#HOW does it take place in a decade?

[pirateborn-a]

this man’s death is literally the plot of one piece but also like     what if he didn’t <3

[myownprivatcidaho]

ok look but. man this is actually really sad alright. like i feel like im just now starting to like. sort of fit in at the acting studio and this is after TWO. YEARS. of being there. and then next school year im gonna transfer and i wont be there anymore. like nothings ever stayed the same for a long time in my life nothings been consistent long enough and once i feel comfortable enough to open up things fucking change and i miss people and then i change and they change and even if we see each other again everything's changed and nothing is the same. ive never had a consistent genuine friend in my life for more than one year. always always always its just when im about to get comfortable that things change and i have to move on. its been like this since i was a kid ive never been able to just have one thing that made me happy that was consistently going to be there no matter what. its all so unstable its like once the foundation settles its time for it to get torn up again for new foundation to get laid and im TIRED of this.

[weepylucifer]

whyyyy do i keep listening to the chemical workers song when i Know it just ignites in me an overpowering desire to go hug my dad for reasons i could not possibly explain to him

[sincerity-moi]

When you pick a name for your story and it’s already taken by another book:

[eighthman-bound]

So many Batman stories start with Alfred allready fully a part of Bruce’s life and Batmans support system, knowing his identity and such, from the very beginning.

But for once I really want to see a story where after Bruce leaves on his travels, instead of just moping around in a empty mansion Alfred treats himself to an early sunny retirement abroad, til years later he hears on the news about some mythical vigilante in his old home city Gotham

Because of course only that wretched place could have such a thing.

Everyone thinks it’s some kind of cryptid but Alfred is practical enough to deduce it’s some kind of rich idiot taking the law into his own hands.

Then a image shows up on the news broadcast, one of the few clear pictures anyone can get of this ‘Bat-man’, this black costumed Dracula looking being, cape and all.

And suddenly Alfreds mind is transported to a decade ago, watching the young boy he deeply cared for, lost and angry, scribbling drawings of hundreds of bats and himself as a bat-like demon, muttering to himself about a oath of vengeance and how he ‘shall become a bat’…

”Oh Christ, that’s MY rich idiot!”

That same evening Alfred is on the first flight back to Gotham, busts down Wayne Manors doors and forces his way into the Bat-Cave, patches up a very bloody, very confused Bruce and promptly asserts himself as once again Bruce’s Butler, as well as The Batman’s secret ally. Wherever Bruce likes it or not…

Which he secretly does he just won’t admit it

[daughter-of-sapph0]

please stop reblogging this my notification tab is dying

this post has been edited. here's the original text:

apple completely censoring tumblr to the point where you can't even say words that aren't even sexual like soap or pipe is the beginning of the end for tumblr’s usability and user experience. the process already started with the Dec 17 ban and recently with the overexposure of ads. but pretty soon, apple is gonna make tumblr unusable. it's not like virizon cared about making the site functional when they owned it, and automatic/wordpress (current owners) definitely don't give a shit about tumblr now.

everywhere else on the internet, content is heavily monitored and censored. you'll get banned if you say anything that's against tos. sometimes that's good, as it gets rid of all the nazis. other times it's terrible, when people abuse the reporting ai to ban normal people. the whole banning system is unpredictable, so to be safe, people need to censor themselves on twitter and tiktok and facebook and ig and youtube. they can't say "kill", they have to say "unalive". they can't talk about violence, so they have to sugarcoat real world events. they can't swear, talk about racism or sex or history, or even acknowledge that the world is a fucked up place, because "kids use this app". tumblr was one of the last safe places on the internet where you could threaten to kill the president without having the fbi show up to your house.

but with this new apple shit, tumblr is becoming more like every other site online. any post that contains a word on a constantly expanding list is hidden from ios users. any blogs marked as "explicit" (which is also a huge issue btw) are unaccessible by apple users. not straight up banning people, but still preventing access to the real tumblr for those users. now over a third of tumblr’s userbase is either stuck on a completely sanitized version of tumblr, has to use the web browser version on their phone, or just cut off from tumblr entirely.

the internet used to be a place of togetherness and inclusiveness and content sharing and entertainment and fun. now it's mostly corporate garbage and ads. companies love ads. and to run ads effectively, they need as many people as possible to see them. and to do that, the places they advertise have to be family friendly so everyone can use them. that's what all of these sites are doing. banning creativity and expressiveness so they can force you to watch more ads. I understand that there's server costs. I understand that the employees need to eat. but there are so many bugs that haven't been fixed in years that it seems like @staff is getting paid to do fuck all, and instead wasting their time making stupid design decisions to distract us from them selling out.

what does this current situation say about the future of tumblr and the internet as a whole? I don't really know. if things continue as they are, more people will leave tumblr for newer sites, or twitter once tumblr becomes just as unusable as it (might as well use the more popular shitty site if they're both equally shit). eventually, within 5 or 6 years, tumblr will shut down after server costs are too high, and unless users take the time to archive everything, nearly two decades of internet history will be erased forever. I'd give it until 2035 before the internet (and by extention the vr world / metaverse / matrix) becomes so riddled with ads that it becomes completely unusable. unless, of course, something changes with how advertisements work. whether that be a new law that makes it so ads have to be less distracting or optional, or even just some sites refusing to run advertisements at the cost of user membership fees. one of those seems extremely unlikely, and the other sounds equally shit.

the internet sucks ass. I just want to return to 2010 playing club penguin and browsing early tumblr and early watching minecraft youtube videos and playing flash games on newgrounds.

the world would be a better place if literally every single ceo and billionaire immediately died right now.

[sam-loves-seb]

thinking about eddie, a decade later, maybe two, and corroded coffin has gone on to be a world famous metal band and eddie gets recognized as their front man everywhere he goes. he loves it, for a time, creating joy with his music, having fun on tour with his friends, listening to entire stadiums sing his words back to him. it's the life he always wanted, and he's grateful.

but it's not 1986 anymore, he's not some twenty year old kid with energy to burn. none of them are. jeff has two kids at home that miss him terribly when the band's on tour, and gareth is married now with a baby of his own on the way. they all still love the band that changed their lives, and the shitty lyrics from their first album they wrote in gareth's mom's garage back in hawkins, and all the music that came after. but now--it might be time for a break.

"We're not breaking up," Eddie announces at their last show. "Far from it. We just--we need a little time to be normal again. To enjoy this part of our life before it's gone. We'll be back, someday, I know we will," he says, and the band nods along with him, their hands held over their hearts as the stadium cheers around them. "Consider it a hiatus. And don't even think about forgetting us while we're gone."

So, Jeff flies home and gets to go to his son's first t-ball game, and Gareth heads back to LA to finish setting up the nursery before his wife goes into labor. And Eddie?

Well, Eddie goes home.

To a little house just outside of Indianapolis, bought in 1989 after they signed their first record deal. Three bedrooms, two car garage, one husband waiting in the driveway when his car pulls up.

(That last one didn't come with the house, but it is what makes this place a home. Eddie's home.)

It's not until Eddie collapses in Steve's arms does he realize how much he needs this. That he realizes how tired he is, and just how homesick he's become.

"I missed you," Steve murmurs into his hair, arms wrapped tight around his waist.

"I'm never leaving home again," Eddie whispers back, clutching onto Steve's polo shirt and letting the tears start to pool in his eyes.

"We both know that's not true," Steve teases, pressing a kiss to Eddie's temple.

"Not for a long while, then," Eddie tells him, lifting his head and cupping his husband's face.

Steve tilts his head, his brows furrowing a bit in confusion, a single crease forming between them. It's deeper than it was when they first got together, back when they were all still kids. His hair is different too, still floppy and styled and perfect, but shorter, only a little bit, and just starting to salt and pepper near his temples. It's barely noticeable, unless you're Eddie Munson and you spend every moment you can studying the planes of Steve Harrington's face.

"I'm retired," Eddie tells him, only half joking.

"You're thirty-nine."

"Semi-retired," he rolls his eyes, takes his husband's hand, and leads him into their house where their two cats are waiting for them. "And making the most of it. Starting now."

[whetstonefires]

jiang cheng is a funny character because i fully support either liking him or not liking him, but i see so many takes (especially when he shows up in a supporting role in fic) that seem completely unhinged until i pin down which of what i consider the fundamental facts of his character are just not being applied at all.

it’s like:

1) this is not a mentally well guy, especially after Plot starts happening, and he spends the entire story getting less okay. the only time we ever see any improvement happen in jiang cheng is when wei wuxian piths himself getting the guy out of his suicidal phase, causing many more problems going forward but fixing that one. jiang cheng is not okay and it’s all downhill.

2) he cares so fucking much. like you can write a jiang cheng who is a deeply selfish bastard and you have an excellent textual basis, but it's not because he doesn't care about other people, at least the ones that are his; that's a different kind of problem than the one he has.

he would in fact be less of a problem a lot of the time if he cared less, because he does not have the emotional management tools to be useful about it. also the narrative is conspiring against him but like.

(there are a lot of ways to be selfish and jiang cheng and lan wangji are actually remarkably similar in the basic type of selfish impulses they have. they just have very different childhoods and values shaping how they act about it. and then lan wangji manages to become a mostly functional adult, while jiang cheng is generously an electrified pile of bad coping mechanisms. he's functioning! but like. at what cost.)

3) jiang cheng is dutiful. even the most selfish jiang cheng is someone who perceives and values himself in terms of his function and obligation; he and wei wuxian have different personalities and worldviews, and for that matter expectations placed on them, but they both learned that lesson, presumably together.

4) sort of an extension of 1 and to a lesser extent 2, Jiang Cheng is emotionally insecure as a base state. his parents made some major errors, at least half of which should have been avoidable except they would have had to deal with their own shit first.

it's not out of the question, in a different lifetime where he didn't get several years of compounded irresolvable traumas as his coming-of-age present and then left alone to stew in pain and denial for over a decade, for him to have learned to handle it better and even mostly get over it! that could have happened! it just didn't.

to an extent he's insecure about different things as a grown man than he was as a boy, life experience makes a difference. he's built confidence about some things and become absolutely shattered about others. but he's a person who is easy to wound, in all kinds of complicated identity-related ways, especially by Wei Wuxian specifically, and his kneejerk response to that is to lash out in reply, whether the wounding was intentional or not.

the fact that Wei Wuxian spent most of their lives giving every evidence of being completely immune to being harmed by this reaction masked its toxicity until things got real ugly real fast.

jiang cheng absolutely has the capacity to not do this! it's a deeply rooted bad habit, not actually a fundamental of his character. but it requires self-awareness, will, and (if he's going to keep it up) a lot of practice. it's not the kind of thing that just goes away on its own, even with a bunch of alterations in context.

i don’t have like a closing argument here i just keep finding that takes on jiang cheng that don’t work for me, whether generous or condemnatory, always seem to disagree with me on one of these main points.

[anarchistmemecollective]

hi!! over the past year or so, i’ve been radicalizing leftwards (does that make sense?), and while i do like to say that i have a pretty good understanding of things like socialism and communism and such, one thing i haven’t really been able to figure out is what anarchism is and how it works. like, i get the basic idea, but what with google being google and most people on breadtube not being anarchist, it’s definitely not as easy to research as socialism.

anyways, tl;dr: what defines anarchism and how does it work?

thanks in advance! have a cookie 🍪

"Anarchism asserts the possibility of an organization without discipline, fear, or punishment, and without the pressure of poverty: a new social organism which will make an end to the terrible struggle for the means of existence,—the savage struggle which undermines the finest qualities in man, and ever widens the social abyss. In short, Anarchism strives towards a social organization which will establish well-being for all."

leftward ho! thanks for writing. these questions are always difficult to answer because i don’t know where you’re coming from on your personal journey. but i’ll try to answer some of the basics and recommend some good resources to start with.

first of all, there are many anarchisms and if you ask three anarchists you’ll get five opinions. but probably the most prevalent form of anarchism is anarcho-communism, so while i’ll try to talk broadly from a general anarchist position, much of it be from an anarchocommunist perspective for simplicity’s sake.

at it’s most basic, anarchism is an opposition to hierarchy, to one person having control over another. it is a radical commitment to compassion and absolute freedom. like communists, anarchists want a moneyless, stateless, and classless society. unlike leninists, who falsely claim to be communists, we know that there has never been a good state, and never can be. they are by their very nature oppressive, and cannot be used as a means to an end to achieve communism. no group or individual can wield that much power over others and not become corrupted by it. absolute power corrupts absolutely, etc. so while we are committed to the fight against capitalism, we are also committed to the fight against the state. they are intertwined and must be defeated simultaneously. so we believe in the abolition of all government and the organization of society on a voluntary, cooperative basis without recourse to force or compulsion, and the abolition of money and private property, as the best way to ensure the basic and higher needs of everyone are met.

if you haven’t read it yet, the wikipedia article for anarchism is actually a pretty good place to start:

Anarchism is a political philosophy and movement that is skeptical of all justifications for authority and seeks to abolish the institutions they claim maintain unnecessary coercion and hierarchy, typically including, though not necessarily limited to, the state[1] and capitalism. Anarchism advocates for the replacement of the state with stateless societies or other forms of free associations. As a historically left-wing movement, usually placed on the farthest left of the political spectrum, it is usually described alongside communalism and libertarian Marxism as the libertarian wing (libertarian socialism) of the socialist movement.

Humans lived in societies without formal hierarchies long before the establishment of formal states, realms, or empires. With the rise of organised hierarchical bodies, scepticism toward authority also rose. Although traces of anarchist thought are found throughout history, modern anarchism emerged from the Enlightenment. During the latter half of the 19th and the first decades of the 20th century, the anarchist movement flourished in most parts of the world and had a significant role in workers' struggles for emancipation. Various anarchist schools of thought formed during this period. Anarchists have taken part in several revolutions, most notably in the Paris Commune, the Russian Civil War and the Spanish Civil War, whose end marked the end of the classical era of anarchism. In the last decades of the 20th and into the 21st century, the anarchist movement has been resurgent once more.

Anarchism employs a diversity of tactics in order to meet its ideal ends which can be broadly separated into revolutionary and evolutionary tactics; there is significant overlap between the two, which are merely descriptive. Revolutionary tactics aim to bring down authority and state, having taken a violent turn in the past, while evolutionary tactics aim to prefigure what an anarchist society would be like. Anarchist thought, criticism, and praxis have played a part in diverse areas of human society.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anarchism

i don’t know how much original theory you’ve read before, but i’ll give some reading recs. personally i’m a big fan of peter kropotkin, and found the conquest of bread to be a breath of fresh air after studying marx for years. others have recommended starting with errico malatesta’s anarchy or peter gelderloos’ anarchy works. and zoe baker (anarchopac) is excellent if videos or tweets are more your speed.

https://enoughisenough14.org/2019/06/10/anarchism-a-very-short-introduction-by-colin-ward/

getting involved masterpost

hopefully that’s enough to get you started but please feel free to ask questions, and there are many more knowledgable people here who can help as well.

[ranposbabe]

Wine settles the nerves | Aegon II Targaryen x implied Strong!Reader

A/N: As I am not fluent in Valyrian, please excuse any mistakes in the translations etc, thank you !

“Ah six years since we’ve last seen our blood my dear brother.” You sigh as you walk along side the quiet dark haired lad.

“Cheerful are you ?” Jace inquires with a slight smirk forming. “Oh Jace ! Please enlighten me !” You laugh, pulling at your elder brothers arm. “If you had it your way we would’ve never of left Dragonstone, y/n.”

“Lyka” (Quiet) You tease, giving him a playful punch to the shoulder. “What does that word mean again ?” Jace wonders, raising a brow. You simply scoff before turning to run off only to be chased by him. “It’s not my fault you somehow manage to be skilled speaking our mother tongue !”

Oh how the roar of your laughter could’ve been heard throughout the seven kingdoms.

Time Skip…

You were late. You can recall so vividly how your mother, the realm’s delight softly scolding you on any occasion for never arriving on time while your father figure Daemon sat back surprisingly for once holding back his laugh.

But now here you were practically running to the throne room with your small heels clicking against the ground and your black and red dress slightly swooshing away. The same exact dress your mother gave you some time ago, that she once wore years ago where she had slaughtered some boar.

But you knew how important this was.

Your younger brother Lukes right to Driftmark was being questioned and you would not just stand aside and not let your support for him be unknown.

As you slyly snuck by your cousins Beala and Rhaena you hear

“Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son Lucerys Velaryion “ Spoke the sneaky hand of the king.

“Where have you been ?” Jace asks, tilting his head. Your mother spared you a glance before walking up front to address everyone. It was only truly now in the moment you could take in the scene before you. You swore to keep your head low out of respect yet your curious eyes betrayed you as you scan right over to the gleaming light that was green.

It had only been half a decade since you last seen your aunt and uncles yet it felt like a century. Years back before Vhagar’s now rider had lost his eye, you had gotten along quite well with the young boy and his older sister.

However the same could not of been said for Aegon. He always had his nose stuck in a cup drinking and it bored you nonetheless. You can recall multiple occasions where you repeatingly stole this cup and then ran round the yard forcing him to chase you while he slightly struggled due to the wine intake.

As the young prince seemed so desperate for the precious cup you had made a joke how he should have the blacksmiths make him the finest jewellery out of the cup so the chances of it being stolen again was unlikely.

The last time you had seen Aegon before returning to Dragonstone, he placed a ring on a string and practically flung it at you and called it a day. Yet when you actually had the chance to study the “necklace” you couldn’t help but notice the striking resemblance its appearance had to the cup he had chased you for.

“Well ?” Jace says, impatiently waiting for your response. Your eyes were practicing glued to the sight of the greens. They all stood tall, especially Aemond who now wore a patch over his lost eye yet your eyes couldn’t move away from his older brother who’s hair was now cut and lacked the vibrant curls they once had. He seemed to have not noticed your stare as he himself stared off almost as if he was deprived whether it be sleep or alcohol or both you were unsure.

You turn to your brother who seemed to be the only one noticing your longing gaze yet made no comment about it.

“I was just-

Just then the booming noise of the doors opening rang through the room and a guard called out the titlements of your grandsire. At the sudden loud noise you gasp, instantly hiding behind the rogue prince like a small child. Daemon takes notice of this and sends his kind smile your way.

You couldn’t help but admire not only your grandsire but also your king as even at his weakness still came to defend not only Lucerys but you and your mother as well.

As usual at any gathering suddenly events took a turn and Daemon killed Vaemond Velaryon in front of you all. You cower back into your mothers arms as she drapes her arm protectively over you knowing you couldn’t bare the gruesome sight.

You were late. Again.

The king ordered for a family dinner where everyone where to be present and yet suddenly the dreaded thought dawned on you that you would see everyone again. You were definitely in need of a confidence boost. As you stood in the dark corridor you shakingly run your hands continuously over your dress your eye catches a serving girl with cups of wine on her plate. “Excuse me !” You call to the serving girl.

“Where is y/n ?” Viserys croaked, slowly tilting his head towards Rhaenyra. Although the music continued, everyone stopped to raise their head to notice the empty seat next to Baela. “Rhaenyra.” Alicent spoke softly. “Where is she ?” She inquires.

The others dip back to their fallen conversations but Rhaenyra breaths stop for a brief moment. She doesn’t know where you exactly are and when she shares a glance with Daemon she learns that he doesn’t know either.

“My my everyone’s already here !”

You bow respectfully while trying not to trip before your king and then place a gentle kiss on your grandsire cheek and make your way to your empty seat. Of course completely missing the horrified look on the queens face and the confusion on your poor mothers. Everyone had already began drinking and could tell you started before them all. Luke couldn’t help but laugh as you simply sat down and smiled while being completely dazed. “y/n ? Are you alright ?” Baela asked, despite knowing the answer.

“Yes.” You chirped. “Indeed I am, cousin.” You smile, patting the Velaryon girls hand.

Your eyes regretfully turn to face in front of you to see Daemon like Luke, finding amusement in your state while your mother gives you that look that she gives in her eyes to say we’ll talk later.

Avoiding her stare, you turn to face Luke to indulge in conversation while not even noticing the silver head at the opposite end of the table staring your way. Soon, out of the corner of your eye you see Aegon speaking to your brother and you can’t help but wonder. If Aegon had no problem engaging in simple conversation with the others than what had set you apart from the rest ?

As soon as Jace got up to dance with Helaena, you unsteadily slipped out of your chair and stole Jaces seat, taking the spot next to the elder prince.

“Uncle ?” You whisper, all of a sudden becoming timid. It was as if the wine was instantly drained from your system.

“You have grown, niece.” He spoke rather coldly, reaching for his cup.

“Can’t you at least spare me a glance ?” You say, snatching the cup from him.

Aegon huffs as he sunk down into his chair , slowly tilting his head to you. His tired eyes meet yours and yet suddenly it feels too intimate.

You raise a brow as suddenly his eyes widen and he sits up straighter in his chair and his just then his hand reaches for your neck.

“You’re wearing it.” He mutters in disbelief.

“What ?” You question, looking down to see his fingers clutching the ring attached to your necklace. You can practically feel the queen’s eyes burning into you like a dragons breath yet you’re currently struggling to meet Aegon’s eyes let alone his mothers.

“Aegon I-

Instantly there’s a loud bang.

Your eyes momentarily meets that of the rider of the largest dragon and there he stood with a cup in his hand.

“Final tribute.” He confidently spoke.

“To the health of my nephews.”

You can’t help but be slightly relieved that Aemond completely disregarded your presence. You knew what was to come so to avoid the madness you stood up quietly leaving behind you could hear Jace daring Aemond to repeat himself. No more did you want to hear.

Time Skip…

After taking some needed fresh air, you decided that it was time to head back inside and face your mother as you could already imagine what she would say.

No more dragon riding !

You knew that you were suppose to be accompanied by a guard while outside yet since the wine was now drained from your system you could no longer feel the urge to hold a conversation. You let out a tiresome sigh and as you turn you gasp as suddenly a hand grabs your wrist. You calm as you notice it was only the silver head prince himself.

“Skorion jaelagon a ?” (What you want ?) You sigh, trying to pull away.

“Dohaeriakson raqan.” (I like to be served) He whispered, pulling you closer by the waist. “Struggled to find a servant girl did you, my prince ?” You wonder, tilting your head slightly.

“Earlier you were practically begging for my attention, now here you are acting like it’s the other way around.”

“That is due to the fact I am no longer persuaded by wine.”

“I saw the way you looked at me in the throne room, y/n.” He says, hiding in your neck before sneakingly placing a kiss under your jaw. Your eyes can’t help but widen at his words. You were sure that he hadn’t of seen you yet you clearly stood mistaken.

“You think that strong boy was the only one who caught that look ?” You can practically feel his smirk pressed against your skin. “Don’t call him that.” You groan, rolling your eyes at the typical comment.

“Do you feel that ?” He whispers, dragging your hand down low. Despite him removing his hand, yours lingers for a few more seconds. “That is for no serving girl.” He proudly claims. “How honoured I am.” You laugh.

“You’ve really kept it after all this time ?” He asks with an almost pleading look evident in his eyes as he stares down at your necklace. “Of course.” You mutter, slightly playing with the string.

Slowly but surely you find yourself moving closer, craving to be in his presence just like before and maybe to even-

“What’s going on here ?”

You turn round, horrified to see the sight of your own mother standing there with a guard behind her. “M-mother I-“ You stutter, not able to comprehend what was happening. “y/n we are to be heading back to Dragonstone. We cannot waste another moment here.” Rhaenyra states, glaring at her half brother.

“Please escort the princess back to her brothers.” Rhaenyra ordered the guard. Your head hangs low as you head back with the guard, tears already welling up in your eyes. Rhaenyra steps closer to the younger Targaryen. “Whatever happened here, ends now.” She promises.

“We’ll see about that.” Aegon smirks.

No more dragon riding !

[notwiselybuttoowell]

The Hanford nuclear site was established in 1943 as part of the Manhattan Project, and over the next four decades produced nearly two-thirds of the plutonium for the US’s nuclear weapons supply, including the bomb dropped on Nagasaki.

During its lifespan, hundreds of billions of gallons of liquid waste were dumped in underground storage tanks or simply straight into the ground. After the site’s nine nuclear reactors were shut down by 1987, about 56m gallons of radioactive waste were left behind in 177 large underground tanks – two of which are currently leaking – alongside a deeply scarred landscape.

In the decades since, the Yakama Nation has been one of four local Indigenous communities dedicated to the cleanup of this historic landscape. For the Yakama Nation, that has meant tireless environmental and cultural oversight, advocacy and outreach with the hope that one day the site will be restored to its natural state, opening the doors to a long-awaited, unencumbered homecoming.

Today, their outreach work has reached a fever pitch. There are few Yakama Nation elders still alive who remember the area before its transformation, and there are likely decades to go before cleanup is complete. So members are racing to pass on the site’s history to the next generation, in the hopes they can one day take over.

Yakama Nation history on the Hanford site dates back to pre-colonization, when people would spend the winter here fishing for sturgeon, salmon and lamprey in the Columbia River, as well as gathering and trading with other families. In 1855, the Nation ceded over 11m acres of land to the US, which included the Hanford area, and signed a treaty that relegated them to a reservation while allowing the right to continue fishing, hunting, and gathering roots and berries at “all usual and accustomed places”.

But in the 1940’s, the situation shifted dramatically when the area was cleared out to make room for the construction of nuclear reactors.

LaRena Sohappy, 83, vice-chairwoman for Yakama Nation General Council, whose father was a well-known medicine man, grew up in Wapato, about 40 miles from Hanford. She said she remembers the strawberry fields that lined the Hanford site, her family gathering Skolkol, a root and daily food, and traveling to the area for ceremonies.

Her cousin’s family who lived close to Hanford were woken in the middle of the night and forced to leave to make way for the nuclear site, she recalled

“They didn’t have time to pack up anything,” said Sohappy. “They just had to leave and they were never told why and how long they were going to be gone.”

The effort to give Indigenous people a voice in Hanford’s fate was forged in part by Russell Jim, a member of Yakama Nation’s council, whose work has been credited with helping to keep Hanford from becoming a permanent “deep geologic repository”, a place where high-level nuclear waste from this site and others across the country would be stored.

“From time immemorial we have known a special relationship with Mother Earth,” Jim, who died in 2018, said in a statement to the US Senate in 1980. “We have a religious and moral duty to help protect Mother Earth from acts which may be a detriment to generations of all mankind.”

Today, the ER/WM program, which was founded in the early 1980’s with Jim at the helm, includes such staff as a biologist, ecologist and archeologist. It’s funded by the US Department of Energy (DoE), which operates the Hanford site and leads the cleanup process under an agreement with the US Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) and the Washington state department of ecology.

The Yakama Nation program’s focus is on accelerating a thorough cleanup of the site, protecting culturally significant resources and assessing the threats to wildlife and water.

[qqueenofhades]

When Hob said "I think I have been stood up", I full on expected the barkeeper to react to that as if Hob's date hasn't showed and telling him not to be worried because he has seen many couples fight and make up afterwards and is sure Hob's relationship will survive it. Like, I was genuinely so surprised when the barkeeper talked about "friends" haha

Okay okay okay okay but. I gotta say something SO IMPORTANT about this from my position as Tumblr Old and Local Queer Historian, because.... yes. And that is:

That scene takes place in 1989.

Why is that important, you say? Well, because this is the end of an entire decade of the AIDS crisis. There has been endless fearmongering and conservative attempts to paint gay men explicitly as disease-ridden degenerate pedo Threats to Your Community who might infect your children with AIDS and make them dirty homos by so much as LOOKING at them, pretty much. They are literally toxic people, they are generally shunned, nobody knows what to do and is terrified of the fact of how quickly AIDS patients usually die with no effective treatment. And oof it makes me feel Some Kinda Way for Hob, born in the middle of the Black Death and who was haunted by that shadow all his life, experiencing this as a queer man in the 1980s. Like, he almost certainly lost several friends to it at least, watched them die, probably went in there to the wards when few other people would, both because he's immortal anyway and he doesn't think it's right to leave them alone.

Anyway, in the UK, it was literally only 2 years before, in 1987, when Princess Diana opened the first dedicated AIDS unit at London Middlesex Hospital, and publicly shook hands with a man who had HIV -- which was shocking because many people still thought you could get it through casual physical contact. So while on the surface, Hob looks like your average 1980s douchebro -- he's got the brand new Porsche, the slicked back hair, the giant brick cellphone, the works -- he is still going into public to have a date with a man he is in love with, regardless of whether either of them will ever admit that or act on it. (And given how 1889 ended, if Morpheus does show up, they ARE kinda gonna have to talk about it in some way.) Hob is, in this moment, incredibly vulnerable. Emotionally and socially for sure, and if the local macho assholes clock him as a Fag, probably physically too.

So that conversation when Hob says he's been stood up is absolutely LOADED with subtext, things he isn't saying, and things the bartender understands about him and tries to support. They're British, so by nature they're not huge on talking about their feelings, but Hob says he's been stood up. He doesn't use pronouns, he doesn't say it was by a girl, and if the bartender used the word "couple," it would generally presume that he too thought Hob’s date was a girl. So he goes for the most careful, also-has-a-long-queer-history use of "friends." He implies it's more than that, but he doesn't say so or put Hob on the spot for probably dating a man, because again, it's not safe.

After that is when Hob orders a drink, and the bartender tells him that people in this country can do anything if they have money. He's trying to subtly communicate that this is a safe place and he won't judge, and Hob picks that up immediately, which is why he is so shocked to hear that the White Horse has been sold and is going to be torn down for condos. Hob is losing not just the one place he can be assured (well, until now) of meeting his Stranger, but a place that has been subtly communicated to be safe for him personally, as a queer man in 1989. That is undoubtedly part of why he immediately refuses to countenance the idea of this actually happening, buys the pub, makes giant signs, hangs out in the New Inn until Dream actually does come back, etc. So like... there is so much going on in that scene, and maybe only 25% of it can be said aloud. Which I think is absolutely critical for you younguns to understand, so. Yeah.

[kalims]

‎˃ ᵕ ˂ . . "do I like you? is that even a question?"

you like me, don't you?

heartslabyul : savanaclaw : octavinelle : scarabia : pomefiore : ignihyde : diasomnia :

the second you say it you can practically see the mood of kalim take a physical form and start blooming bigger, and bigger until he's holding a wide grin he can barely hold without it starting to wobble from the extent of his happiness.

"yes, yes! ohhh..! I'm so glad you understand! does that mean you like me too?!"

you sweatdrop. admittedly feeling a little dizzy from how many questions he spouts in the middle of a minute, definitely more than you can keep up and you barely manage to answer all. "hey wait— kalim slow down."

at first kalim's face drops. not one of those sad, devastated ones but one of sheer embarrassment and shame. honestly it's making you feel bad for raining on his parade. he sheepishly scratches the back of his head, retreating back a little but still attaining his happy hold of your hand.

how cute. you think. a little flustered on how he's able to put other people to shame with how pure and obvious his intentions were. you could practically ask him where his family treasure was and he'd probably say it. but you suppose kalim being kalim is the reason why he's got everyone binded with his sunshine like personality.

you take a deep breath, holding the two of his hands and placing it on your chest. "sigh.. you're so adorable and to answer your question. I'm absolutely in love with your—"

"hey wait."

you pause.

theres an uncharacteristically series look on kalim's face that makes you stop immediately. oh no.. was that too fast? I shouldn't have said that.. you panic internally.

his face changes very quickly. a pout. "that's not fair! I wanna tell you I love you first!"

—

jamil furrows his brows and stares at you silently. you'd think it was a negative reaction but you knew better, the fact that his expression actually shifted rather than a usual blank, dead look it holds a shocked, confused and actually kind of terrified look on his face appeared.

"where did you hear that from?" of course. his first action was to find out who the non-existent person that told these 'lies' to you.

the man in front of you was like a fortress of steel he'd build up for decades, only a few people were some he considered beloved and even you're not sure how he never commented on you somehow wriggling inside, settled far closer than everybody else.

his face scared you at first, if mean girls was a thing in this world he'd probably get casted as one of them. he literally wears this tired, dead look on him that could kill someone from how it seems like he's judging every foot of your being with a stare from him.

but still. it's not common that you see such an expression on him, plus the fact that his guard is lowered even if a teensy bit means you can mess with jamil and boldy test your position in his heart.

you assume a knowing look while shaking your head. "tut tut, you were obvious you know." the eye of jamil twitches and your mind translates 'what? how come I didn't notice..'

his face relaxes. "how come?"

oh shit wait I'm not ready— "I uh well.. I don't know..? haha..."

jamil was not laughing with you, there he goes again. judging every fiber of your being. then, he massages his temple. "to think I've fallen in love with such an idiot shows how deep I'm in." he mutters.

what.

[homunculus-argument]

Hey, worldbuilding exercise: Give the people in the world sensible, understandable but completely wrong assumptions of how their world works. Even if their scientific knowledge of exactly how or why something happens is limited, people have a remarkable skill of observing cause and effect, and it adds realism that they would come to a logical but incorrect conclusions based on the limited knowledge that they have.

Observation: Anyone who is placed to rule either as the king or in the king's place eventually goes insane. While a new king or queen may start out sane and even, they will slowly inevitably become progressively more and more unhinged, and safeguards must be placed to handle them before it happens. Even a regent of no royal blood, who sits on the True Throne and drinks from the King's Goblet, will eventually lose it, while a regent that never physically takes the seat of the True King will not. Conclusion: While all power has the potential to corrupt, absolute power corrupts absolutely. That, or the throne itself is cursed. Probably both. Actual explanation: The King's Goblet is made of lead. Anyone who spends decades drinking from it is going to get brain damage.

Observation: The people who meticulously follow sacred rites in all they do, from cooking and healing to the handling of corpses, say the right prayers at the right times, do cleansing rituals correctly and use sacred materials suffer less illness and death. Conclusion: Obeying holy rites protects you from evil spirits and the wrath of the gods. Actual explanation: Most of the rites and rituals are matters of hygiene, the substances and materials that supposedly ward off evil are actually somewhat antibacterial, and doing things that prevent food contamination and the spread of germs simply lowers the rate of infections and the spread of disease.

Observation: This stranger from a strange land acts very differently from the people here, is oblivious to the proper customs and does not notice when she has insulted people. She averts certain materials, does not look people in the eye, and when asked of why she does things the way she does, she cannot explain. Conclusion: The people of this land and their customs are completely unfathomable, and there must be a cultural taboo about explaining their ways to outsiders. Actual explanation: Having a sample size of exactly one person is far too small to make assumptions about a whole people. Also this lady is really just autistic, and oblivious to her own peoples' social customs as well.

[avocado-slander]

Random ask game asks

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts?

What's one thing that's stereotypical about you?

Play any instruments?

A show everyone criticizes that you like

A music artist everyone criticizes that you like

Last show you watched

Last movie you watched

Last song you listened to

Last book you read

Your top five most listened to artists this month on Spotify (if you don't use Spotify just say the artists you listen to most)

Ever drank alcohol?

Every smoked anything?

Do you prefer to eat-in or take-out?

If you could time travel what decade would you go to first

An actor everyone loves that you don't like for whatever reason

Something not in your regional dialect that is in your vocabulary

Color of your eyes?

Do you need glasses?

Speak any other languages?

Have any tattoos?

Want any tattoos?

Have any piercings?

Want any piercings?

Do you prefer the hot or cold weather?

Cats or dogs? Or some other pet?

Trendy over comfortable or comfortable over trendy?

Say one thing bad about something you love

Do you prefer to read digitally or from a physical book?

Do you put milk in your hot tea?

Do you know how to play any popular gambling games?

If you have sibling(s) are you the oldest middle or youngest?

A character you relate to for whatever reason?

A quote (from anything) you really love

How many pairs of shoes do you have

Do you have trouble saying any words because of your accent/speech problems?

Earbuds or headphones?

Showers or baths?

Early bird or night owl?

Candles or scented spray?

How often do you change your clothes?

Chess or checkers?

Something you can do that you think is cool?

Perfume or body spray?

What's something that genuinely scares you

LED lights, the room light, or sunlight?

What's something you do differently than everyone else?

If you have hair how often do you style it in some way?

Nail polish, press on nails, or acrylic nails?

How many pets do you have

What's a nickname everyone calls you?

A card/dice/board game you love?

Do you have any fidget toys? If so what's your favorite?

Do you drive?

Your go-to genre of music?

Are you a good multitasker?

Silence or background noise?

A famous movie/show that you've never seen

Any sport you would like to play?

Can you write in cursive?

Is your handwriting neat or at least easy to read?

Colored pencils, markers, or crayons?

How many pillows do you sleep with?

How many blankets do you sleep with?

Do you ever plan to get married one day?

Do you ever plan to have kid(s) one day?

Do you subscribe to any religion?

Something in your room that you think is funny for whatever reason

Would you rather be an actor, singer, comedian, or would you do something on YouTube/twitch/some other site

Are you scared of the dentist?

Do you wear makeup?

If you could be any character of the opposite sex, who would you be?

In the literal sense, are you an introvert or extrovert?

What's something in your room that makes no sense without context

Favorite show as a kid?

Something you know you liked as a kid that you don't remember much from?

Favorite subject in school?

If you could visit any place in the world where would you go?

A show/movie thats been on your watchlist forever but you for some reason keep putting off

Is the name you use online your real name? (Real name does not mean deadname)

Do you have a favorite sibling?

If you were to have a kid what names would you have in mind?

Do you think things like anniversaries are a big deal?

Mobile games or PC/console games?

Do you believe in things like ghosts?

What was your first pets name?

Long sleeve + shorts or short sleeve + pants

Can you do any voice impressions?

What was the first fandom you were genuinely into

Do you prefer womens or mens products?

Scrunchies or ties?

would you be fine having your partner completely provide for you?

Plain clothes or vibrant and eye catching clothes?

Worst date youve ever been on?

Movie date or restaurant date?

Do you split the check or expect only one of you to be paying it?

Favorite fast food place?

How do you make your coffee?

Do you pay attention to the music or the lyrics more?

Are you more energetic or tame?

Are you witty?

[lykaonimagines]

Absence of You - Sherlock x Reader

Paring: Sherlock Holmes (BBC) x Agent F!Reader

Word Count: 3,304

Description: Y/N’s sent away on a mission for months, leaving Sherlock to wrestle mentally with his importance in her life and how badly he wants her home.

Other Things: A little angsty in bits, fluffy in others. Mostly fluff. Established relationship.

Warnings: Sherlock’s got a bit of self doubt/anxiety/separation anxiety. 

Masterlist

“Sherlock,” Mycroft sighs as his little brother tosses an envelope onto his desk. “You cannot continue this.”

“I can and will,” Sherlock responds, staring his brother down. “Just see to it that she gets this one.”

“You know there is no guarantee of delivery with missions such as this, and this is the 23rd letter you’ve written. She’s been gone three months. Get ahold of yourself,” he argues, brushing the envelope to the side. “I’ve accepted that you two share feelings for one another, but this is becoming pathetic. Let her do her job Sherlock.”

“Three months and not a single word Mycroft? And that seems normal to you?” Sherlock snaps as he starts pacing the office. “How do you even know she’s safe?”

“She’s managed to get one report back herself, and her partner in the endeavor has gotten back several more. She’s better at making openings for him to do so than getting away herself. I also have agents that discreetly check on them. She’s fine brother mine, she’s quite proficient at what she does.”

“Then where is my response if she finally replied?” His lips twist into a pout. “You get a bloody report and I get nothing?”

“I’m her boss in an incredibly delicate and dangerous undercover mission, she must report back to me. If she has two minutes to sneak away and write something, she should be writing a report back to me, not a love letter to you.”

Sherlock stops pacing and shoves his hands into his coat pockets.“You can’t tell me anything about this mission she is on?”

“You know I can’t,” Mycroft shakes his head in annoyance. “I warned you to not get involved with one of my agents. Of all the people to get this ridiculous sentiment for. They will be gone for long periods of time, disappear at a moments notice, put themselves into highly dangerous situations. Y/N in particular. She’s rather good at defending herself, but she is an infiltrator. If she’s found out, she will be killed. It’s a risk she takes willingly. I would not employ her if she wasn’t good at preventing that from happening, but you know as well as I that plans go awry.”

“The thing about sentiment Mycroft, is you don’t truly choose who brings it about in you. Whether you know it’s a good idea or not,” Sherlock snaps back angrily, his arms crossing.

“You managed to avoid it for decades prior. Now the list just continues to grow,” Mycroft grumbles and scribbles something on the paper in front of him.

“And I’m far happier for it,” he responds, staring at his brother.

“Are you?” Mycroft questions, setting his pen down and clasping his hands. “Because what I see is a man desperately writing a multitude of letters and hovering about in my office begging for a crumb of attention from someone who works a job that frequently takes them away.”

“She’s really not sent a single word for me?” Sherlock sighs dejectedly, placing his hands on the big desk separating them.

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, Mycroft opens his desk drawer and tosses a scrap of paper toward him. “It’s not much, I thought it better to not get your hopes up for more and get in a mood over the reality.”

Snatching the small folded piece of paper from the desk excitedly, Sherlock storms out of the office looking down happily at the familiar handwriting on the outside. “M give to S please.”

Plopping himself down into a chair near the office, he glances around to make sure he’s alone before unfolding it.

“I love you beyond measure. Be good for me yeah? - Your love.”

Sherlock’s heart beats wildly in his chest at the words, a pleasant warmth working its way over his body in a way only her words could. A full letter would have been better, but this was still brilliant. The confirmation he needed. She’s ok, and she’s thinking of him. Just as he’s thinking of her.

Rubbing his thumb longingly over the words on the paper, he lifts it to his lips briefly before stowing it away in the inner pocket of his coat to stay.

She loved him and she would be back. She had to come back. He couldn’t bear to think otherwise. He refused to think otherwise.

-

Pacing the entrance to the terminal, Sherlock’s mind races with thoughts of doubt once again. His fingers tighten around the flowers in his hand uncertainly.

Glancing up at the screen full of flight details, his eyes zero in on hers, the word ‘arrived’ doing little to settle his nerves. Perhaps making them worse.

How was this even supposed to go? They’d never been away from one another this long, and it wasn’t as if she had been on holiday. She’d been gone for months on an undercover mission for Mycroft, with little to no contact with anyone but his infuriating brother that refused to give him much information.

He was unsure if these kind of reunions were meant to be a big romantic moment in the most normal of circumstances. And they were hardly in a normal situation. Nor was he the typical doting partner.

He’d done some research the previous night, couples reuniting in airports. Crying, running, dramatic hugs. Nothing that seemed like something he would genuinely do. Maybe he should fake it?

No. He’d promised himself no faking with her. She inspired the real sentiment that clung to his heart with an iron grip. She’d already caused the chemical reaction in him, she deserved the real thing. What he actually felt, who he actually was.

But was who he was good enough?

The darkest thought that slithered in the back of his mind was that of if she still felt the same way. That if in their time apart she had realized she rather liked not being around him. He knew he could be difficult to deal with at times, and he knew he kept the flat far messier than she’d prefer.

What if she had enjoyed being away from him?

Or found she liked the fake marriage she and another agent were sent undercover in. Feigning a typical romantic relationship with someone that understands exactly what she’s going through. Exaggerated sweet gestures and words that he’d never seen the need for.

Clearing his throat roughly, he looks down at the flowers in his hands. John’s idea. Something about how it was the romantic and proper way to welcome back a partner. Though he wasn’t sure a gesture of plants wrapped in plastic would make up for a lack of prior romantic gestures.

He’d no clue if she even felt any of those things. But the six months apart with no contact beyond one scrap of paper hadn’t been kind to his mind. He had never even realized how ingrained into his daily life she had become, how much he relied on pulling her into his arms each night to sleep, and to open his eyes to her each morning.

The days had seemed to bleed together. He wrote plenty of letters, demanding Mycroft have them smuggled to her. All in a desperate hope she’d find time to write something back. Anything.  His brother’s infrequent and lackluster updates did little to quell the storm he’d been fighting back in his own mind. And while the two sentence response he had received three months before had calmed him for some time, it had been far too long since he heard anything.

The sound of people heading down the terminal toward him pulls him from his thoughts suddenly. His eyes snapping to each face, a flood of useless information cluttering his mind as he searches hopefully for her.

As each person passes, a sinking feeling begins in his gut. Another group of passengers not containing Y/N.

What if she knew he was picking her up and simply didn’t come back? Maybe her and that agent had formed something after all…?

His gaze goes to the shiny tile under his feet when the last of the people surrounding him had departed.

She wasn’t coming back.

Curling his free hand into a fist and taking a deep breath, he turns stiffly around to head back toward the entrance.

Not a minute later he picks up the sound of footsteps hurrying towards him from behind, “Sherlock!”

Spinning back around quickly, he freezes as he sees Y/N bounding toward him with a smile. Dropping the flowers from his hand, he quickens his pace toward her to meet her in the middle, her arms flinging around his neck and his own around her waist to pull her closer.

His heart beats wildly in his chest as she looks up at him, leaning forward to capture his lips in a passionate kiss.

His lips part quickly, letting her claim his mouth hotly. Her tongue seeks out his own as a strangled whimper escapes his throat, heat rushing to his cheeks at the sound.  

Her fingers tangle in his curls as he hums in approval, swaying the two of them slightly as they kiss.

As their mouths break apart for air, he slowly loosens his grip to let her slip back down to the tile.

“Never again,” she mumbles burying her face against his shirt.

“Never again?”

“No more long missions. I’ll still take short ones, but never again on being away from you so long,” she responds as her hands slip down to rub his back. “If you even knew how many times I nearly just walked away from it all to come home to you. I just can’t do this shit anymore.”

“You missed me?” he asks quietly into her hair.

“Of course I missed you, what a dumb question,” she teases as she looks up and lays her chin on his chest. “I missed you and our life together.”

“You didn’t take to your average married life in the suburbs then?”

“My ‘husband’ was a pretend accountant that I had no feelings for that snored like a freight train every night. We had a teenager not teenager that was actually an 18 year old agent pretending to be our 14 year old son. And the neighbors made me go to PTA meetings Sherlock,” she complains with a furrowed brow. “The house was boring and beige. We had ‘Live Laugh Love,’ hanging in the sitting room. Being undercover has never been so dreadfully dull. I was almost wishing to open the fridge and find body parts.”

“So now you appreciate my experiments?” He asks lowly leaning in toward her ear.

“I mean it still grosses me out to go make a sandwich and find a bag of thumbs next to the cheese. But far preferable to everything of the last six months. I just-”

“I love you,” he says abruptly cutting her off, his cheeks flushing as her eyes widen. He detangles himself from her quickly and swiftly turns around to retrieve the bouquet on the floor and holds it out to her. “For you. I… don’t say or show it as often as I should.”

Accepting the flowers from him, she cradles them to her chest and beams up at him, “I love you too, exactly as you are. Though I love the flowers and it doesn’t hurt to hear it. Take me home now?”

Slipping his hand into her free one, he gives her a nod and gentle smile, “Anywhere you want.”

“I’m surprised I was even allowed this,” she hums thoughtfully as they head toward the entrance.

“Hm?”

“I was certain there’d be an agent out here to lead me to a black car and back to Mycroft’s place or office. Had been dreading that I probably wouldn’t be able to see you until tomorrow.”

“That was the original plan,” Sherlock responds stiffly. “I may have convinced him to allow me to pick you up, though a car will be at Baker Street tomorrow at noon to pick you up for your debriefing. I thought you would rather go home tonight… and had hoped you would be happy to see me.”

“Understatement of the year,” she grins and leans her head against his shoulder as they walk.

“Did you get all my letters?” He asks after a moment.

“How many did you send? I got six.”

“Far more than six,” his cheeks redden at the admission.

“I wish I had gotten them,” she complains and tightens her grip on his hand. “And that I could have responded more. We were being watched pretty heavily by the neighborhood. Didn’t want them getting suspicious by sending too many letters out, chance that they may try to intercept one. And agents coming back to discreetly grab them was risky because it may look like I had some lover coming to the house. Had to look like we had some picture perfect life. Whole thing was maddening.”

“I couldn’t stand it,” he hums in agreement. “Going undercover is one thing, staying undercover for months… and like that. Never.”

“You couldn’t play devoted husband and father for a few months hm?” she teases as they stand at the street waiting for a taxi.

“Play it?” He looks at her thoughtfully. “No, not play it. I can pretend certain things for relatively short periods of time. But those two particular roles are saved for…” Clearing his throat Sherlock lifts his hand for a taxi and looks away.

“Saving them for what Sherlock?” Y/N asks curiously, her eyes scanning his face as he shoos her into the cab first. “Come on, please?”

Sliding into the seat next to her, he sighs before resting his chin on her shoulder in the relative darkness of the cab as it speeds away, “An actual future with you. If you’re amendable.”

Her body stiffens against him at the words before her hand slips back into his and she turns her head to press a kiss to his cheek, “Want to know a secret?”

“Hm?”

“I spent a large amount of time daydreaming about what our version of that life would be,” she whispers in his ear, nuzzling against his cheek.

“I-I will take it you liked the thought?” he momentarily stutters, his breathing refusing to even out.

“Loved it.”

“You think a detective and a secret agent can create a normal life together?” He asks quietly, eyes flickering to hers.

“Normal? As if any life with you is normal, perish the thought,” she grins. “I want the extraordinary life we already have, just build on that. And with less month long stays away from one another.”

“And how do you plan to avoid these sort of missions in the future then?”

“Talk to Mycroft about trying to stay nearby. Or at least nothing longer than a few weeks away. And if that’s not possible, might be time to look for a new career. I doubt he’ll be happy about it, nor do I think he’ll particularly understand… but I have to do what I have to do.”

“You would just quit it all, for me?” He asks softly.

“Mhm,” she confirms and runs her thumb over her knuckles. “For us yes. I started all this when it was just me. Always assumed I’d do it until I died in a mission, or got lucky enough that I just got too old to do it as extensively as I do now.”

“And you’d be satisfied without it in your life?”

“I think so yeah. Whatever job I might take up probably won’t be as thrilling, but like I said, a life with you is never boring. I’m sure I’ll still have plenty of excitement to balance it out.”

“You don’t have to get a job at all if you’d rather,” he responds with more affection than he realized. “You can just work with me.”

“Oh? You’re going to pay me to follow you around and fish your phone out of your pocket?” She teases.

“Payment in the form of room and board. Food. Practically anything you want. A ridiculous amount of sentiment on my part,” he admits with short laugh. “Though you know you’ve got all those things regardless.”  

“Hm, so either work or sit in the flat doing nothing, and get the same things?” She chuckles and presses several kisses to his jaw. “I’d follow you into Hell itself for free you know? You just might need me there, for something more than a personal assistant.”

“You say such things so easily,” he responds as one of his hands loosely grips her knee.    “You’re always very good at this.”

“Good at this?”

“Saying the right things to produce… affection in me. To make my chest tighten and my heart rate accelerate with words I’d never thought would ever effect me. Or ever be spoken to me in any manner,” he continues, clearing his throat and looking toward the window. .

“I just tell the truth Sherlock. I’ve spent years actively avoiding too much attachment. But I look at you, I just see something else. I feel a million things at once and my chest gets all warm and fuzzy. And I’m just happy. I’ve never been as happy as I am at your side. The last six months really have been hell, and not just because of the cliche decor.”

“It’s gone really well for me ignoring Mycroft,” he says after a moment, smiling as she laughs against him.

“Hmm, another benefit to leaving the agent life behind. I can ignore Mycroft,” she muses happily.

“Oh wait until you try, it’s very liberating,” he smirks and presses a kiss to her cheek. “His face the first time you tell him no, oh it needs to be Christmas. The only gift I need.”

“I’m sure he’ll be absolutely pleased to still have to see me aside from work. Puts up with me for over a decade as his employee, then I invade his personal life.”

“See, we have to stay together. Mildly irritate my brother forever.”

“I can think of a few more reasons other than being a thorn in Mycroft’s side,” she says squeezing his hand on her knee. “You’ve got quite a few perks to yourself Mr. Holmes.”

“Oh?” He asks with a raised eyebrow. “Enlighten me.”

“Brilliant, beautiful, loyal, funny, caring, devoted, curious, passionate. When you love, you love hard. I feel exceedingly fortunate I’m one of the few people that gets to experience it. Oh, and you’re quite a good kisser too. That’s an awfully fun perk.”

“Is that so?” His hand slowly runs up her thigh. “I think you need more data to make that claim. Repeat the experiment as it were, many more times.”

“Only you can make that sound so sexy,” she mutters as she presses a kiss to a sensitive spot on his neck.

His breath catches in his throat and he swallows thickly, noticing with marked relief that they’re nearly home. “We’re nearly there.”

“Is that you asking for mercy?” She asks with her lips still loosely on his skin.

“Indeed,” he nods more sharply than intended, his heart rate nearly doubling as she laughs playfully against his ear.

“I’ll relent for now, it looks like we’re here anyways,” she comments as she glances out the window herself.

Pushing open the door, Sherlock slips out quickly and reaches back in for Y/N’s hand to help her out before gesturing toward the door.

Fishing his keys out of his pocket, he promptly drops them into her hands then wraps his arms around her waist.

Once she has the door unlocked and shoves it open, his chin plops onto her shoulder. “Welcome home darling. Now get your bum up those stairs and into bed, I haven’t held you properly in ages.”

----

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