, psychological stress and aggressive behavior, as well as excess mortality.

During heat waves, the highest temperatures are often found in urbanized areas. Urbanization is almost always associated with an increase in paved, impervious areas, and often a decrease in greenery. Concrete and asphalt roads, and other built materials readily absorb, store and release heat, raising city temperatures, a phenomenon called the urban heat island.

Many studies have shown that urban forests can reduce the urban heat island, and many policies focus their attention on large green spaces.

Small green spaces, such as yards, rooftops and small parcels of undeveloped land, can make impressive contributions to lowering urban heat, but they are often overlooked when developing strategies for urban cooling.

The effect of small green spaces

Cities rarely have the opportunity to add large green spaces to help counter the effects of heatwaves. Smaller vegetated spaces, however, can still meaningfully decrease local land temperatures.

Small green spaces, such as yards, rooftops and small parcels of undeveloped land, can make impressive contributions to lowering urban heat, but they are often overlooked when developing strategies for urban cooling.

A recent study in Adelaide, Australia, found that tree canopy cover and, to a lesser extent, grass cover decreased local daytime surface temperatures by up to 6 C during extreme summer heat conditions. Further inland, suburban yards and gardens can decrease local surface temperatures up to 5 C.

At a quite small scale, on the order of tens of square metres, trees reduced daytime surface temperatures twice as much as grass cover. But grass and other small, low-lying plants, grow relatively quickly, compared to trees.

Cities should adopt short-term and long-term strategies to respond to extreme heat, including the replacement of paved and impervious surfaces with grasses and turf, and increasing tree plantings to boost canopy coverage.

Amplifying the cooling effect

Furthermore, when managing small green spaces, city planners and foresters can select tree species based on their ability to cool the environment. Green spaces with a high diversity of tree species have a greater cooling effect in spring, summer and fall. They also have a larger maximum drop in temperature in the summer, compared to spaces that are less diverse.

For example, tree canopies with large leaves and high transpiration rates — the evaporation of water from plants occurring at the leaves — could provide more cooling.

Planting a variety of species, of different heights, can have a larger cooling effect than tall trees alone.

The structure of green space may also influence its cooling efficiency. In summer, a plant community with multiple layers of trees, shrubs and herbs can further decrease air temperature by 1 C on a sunny day and 0.5 C on a cloudy day, compared with an area only dominated by tall trees...

But overall, trees usually have a stronger effect on cooling than grass. Planting trees in groups, not individually or in lines, is recommended for regulating the microclimate (local climate conditions near the Earth’s surface).

Small green spaces can offer a lot of summer cooling in cities. And cities can learn to manage the configuration of small green spaces better to get more cooling benefits and minimize the trade-offs."

-via GoodGoodGood, July 4, 2024

[rafesbabygirlx]

A Lot of Time has Passed | Part 3

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Season 4 Rafe x Maybank reader

Summary:Beginning at the time jump, the Pogues seemingly succeeded at something, Rafe is struggling with making amends and being a better person. JJs sister left the island after returning from South America. Returning after 18 months with a secret.

A/N: you’re in for a treat. this one’s a little longer than part 1 and 2. I hope you enjoy.

Not proofread

Word count: 4.7k

Warnings: MDNI, SMUT (oral, f & m receiving, p in v different positions, overstimulation) more talk of loss, arguing, physical altercation, (just a slap) discussion of abortion

You woke up in a daze, your mind still foggy, completely unprepared for the challenges that the day ahead might hold. The clock on the wall blares that it’s already 10:30 AM, a clear indication that time has slipped away from you. With a reluctant sigh, you muster the energy to pull yourself out of bed. As you make your way into the living room, the sight that greets you is heartwarming: Kie and Cleo are sprawled on the floor, engaged in playful antics with Vivienne, affectionately known as V.

“Good morning!” Cleo chirps cheerfully. “She had a big girl breakfast, took her morning nap, and now we’re playing with her stuffed turtles!” The joy in her voice is infectious, instantly brightening your mood.

Vivienne, who is typically up by 5:30 AM, has already had her morning nap around 9:00 or 9:30, and now she’s fully awake and eager for attention. As soon as she notices you, she struggles to pull herself up to her feet, wobbling slightly as she makes her way toward you. It’s remarkable to see how far she’s come in just two short months since she took her first steps. With her determination, you wouldn’t be surprised if she becomes a sprinter by the time she turns two. Clutching a toy turtle in her tiny hand, you scoop her up, noticing the adorable purple onesie she’s wearing, which is adorned with a delightful array of baby turtles. It seems that this little one has developed quite the fascination with them.

You plant a big kiss on her cheek, savoring the sweet moment, before gently returning her to Kie and Cleo, who are more than eager to continue their play. Just as you are about to settle into your morning routine, Pope arrives, bringing with him a spread of delicious food for everyone. You share a leisurely breakfast as the others entertain Vivienne, allowing you some precious moments to gather your thoughts and prepare for the day ahead.

Once you feel awake and refreshed, you take your time adding the finishing touches to your makeup and styling your hair. By the time you emerge, Kie, Cleo, and Pope are ready to head out for the day, each of them aware of the importance of giving you space to handle things on your own, especially when it comes to Rafe. There’s a sense of camaraderie as the girls envelop you in warm hugs, offering encouraging words that bolster your spirits. Pope extends a fist bump in playful camaraderie, but you choose instead to lean in for a heartfelt hug, expressing your gratitude for the breakfast and their unwavering support. It’s these little moments that remind you just how fortunate you are to have such a loving and supportive circle around you.

You spend some delightful time playing with Vivienne, losing track of the minutes as her laughter fills the room. Before you know it, the clock strikes 12:30, signaling her lunchtime. You prepare a small feast of bite-sized turkey sandwich pieces, fresh raspberries, and tender steamed broccoli, watching as she eagerly indulges in each morsel. By 1 PM, she finishes her meal, perfectly timed for her afternoon nap. You gently feed her a bottle, rocking her softly in your arms until her eyelids grow heavy, and finally lay her down in your bed, surrounded by her favorite stuffed animals.

With Vivienne peacefully asleep, the quiet of the house settles in around you, leaving you alone with your thoughts as you wait for Rafe’s arrival. You grab your phone, scrolling through messages and social media, then take a moment to tidy up her toys scattered across the living room floor. As the minutes tick by, the silence becomes almost palpable, and you find yourself nervously biting your nails, anxiety bubbling to the surface.

You briefly forget just how punctual Rafe is. At 1:58, the familiar sound of his truck crunching over the gravel outside jolts you from your thoughts, and by 2 PM on the dot, there’s a knock at the door. Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you open the door to find Rafe standing there, arms laden with a dozen shopping bags.

“Hey—what the hell is this, Rafe?” you exclaim, surprised at the sight. He breezes past you, making himself at home as he sets the bags down in the living room.

“I didn’t want to come empty-handed, and since I didn’t know what she likes or what size she really is, I may have bought one of every toy and a couple of sizes of clothes,” he explains, a hint of pride in his voice.

“She’s one, Rafe. She wouldn’t be offended if you didn’t bring anything at all. So much for my hope of not spoiling her,” you reply, your voice laced with frustration.

“Yeah, well, I never knew that was your plan,” he counters, and you can feel the guilt creeping in as your gaze drops to your feet, the weight of the moment settling heavily on your shoulders.

“So where is she?” he asks, looking around the room.

“She’s in my room, napping,” you respond.

He looks at you, clearly puzzled. “You invited me here at this time, and she’s not even up?!”

You roll your eyes and huff a breath, trying to keep your composure. “Her lunch is at 12:30, and she naps from 1 to 2. Do you really think I’d invite you over without a plan?”

“Alright, sure, whatever you say,” he replies, his tone dismissive.

You grab his arm, urgency in your voice. “I wanted you to come at this time because I wanted you to help me get her up. It’s one of my favorite moments. I thought it’d be a good one for you to experience first.”

“Oh, okay, sorry,” he replies, his demeanor shifting as he follows you into the bedroom.

You approach the bed, softly rubbing Vivienne’s temple as you gently speak to her. “Wake up, baby girl, it’s time to get up.” She stirs, tiny hands rubbing her eyes as she shifts under the covers. When she finally opens her bright blue eyes, a radiant smile spreads across her face, and she giggles as you tickle her stomach.

“Mama,” she says, her voice breaking through the laughter, and your heart swells with joy. You scoop her up into your arms, beaming as you turn to Rafe, who stands there, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide in disbelief. The sight of you and Vivienne together is a moment of pure magic, one that he seems to be taking in entirely, a mixture of awe and wonder painted across his face.

You both make your way into the living room, where you gently set Vivienne down on the floor, right in the midst of the colorful bags Rafe brought with him. “Watch her for a second,” you say, casting a playful glance back at Rafe. He looks startled, his eyes wide with uncertainty. “You’ll be fine, Rafe,” you giggle, heading toward the kitchen.

As you prepare a snack for Vivienne, you glance back at Rafe, who is now on the floor with her. His hand hovers hesitantly above her, clearly unsure of how to engage, but a broad smile spreads across his face as he watches her. This sight warms your heart, and a blush creeps onto your cheeks as you admire the moment.

You return to the living room, placing the snack on the floor, and Vivienne crawls over to it eagerly. The sight of the bags scattered around fills you with a mix of surprise and amusement. “You really didn’t need to do all of this,” you tease, looking at Rafe with a playful smirk.

“I wanted to,” he replies earnestly. “Aside from not knowing anything about her or her size, I wanted her to have these things.” You start pulling items out of the bags: baby books, clothes in three different sizes—thankfully he included larger sizes, too, anticipating her growth. Among the bags, you find a collection of stuffed animals, and as you pull out a plush sea turtle, Vivienne snatches it from your hands, tossing her snack aside in her excitement.

“She’s definitely in a bit of a turtle phase,” you and Rafe laugh together, the tension from earlier dissipating as the day unfolds without a hint of awkwardness. Rafe quickly becomes comfortable, diving into playtime with Vivienne while you join in at points. As you watch them together, it’s undeniable how much she resembles him. Even the features you often claim to be yours seem to fade away, overshadowed by the undeniable similarities. It’s as if you’re gazing at two twins, a striking reflection of one another.

When dinner time rolls around, you enlist Rafe's help to prepare Vivienne’s meal, allowing him to learn what she likes. After dinner, he helps give her a bath, and you both share in the delight of her giggles and splashes. Once she’s tucked into bed, you leave the room, expecting him to follow you. You turn around to find him lingering in the doorway, watching her with a soft smile, his thumb brushing over his cheek. In that moment, you realize you’ve never seen him look so utterly in love.

Eventually, he joins you on the couch, the atmosphere cozy and peaceful. “I don’t know how you ever get any sleep; I could watch her for hours,” he remarks, and you smile, though you can’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. “Yeah, she’s a little sleeping beauty. She’s just perfect.”

Now that the two of you are alone, you know some difficult conversations need to happen. Rafe lets out a sigh, settling into the old, beat-up couch. The silence stretches between you for several moments before you decide to break it. “I’m not sorry for being okay with your dad being dead,” you state, the words hanging heavily in the air.

Rafe jolts his head in your direction, disbelief etched across his features. “Are you fucking serious?”

“Yes,” you reply firmly.

“After all this time, this is what you say to me? After an amazing day?” His frustration is palpable.

“Yes,” you insist again.

“I know it’s your dad, and I know you loved him, but how do you not understand, even after everything, how awful he was?”

“Maybank enou—”

“NO! What he did to Sarah, how he barely cared about Wheezie, and how he turned you into a monster!” Your voice rises, but you simultaneously remain calm, determined to explain your perspective.

“You can be an asshole sometimes, but the way he turned you into a self-destructive shell of yourself was more than enough reason for me. The way he abused you, almost strangling me and Sarah to death on the ship—all over greed. He was an evil man, and I will never miss him.”

Rafe stands, his face flushing with anger. “That is my father! Your precious Pogues had him killed, and you have the nerve to not even be slightly remorseful?! What the hell is wrong with you?”

You roll your eyes, frustration bubbling up inside you. “You never even gave me the chance to explain! You pushed me away, and you probably don’t even know the truth. I’m not trying to make you hate him, but you need to understand where I’m coming from.”

You urge Rafe to sit back down, hoping to calm his nerves, mindful of Vivienne’s peaceful slumber. You take a deep breath and begin explaining everything that led up to Ward and Big John’s deaths, carefully detailing the events without glossing over the pain that was inflicted on everyone involved. Including John B, who also lost his father that day, for a second time.

Rafe listens in silence, absorbing the weight of your words. He remains speechless, unable to formulate a response, and eventually, he pulls you into him, resting his head on your shoulder. You can feel the warmth of his tears soaking into your arm, and you cradle his head gently, offering him comfort.

After a moment, you pull away slightly and ask him to stay the night. “I, uh… I had plans with Sofia to meet Topper and his girl in a bit,” he admits, and you feel a wave of disappointment wash over you.

“Oh, right, of course you do,” you reply, attempting to laugh it off, but the sting of that reality lingers. You had forgotten that Rafe had built a new life while you were gone.

As you get up, preparing to head to bed, he suddenly yanks you back down into his lap, brushing the hair that has fallen around your face behind your ear. “I guess I technically have a valid excuse for not making it,” he says with a smirk, and before you can respond, he pulls you in for a kiss.

You deepen the kiss, your fingers tangling in the back of his neck as he lifts you effortlessly, laying you back down on the couch without breaking the kiss. “I’ve fucking missed these lips,” he murmurs between kisses, each one igniting a spark of passion.

In the heat of the moment, you almost miss the front door slamming open. A drunken JJ comes barreling in, followed closely by Kie, Pope, and Cleo. “I thought it smelled like shit in here!” he exclaims, loud and boisterous.

“Be quiet, JJ. V is sleeping,” you say, your voice firm but playful. Rafe turns his head to reply, but you quickly pull him back to face you, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Let’s go to my room,” you whisper, your heart racing with excitement and a hint of mischief, as the evening takes an unexpected turn.

As you head toward your door, JJ interrupts with a piercing remark. “King Rafe, self-proclaimed good at everything he does except being a stand-up father. Leaving my sister like that just to let you back in so easily? I’d think something was wrong with her if you weren’t a world-class manipulator just like your father.”

“JJ!” you exclaim, your voice sharp with disbelief.

Rafe starts to move toward him, clearly bewildered by JJ's accusations. You quickly intervene, urging him to go into your room. Standing on the opposite side of the kitchen island, you confront JJ, frustration boiling over. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why would you say that to him?”

JJ scoffs, crossing his arms defiantly. “Please, he deserves it! After everything he did to you?! You’re defending him?”

You raise your hand, your patience wearing thin. “JJ, lower your fucking voice! I told you V is sleeping.” But he continues to rant about how much of a piece of shit he thinks Rafe is, and you finally reach your breaking point.

“I LIED!” you yell, your voice echoing in the tense atmosphere, completely disregarding your own advice to keep it down.

“I lied, JJ. Everything I told you about what happened after I left wasn’t true. He never knew. He never knew I was pregnant; he never knew I had V. I tried to push down my feelings about what he said to me the last time I saw him, and I tried to convince myself he didn’t want either of us. It was easier. You hated him anyway, so it was simpler to tell you guys that, too. The guilt ate me up every day! That’s why he’s here. He deserves the chance to meet her, whether you all like it or not.”

JJ leans over the counter, slurring his words. “You should’ve just gotten that abortion like you planned to, so we didn’t have to deal with this mess and have him around.”

“JJ!” Kie yells, her tone sharp and reprimanding.

Without thinking, you slap JJ across the face, the sound echoing in the room. His head jolts to the side, and to your shock, he laughs. The gasps from everyone else in the room create a heavy tension, and for a split second, your own face falls in disbelief at your actions. But anger quickly replaces that disbelief as you stare at him, furious that he could say something so hurtful to you. “Good, maybe that’ll sober him up a bit,” you retort and turn toward your room, feeling a rush of adrenaline.

As you slip past Rafe, you barely register that he has been standing there the entire time, watching the confrontation unfold. He closes the door behind him, the soft click resonating in the tense silence.

He sits down on the bed, a weighty silence hanging in the air. Without a word, you straddle his lap, pulling him into a feverish kiss, desperate to drown out the chaos that just erupted. You can’t talk about it now; you just need to feel something else, something that’s yours.

Rafe responds instantly, his hands gripping your waist, pulling you in closer. “We don’t have to talk now. Let me take care of you instead,” he murmurs against your lips. With that, he stands up, holding you effortlessly, and lays you down on the bed, his body pressing against yours as the world outside fades away. In this moment, you find solace in each other, the storm of emotions momentarily forgotten as you lose yourselves in one another.

He holds you tightly at the waist, leaning over while kissing you passionately. As he slips his tongue into your mouth, he senses the familiar thrill he remembers. Slowly, he starts to lift your shirt. Realizing what he’s doing, you arch your back, eagerly yanking it off, and pull his shirt off in one swift motion. You grab his face, pulling him in to kiss him again, lost in the moment.

Rafe breaks the kiss, trailing his lips over your cheek, then along your jawline, and down to your neck. He gazes at your breasts, gently cupping both in his hands. Slowly, he takes your left nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking, lavishing attention on it for a few minutes before moving to the right. Soft moans escape your lips as pleasure courses through you.

Once he shifts his focus from your chest, his kisses travel down your stomach. He pauses at the waistband of your shorts, teasingly licking his way back up, over your stomach, between your breasts, and up to your neck and chin, before crashing his lips back against yours.

Kneeling before you, Rafe grabs your calves and plants soft kisses all over your legs. He takes hold of the waistband of your shorts, looking up at you for confirmation. You nod, heart racing, and he slowly pulls them off. A small whimper escapes you, fueled by the overwhelming desire to be closer to him. Once your shorts are discarded, his hands explore your thighs, rubbing and massaging the skin, warm kisses trailing behind.

Unable to contain himself any longer, Rafe spreads your legs apart, positioning himself perfectly in line with your core. He licks his lips. “I’m going to make you feel so fucking good with just my mouth. I want you to cum all over my face,” he whispers, igniting a wave of pleasure in you at his words. He hasn’t even begun yet, and you’re already lost in the anticipation.

With a starving look in his eyes, he gently spreads your folds apart with his fingers, laying his tongue flat against you. A cry of ecstasy escapes your lips, and you don’t care if anyone outside can hear you. You secretly relish the thought of teasing your brother for what he said. It’s been so long since you’ve felt this kind of touch, and it’s all the more intoxicating that it’s Rafe’s tongue amidst your thighs.

Rafe begins to work his magic, he usually watches you from down there but he’s so into it and missed it he could only keep his eyes shut. Licking up and down your folds shaking his head left and right to build you up. You’re moaning like crazy. “Rafe… fuck!” You throw your head back. He begins to stick his tongue in and out of you circling your hole. You still can’t believe the speed he’s able to do this. He moves back up flicking your clit before fully engulfing his mouth over it and sucking on it hard. You begin to pant, it’s hard to breath, feeling the build up in your stomach. Your legs he’s holding back beginning to shake. It’s feels unreal. He won’t let up, moving back and forth from sucking on your clit, to laying his tongue flat and shaking the hell out of his head.

“Oh my god, Rafe I’m fucking - ah.” You arch your back and throw your head into the comforter, you cry out as you cum. He doesn’t let up, eating you out through your orgasm. Cleaning up every last drop of you. Once you’ve calm down he finally looks up at you. You meet his eyes and smile. Reaching down to wipe your arousal off his chin, pulling him to taste yourself on his tongue.

While kissing you reach down and begin to fumble with his belt. He smiles into your mouth. Standing he unbuckles his belt and pulls his pants and boxer briefs off in a swift motion. You lift you legs up and he slides comfortably in between them his hard cock laying on top of you. He’s looking down at you and you up at him. Maintaining eye contact you lick your hand and reach down and begin to pump him. He shivers at the motion and can’t help but watch you at this angle jerk him off with his mouth agape. He begins to fuck your hand throwing his head back when he can’t stand how good this feels. “Fuck baby, just like that.” He groans.

You loosen your grip when he looks back down. “Eyes on me, daddy.” A word you never used before, but it seems fitting because you’ve never seen him more sexy than today, being a father. He grunts at the demand (and the pet name.) You tighten your grip again now leaning down to like his tip. You hold your tongue flat out as he bumps into it with every thrust. You’ve know Rafe long enough to know when he’s about to cum. He doesn’t even need to warn you. His thrusts get faster and sloppier and he grunts above you. “Mama, shit stay just like that, ugh.”

He throws his head back again as he cums. Quickly regaining composure to look back down at you as your mouth fills with his hot liquid and you swallow it all. Finger grazing your upper lip to catch some strays and suck it off.

Before you know it, he’s grabbing you by the waist and moving up to your pillows. Lifting your legs up and finding himself back in between your legs. He’s already hard again, not at all ready to stop at one round.

He aligns himself up with your entrance. But he decides to tease you a bit first. Rubbing his tip between your folds. Rubbing circles around your clit as you squirm beneath him. “Rafe, please I need you.” You plead reaching your hand down to push him in. He swiftly grabs your wrist pinning it above you. Leaning in lips brushing against you. “You had me wait for almost 2 years, you can wait a second.” You stay in this position, so lost in his eyes you don’t prepare for him to smash into you.

He lets you adjust for a second before slowly pulling out and push back into you. He takes his time you both moaning at the feeling. “Faster baby please. I need you harder” you plead. He doesn’t need anymore more convincing. Just like that, he’s thrusting in and out of you at a pace that has your mind racing. You can’t focus on anything but the pleasure. Your eyes moving around the room, rolling to the back of your head and back to him to maintain eye contact. Looking into his even though everything is blurry, you still see the sharpness of the blue staring back at you.

You let out a bunch of oos and ahs that has him gritting his teeth. “You like that baby girl? When I pound into you like this? You were always a little slut for me fucking you like this.” You nod but that isn’t enough for him. He wraps his arm around your neck gripping your hair and pulling your head back. “I didn’t hear you baby.”

“Yes. I’m your little slut, I love when you split me in half just like that. Right there, uhhh, keep doing that.”

Rafe was always smug about his length. Not only his length but the width of him is what had you drooling every time. The way he’d stretch you and brush against your walls is what kept you so enamored with him. It was the ultimate pleasure.

You feel yourself getting closer again. The way you scratch his back and arch into him her could tell too. Before he can let you go, he pulls out and flips you. On his knees he pulls you onto all fours. Dropping a glob of spit on your slit, he gathers it with his tips and slams back into you. This angle causes you to see stars and he hits your cervix every thrust. The grip on your hips has him plunging in even faster. He can’t get enough of feeling you around him.

“Rafe I’m close!” You belt out.

“Not yet baby, let me meet you, come with me.” You cry out not sure you’ll be able to do it. His thrusts start getting sloppy. You clench around him once you start to feel him throb in you. He reaches one hand into your hair yanking you up flush against his chest. Wrapping g that hand around your throat now while the other enters your mouth to graze onto your tongue and then down to your clit to run circles ferociously. You legs start to give out but he holds you up by your throat not giving f you any place to go.

“Raaafee, oh my god” you cry out. Tears streaming down your face.

“Come on baby, come for me now, I’m right behind you.” Your legs shake again, the overstimulation is unbearable now. Both hand still occupied around your throat and your clit. He doesn’t stop as you cum, hand still circling him still thrusting.

“Baby. Fill me up. Please cum inside me.” That’s all it takes for him to give you a couple of more deep thrusts and he fills you up. You feel so warm inside as you feel his come deep inside you.

He stays inside as you drop to the bed. Holding his position for a few seconds as he tries to catch his breath. He stands up and finds a towel hanging on your door. You flip over to lie in your back and he cleans you up. Annoying as he can be he was very attentive to aftercare with you.

He goes to toss the towel in your hamper as you get under the covers. He follow suit. You nuzzle your head into his neck as he wraps his arms around you. The warmth of his naked body is so soothing to you. All the lost memories of you and him come flooding back to you. You never want this feeling to end. He gives you repeated kisses on the forehead.

However, you know that in the morning reality will set back in and you realize he isn’t yours anymore.

You let emotions get the best of you and all you could think of was how terrible this is for Sofia. You aren’t the type of person to sleep with another woman’s man. You silently begin to cry. Happy tears at the thought of laying her with Rafe again mixed with sadness.

Rafe looks down at you concerned. You play it off as a yawn and just try to enjoy the moment you two are sharing now. He rubs your back and you just lay staring at each other until you begin falling asleep.

“God, how I’ve missed that pretty face.” Is the last thing you hear before sleep takes over.

Taglist-

@maybankslover @eringaitskill @luissa266 @lolll505 @dayyzlol @livie4lifestarkeyblyth @calaryssia @leilanizcals @eg-dr3amer3 @ilove-tswizzle @ggggggbu @rafestar

[ash-says]

Mini steps towards being independent:

I know. I know the frustration of not being in charge of your life. Especially when you are financially dependent and for some under 20s. Everyone treats you like a child but expects you to be an adult.

Then we have the group who go on insisting they are adults and capable of taking life decisions but for the love of God can't change their bedsheet responsibly.

Thus, I have come up with some mini tricks that will make you feel just a tiny bit independent:

Anytime anywhere list

1) Learn how to cook.

2) Take responsibility for household chores such as washing clothes, utensils,etc.

3) Do groceries shopping.

4) Keep track of the essentials required at home and make sure to stock them up.

5) Change the bedsheets weekly.

6) Clean your cupboards timely.

7) Plan a trip with your friends and take care of the execution part.

8) Decide what to make for lunch, dinner or breakfast and execute it solely (right from buying the food required to cooking it).

9) Check on your younger siblings studies. Take an update of their life or keep your room organized and clean.

10) Grow plants.

Planned execution list

Live alone. Try to get out of your parental home and start a new life in another city.

Get an internship/job.

Manage your finances on a budget and save money at the same time.

Take major life decisions such as your career field, whom to be friends with, etc solely on your own judgement.

Learn to navigate difficult social situations with ease.

Adopt a pet.

Develop your own ethical system.

Curate your discipline.

Identify your non-negotiable in different aspects of life.

Learn to speak up for yourself.

That's all for today's show on ash-says. Stay tuned for more illegal tricks and explosive opinions.

[dandelionsresilience]

Dandelion News - January 15-21

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $kaybarr1735 or check out my Dandelion Doodles!

1. Landmark debt swap to protect Indonesia’s coral reefs

“The government of Indonesia announced this week a deal to redirect more than US$ 35 million it owes to the United States into the conservation of coral reefs in the most biodiverse ocean area on Earth.”

2. [FWS] Provides Over $1.3 Billion to Support Fish and Wildlife Conservation and Outdoor Access

“Through these combined funds, agencies have supported monitoring and management of over 500 species of wild mammals and birds, annual stocking of over 1 billion fish, operations of fish and wildlife disease laboratories around the country, and provided hunter and aquatic education to millions of students.”

3. Philippine Indigenous communities restore a mountain forest to prevent urban flooding

“Indigenous knowledge systems and practices are considered in the project design, and its leaders and members have been involved throughout the process, from agreeing to participate to identifying suitable land and selecting plant species that naturally grow in the area.”

4. Responsible Offshore Wind Development is a Clear Win for Birds, the U.S. Economy, and our Climate

“[T]he total feasible offshore wind capacity along U.S. coasts is more than three times the total electricity generated nationwide in 2023. […] Proven strategies, such as reducing visible lights on turbines and using perching deterrents on turbines, have been effective in addressing bird impacts.”

5. Illinois awards $100M for electric truck charging corridor, Tesla to get $40M

“The project will facilitate the construction of 345 electric truck charging ports and pull-through truck charging stalls across 14 sites throughout Illinois[…. E]lectrifying [the 30,000 daily long-haul] trucks would make a huge impact in the public health and quality of life along the heavily populated roadways.”

6. Reinventing the South Florida seawall to help marine life, buffer rising seas

“[The new seawall] features raised areas inspired by mangrove roots that are intended to both provide nooks and crannies for fish and crabs and other marine creatures and also better absorb some of the impact from waves and storm surges.”

7. Long Beach Commits to 100% All-Electric Garbage Trucks

“[Diesel garbage trucks] produce around a quarter of all diesel pollution in California and contribute to 1,400 premature deaths every year. Electric options, on the other hand, are quieter than their diesel counterparts and produce zero tailpipe emissions.”

8. ‘This Is a Victory': Biden Affirms ERA Has Been 'Ratified' and Law of the Land

“President Joe Biden on Friday announced his administration's official opinion that the amendment is ratified and its protections against sex-based discrimination are enshrined in the U.S. Constitution.”

9. A Little-Known Clean Energy Solution Could Soon Reach ‘Liftoff’

“Ground source heat pumps could heat and cool the equivalent of 7 million homes by 2035—up from just over 1 million today[…. G]eothermal energy is generally considered to be more popular among Republicans than other forms of clean energy, such as wind and solar.”

10. Researchers combine citizens' help and cutting-edge tech to track biodiversity

“Researchers in the project, which runs from 2022 to 2026, are experimenting with tools like drones, cameras and sensors to collect detailed data on different species, [… and] Observation.org, a global biodiversity platform where people submit pictures of animals and plants, helping to identify and monitor them.”

January 8-14 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[ghostlyferrettarot]

🌁Pick a Picture:✨️❄️What wishes will come true for you?❄️✨️

•Pile 1 •Pile 2 •Pile 3

✨️Hello! I wanted to say thank you for being a part of my year and for supporting me so much, i am so thankful to everyone that took a little bit of their time to look into my page! I hope you guys have a Happy Holidays and i hope we can still be together next year <3✨️

❗️This is a collective reading, take what resonates and leave the rest❗️

✨️Paid Services ✨️ (Natal charts and tarot readings) Open!

🫧Join my Patreon for exclusive content!🫧

🌸If you like my work you can support me through Ko-fi. Thank you!🌸

🎀Masterlist🎀

⛄Pile 1: The Hanged Man, 5 of Pentacles and Ace of Cups.

Hi pile 1! You are my creative people, and this is a sign that wishes related to creativity, personal growth and the beginning of new projects are on their way to being fulfilled.

There is a vibration of creative abundance and personal power, I feel like you will be stepping into your power, you will be manifesting into reality a creative project that you have been working on for a while.

The next few months will be full of opportunities to expand your mind and your creative nature. If you were waiting for that moment to launch a new idea or project, get ready to see how the universe opens doors for you. This is a period of fertility and manifestation: everything you sow with your effort will manifest successfully. Do not hold back because of doubts, because your power of creation is at its peak.

Wishes that have to do with artistic projects, entrepreneurship or simply personal development will be aligned. Remember that abundance flows to you when you nurture your passions and follow your instincts. It's time to take action and trust your vision.

❄️Song:

⛄Pile 2: The Moon, 4 of Cups and Page of Wands.

Hi pile 2!, there is a strong energy related to love and emotional healing. This pile brings with it the fulfillment of desires linked to emotional healing and deep relationships.

If you have been looking for a deeper type of connection, whether in the romantic realm or in your friendships, this is a time of revelations and healing. You will have more hope, restoration and an energetic flow full of inner peace. Those desires related to the perfect relationship, reconciliation or the feeling of belonging will soon manifest. It is a time to trust that the universe will guide you to what is right for you.

This pile also speaks of the importance of listening to your intuition. If there is something you need to let go or heal, the energy of the Moon is really prominent in this pile, so it suggests that the desire for emotional release will come true. You have the ability to release internal blockages that have prevented you from living love in its purest form. Self-love will also be key in this process. I feel like a significant connection, especially a soulmate one is coming into your way pile 2!

❄️Song:

⛄Pile 3: Death, 8 of Wands and 6 of Wands.

Hi pile 3! this pile indicates that you are in a stage of changes, where desires related to destiny and personal transformation are about to become true. You are going to experience powerful changes that represent life turns and success.

Desires that relate to important life changes and recognitions of success are aligned for you. If you have been waiting for a turn in your destiny, this is the time. Your guides tell you that the cycle is changing, and that what seemed uncertain will now become a golden opportunity.

It is a time of rebirth and evolution, you probably are in a transformative journey right now and its gonna pay off pile 3!

I also feel that wishes for prosperity, joy and success will soon come true aswell. It is time to shine and take advantage of the opportunities that the universe brings you. All that effort, those seeds planted with sacrifice, are now ready to grow and bear fruit, you are doing an amazing job, so trust yourself and soon you will live your dream reality step by step!

❄️Song:

✧˚.⋆Thanks for reading and let me know if it resonated!✧˚.⋆

Dividers by: @dollywons

[becausebuckley]

michelle's buddie fic recs: week 13!

lthe year is officially one-fourth over and i gotta be honest, i do not vibe with that at all. the passage of time can suck my ass. enjoy these fics!!

this is a mix of fics with all ratings, so some include NSFW content. please take a look at both the ratings and the fic tags before reading! some contain spoilers for season 8.

if you come across something you like in this list, remember to show some love to the author by leaving kudos and a comment!

across our great divide (a glorious sunrise) | catchingpapermoons/@adamsparirsh | 53.7k | M

Eddie gets Buck to come to couples therapy with him. truly such a stunning fic. i love how this is just filled with emotion at every corner, not just in the dialogue but descriptive passages as well. brilliant, brilliant stuff!!

anther | theghosts | 6.6k | E

Eddie gets hit with pollen from a magical plant and develops some rather interesting symptoms. Buck does what any good best friend would do and helps Eddie through it. it is my humble opinion that the 911 fandom needs more sex pollen fic. if you're reading this and you don't immediately agree with me, i'm gonna need you to click the link above, read it, and then come back and tell me that i was absolutely right, because we do, in fact, need 700 more fics just like it. this one is so, so well-written, i love the bits of worldbuilding and the buddie and the smut. it's so good <3

champagne kisses | spaceprincessem/@spaceprincessem | 1.9k | GA

eddie comes home and buck stays. gorgeous writing AND a love confession?? oh, this fic absolutely delivers. love it!!

cinnamon kisses | tawaifeddiediaz/@aashiqeddiediaz | 3.5k | T

Buck wakes up from a nap, cuddles Eddie, proposes, and devours cinnamon rolls, in that very order. i have an all-day study session planned for tomorrow and i'm gonna pick up a cinnamon roll as a treat just because of this fic. i have been craving one so badly since reading this!! this was a reread of one of my favourite fics ever <3

close enough for comfort | allyasavedtheday/@littlespoonevan | 14.1k | T

A look at how Buck and Eddie's physical relationship develops from season 2 to season 5 AKA the one with all the hugging. i love how this dips into canon at all these places and how intimate the whole fic feels <3 so good!!

finders keepers | drh0rrible/@betanoiz | 7.1k | E

After Eddie leaves for Texas, Buck finds Eddie’s sex toy in his new bedroom. He reacts normally. i'm a huge fan of all the unhinged buddie long distance sex fics lately, and this is a shining example of just how good those can be. absolutely mind-blowing!!

i'm scared of being lonely (i'll let anybody hold me) | justhockey | 9.4k | T

“I’m not in love with my best friend,” Buck says, but the words feel strange in his mouth. this has such a lovely reunion bit and i always love how this author writes ravi <3

it hit me in the kitchen | heartcompass/@bugsongs | 13.1k | GA

Eddie leaves for Texas and everybody copes with food in one way or another. buddie and food is one of my favourite fic combinations <3 this is lovely and heartwarming and all the food sounds so, so good!!

oh what a terrible honor it's been (to learn that my blessings are things you call sins) | wafflesofdoom/@capseycartwright | 18.3k | GA

Christopher leaves for Texas, Eddie goes back to therapy, unearths an emotional lockbox he had been fourteen years old when he buried, and has a lot of thoughts about how Buck is sunshine incarnate. In hindsight, it probably should have been obvious he wasn't straight. this has been on my marked for later list for a while and i'm so glad to have had the opportunity to actually read it! i love how this captures eddie and touches on religion and queerness and just everything, really. also, can we talk about that title? i LOVE that title

pain is cold water (your brain just gets used to it) | lilacbarnes | 22k | M

Eddie leaves, and calls, and calls, and calls. Buck falls apart, and lets it go to voicemail. such a wonderful fic!! i love how the voicemails capture eddie's voice, and following buck's arc through this was just lovely <3

tell me how it feels (say it ain't so) | Iover_of_mine/@lover-of-mine | 8.3k | T

Eddie hears Natalia saying Buck's death was cool and things spiral out of control from there.  this has some of the absolute best buddie dialogue i've read in ages. it feels so, so true to character, it's so good!!

this whole thing between us | facewithoutheart/@facewithoutheart | 3.9k | E

Eddie and Buck swap bodies and get together. bodyswap fic!! i love a bodyswap fic!! this is suck a fun take on the trope and i love how both of them reacted to the swap <3

write your name on every blank page | lamardeuse/@lamardeuse | 11k | M

This is an impulse he doesn't have to worry about, because a) it's only going to cost him two dollars, and b) it's frivolous. Eddie doesn't usually do frivolous, but Father Brian told him to allow himself joy and he desperately needs some right now. listen i am not joking when i say that i've been waiting for a postcards fic ever since eddie said he was moving to el paso. this is absolutely everything i could have wished for and so much more <3 i loved looking at the cards they sent!!

[renren-006]

Obsession | Bucky (Winter soldier) x reader

plot: WS meets you once and develops a severe obsession with you.

warning: SAPPY

a/n: I heard an audio on TikTok that sparked this idea!

When Bucky first met you he wasn’t himself, he was the Winter Soldier. You were much younger than him when you met.

He was on an assignment at the Red Room when he saw your face. It cracked the mental shield holding Bucky away, a face worth remembering. You couldn’t have been older than 16 at the time. You were in the training room, a small smile planted n your lips as the older girls taught you special moves. He saw the smile disappeared when the adults running the facility enter, the same mask he was sworn to wear around others. Your eyes found his after a while and he could read the pain behind them, the fear, like his own. You both just watched each other until you had to turn back and twirl your operator. Bucky wanted you saved, The Winter Soldier began calling you his mission.

Three years later you saw each other once more. You looked older, entirely different while he was the same. This time he was sent after you for running. You were still in Germany, hiding out int he woods when he came across you. The tiny cabin you found was an obvious place for WS to end up looking. You were huddled on the couch, with three blankets keeping you warm when he walked in the door. You were too weak to move or fight, having heard him when he entered the property 5 minutes ago.

“If you’re going to kill me, at least don’t make it when i’m already frozen” you stuttered out. He just stared at you.

“My objectives compromise MY mission” he said. The ‘my” caught you off guard. He wasn’t talking about HYDRA or the Red Rooms that asked of him; no, he had something he wanted to do.

“Your mission?” you asked

“YOU” he said, “You are my mission”

“What kind of mission…” you asked hesitantly.

“Safety. He wants you safe” At that he walked over to you and picked you up, not harming just caring. He took you to the town that night, making sure you got the door of a motel and enough cash so you could escape. When he turned back around to leave, making sure you knew that the person you were before was dead and to pick a new identity, you shouted after him.

“Come find me again someday” you told him.

Bucky nodded his head at that, promising you that chance.

He never forgot about you or stopped looking for you. It was another three years before he was awakened in New York, where he conducted his own mission after completing one. His handlers had conveniently lost sight of him, allowing him to uncover where you were.

He often visited the rooftop across from your apartment, watching you when he could to make sure you were still alive.

You didn’t see him until you were almost 27 years old.

New York was bustling in the summer, and you were doing your best to make your way through the crowd. You made it to the crosswalk when you noticed a face in the crowd. There he was, looking almost the same as he did 8 years ago. You stopped walking, letting everyone else pass you by. He walked across the street towards you, making your head turn upwards as he got closer to you.

"Your back" you said.

"You told me to find you again" he said. "i havent stopped watching out for you"

"I know" you told him. "Iv always known you were in the shadows"

"Im not...him anymore" Bucky spoke. He was almost unsure if he truly belived it.

"Your Bucky again?" you asked smialing at the man you knew for quite a long time.

"Yes, but I have no place..."

"Well, it's a good thing you found me, then," you told him.

[justafewberries]

Themes of Implicit Submission in The Hunger Games (Book One)

I’ve just finished re-reading The Hunger Games (book one) and there are a few themes that I expect SOTR will develop based on Hume’s implicit submission theory. Specifically, these are the main six tactics I believe the Capitol uses to thwart another rebellion present in the first book alone: 

Societal Pressure:

District 12 has a “keep your head down” culture. Any talks of rebellion are frowned upon. Any anti-government statements will cause social repercussions. It’s not just Katniss rolling her eyes at Gale in the woods, it’s how she has been groomed by the culture to keep quiet about the issues pervading life in the district:

“When I was younger, I scared my mother to death, the things I would blurt about District 12, about the people who rule our country, Panem, from the far-off city called the Capitol. Eventually, I understood this would only lead us to more trouble. So I learned to hold my tongue and to turn my features into an indifferent mask so that no one could ever read my thoughts. Do my work quietly in school. Make only polite small talk in the public market. Discuss little more than trades in the Hob.… Even at home, where I am less pleasant, I avoid discussing tricky topics. Like the reaping, or food shortages, or the Hunger Games. Prim might begin to repeat my words and then where would we be?” (p.6)

All of this proceeds the statement:

“Even here, in the middle of nowhere, you worry someone might overhear you.” (p. 5)

Under this point, it is also telling that during the reaping ceremony, Katniss says the “boldest form of dissent [the audience] can manage,” is silence. Not outrage, not yelling, not like district 11, but silence (p. 24).

2. Division between Classes 

The Capitol has created conflict within the districts to draw hatred to a local target. In the case of the first book, Gale remarks tesserae is a tactic to keep them divided. 

“Gale knows his anger at Madge is misdirected. On other days, deep in the woods, I’ve listened to him rant about how the tesserae are just another tool to cause misery in our district. A way to plant hatred between the starving workers of the Seam and those who can generally count on supper and thereby ensure we will never trust one another. “It’s to the Capitol’s advantage to have us divided among ourselves,” he might say if there were no ears to hear but mine.” (p. 14)

Interestingly, tesserae is already known as the “courtesy of the capitol” as stamped on Haymitch’s shorts in SOTR. The Capitol markets tesserae as something it does out of goodness. It attempts to make itself seem well-intentioned via the distribution of necessary goods. It’s their courtesy, after all. 

This point also includes the division between the districts. In the games, Katniss remarks how allying with the careers is essentially traitorous. 

“No one from District 12 would think of doing such a thing! Career tributes are overly vicious, arrogant, better fed, but only because they’re the Capitol’s lapdogs.” (p. 162)

By treating certain districts better, the Capitol promotes distrust between the districts, dampening potential unionization with planted hatred. By choosing favorite children, the parent that is the Capitol forces the districts to fight. 

3. Weaponized Language

The name of the Treaty of Treason, the treaty that makes the Hunger Games necessary per the law, is definitive of how the districts are forced to see themselves. They are the ones who committed treason by rebelling, and therefore they are guilty. They must repent by sending the children to the games. The permanent treaty, read during every reaping ceremony, enforces the guilt the districts are supposed to feel. In turn, the fact it is a “treaty” means the districts must have agreed to and signed it. Regardless of the circumstances around the signing of the treaty, the capitol then has the ability to wave it over their heads henceforth. 

The name itself points a finger and keeps the districts forever at fault. 

Furthermore, the fact Katniss is referred to by her district number until and even after she is given something to remember her by (the fire) further dehumanizes the tributes. During the parade, she says the citizens of the capitol have liked her and Peeta enough to "read the program" and learn their names (p. 70).

There are many more examples of villainizing and dehumanizing language in the book, but I have chosen those examples for the sake of brevity.

4. Propagandizing Education

A major theme in many dystopian novels is how the system treats education. In District 12, Katniss tells the reader:

“Besides basic reading and math, most of our instruction is coal-related. Except for the weekly lecture on the history of Panem. It’s mostly a lot of blather about what we owe the Capitol.” (p. 42)

A weekly lecture in a school is quite a lot of time to devote to any one subject. Seeing as how the rest of their curriculum revolves around district-specific content, the weekly lecture must be mandated across all districts, likely leaving the rest up to the discretion of the district itself. The Capitol once again emphasizes how the districts were wrong. It is repeated week after week, and eventually, it becomes ingrained in the social psychology of the district. 

5. Hunger and Deprivation of Needs

Continuing from the section about Katniss knows the weekly lecture must be propaganda, saying,

“I know there must be more than they’re telling us, an actual account of what happened during the rebellion. But I don’t spend much time thinking about it. Whatever the truth is, I don’t see how it will help me get food on the table.” (p. 42)

This point coincides with my second point about the division of classes. By keeping the people hungry, they are too busy thinking about the lowest rung on Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs. They see those who have food, and they are the opposition in front of them, rather than examining the source of the problem. By keeping the people hungry, they are less likely to have the time or ability to even think about a collective uprising. 

6. Limiting Flow of Information

The Capitol limits the flow of information between districts. In doing so, the districts are forced to make bridging assumptions about one another. This is revealed through Katniss and Rue’s discussion in the games: 

“It’s interesting, hearing about her life. We have so little communication with anyone outside our district. In fact, I wonder if the Gamemakers are blocking out our conversation, because even though the information seems harmless, they don’t want people in different districts to know about one another.” (p. 203)

By keeping them separate, they can turn any district against another. They rely solely on the Capitol for information about other districts, and therefore the Capitol has all of the power. 

Interestingly, another division between classes is shown through Peeta’s knowledge about other districts. He knows the different types of bread from the districts, implying the merchant class may have more access to information than those of the seam, leading to further division between classes. 

All in all, these are the themes I expect to be addressed in SOTR based on the pretense of implicit submission.

See Catching Fire's themes here

See Mockingjay's themes here

[markleessodalite]

They Can Hear Us...: n.jm

content: bf!jaemin drags you to an event you don't really want to attend, so you try to devise an escape plan... but he's not one to be fooled.

warnings: fem!reader, lots and lots of kisses, maybe a tiny bit suggestive(?) but mostly just fluff, nothing else to warn about afaik

word count: 0.5k

a/n: i had a mini hoard of drabbles that i was saving to post later, but i've read over them so much to the point where now i hate every single one :/ but n e waiz i got some extra days off work this upcoming week and i'm hoping to do NOTHING but write the whole time :3 (also if you're one of the anons who sent in requests i promise i'm gonna get to those asap!!!)

“Jaemin! Stop. I mean it!” you half-heartedly scold your boyfriend, although your soft tone and light giggles clearly indicate a message that’s opposite to the words leaving your lips.

Jaemin plants another teasing kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Hmm, are you sure?” He kisses the tip of your nose, then your cheek, making his way down your jaw and to your exposed shoulder as he laces his fingers with yours. “Seems like you kinda like it, huh? Love this dress, by the way.” His free hand rubs gentle lines along your back, with only just enough restraint to not mess up the delicate fabric of your one-shoulder gown.

You knew he loved this dress, particularly how you look in this dress, which is exactly why you wore it to this gala. You weren’t especially excited to be here, but Jaemin was over the moon eager to take you, show you off to everyone else there, his girlfriend who looks like an absolute princess under ballroom lights with her arm linked in his. Of course, you knew that after about 5 minutes of you in this dress, he wouldn’t be able to focus on whatever charity event is going on around you two– which is how you’ve found yourself hidden in an offshoot hallway, Jaemin cornering you against the wall, planting light and playful (but very obviously needy) kisses anywhere his lips can reach.

Hey, it got you out of sitting at that boring table with those boring people listening to that boring speaker, right? All part of your coy little plan.

The only sound filling your ears now is your own soft giggles against Jaemin’s low chuckles and whispers, with him now developing a game to entertain himself with: trying to find that one particular spot that will drive you crazy.

“Here?” He plants a kiss behind your ear.

“Nope.” You bite down on your lip to stifle any noise that could possibly slip through. You may be vaguely hidden, but you’re definitely still within earshot of the rest of the gala.

“Mmm. Then… here?” He hovers around the middle of your neck before leaving another kiss.

“No…” You can’t help the giggle that slips through your teeth.

“Okay… what about… here?” He leaves a kiss in the nook between the bottom of your neck and your collarbone, before biting down teasingly, drawing a squeal from you before you can catch it.

“Jaemin!” You can’t help but laugh, amused at Jaemin’s quick victory in his own game.

“Shh! Y/n, you know they can hear us…” Jaemin buries his face further in your neck, and you look over him to see the silhouettes of the other guests, turning their attention from the monotone speaker to figure out what direction the hushed giggles are coming from.

Here it is. Exactly the opportunity you need to convince him to go home.

“Then why don’t we go somewhere they can’t hear us, Jaem?”

He lifts his head from your shoulder to look in your eyes, and you know right away he sees through your little escape plan. And he’s not falling for it.

“No. I kinda like this little game. Round two? Let’s see if you can keep quiet, babe.” He smirks proudly at your shocked face before his lips crash into your neck again, and you realize he’ll play this game he’s made up for as long as this gala lasts. Can you handle Jaemin teasing you for several more hours without making a sound?

[thefrontmanscockwarmer]

Obsession (Part 2)

Player 001 x reader 📖

Masterlist <- Comment on this post to be added to the tag list

Part 1

Tw: stalker!In Ho

Note: (c/n) stand for cat name

5 years had gone by and all In Ho had to go off of were bank statements and transactions to know where you were and if you were still alive. He knew where you lived, your favorite places to eat, to watch movies, and where your favorite shop was. He also knows you have new kitten, but not his name, probably something like (c/n).

No new lover. Nothing since you left. You picked up a job as a (whatever you wanna be), and were living. He knew in his mind the reason you couldn’t move on was because of him and he knew it.

He snuck around and watched you through plain view. Sometimes he sent people to watch you and report back to him. Other times, he’d travel to where you were and stalk you, follow you to the market, ducking you between isles, or on the train, watching you through a crowd of people.

He would stand in front of the cottage you bought on the edge of town, how easy it’d be to take you. You had a bad habit of leaving your windows open. Leaving your life open for all to see. He’s watched you masturbate more times than he can count. He has videos of you throwing your head back as you cum. Your moans quietly seeping through the window. He would jerk off at the same time, cumming in the darkness as he watched you, leaving his cum on the flowers that you planted along the walls of your house.

He hated to admit to himself but he was jerking off to you almost every right, smelling your jacket like a sick man. I am sick he admitted.

So many days and nights he was grabbing onto his bed sheets, pressed up against his shower wall or even in his chair by the big screen, he was cumming for you, with you in mind, he missed you. But he missed your pussy more. Today, he was determined to get it. He approached you as you drank a coffee, typing on your laptop.

“Hello ma’am” he bowed “would you like to hear about your lord and savior Jesus Christ?”

“No, not right n-“ you stopped. “What’re you doing here, In Ho? It’s been 5 years, do you think what I said changed?” You say coldly.

“I know it hasn’t.” He sat before you can continue speaking. “I miss you (y/n). I mean, really fucking miss you. It’s been a lonely 5 years, I miss your smell, your touch, your hair. I miss the way you talk and your smile. I just miss you”

“You know, for a very intelligent man, you’re acting and sounding really fucking stupid.” You scoff rolling your eyes at him. “I mean, you miss me. So what? I miss Young il, but I’m never getting him back, am I?”

“But I’m right here?”

“No… you aren’t young il… I don’t know you”

“And what, you think I lied?!” You nodded. “About what? Huh? What would I possibly lie to you about?”

“Everything, that whole relationship we developed, that sex we had, that love.” You say. “As far as I’m concerned, Young il was an angel and you don’t even exist.”

“But my wallet does?”

“Honestly, you can have your card back.” You shake your head. “I don’t need dirty money”

“It’s clean. It comes from the stocks i invest in. Really (y/n), do you honestly think I’d give you game money?” He looks at you intensely. He wanted to tell you how attracted to you he still was. How his cock still aches for you. How he just wishes to fuck you. It was sitting across from you that he realized he was going to fuck you… whether you liked it or not.

“What do you want?” You sighed finally.

“One date with you. Please.” He stated. He knew deep in his heart that you still wanted him, you yearned for him. He needed you.

“No” you say and stand up.

“Look, one date, to show you who I really am as a person.” He argued. “Who I am outside of those damned games that ruined us. If after that you still decide you hate me, that’ll be all. You can live your life and I can live mine knowing at least I tried to make it better” he pleaded. His eyes pulling at your heart strings as they once did. You saw Young il for a brief moment, before seeing In Ho. You saw the man that was so sweet and gentle.

“Fine. One.” you conceded. You traded numbers and you left. Not knowing that In Ho could now tap your phone, could ruin your whole life. But truly the only thing he wanted to ruin was you.

You made it to your little cottage. It stood on the edge of the city with a small village of cottage farmers surrounding it. Fluffy baby cows and little lambs screamed at you from your neighbors house. Horses neighbors and goats cried. Your life was perfect, this place was perfect. Young il would have loved it… In Ho obviously prefers different style of life. Black and gold, power, money.

“Hi (c/n)” you say as he purred at you. He looped around you as you walked further into your house. You placed your items on your kitchen table. It was already 6. You cooked some dinner and watched an American drama you found on Netflix. Laughing along with the characters.

In Ho made it to his own home. The black and gold now insulted his eyes, it had ever since he saw the disgust on your face while you spoke angry and heartbroken. He sat at his computer, plugging in his phone. He stayed up for hours, deep into the night, hacking into your phone.

“Photos” he said aloud as he clicked it. He found a treasure trove of pictures. You with some friends, with family, birthdays, dinners, then he found your private photos.

“Let’s see (y/n), what do you do all alone” he whispered opening it. Pictures and videos of yourself floated into view, things other men should never see. Disgusting men like him should never see. He quickly searched through your sent and deleted messages, as far back as he could go, they’d never been sent. He returned back to the photos and stared at each on individually, videos playing, hardening his cock.

In Ho began to touch himself as he watched, his hand moving in sync with yours on the screen. He felt like he was participating in your intimate moment, like an invisible partner who you couldn't see or feel but was there nonetheless. He couldn’t help but freely moan into the emptiness of his room.

As the video played on, In Ho's movements became faster and more urgent. He could feel himself getting closer to climax, his heart pounding in his chest. He felt like a teenager again, watching porn, anxious that his parents may walk in. The thought that these were moments meant for no one else's eyes but yours made it even more exhilarating for him.

“I’m gonna cum” you said on camera. To him. “Oh my god, I’m gonna fucking cum” In Ho was getting sent into overdrive heavy sighs coursing through his lungs. “Oh god, Young il, I’m gonna cum on your fingers” he lost it. You were pleasuring to the thought of him, maybe his over persona, but still him nonetheless.

With one final stroke from you on screen and a simultaneous motion from In Ho's own hand came the peak of pleasure for him followed closely by release. His orgasm washed over him so strongly it left him gasping loudly within seconds all over both his keyboard and along edges near the monitor until reaching very tip top edge finally. He was panting, falling backwards, sinking deep into his chair. Cum heavily covered his desk space, now stained forevermore, a mess entirely due to a solely singular sickening act alone performed freely without fear. Through his sinful act.

If you knew would you forgive him?