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winedarkthoughts · 7 months ago

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house of addams (1)

— 🌖 pairing: ot7 x fem.reader

— 🕷️ genre: mystery, angst + fluff + smut

— 🗝️ word count: 4.3k

— 🍄 summary: hired to look into the mysterious deaths, disappearances, and disturbances in the small town of Farrow's End, you soon meet a certain gang of oddballs who help you connect the dots. and NO, you are NOT taking a liking to them.

— ☕ content warnings: private investigator!reader, cozy small town mystery/addams family vibes, botanist!yoongi, magical absurdity, bookshop owner!namjoon, barista!jin

— 🕸️ a/n: first chapter! directly influenced by this fic on ao3 by tinyratthief, which is loosely based on the addams family.

series m.list/schedule → next chapter

chpt. 1: new digs

september 16, 2004

If this job has taught you one thing, it’s that the laws of truth can and will be bent by anyone with enough concentrated effort. People come to you to find very specific truths; birth parents, cheating spouses, the details of shady business deals.

But if this job has taught you one thing, it's that the truth will also reveal itself to anyone with enough concentrated effort.

Though, there's always a handful of cases that force you to delve deep into things you’d rather leave buried. Like the person in Oregon who didn't show up in any photographs. Or the small town in Maryland with the strange, centuries-old secret society.

You’ve seen sides of human nature that have left you cynical, distrusting. Some have called you “dead inside,” but you’re not here to brag. Naturally, you are excellent at your job.

And when the Mayor of Farrow’s End, a sleepy town with enough missing persons cases to warrant a Netflix documentary, contacted you about a possible case, you accepted almost instantly.

Even her first correspondence and initial offer were strange. She stated a preference to discuss the finer details in person and in person only, which to you immediately suggested that the entire investigation would be a matter of confidentiality.

You were proven right when you met with her a week later. And while being proven right is usually one of your favorite things, you didn’t exactly expect this.

The offer: investigative services regarding (but not limited to) local missing persons/homicides, ecological disturbances, environmental chemical imbalances. etc.

In exchange for: monthly salary, rent support, covered business expenses.

And above all, everything must remain off the books.

The salary along with the rent support is very generous considering what you're used to, but you don’t tell the Mayor that. You do inform her that, while you wear many hats, you are not an ecologist, nor a chemist.

Mayor Summerbee, a middle-aged Asian woman with a sweet smile and even warmer eyes, informs you that you will have access to the local University’s college of natural sciences. She gives you the contact information for one Min Yoongi, a botanist who works in the school's research department.

Then she gives you the contact information for one Kim Taehyung, the town coroner and pathologist. Apparently, both of them will be available for consultation.

She is eager, maybe even desperate, smiling at you with an urgent sheen in her eyes.

When you accept her offer, shaking her hand with your usual firm grip, she seems to exhale in relief.

You move to Farrow’s End by the end of the week. It’s not as if you have much to move, just a trunkful of books and a handful of duffel bags. You’ve always moved around for work, and even if you didn’t, staying in one place for too long makes you nervous.

Your bags hit the pavement beside your boots as you survey your new home. It's a small, quaint house. The paint is faded but the architectural structure is sturdy. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, kitchen, living room. The whole place is in a slight state of disrepair, but you can't complain.

You spend the next day cleaning and unpacking, which doesn't take long since you leave most of your books in the trunk. You're exploring the town by the end of the afternoon.

The town square, though full of shops and businesses, is nearly barren. A few civilians putter around, their faces weathered and reflective of the gloom in the air. They stare at you as you pass by, a cocktail of curiosity and slight suspicion.

The next thing you notice is the posters. They're everywhere, on the crumbling brick walls, stuck on lampposts, taped to the windows, all displaying a variety of subjects. Events at the University, local night markets, antiques for sale.

But there are a few that stick out. THERE'S SOMETHING IN THE LAKE! Sign the petition to restrict land access →

HAVING STRANGE DREAMS? You're not alone, contact a psychic today!

BEWARE! DO NOT FEED LOCAL WILDLIFE.

Though, what's more strange to you is what you don't see. There are barely any missing person posters, and the few that you do see appear to have been ripped away.

Work begins now, you think to yourself as you snap some photos of several posters, flapping in the cold wind.

You pop into the general store to pick up some essentials, and the store clerk immediately recognizes that you're not a local.

He asks where you're from, you reply with the standard answer: a city not too far but not too close. He asks what you're doing here, you reply with the standard answer: you're a journalist. You add in the suggestion that you're working with the University about a story, and he doesn't question any further.

You're not sure if it's because he takes the hint or because he loses interest.

During the drive home, you notice something looming in the distance. Atop the highest hill is a dark house, with spires and towers rising from the tops of spindly trees. Even from here, you can see that the architecture is old and ornate, almost ancient in a hypnotic way. You're fairly certain you can see a murder of crows circling above.

An unusual feeling hangs around the house, like there's some kind of aura surrounding it. Welcoming some, yet blocking others.

Very strange indeed.

You spend the rest of the night huddled next to the fireplace, using the flickering orange light to skim over newspaper clippings.

No, the house does not have a heating system. But you don't mind too much, you have plenty of wood and warm clothes.

Five missing and three dead in the last year. Local law enforcement has done everything they could with what they had to work with, which apparently wasn't much. Scattered locations, no visible connection between the victims, and an alarming lack of evidence.

Eyelids heavy, you leave the papers scattered across the floor and head to bed, already looking forward to tomorrow's first coffee.

september 17, 2004

The University appears to be just as old as the rest of the town. Original wood, aged stone, curved iron accents. The brick walkway is slick with morning rain, and the sky is swirling with fog.

Perfect weather, it makes you ready to get to work.

The directory stated that Min Yoongi would be in Montgomery Hall, the natural sciences building, either in the greenhouse or in one of the labs, according to the TA you talked to earlier on the phone.

It takes some wandering, but what you like about this place is that people don't seem to notice your presence as much as they do in town. Out there, you're an easily identifiable outsider. Here, you're just another passerby with a purpose.

You find him in one of the lab rooms, tucked into a little nook that's encased with plastic sheeting, dotted with beads of moisture. The small space is crowded with greenery, big pots of tall plants with fanning leaves, draping vines from wall planters, seedlings in little trays.

Through the condensation dripping down the plastic walls, you can see that he's spraying the plants down with water, wearing a classic white coat.

You're indulging in your bad habit again. Your footsteps are notoriously quiet (you've been told), and you (apparently) have a tendency to sneak up on people and observe them for several minutes before they notice that you are there.

But it's a skill you delight in.

The man is of average height, thin, black hair, delicate features. You notice that the soles of his boots are caked with mud, and his skin is dewy from the humidifiers pumping moisture into the room.

"You already know my opinion on this," you hear him say, muffled by the spray of the water.

For a moment, you think he's talking to you, that he's rejecting your case before you've even presented it to him. But he isn't facing you, and his tone is decidedly casual, like he's talking to an old friend.

"It's bad for the others, anyway," he continues. "Don't wiggle your trigger hairs at me like that."

A pause, the water flow stops. Then a sigh of defeat.

"Fine, one puff. Then you quit pouting, got it?"

There's the sound of shuffling, then the fwick of a lighter being ignited.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you step forward to peer through the slit in the plastic sheeting.

There's a Venus fly trap on one of the shelves, and between the jaws of one of the trap mouths, is a lit cigarette.

The man's head piques up when you enter his field of vision. Eyes widening, he looks like a cat that's been caught off guard.

He looks between you and the plant several times. You're fairly certain you see the tip of the cigarette glow ember, as if the plant were actually inhaling.

The man snatches the cigarette away and crushes it beneath the wet sole of his boot.

"Nasty habit," he finally says with a nervous chuckle. An awkward, straight-mouthed smile crosses his face, making his cheeks puff out slightly.

"Min Yoongi?" you ask.

"Yes, ma'am," he responds politely.

"I'm ______," you say, holding out a hand to shake.

He shuffles forward, his cold slim fingers meeting yours.

"Ah, the mayor mentioned that you'd be around."

That throws you a bit, because from what you've gathered about this case, you assumed that the mayor didn't want to be associated with it.

"Yes, would you mind filling me in on some of the ecological disturbances that have been going on in town?"

It's as if the question sends ants crawling down his spine. His neutral smile dissipates into an anxious twitch of his lips. He turns the hose back on and resumes spritzing the plants.

"What do you want to know?" he asks, a new tension in his voice.

Odd.

"Well," you start, "The mayor tells me that locals have been complaining about strange mushrooms invading their yards, increased acidity in their soil. Would you know anything about that?"

His eyebrows are knitted as he dampens the leaves of a spiraling fern.

"Mushrooms are really just the fruit of fungi, they bloom like flowers when the conditions are just right. Moisture, shade, an abundance of organic material, stuff like that. When it comes to the acidity, there's a variety of factors. All the rainfall recently leads to leaching, and the increased use of fertilizers causes nitrification. It's pretty standard."

You raise an eyebrow. He's deflecting.

"People have been saying that these mushrooms have been particularly hard to get rid of."

Yoongi 's brows furrow as if he's thinking hard.

"Fungi are tricky like that. We don't know much about them, really. They're their own class of life form. It could be a particularly stubborn strain."

"There's also been some unusual plant growth, creeping vines or the like. Very resistant to herbicides, apparently."

He pauses, considers it.

"Hmm," he mutters, the nozzle of the hose going lax in his hand.

“Also,” you continue, trying to further engage his curiosity. “There's been several cases of strange root rot?”

You add a questioning tone to your voice, gauging his reaction. Apparently, he hasn’t heard about it, because he looks up at you with the same question in his eyes.

“Root rot? In household plants?” he asks.

“No, in residencies.”

Yoongi stares at you for a moment, and you can tell he’s intrigued.

“I would benefit a lot from your knowledge, if I could just bring you a few samples, maybe go out and do some fieldwork—”

“You wouldn’t like working with me,” Yoongi interrupts. “I’m very…particular.”

You have a feeling the word is meant as a substitute for something else.

“Wonderful, so am I,” you reply, digging one of the many notebooks out of your bag. Flipping to the calendar, you click open your open your pen and start scribbling.

“Mornings are best, get the most out of the daylight. Make sure to bring your equipment and something to write on, and a camera if you have one.”

“Wait, I just don’t know if I’m going to be much use to you,” Yoongi says a little nervously, sticking his hands in his pockets.

You pause your scribbling to look at him. He’s pale in the fluorescent light, but not just physically. He has pale mannerisms and pale expressions, the countenance of a person that doesn’t feel as if they belong.

You know the feeling well.

“Coffee is always on me. How do you like it?” you say instead.

“Does Wednesday work?”

september 18, 2004

Three dead and five missing in less than six months. First, Michael Bradley, aged forty-two. Cause of death: chronic poisoning/exposure to toxic chemicals. He was found in his garage surrounded by household cleaners and herbicides. Apparently he’d been trying to get rid of the same strange mushrooms in his yard.

For now, all you have to work with is what they’ve published in the newspapers, and it seems that all that's come out of it is a public service announcement warning homeowners to be careful around toxic chemicals. His wife, Mary Bradley, hasn't commented on the circumstances of her husband’s death. And no one else has inquired any further into the matter.

Until today, obviously. Mrs. Bradley didn't answer her phone, and when you knocked on her door earlier this morning, she seemed less than pleased.

You opened with the standard introduction: I'm a journalist working on a story, would you mind consenting to an interview? Mrs. Bradley narrowed her eyes and scanned you up and down with barely concealed suspicion.

She asked what a journalist would find interesting about a common, accidental death in a small town. Apparently, the citizens of Farrow's End are very perceptive to outsiders.

You mentioned that fact that although Bradley's death appeared accidental, it's not common for people to die at the hands of household chemicals from prolonged exposure. Chronic poisoning is rarely without symptoms, why didn't he go to hospital?

She didn't have anything to say to that. You asked if she'd be comfortable divulging some of the details of his death, maybe even giving you access to the autopsy report. But she just grimaced at the mention, insisting that she had nothing to say about the matter and that you should leave right away.

She slammed the door in your face, but luckily it wasn't the first time people have resisted your questions. Unfortunately, a significant part of your job involves being a pain in the ass.

You linger in the front yard, where it's impossible not to notice the gnarled tree stumps and large rings of mushrooms scattered across the lawn.

You're not a mycologist by any means, but even you can tell that these mushrooms are strange. They seem to be multicolored, red and orange and brown, changing depending on the light like a hologram, but without any of the shine. They aren't bulb-shaped like many other mushrooms, but twist in tendrils this way and that, stretching.

And a smell hangs about them. You can't really describe it, something like damp and musk and old meat. Standing there, breathing them in, for too long makes your head spin.

And the trees, or rather, what's left of them. Nothing but stumps now, but you can tell that they were old when they were cut down. There's that same multi-colored effect to them, except it runs in veins throughout the tree's bark, spiraling into the rings.

You'll have to ask Yoongi about it.

Curiosity nips at you like a non-venomous snake even after you're home. It's not deadly, but it sure as hell is annoying.

What kind of disease infects fungi and trees? Why would the mayor care about privately investigating such a thing? And a thousand other questions.

You shove your boots on and enter back into the chill. You remember seeing a bookstore in town.

The Magic Shop: Books and Oddities

The front window glows with warm light, crowded with displayed volumes and curiosities (a stuffed raven, a jar of yellowing teeth, insects encased in amber).

The door swings open with the ring of a bell. Someone calls out "Welcome in," in a deep-velvet voice.

The smell of parchment and aged leather envelopes you like a familiar hug. You can't help pausing in the doorway and inhaling deeply. No matter what city you're in, places like this always feel like home.

It's everything that a bookstore should be: crowded, mysterious, and slightly dusty. The shelves are tightly grouped and arranged like a labyrinth few are privy to, and stacks—no, towers—of books occupy every corner.

You enter into the space, feet padding on the braided rugs, eyes drinking in the details. There are labels on the shelves, haphazardly spaced. They start normal enough: gardening, self-help, adventure.

But then you realize that they branch off into even more labels, or rather sub-labels. There's nocturnal gardening, gardening under the influence, Faerie gardens and goblin gardens. Each labeled sub-genre branches into even more specific sub-categories, creating a seemingly endless array of subjects.

You could explore this place for hours. In fact, you intend to over the course of your stay in Farrow's End.

You spend an indeterminate amount of time exploring all the labels and categories. The shelves twist this way and that, creating little nooks where the occasional armchair is tucked into.

Eventually, you come to a more open area with a wide-sprawling desk. The man sitting behind it is tall and tan, glasses perched on his nose, with short chestnut hair that shifts golden in the candlelight.

He's deeply focused on the book in his hands: A Comprehensive Guide to Navigating Parallel Universes and Pocket Dimensions.

Typically, you hate to bother people in a bookstore, especially if they're already reading. It's supposed to be a space for quiet reflection, for self-exploration and uninterrupted browsing. But you still have a job to do, and it's clear that you won't be able to navigate the complicated system yourself. At least, not in a concise period of time.

So you square your shoulders and prepare yourself to address the (handsome, you notice) man at the counter.

"Excuse me," you begin in a hushed voice.

The man's head whips up, as if he completely forgot there was another person here.

"Yes?" He says in that same deep voice, friendly and eager. "Do you need help finding something?" It sounds like he can't quite believe the fact. This place must not get many customers.

"Yes, if you don't mind."

His face lights up as if nothing would delight him more.

"Do you have anything on unusual mushrooms?" you ask.

The man sets down his book and slips out from behind the desk. "Hmm..." he mumbles to himself, expertly weaving between the shelves while you hurry to catch up.

"Let's see here..." he says, passing a wall draped with vines from a hanging planter, like the ones in Yoongi's lab, you notice.

"Fungi," he mutters, fingertips ghosting over the shelves. The sections under Fungi are vast and wide-ranging. Poisons & Antidotes, Moss & Lichens, Carnivorous, Aberrations.

He pauses at that last one, eyes flitting between the volumes.

"Anything specific?" he asks.

You debate on how much to disclose, but with the several cases of strange fungi in people's yards, it's probably common small town knowledge by now.

"Anything about an unusual fungus with...tendrils?" You can't help the hesitation, you're not sure if it's a common feature among mushrooms.

Apparently, it's not as unusual as you thought, because the man only nods and shifts his attention to one of the lower shelves. His slim fingers finally land on an old cloth-bound book with a red toadstool on the spine. There's no title on the cover, but the man seems to be familiar with it.

"Here you go," he says, handing it to you. "I think you'll find what you're looking for in this one."

He says it with the confidence of someone who's read every book in the building front to back. A very specific part of your brain tells you that this fact is almost certainly true.

"Thank you very much," you say, turning the book over in your hands.

"My pleasure," he replies, and means it.

"How much?"

He guides you back to the counter and rings it up for a very good price.

You're itching to ask questions, but you're not sure where to start.

The man places the book into a brown paper bag printed with Magic Shop Books and Oddities and hands it to you with a warm smile.

You lose your nerve and take the bag in silence. Then, as if he could smell the fragmented thoughts darting around in your skull, he says, "Be careful in the woods."

You look at him. There's the same friendly smile, but now with a hint of good-natured curiosity.

"If you're going mushroom hunting, I mean," he adds.

You stare at him for perhaps too long.

"Thanks," you say, dropping a generous tip into the jar next to the register.

"Hope to see you again," he calls out as you exit through the front door.

A moth to flame, bees to honey. Insert: you to coffee shops with perfect ambient lighting. You spot it just as you're leaving the narrow alley that leads to the bookshop.

Turning the corner onto a cobblestone walkway, you catch sight of the cafe windows, slick with the recent rain. But from what you can see through the glass, it looks like a warm, cozy place.

Glancing at the front door, you notice an OPEN sign, even though it's quite late. You're opening the door and stepping inside before you're even conscious of it.

The interior reflects the same aged aesthetic as the exterior, dark wood and brick and brass accents. But the kitchen area houses clean chrome appliances, and there are shelves stacked with white dishes behind them. Golden light warms a glass case fully stocked with a manner of pastries, breads, and other nibbles, all of which still seem to be steaming hot.

You immediately decide that you like this place.

"Good evening," a pleasant voice calls, though you can't yet identify the speaker.

The smell of steam and freshly-ground coffee beans becomes richer as you approach the counter. You can hear someone puttering around in the back room.

You glance at the menu's wide selection, and when you look back at the counter, a man is standing right in front of you.

You don't scare easily, but it's enough to make you jump a little.

"What can I get you?" the man asks cheerfully. He's tall and slim, wearing a white button-up and black slacks under an apron. Brown hair, dark eyes, and a full smiling mouth.

You order a coffee and a pastry.

"What time do you close?" you ask, wanting to sit down and enjoy the atmosphere but also not wanting to be the asshole that settles in just before closing.

"On Wednesdays we close at noon, otherwise we're open twenty-four hours," he replies, sounding delighted by rather than annoyed by the fact.

A twenty-four hour coffee shop? You really like this place.

He must see your eyebrows raise in surprise, because then he proudly adds, "Only one in town."

Pleasantly surprised, you look around the shop to assess the seating options. There are booths tucked along the walls, a few tables and chairs, and a few plush-looking armchairs near the windows.

"Please, have a seat and make yourself at home. I enjoy the company," the man says as he makes your drink.

You take him up on it, settling into one of the chairs by the frosted glass of the window. It's then that you take a closer look at the book the shop owner recommended.

A fraying cloth-bound cover, a red toadstool instead of a title. Inside, a table of contents. First, a bit of basic mycology, which you greatly benefit from. Immediately after, a range of mutations, circumstances, and environmental factors that caused the direct disturbance to said mycology.

You get lost in it quite easily, sipping your drink (which is expertly brewed) and nibbling your pastry (which is almost too delicious for words). You know that you'll be spending a considerable amount of time here throughout your stay in Farrow's End.

The book cites several case studies, all suggesting that a new strain of fungus is not only spreading rapidly, but infecting all other strains it has access to.

You read on, only momentarily distracted by the occasional customers that enter into the establishment. Like the group of students, most likely from the University, who order a large batch of espresso to-go. Or the old man who orders a sandwich and black coffee and sits outside despite the late-night chill.

You don't realize it, but you read on until the early morning. The first few faint, pale rays of sunlight stretch across your current page through the window, and you jerk to attention when you realize what time it is.

Not that you have somewhere in particular to be today. But you've always liked to get a jump on things early on in the investigation. And you have better luck getting interviews during the day.

You had no idea that time was passing so quickly. This place seems to have an air of particular tranquility, the kind that only a handful of coffee shops are able to achieve. It's the feeling of finding a quiet place after being overstimulated for hours.

You take your dishes to the counter, drop a tip into the jar, and step into the morning chill.

Exhaustion sets in on the journey home, and you crash moments after your head hits the pillow.

The dreams start that night.

a/n: thanks so much for reading!! love to hear any of ur thoughts 👉👈

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#bts ot7 #ot7 x reader #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts mystery #bts x fem!reader #bts series #bts f #bts fic #bts angst #bts fluff

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roosterforme · 18 hours ago

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Aim for the Sky Part 27 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is required to travel for a week, and both you and he are exhausted. He's hoping this will mean fewer deployments in the future, but in the present, he's going to need to remember where his responsibilities lie.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, lactation kink, body image, fluff, smut, DILF Roo

Length: 3900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Once again, your parents extended their stay to spend more time with Rose, but when they finally flew back to Maryland, it felt strange to be on your own with your daughter. You and Bradley fell into a regular routine once more, but it took him days before he came clean about being stressed out. When he got home late from work to find you on the couch feeding Rose, you could tell by the set of his shoulders that he'd had a long day.

"Can we talk about some things?" he asked, bending to untie his boots. You'd been wanting him to confide in you for days, but you were already exhausted again from the late night feedings and had pushed the comments Bradley made to Jake to the back burner.

"What's on your mind?" you asked, secretly pleased that he leaned down to give you a long, needy kiss, complete with his big hand on your neck, before kissing Rose as she ate. It had been a few days since you and he were intimate, and your body was already responding to him as he dropped down on the couch next to you.

"Can we just move to La Jolla? Nothing stresses me out when we have copious amounts of champagne and oral sex."

You laughed at his unexpected response as he ran his rough fingers along Rose's fuzzy hair. "Don't forget about the seafood platters."

"Sweetheart, I'll never forget about the seafood platters," he promised, turning to look at you as his head sank back against the couch. "Your mom and dad are serious about moving out here."

Your smile started to fade away. "Yeah, Roo. They are. And I thought you were pleased by that fact."

"I am." His brown eyes remained fixed on yours. "I am. I told you I was. I want them close, but not too close. Like, I don't want them next door where they can hear me call you my filthy little slut or something."

"Bradley," you said, laughing again as he took Rose in his hands to burp her.

"They don't need to know the ins and outs of how you call me Daddy while you're gagging on my cock either." He kissed the baby on her forehead. "Sorry, Nugget. I'll teach you one day how babies are made, and you'll probably cringe the whole time."

You sighed and reached for Bradley, cupping his jaw in your hand and stroking his mustache with your thumb. "My parents are seriously getting their house ready to sell. So just give it to me straight."

He nodded. "I don't want them over here all the time, okay? I love them, I really do, but they take over our house when they come. And even though we finished the attic so they could have a place to stay when they're here, Rosie can move her bedroom up there when she's older. So it wasn't a waste of time since the contractor saw your tits."

"It was a photo of my tits! I didn't just whip them out for him to see!" Now Bradley was laughing as you said, "It sounds like you're worried about having some boundaries if my parents become our new neighbors."

"Yes," he replied, nodding as you ran your fingers along his jaw. "That."

"I'm sure we can have a conversation with them and address all of your concerns." Rose seemed to be done burping, and you were treated to the view of Bradley cuddling your four month old against his chest. "Now, can you tell me what else made you have a bad day at work?"

"What makes you think I had a bad day?" he asked, placing soft kisses on Rose's cheek. "I could never have a bad day when I get to come home to my girls." You sighed as he ran his nose along her hair and inhaled deeply before he met your gaze. "Okay. It's not the end of the world, but Mav informed me that I need to take a trip to the Naval Airstation in Fort Worth. I don't really have any details yet."

"Okay," you replied softly, finally voicing what had been on your mind. "Well, maybe Rose and I can come with you for a few days? I can't remember exactly how much vacation time I have left, but it could be fun. And you did say the next trip should be for the three of us to enjoy together."

Bradley shrugged and immediately said, "Fort Worth in August? Baby Girl, it's going to be miserably hot. I know you, for some reason, miss the east coast humidity, but this is going to be gross. Ask Jake about it, he's from that ridiculous state."

You couldn't believe how quickly he shut it down. "It was just an idea," you mumbled, watching him snuggle the baby. "So you wouldn't have to miss Rose the whole time while you're away."

His head tipped back as he sighed. "I'm taking this new position so I can hopefully deploy less often and be here more later on. Even if I have to start working longer days, a week or two away from home is nothing compared to five months."

You bristled. "I understand that, Roo. We've talked about this so much. But maybe try to be a little bit more patient with the idea of my parents moving here so I can have a support system when you're busy?"

When you stood and rushed toward the bedroom, Bradley was right behind you, hand reaching out to grab your shoulder while he still held Rose tight. "Are you mad at me?"

Your stomach roiled with irritation, annoyance and disdain. You hated when you got like this, because he was the one who could bring out the best and also the worst in you. "I don't know."

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

You were kind of quiet at home. Bradley hated it. You were a bit more vocal during sex, but that certainly didn't make him feel any better about the rest of it.

"I have my dates for Fort Worth," he informed you when he strolled in from work with some yellow flowers and a new book for Rose. Today was important to him. He wasn't sure you'd remember why, but he still wanted to acknowledge it.

"When?" you asked, continuing to make dinner while he looked around for the baby. "She's napping in her crib," you added, seemingly knowing he always wanted his daughter nearby.

"Second week of August," he replied. "So, pretty soon. But just for a week." You nodded as Bradley walked closer, and he realized what you were cooking. "Marry Me Rooster?"

"Yeah." Your voice was soft as you looked at him over your shoulder. You were also still wearing your khaki uniform, and he could tell you were tired. He was tired, too, but he wanted things to feel more natural around here again. He didn't want to accept that this was just how things would be now when the two of you were taking turns getting up with Rose all the time.

He wished he hadn't made such a fuss about your parents, because he really did love them, and it would be nice to have some help occasionally. And now he felt like you were continually annoyed with him, and he had to figure out a way to fix this.

Your voice broke into his thoughts. "It's kind of a special day?"

You sounded unsure. Like you thought maybe he didn't remember. But a smile immediately found his lips, and he gestured to the flowers. He should have known you'd remember. You remembered everything. You just made him a seafood platter to celebrate Carole's birthday the other day.

"I proposed two years ago." You visibly relaxed at his words as you took the flowers in your hands. He stroked the diamond ring on your finger as he said, "I couldn't wait another minute after I found this in the storage unit. I needed you to wear it. I needed you to say yes." You melted into his arms, and he kissed your forehead. "Can I go ahead and propose something else right now?"

You nodded and hummed, lips brushing the scars on his neck. "I'm just happy you remembered."

"Sweetheart, I remember everything," he promised. "And I propose that we plan a trip for the three of us before the year is over. We can go anywhere you and the Nugget want."

Your eyes lit up as he cupped your perfect cheek in his hand. "I have so many ideas, Roo."

"I knew you would. Can I make another proposal?" When you raised one eyebrow, he whispered, "How about we mess around before Rose wakes up?"

He was already wrapping his arms around you, turning you toward the hallway when you said, "But what about dinner?"

"We'll be fast," he replied confidently, turning off the stove burner.

"You're never fast! You like to linger!"

"It's a new era, Baby Girl. The mom and dad era. I'll learn how to be quick so we can finish before she wakes up."

This was the closest thing to a true quickie Bradley had experienced in a long time. Maybe ever. You were pushed up against the wall just inside the bedroom, belt jingling with your pants down around your thighs. He was going hard at a nice, steady pace with his hand inside your bra. Your warm milk dripped between his fingers and along his palm as he whimpered.

"Oh, I love this so much," he whined as his other fingers found your clit. "I'm not happy about making this quick. I might need more later."

He could already hear Rose getting restless in the nursery down the hallway, her soft cries ramping up as Bradley slammed his cock into his wife. He wanted to make sure he got you off before he was done, but then you went and said something so hot, he knew he wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer.

"I could always nurse you later if you want."

When he came, his vision flooded with dizzying color. Bradley lapped your milk from his hand, moaning your name as his hips eventually slowed. Rose was wailing now as you bent down to pull your pants up, cum dripping down your inner thighs as you looked at him with a little grin.

"I take it you're interested in my offer."

"Absolutely," he rasped, pulling his pants up so he could go say hi to his daughter. "If I ever say no to your tits, something is definitely wrong, Baby Girl. That would be your cue to take me out back and finish me off." You laughed when he said, "Happy engagement anniversary. I'll go take care of the Nugget."

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

"When's the wedding?" you asked Jake as you dropped your tray next to his at lunch. He was eating the most delicious looking burger and a slice of pizza, and your soup and salad looked pitiful next to them. Seemingly no matter what you did, you'd stopped losing weight since the baby was born, and right now you were so exhausted, you couldn't even think about starting an exercise regimen.

"We've been engaged less than a month," Jake drawled, shoving some of the accompanying fries into his mouth. "Maybe some of us can wait a little longer to get hitched than your husband could, Angel." You rolled your eyes dramatically at him, but you were fighting a smile. "I'm trying my best to make sure that everything is in order for Jeremiah, if I'm being honest."

"Like what?" you asked, blowing on a spoonful of your soup.

Jake heaved a deep sigh, dragging a fry through ketchup. "He already calls me 'dad'. His speech was delayed, but it was still one of his first words, probably because I was around so much. I want to make sure Cat's ex doesn't get any rights, and if that means I need to hire another legal team before we get married, then so be it."

Tears stung your eyes as you patted his cheek gently. You knew you were lucky that you and Bradley were together and that he would do anything to take care of his child, but right now you were just so happy for Jeremiah. "He's such a sweet kid, Jake. And you love him so much."

"I do," he replied before taking an enormous bite out of his burger. You let him chew in silence while you picked at your lunch. Right now, you really wished Bradley was here, but the chances of him showing up were slim when he was out shadowing Maverick again. He was leaving in a few days for Texas, and you were feeling pretty emotional. It would just be you and Rose at home for a whole week by yourselves.

"Well, if you're looking for a nice venue, I know a good parking lot."

Jake barked out a laugh. "There's too much sentimental Bradshaw bullshit in that parking lot. No way I'd be allowed to get married there."

Then Cat showed up, and Jake's attention immediately shifted to her. You poked your salad around on your plate, wondering why you were so damn tired. You still had four more hours of work to get through before you had to pick Rose up and make dinner. Maybe you could just get pizza. But you shouldn't. But it sounded so good as you watched Jake eat his. But your hips and belly were already so big, you couldn't let yourself.

Your afternoon was filled with checking code that someone in Annapolis had entered, and they'd done a really shitty job. When you left your office, your eyes were tired, and you could feel yourself caving. You ordered a pizza and picked it up on your way home with Rose. Then you ate half of it on the couch while you fed her. And when you were done, you really wanted to cry, because you didn't know why you couldn't control yourself right now.

"I'm starving," Bradley groaned when he walked in. "You got pizza?" he asked, shoving two slices stacked up on top of each other into his mouth and moaning. Then he dropped down onto the couch and polished them off while you switched Rose to your other side. "I need to remember to pack my dress blues for Fort Worth."

"Why?"

Bradley shrugged and reached for the next slice. "Apparently, there's some sort of reception for the aviators that are selected for Top Gun in the fall. I don't know how much sway I'll have, but I'm really hoping I can pick some good ones for the next generation of the program since I'm aging out."

"You're not aging out, Roo!" you gasped. "You chose a different career trajectory!"

"I mean..."

"Stop. You're not old. Don't even try to tell me you're old."

"I'll be forty soon."

"You're thirty-eight."

"That's almost forty."

"You look like a DILF."

He reached for the last slice of pizza, folded it up and ate it while he reached for Rose. Like usual, she curled up on her father. Her features looked so much like his, but he was always the first one to argue with you about that, so you said nothing while he chewed up his food.

"I need you to help me pack for hot as hell Texas. I'm thinking just shorts besides my flight suits and uniforms?"

"I'll help you as soon as Rose goes to sleep for the night."

Bradley took the reins for the rest of the evening while you tried not to fall asleep before the baby. That was much easier said than done, but at least Bradley supervised tummy time while Tramp licked Rose, and then he gave her a bath. He read bedtime stories and changed her into pajamas so you didn't have to, gently setting her in her crib before joining you where you sat in bed yawning.

"You okay?" he asked, brushing his lips along your cheek before heading to the closet to start pulling out clothes to pack.

"Yeah. I just wish I didn't order the pizza, because it's empty calories, and it probably made me feel worse and more exhausted in the long run."

"But it was delicious," he muttered, piling up some of his favorite tropical print shirts. "Be honest, how many of these do you think I'll need?"

You snorted. "Unless every night is happy hour at the Copacabana, probably none. But knowing you, I'd pack at least two."

"See, you understand," he muttered with a smile as you chose two of your favorites and handed them to him. It was strange watching him load things into a duffle bag for something other than a deployment or special mission. You knew exactly how long he'd be gone. You knew it was just for a week and that he could FaceTime you and Rose whenever he wanted to, but it still felt like you were sending him away.

"We're going to miss you."

He immediately tossed the bag onto the floor and joined you in bed. "Don't cry, Baby Girl," he whispered, swiping at tears you hadn't realized were already filling your eyes. "I'll barely be gone at all. And I don't even have to finish packing tonight. I can do it later."

You nodded and let him envelope you in his warmth. That's how you eventually fell asleep.

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

"This sucks," Bradley said for probably the hundredth time in the past hour. Standing at the curb at San Diego International Airport with a beautiful wife and a beautiful daughter, being forced to leave them for a week, was actually awful. He didn't want to go. He wanted to continue to cradle Rose against his chest with his arm wrapped around you until he missed his flight.

"You have to go now so hopefully you can do this less frequently in the future," you whispered, voice shaky with emotion. You looked really tired, and Bradley knew you wouldn't get much of a break this week. That's why he'd arranged for Nat to check on you at home a few times whether you wanted her to or not.

"Count on it, Sweetheart," he murmured, placing kisses to Rosie's soft hair as her little fingers poked at the insignia pins on his uniform. "And I need you to be a perfect Nugget for Mommy. I'll call later tonight after I get settled in the barracks."

"Okay." Your voice was muffled as you buried your face against his neck. "I love you."

"I love you both," he promised, collecting his final kisses from Rose before buckling her into her car seat in the back of the red Bronco. Then he got a particularly filthy kiss from you that left both of you grinning before you started to shove him toward the airport entrance.

"You need to go or you'll miss your flight. And then Mav will be on my case about it."

Before he ducked inside, he cupped his free hand to his mouth and shouted, "I love you!" He watched you blow him a kiss and then pull away from the curb before he headed to the counter to drop off his bag.

He hated traveling like this, in his uniform. It felt like everyone milling around, trying to check their bags, was looking at him. He was only wearing it today, because he wasn't sure what to expect when he arrived at a base he'd only visited one time years ago. The last thing he wanted was to seem unprepared in front of an admiral, so he wore his khakis as a precaution.

"Lieutenant Commander. Where are you headed?" asked the airline agent when she looked at his pins.

Impressed, he replied, "Dallas-Fort Worth."

She took his duffle, wished him a good flight, and then Bradley slept for the entire time he was in the air. Maybe you weren't the only one who was exhausted, because the nap seemed to do wonders for him. He woke up feeling rested, and just as soon as he sent a text letting you know he landed, he was off in search of a rental car.

To his absolute delight, all he had to do was ask nicely and flash his most charming smile, and he was handed the keys to a brand new, black Bronco. It was a model year newer than your red one back at home, and he was excited to scrutinize all of the little differences as he drove it around for the week.

"Don't like the lack of a car seat," he muttered, tossing his bag onto the backseat where he was so used to seeing Rose's infant carrier.

Was he really that guy? Did he already miss his kid enough that he had to open up the photo gallery in his phone and scroll through a few pictures before he could drive away? Apparently he was, and it made him ache to be away from her. This was so much worse than going to La Jolla without his daughter, because right now, he had neither of you.

When his stomach started rumbling for dinner, he drove to the barracks and showed his identification, only to be told his room wasn't ready yet. So he went right back out to the Bronco in search of dinner. He knew the name of a tavern popular with officers in the area, so he typed it into his GPS and headed in the direction it told him. He had to laugh, figuring he was about to walk into the Lone Star version of the Hard Deck, but that's kind of what he wanted right now. Dinner somewhere that felt comfortable if not familiar.

"Oof." It looked like a dump compared to his bar at home, but it seemed popular, and he was hungry enough that it didn't matter. When he walked in, he took a quick survey of the space before grabbing an empty stool at the bar. He ordered your favorite beer and a sandwich and took his phone out, careful not to set it on the bar in case the owner was part of some sort of association along with Penny.

He tried reading an article, but he felt as though he was being watched. Bradley tried to ignore it, fairly certain he didn't know anyone on base here, but the feeling nagged at him while he ate. The twang of music playing on the jukebox was distracting, but not distracting enough. When he finished his food and wiped his mouth with a napkin, he picked up his bottle and drained the rest of his beer while he glanced around.

Then he saw a young woman in a flight suit playing pool not too far from his spot at the bar. Her bright blue eyes were focused on his face, and her lips curled into a grin before she bent to sink her shot. Her patches told him she originated from Virginia Beach like he did, and that her call sign was Indigo. As Bradley turned, ready to sign his bill and leave, he saw her approach out of the corner of his eye.

"Can I help you?" he asked, turning her way again with one eyebrow raised. She was attractive, even up close, and he remained silent while her gaze traveled from his face down to his chest where his name tag was displayed. Then she gasped in delight.

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw," she said, eyes snapping back up to meet his. "All the way from Top Gun. I've been waiting to meet you for weeks, Sir."

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

Well, I hope BG is having a nice time at home without her husband. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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reasonsforhope · 7 months ago

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"In cities across the country, people of color, many of them low income, live in neighborhoods criss-crossed by major thoroughfares and highways.

The housing there is often cheaper — it’s not considered particularly desirable to wake up amid traffic fumes and fall asleep to the rumble of vehicles over asphalt.

But the price of living there is steep: Exhaust from all those cars and trucks leads to higher rates of childhood asthma, cancer, cardiovascular disease, and pulmonary ailments. Many people die younger than they otherwise would have, and the medical costs and time lost to illness contributes to their poverty.

Imagine if none of those cars and trucks emitted any fumes at all, running instead on an electric charge. That would make a staggering difference in the trajectory, quality, and length of millions of lives, particularly those of young people growing up near freeways and other sources of air pollution, according to a study from the American Lung Association.

The study, released [February 28, 2024], found that a widespread transition to EVs could avoid nearly 3 million asthma attacks and hundreds of infant deaths, in addition to millions of lower and upper respiratory ailments...

Prior research by the American Lung Association found that 120 million people in the U.S. breathe unhealthy air daily, and 72 million live near a major trucking route — though, Barret added, there’s no safe threshold for air pollution. It affects everyone.

Bipartisan efforts to strengthen clean air standards have already made a difference across the country. In California, which, under the Clean Air Act, can set state rules stronger than national standards, 100 percent of new cars sold there must be zero emission by 2035.

[Note: The article doesn't explain this, but that is actually a much bigger deal than just California. Basically, due to historically extra terrible pollution, California is the only state that's allowed to allowed to set stronger emissions rules than the US government sets. However, one of the rules in the Clean Air Act is that any other state can choose to follow California's standards instead of the US government's. And California by itself is the world's fifth largest economy - ahead of all but four countries. California has a lot of buying power. So, between those two things, when California sets stricter standards for cars, the effects ripple outward massively, far beyond the state's borders.]

Truck manufacturers are, according to the state’s Air Resources Board, already exceeding anticipated zero-emissions truck sales, putting them two years ahead of schedule...

Other states have begun to take action, too, often reaching across partisan lines to do so. Maryland, Colorado, New Mexico, and Rhode Island adopted zero-emissions standards as of the end of 2023.

The Biden administration is taking similar steps, though it has slowed its progress after automakers and United Auto Workers pressured the administration to relax some of its more stringent EV transition requirements.

While Barret finds efforts to support the electrification of passenger vehicles exciting, he said the greatest culprits are diesel trucks. “These are 5 to 10 percent of the vehicles on the road, but they’re generating the majority of smog-forming emissions of ozone and nitrogen,” Barret said...

Lately, there’s been significant progress on truck decarbonization. The Biden administration has made promises to ensure that 30 percent of all big rigs sold are electric by 2030...

Such measures, combined with an increase in public EV charging stations, vehicle tax credits, and other incentives, could change American highways, not to mention health, for good."

-via GoodGoodGood, February 28, 2024

#asthma #asthma attack #medical news #pollution #air pollution #ev #evs #environmental racism #good news #hope #auto industry #auto news #public health #medicine

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haveyoureadthisfanfic · 5 months ago

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Summary: Marlena Cordoba, a housekeeper based in Maryland, takes a job cleaning the house of a wealthy Baltimore psychiatrist. The waitstaff sees everything in most situations, but in the Lecter household, “everything” is a bit more than Marlena expected. But it comes with a very nice tip.

Author: @junkdrawertales

Submitter: @city-of-all-tunas

Note from submitter: POV Outsider with someone who gives no fucks. it's great with the kind of humor fannibals are talented at

#official fic poll #haveyoureadthisfic #pollblr #internet culture #fandom culture #fanfiction #fanfic #tumblr polls #fandom poll #The Ways of Old Chicago #hannibal #hannibal tv #nbc hannibal #hannibal nbc #murder husbands #hannigram #ao3

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3wishesgenie · 1 year ago

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Obsessed with the Insane

#dark content #murder

Being the average cliche housewife tending to your husband everyday he gets off. You’ve been married for a while and have no children yet. But are hoping to have some in the near future when your husband has time for you.

Just taking your empty days and buying whatever you want and cleaning around the house waiting until your husband gets back home from work. His mother sometimes comes by and invites herself in making her “one and only baby” some of his favorite pie (to which he takes to his coworkers).

Today your husband comes home early when you hear him close the car door and you move to wait for him by the door. You greet him when he opens the front door and take his coat, giving him a kiss. That’s when you turn around to ask him about his day after putting his coat on the rack, and you see a kiss mark on his neck.

You knew your husband was cheating on you and you wanted to ignore it because you actually love him for him not just his money which is actually surprising for people in your situation. You’ve asked him about his department lead and if they had anything going on to which he lied.

This is what ended up driving you mad in all this alone time you had you could make thorough plans to get your husband back. He was supposed to go on a trip next week luckily she wasn’t going to be there to have your husband.

That’s when you carry out your plan a few days after you husband had arrived in Maryland for this work trip you called that night to check on him before changing out of your clothes into something dark , grabbing the gun and knife you’d brought because you took your husband you needed it for “self defense” even though not even the fbi could get into your house.

You set out to her house to catch her sleeping on her couch to which you broke into the front door, going into her house just like you’ve seen on television. Once you're in front of her on the couch you wake her up by firing the gun off into the end of it.

Once she's awake you hold the knife to her neck making her take fentanyl laced pills and slitting her throat and choking her until she finally takes her last breath. Walking out of the house you get into your car taking off your gloves. Smiling to yourself about what you’ve just done.

The week has passed and it’s gotten out that she was found dead in her home from overdose and blood loss. Your husband seems hurt but he’ll get over it eventually now that he can finally enjoy what he’s married. Everyday after you ended her life was great for you, your husband finally gave you a child you’ve moved and he’s gotten a promotion and you’ve put all the negative behind you. But little do you know there’s another mistress lurking and she’s crazier than you.

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edgessunflower · 1 year ago

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Caught in the rain

Pairing: Jeff Hardy x Fem reader

Description: You and Jeff are locked out in the rain by Matt and Lita

The rain poured down as you and Jeff ran back to the house you were staying in with Lita and Matt, the four of you were on vacation in Maryland enjoying some much needed time off. You and jeff were out enjoying the peaceful day by exploring the beach near the house and the forests nearby until on the way back it started getting cloudy and before you two know it, it was pouring rain roughly down on the two of you making him yell and you squeal as you both start running stopping under two different trees before finally running on the front porch knocking on the door when you try to open it only for the door to be locked like it was when the two of you left waving at lita who watched the two of you until she closed and locked the door high fiving matt not knowing the plan that the couple had put into action. "Matt! Lita! Let us in!" the two walk to the door seeing the two of you opening the door before looking at each other as you started walking in shoving the two of you outside and locking the door back "GUYS WHAT THE FUCK!?" jeff bangs on the door as you groan in pain sitting under the closest tree "You okay?" he notices the scrape on your back that was bleeding and looked nasty cleaning it with a wash rag left outside and put a separate cloth on top of it before wrapping you in a towel as you shivered and chattered uncontrollably until you slowly got warmer after wrapping another towel around him and huddling together which helped both of you as the rain continues on. You laugh at the neighbor's dog trying to catch the rain in her mouth, running out and petting her before chasing her around while jeff watches you "What are you doing?! You're gonna get sick!" you laugh hugging the dalmatian as jeff shakes his head before putting his towel on the ground and chases after you making you squeal as you run hiding behind the tree even around the front porch making matt and lita peak out the window upstairs watching the two of you without either of you seeing or knowing that you were being watched as you both laugh and catch your breaths before noticing the look on jeff's face "What? What's with that look?" you feel your heart flutter as he gets closer until he grabs your face and kisses you frantically before pulling away leaving you gasping for air and a big smile on your face. The two of you share a sweeter and tender kiss before suddenly hearing a yell "You guys are gonna get a fever get inside now!" you both jump seeing lita in the doorway with towels and the two of you jog inside completely soaked from the rain heading upstairs to your rooms showering and changing into dryer warmer clothes before you go in jeff's room crawling under the covers where jeff lays wrapping his arms around you as a movie plays in the background laying on his chest until you were both asleep, lita and matt smile when they walk in the room only to find the two of you asleep under the big soft covers before slowly leaving the room.

#wwe x reader #jeff hardy #wwe #jeff hardy x reader

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iww-gnv · 1 year ago

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Every summer, people flock to Maryland to eat blue crabs. Named for their brilliant sapphire-colored claws, blue crab is one of the most iconic species in the Chesapeake Bay. The scientific name for blue crabs, Callinectes sapidus, means “beautiful savory swimmer.” In restaurants and at home, diners pile steamed and seasoned blue crabs in the middle of a table covered in paper. Then, using small mallets, knives, bare hands and fingers, they break open the hard shells and extract the juicy meat from inside. It is a messy experience, especially with Old Bay seasoning and beer known locally as Natty Bohs, one that is quintessentially Maryland. Though many people know firsthand how difficult it is to pick and clean crab meat, they often don’t realize how crab is processed when it is sold in stores already picked and cleaned. Most people also may not know that crab picking is a livelihood for many, mainly poor, women. For generations, African American women from Maryland’s rural, maritime communities labored for crab houses on the Eastern Shore. Today, fewer than 10 crab houses are left on the Shore. The workforce consists of mainly female migrant workers from Mexico who do the grueling job of picking crab for eight to nine hours a day, from late spring to early fall. They make on average of US$2.50 to $4.00 for every pound of crabmeat they pick. That pay is roughly one-tenth to one-twelfth of the wholesale price of one pound – or about a half of a kilogram – of the seafood they pick, which is $35 to $44. In comparison, the Maryland minimum wage is $13.25 an hour, while the federal minimum wage is $7.25.

#maryland #labor rights #worker rights #migrant workers #news

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elitecardprocessing-blog · 5 months ago

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Professional Sidewalk Cleaning Service In Hagerstown

The idea of investing in professional sidewalk cleaning is centered on the various advantages and worth it provides to property owners, businesses, and the community. Expert sidewalk cleaning goes beyond looks; it is a vital part of property management affecting safety, appearance, value, health, adherence, and maintenance expenses.

We think that by taking care of their walkways, property owners can extend their lifespan and prevent expensive repairsor replacements for cracks and deterioration. In addition, keeping sidewalks clean helps create a positive image of your property and promotes a safer setting for residents, customers, and pedestrians.

1. Health Benefits: Professional cleaning gets rid of pollen, mold, and other allergens that build up on sidewalks, leading to a healthier environment for residents and visitors.

2. Cost Efficiency: Regular cleaning prevents extensive damage, reducing the need for costly repairs and replacements.

3. Safety Enhancement: Sidewalks may pose a danger when they are covered in algae, mold, or other harmful substances. Professional cleaning is able to eliminate these potential causes of slipping, which leads to a notable decrease in the likelihood of accidents and the related legal responsibilities.

More about side walk cleaning service Please visit our website :-Professional Sidewalk Cleaning Service In Hagerstown

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chaotic-archaeologist · 1 year ago

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Hi!

I have quick archaeology question for you

We've been doing some work in my backyard and have seem to found an old trash pile (broken glass, pottery, a bit of pipe, maybe slag?) I know our house is pretty old so I was curious about dating it!

So, do you have/know of any good resources for dating historical pottery in New England?

Sorry I didn't get to this when you first sent it. I've been busy with a move and then traveling back to visit my family before the beginning of the next semester. Not that I have a moment to breathe, let me throw some resources your way.

Maryland Archaeological Conservation Lab has a good click through menu that can serve as a sort of flowchart for identification. Depending on how late into the historical period you're in, you should be looking at both coarser ceramics and porcelain.

The Digital Archaeological Archive of Comparative Slavery has a comprehensive document for ceramics identification. See also their Ceramics Appendix.

Saint Mary's University has posts with helpful photos, descriptions, and date ranges for numerous types of ceramics.

Alpine Archaeological Consultants has a great paper that's relatively easy to read and features resources on how to identify glass, ceramics, and other artifacts from the historic period.

Parkland College's page is more Midwest-centric, but it's still a good resource.

Florida University has a good description of how archaeologists classify artifacts with examples.

The Society for Historical Archaeology has one of the best databases for historical bottle identification (I'm a huge slut for glass bottles).

The SHA also has a great guide for identification of common 20th century artifacts. See also their Links in Historic Archaeology page and their Research Links page.

If you can find the date (or even the decade) of the construction of your house, that would be a great place to start! If you have artifacts you want to clean, you can use a toothbrush and water, but be careful about scrubbing too vigorously because it can damage paint and labels that are on top of the glaze/glass. Do not use water to clean any metal artifacts. Slag is identifiable because it's bubbly/melted/slightly porous and less heavy than other rocks and/or metal.

If you have pictures of anything, I'd love to see them! Although I can't promise any identification because sometimes it's difficult without being able to physically inspect the artifact.

Other archaeologists are welcome to chime in with any links and resources I might have missed.

-Reid

#he speaks #archaeology #ceramics #archaeology advice

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 1 month ago

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NASA's Roman space telescope's 'exoskeleton' whirls through major test

A major component of NASA's Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope just took a spin on the centrifuge at NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Maryland. Called the Outer Barrel Assembly, this piece of the observatory is designed to keep the telescope at a stable temperature and shield it from stray light.

The two-part spin test took place in a large, round test chamber. Stretching across the room, a 600,000-pound (272,000-kilogram) steel arm extends from a giant rotating bearing in the center of the floor.

The test itself is like a sophisticated version of a popular carnival attraction, designed to apply centrifugal force to the rider—in this case, the outer covering for Roman's telescope. It spun up to 18.4 rotations per minute. That may not sound like much, but it generated force equivalent to just over seven times Earth's gravity, or 7 g, and sent the assembly whipping around at 80 miles per hour.

"We couldn't test the entire Outer Barrel Assembly in the centrifuge in one piece because it's too large to fit in the room," said Jay Parker, product design lead for the assembly at Goddard. The structure stands about 17 feet (5 meters) tall and is about 13.5 feet (4 meters) wide. "It's designed a bit like a house on stilts, so we tested the 'house' and 'stilts' separately."

The "stilts" went first. Technically referred to as the elephant stand because of its similarity to structures used in circuses, this part of the assembly is designed to surround Roman's Wide Field Instrument and Coronagraph Instrument like scaffolding. It connects the upper portion of the Outer Barrel Assembly to the spacecraft bus, which will maneuver the observatory to its place in space and support it while there. The elephant stand was tested with weights attached to it to simulate the rest of the assembly's mass.

Next, the team tested the "house"—the shell and a connecting ring that surrounds the telescope. These parts of the assembly will ultimately be fitted with heaters to help ensure the telescope's mirrors won't experience wide temperature swings, which make materials expand and contract.

To further protect against temperature fluctuations, the Outer Barrel Assembly is mainly made of two types of carbon fibers mixed with reinforced plastic and connected with titanium end fittings. These materials are both stiff (so they won't warp or flex during temperature swings) and lightweight (reducing launch demands).

If you could peel back the side of the upper portion –– the house's "siding" –– you'd see another weight-reducing measure. Between the inner and outer panels, the material is structured like a honeycomb. This pattern is very strong and lowers weight by hollowing out portions of the interior.

Designed at Goddard and built by Applied Composites in Los Alamitos, California, Roman's Outer Barrel Assembly was delivered in pieces and then put together in a series of crane lifts in Goddard's largest clean room. It was partially disassembled for centrifuge testing, but will now be put back together and integrated with Roman's solar panels and Deployable Aperture Cover at the end of the year.

In 2025, these freshly integrated components will go through thermal vacuum testing together to ensure they will withstand the temperature and pressure environment of space. Then they'll move to a shake test to make sure they will hold up against the vibrations they'll experience during launch. Toward the end of next year, they will be integrated with the rest of the observatory.

IMAGE: This structure, called the Outer Barrel Assembly, will surround and protect NASA’s Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope from stray light that could interfere with its observations. In this photo, engineers prepare the assembly for testing. Credit: NASA/Chris Gunn

#science #space #astronomy #physics #nasa #news #astrophysics #nancy grace roman space telescope

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ahedderick · 1 year ago

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Outdoor School

@oceanfloorfires I don't want to derail a perfectly good snake post, so I will write a separate one to explain Outdoor School. I hope this doesn't end up being TOO many details.

I have no idea how widespread this phenomenon is across the usa or the world, but it is a long tradition here in Maryland. There is a camp facility owned by the 4H club that is used for OS for a couple of weeks in September and October. There are simple cabins with rows of bunks, a bath house, a cafeteria, and several larger buildings. The idea is to get kids in their last year of elementary school out into the woods from Monday to Friday one week in the fall.

As a chaperone I was in charge of a cabin full of about 12 girls, half from our school and half from a different one. The girls I knew were pretty easy to handle, because I was a frequent volunteer in school and they knew me. The others - were a handful at times.

Parent chaperones did not have to attend any of the classes or activities, and in fact some of them had to scamper off to go to work. THAT must have been tough. I chose to go on all activities that had hikes, and a few of the classes.

The camp site is gorgeous. The weather is always surprisingly chilly, because it is one climate zone colder than home. The "classes" were absolutely terrible. They had to rely on volunteers to teach, and they got what they paid for. For example . . . no, I need to go take my medicine.

{pause for tranquilizers}

Ok, the one hike took them through the forest and also a gorgeous bog.

They paused in the forest to talk to the kids about the vegetation, and confidently told the children that. that. that a club moss (lycopodium) was a baby pine tree. *breaks down sobbing*

On another hike, a different instructor pointed dramatically at a small mountain laurel and told the kids it was a blueberry bush. The LOOK my daughter gave me. There was an actual lowbush blueberry right there. There was also a cranberry bush with one or two little cranberries on it. We had to point it out to the instructor, who said "Hunh. Maybe that IS a cranberry."

That aside. There were many good things. Showing up at the cafeteria three times a day to get a good meal that I didn't have to cook OR clean up was utterly splendid. I loved those cafeteria ladies. I hope they didn't find it unnerving that I beamed radiantly every time they handed me a tray of mediocre-but-nourishing food. One night we had movie night. They set up the projector and the screen in the middle of the cleared area. We were sitting in the dark, surrounded by an impressively large forest, watching a fun movie. Good times.

One dinner I tried sitting with the other chaperones instead of with my campers. It took me three days before I realized that chaperones were sitting separately. Oh, well. Someone came in and told the lady sitting across from me that "Lee" was outside having a meltdown. She rolled her eyes and started to get up reluctantly. "Um, would that be 'Lee' from [our school]?" I asked. Yes, it was.

"I'll handle this," I snapped, and Woman plunked back down. I did not punch her (but I wanted to). I went outside and found Lee sobbing like her heart would break. She was INTENSELY homesick. Neither of her parents could drive, and there was no other family member able to come (over an hour away from our town) get her. She had called home and begged to be picked up, but they couldn't. I held her and started Talking. How proud I was that she had made it Three Whole Days already. How strong she was! How proud she would be when - not if! - she made it to the last day. And didn't her older brother bail and go home when he did OS? My, wouldn't that be something, for her to succeed where Brother had failed. By the end of this she had subsided from sobbing to sniffling gently. She did indeed manage to complete the week. I told her and her chaperone that any further Issues should be directed to me, because I knew her and her family.

The last evening they gathered all the campers in the main building for skits (the less said, the better) and entertainment. The last thing was a spoooooooky story about the ghosts of the family that originally lived on the land when it was a farm and they still haunt the campground to this very day!!! The kids were scared silly (in a good way). We walked back through the dark (there were no outside lights anywhere) to our cabin. There were about four girls clinging to me, and the others were clumped very closely around. Campers going all different directions were hooting and yelling in the distant darkness.

Next morning the kids packed up, swept the cabin, and everybody went home. It was, overall, a good experience, give or take some late-night shenanigans. I was glad I did it. I missed the cafeteria ladies for weeks.

#outdoor school #fall #autumn #nature #camping #oceanfloorfires #parentblr #parenting #momblr #momlife

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sixstringphonic · 1 year ago

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Biden to Designate Monument Near Grand Canyon, Preventing Uranium Mining

Uranium extraction had already been restricted in the area, which Native tribes consider sacred, but the moratorium was set to expire in 2032. Mr. Biden’s designation will make it permanent.

(The New York Times, 8/8/23) President Biden will designate nearly a million acres of land near the Grand Canyon as a new national monument on Tuesday to protect the area from uranium mining, administration officials confirmed on Monday.

Mr. Biden’s visit to Arizona is part of a nationwide blitz by the White House to translate key policy victories to voters — including a law he signed last year to inject $370 billion in tax incentives into wind, solar and other renewable energy — as the 2024 campaign ramps up. Senior cabinet officials are also touring the country this week, highlighting his domestic agenda.

During his first stop of a three-state tour, Mr. Biden will announce that he is creating a national monument — the fifth such designation of his presidency — in an area sacred to Native American tribes, administration officials told reporters on Monday.

“The mining is off limits for future development in that area,” Ali Zaidi, Mr. Biden’s national climate adviser, told reporters on Air Force One. “It’s focused on preserving the historical resources” in the area.

Native tribes and environmental groups have long lobbied for the government to permanently protect the area around the Grand Canyon from uranium mining, which they say would damage the Colorado River watershed as well as areas with great cultural meaning for Native Americans.

Under the proposed designation, all new uranium mining will be blocked. Uranium mining has already been restricted in the area in question since 2012, but that Obama-era moratorium was set to expire in 2032. Mr. Biden’s designation would make the conditions permanent.

Mr. Biden’s visit to Arizona was also an effort to energize crucial constituency groups in the state, even as much of the American public remains skeptical of his domestic agenda.

Mr. Biden has called the Inflation Reduction Act — major legislation he signed last year that aims to cut planet-warming greenhouse gas emissions — “the largest investment ever in clean energy.” Yet 71 percent of Americans say they have heard “little” or “nothing at all” about the package one year later, according to a Washington Post-University of Maryland poll.

And most Americans — 57 percent — disapprove of his handling of climate change, according to the poll. Surveys show young voters, who turned out in force during the 2020 election, are particularly concerned about global warming.

Some environmental groups were left infuriated when Mr. Biden greenlit a drilling project known as Willow on pristine federal land in Alaska and mandated the sale of offshore drilling leases as part of a deal to pass the climate bill, undermining a campaign promise to ban drilling on federal lands.

“We know that polls don’t tell the entire story,” Karine Jean-Pierre, the White House press secretary, said on Monday when asked about why voters seemingly do not know what it is in Mr. Biden’s bills. As the administration continues to enact the various legislative packages, she said, “we’ll see Americans start to feel what we’ve been able to do in Washington.”

Native Americans were also a crucial voting bloc in Arizona in 2020, when the state voted for a Democratic presidential candidate for the first time since 1996. They made up 6 percent of Arizona’s electorate in 2020, larger than Mr. Biden’s margin for victory, according to the National Congress of American Indians.

More than 80 percent of Native American voters in 2020 agreed with the statement that “the federal government should return lands stolen from Native American tribes,” according to a 2022 poll conducted by the African American Research Collaborative.

“It is likely a strategic decision to focus on the Grand Canyon,” said Gabriel Sanchez, a fellow at the Brookings Institution who has researched voting trends among Native Americans.

“Many Native Americans do not vote based on party, but on which candidates will do the most to advance the interests of Native American communities.”

The National Mining Association called the monument designation “unwarranted” and said it would force the United States to rely on imported uranium from countries like Russia. Representative Bruce Westerman, Republican of Arkansas and the chairman of the House Committee on Natural Resources, blasted Mr. Biden for locking up domestic resources.

“This administration’s lack of reason knows no bounds, and their actions suggest that President Biden and his radical advisers won’t be satisfied until the entire federal estate is off limits and America is mired in dependency on our adversaries for our natural resources,” Mr. Westerman said in a statement.

The administration has argued that the proposed monument represents only 1.3 percent of the nation’s known uranium reserves.

“This is going to be a limit on future development in this space while being respectful of existing rights,” Mr. Zaidi said.

The area in question is called Baaj Nwaavjo I’tah Kukveni — Baaj Nwaavjo, meaning “where tribes roam,” for the Havasupai people, and I’tah Kukveni, or “our footprints,” for the Hopi tribe.

Earlier this year Mr. Biden created a new national monument, Spirit Mountain, in Nevada, insulating from development a half-million acres that are revered by Native Americans. He also restored and expanded protections for Bears Ears National Monument and Grand Staircase-Escalante in Utah, sites that are sacred to Native Americans and that had been opened to mining and drilling by the Trump administration.

In June, the Biden administration banned drilling for 20 years around Chaco Canyon in New Mexico, one of the nation’s oldest and most culturally significant Native American sites. (Source)

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