#Structural Integrity Concerns

[masterroofersfl]

What Are the Consequences of Ignoring a Roof Leak in Your Home?

Ignoring a roof leak in your home can lead to serious consequences that can affect both your property and your finances. While a small leak may seem like a minor issue, it can quickly escalate into a major problem if not addressed promptly. Here are some of the most significant consequences of ignoring a roof leak in your home.

Water Damage to Interior Spaces

Water damage to the interior of your house is one of the most obvious effects of a roof leak. Water can damage walls, insulation, and flooring by leaking through the ceiling. This can lead to drywall crumbling, wood warping, and paint peeling over time. The water may spread to other areas of the house if it is not stopped, requiring expensive repairs.

Mold and Mildew Growth

A roof leak's excess moisture provides the ideal conditions for the growth of mold and mildew. Mold may spread swiftly and removing it after it has taken hold can be challenging and costly. Additionally, mold and mildew can cause health concerns, such as asthma, allergies, and respiratory disorders, especially in sensitive people. Early roof leak repair can help stop mold growth and safeguard your family's health.

Structural Damage

Water leaking through the roof can cause significant structural damage to your home over time. Wooden beams, rafters, and trusses can weaken and rot if exposed to moisture for prolonged periods. This can compromise the stability of your home and even lead to the need for major structural repairs. In severe cases, it could make your home unsafe to live in.

Higher Energy Bills

Your home's insulation may be impacted by a leaky roof, which would reduce its energy efficiency. The efficiency of your insulation or attic may be diminished if moisture seeps in. Your energy expenses will rise as a result of your heating and cooling systems having to work more to keep the temperature comfortable.

Pest Infestation

Additionally, pests like insects, rats, and birds may be able to enter through a roof leak. It becomes simpler for pests to enter your house once water has entered. Infestations may result from this, necessitating the use of expensive pest control services.

Decreased Property Value

If a roof leak is not fixed, it can drastically lower your home's value. Visible indications of structural problems, mold, or water damage may deter potential buyers and may necessitate costly repairs before they agree to buy the house. Resolving a roof leak as soon as feasible might assist maintain the market value of your house if you intend to sell it.

Expensive Repairs

Repairs for a roof leak will grow more involved and costly the longer you put it off. If the damage gets worse, what could begin as a minor, reasonably priced repair could become an expensive overhaul. Fixing a tiny leak early on is much less expensive than replacing the entire roof if the leak is allowed to go unchecked for an extended period of time.

Ignoring a roof leak can lead to severe consequences, including water damage, mold growth, structural damage, higher energy bills, pest infestations, decreased property value, and expensive repairs. It’s essential to address any signs of a roof leak as soon as possible to prevent these issues from worsening. Hiring a roof repair Miami expert ensures that the leak is accurately diagnosed and repaired promptly, minimizing the risk of further damage to your home. Their expertise can help protect your property from costly repairs and potential health hazards like mold growth.

[luvnami]

thinking of a neighbour!au fic where olympian ushijima wakatoshi falls through the wall between your apartments while cleaning. aptly named 'your local hole in the wall' or '(not a) glory hole', which eventually leads to you (journalist and horrified neighbour) and ushijima (athlete and horrified neighbour no.2) falling in love

[and-his-hands-were-24-crows]

People keep mentioning Atonement. I've never seen Atonement but obviously I'm now obligated to watch Atonement.

The chair needed a break so now we use the bookshelves.

[phoenixfeathersinfall]

Happy 4th to all who celebrate, raising a glass to all my fellow sensory-struggling individuals. Good luck on your elections, UK individuals. Take extra care with your pets today. Peace and love on planet Earth.

[ronanlynchdefender]

The political stances of The Raven Cycle characters are so fascinating to me. You got Blue over here who is very much a progressive activist in the making. She recognizes things like misogyny and is not afraid to call those things out even when it concerns her closest friends. Because of that, I definitely see her as the type of activist who would be in the front lines at protests whether that be at the Capitol, college campuses, at the border, or as is the case in the dreamer trilogy, tied to a tree. She is the type of person who demands change in our current system and would demand it loudly and through acts of protest or civil disobedience.

Then you have Adam who displays no strong desire to change the system and whose only desire is to rise up in that system. He wants to climb the social ladder and assimilate to those of higher social status which is partially why he envies Gansey so much in the beginning because Gansey was born into it. Adam still tries to do this in the dreamer trilogy by essentially pretending to be a Gansey-like figure while at Harvard despite hating it. Eventually, Adam gives up on trying to belong within this higher social class and "climbing the ladder" but then strangely enough becomes a fed, which means just integrating into another form of hierarchy and power structure. And I feel like a more interesting arc would've been rejecting being a part of these societal systems altogether.

Which I suppose now leads us to Ronan who is a literal anarchist. He actually rejects all societal systems and rules and it permeates every aspect of his life. But actually, I shouldn't say all because there is one societal institution which he does enjoy partaking in: religion. With the exception of his catholicism, he does not engage in any other societal institution: education, law, politics. He hates it, in fact, It is antithetical to his being which is what makes his characterization so perfect because of course a gay farmer god would hate oppressive rules and structures (except for religion). That's not even mentioning that he is a canonical ecoterrorist that cost the US government a billion dollars. But what is really interesting about his character (and where his and Blue's political stances differ) is that because he rejects these systems he has no interest or stake in changing them. He'd sooner tear down the system than try to reform it.

And then there’s Gansey who doesn't seem to engage in politics and would rather spend his days reading his little Welsh books and going on his fun adventures. Of course, he is able to do this largely because he has the privilege to not worry about politics or social class. It seems that Blue's influence changes this as they are both chaining themselves to trees in protest during the dreamer trilogy. Other than that, I don't really have a lot to say about Gansey and his politics. But I find it very interesting that Maggie has created this close-knit group of characters with such varying relationships to how they view politics and social structures. I tried to draw out a 2-axis grid to show their differences, but I don't know if it really works because I feel like Gansey kinda screws it up but nevertheless I like how they each represent different ends of a spectrum sort of.

[austinbutlerslovers]

Feyd Fantasy Part 5

Label Mature 18+

Endless Empire

Summary

Feyd Rautha becomes the Baron of Giedi prime and inherits all the responsibilities it entails.

The former Baron Vladimir on his deathbed was enraged at how well you corrupted his nephew. Implanting Feyd with the idea to kill his own uncle in order to ascend as Baron ahead of his time, (keeping you together). His nephews love and obsession for you disgusted him. But he still wanted his favorite prodigy to succeed... just without your interference.

He laid a treacherous plot to separate you from Feyd forever.

Starts off Dominating sex Ends with Passionate love making

⚠️ Hard Core Smut ⚠️

edging •missionary• rough sex •hip pinning•oral sex while distracted• fingering • orgasm denial• sex against a head board•multiple cream pies•multiple orgasms

Part 1 • Part 2 •Part 3 • Part 4•Part 5•Part 6 •Part 7

✍🏼Proofreader/Editor @faegoddessog 🫦Smut Consultant @burnthheparaphilia 💗Affection Consultant @magicovento

⏳Extreme Dune Inaccuracies ⌛️

💝Not for my softies (mentions of violence)

Inspo: ⚔️ Multiple anonymous requests combined ⚔️ -Feyd initiating oral while you are distracted -Feyd denying you an orgasm -Feyd restraining himself to be gentle -Feyd addicted to you -Feyd making love to you

(Requests sorted through the final 3 fics if you don’t see yours here)

Endless Empire

The populace of the planet Giedi Prime swarm the capitol in preparation for the coronation of their new Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen. The military is in full force on display in the streets. All of the banners of Vladimir Harkonnen are clipped as Banners of Feyd Rautha unfurl across the globe.

Feyd refuses to change quarters to his departed uncles until it has been completely decontaminated and scoured. He wanted to take his fire torch and expedite the process by burning everything inside to a black char but was talked out of it by several advisors who mention structural integrity and fire damage.

He settles for having it stripped of every single thing inside. He wants it bare, then he will consider it. For now guards stand watch night and day at his door and in his courtyard without concern for his privacy due to the easier access of his quarters from an intruder.

During the stillness of the night he climbs on top of you. There is a brief moment were you gaze into each other's eyes and you call him by his new title “Baron Feyd Rautha” you say seductively. He smiles at you, his already hard cock swells with pride and he lunges his mouth for your neck. He eagerly licks a stripe from your collar bone to your jaw “My Baroness “ he says in return before passionately kissing you.

He teases your pussy lifting his hips and slowly rubbing his hard shaft up and down through your folds. He places kisses along your face and neck until you begin panting for him getting increasingly aroused from the stimulation. Once you are wet he lines himself with you and thrusts into your core.

You gasp as he slowly pushes his thick cock in and out of your tight soaked entrance. His passionate thrusts make you cling to his shoulders. He groans feeling the way his cock is sucked in by your needy walls. He restrains himself back to remain gentle.

You whine, you want him rough, tonight he is the Baron of Giedi Prime and you know what he likes, he wants to dominate and fuck you ruthlessly.

You slide your hands down his strong muscular shoulders to his pale lower back. You force him deeper inside of you.

His jaw slacks as he stretches you open fully to fit his cock. He locks eyes with you thrilled by your eagerness and increases his pace until his hips are rhythmically smacking against yours. He makes your walls pulse at every deep thrust of his cock.

You begin whimpering underneath him as you try to remain strong in the face of his rough plows. But he enjoys watching you fall apart. The way your face is a mix of pleasure and pain as he breaks you, unable to withstand his power.

Your moans get even louder when he’s rough and it excites him to dominate you.

His eyes are wild as he brings his hands to your hips pinning you to the bed for better leverage. He begins snapping his hips between your legs until his entire body tenses as he slams his cock into you. He pounds into you so fast and hard your mind fails to comprehend as you dig your nails into his back. “Feyd..I’m going to cum!” you cry out. You begin high pitched moaning as your abs flex hard and your core tightens ready to snap.

“Cum on my cock” he commands and presses his hand on your abdomen. He feels the size of himself sliding in and out of you and begins grunting as if he’s possessed. He wants to cum.

“That’s it Baroness …milk …my cock” he rasps feeling you fall apart beneath him. You moan his name as you orgasm and he strains as your walls tighten and expand rhythmically, trying to drain him of his seed.

He clenches his jaw tight as he cums hard. His silver ropes of cum paint your inner walls. He holds your waist and forces you onto his cock several times as he drains every drop of semen. He release his strong grip when he is empty. You both pant heavily for several seconds as you come down.

He pulls his hips back until his heavy cock slips out of you. He lays beside you and pulls you to rest your head on his shoulder. As you lay your arm across his chest you stroke behind his ear and down his neck until you both drift off to sleep.

The Decree

It is the day before the coronation. Feyd is already scheduled with several tasks in the morning. First a meeting with his advisors and governors of Giedi Prime on an important decree. Then his final fitting for his ascension garments followed by a run through of the ceremony taking place in the fortress courtyard.

He will also fit in meals and a fighting session with his sparring partner Ghul. Feeling the pressure stacking he needs to let out his aggression but you had forbidden him from fighting and killing gladiator slaves in his courtyard for stress relief.

Feyd is already up and dressed for his meeting. He watches you sleep as he fastens his Baron medallion to his regal garments and slides on his signet pinky ring. He is aching for you and squeezes your hip but you remain sleeping. He pulls the sheet higher on your shoulder caressing his thumb to your jaw before he leaves you to rest.

He heads directly to the meeting hall for his first appointment as Baron. The guards open the black inscribed doors for him. His twelve advisors and several reigning governors from each planetary district of Giedi Prime are in attendance. The table,seating fifty, is completely full. Conversations stop when he enters. They all look at him, immediately standing to bow in reverence.

Feyd takes his place standing at the head of the meeting hall table and they all sit following his lead. Apprehensive murmurs seep around the table before the Lord in Waiting stands up to make a statement. They fall silent.

“Baron Feyd Rautha, I have in my hands a decree from your Uncle Vladimir which was written on his death bed on his last ruling day as Baron.” He retrieves the official metal cylinder with the laser etched words and begins to read.

“Feyd Rautha Harkonnen, you will rule Giedi Prime as Baron. Your current marriage will be annulled. You are set to be married to Princess Irunlan, daughter of the Emperor Shaddam IV.”

The Lord in waiting pauses, letting the late Baron's words sink in to Feyd’s ears. He knows it is a heavy blow.

“My dying decree is a solution which guarantees that you are to be made Emperor without interference.” Once the Lord in waiting finishes reading the decree he places the cylinder in a nesting dock on the table making the etched letters project above the table for all to see.

Feyd quickly rises up from his chair unable to withstand what he’s hearing. He tries to disguise the rage boiling inside of him. The governors and advisors begin to murmur already sensing their new Baron is displeased.

Feyd holds the back of his chair, eyes burning with contempt. His uncle even from beyond the grave has fucked him over. He steals back from the table pacing waiting for a thought to form.

“Has the princess agreed to this?” Feyd asks cautiously.

The Lord in Waiting checks the correspondences to be certain. “Not directly but her father the Emperor has answered your Uncle's request. Emperor Shaddam IV has sent a formal message in return. He would like to set up a meeting for you and Princess Irulan to get acquainted and begin a courtship. The Emperor is more than willing to forgo the traditional courting protocol if you wish to skip directly to the marriage proposal instead m’Lord.”

A stillness fills the room. With no answer from Feyd the The Lord in waiting continues.

“Emperor Shaddam IV has heard the praises from Count Fenring of your accomplishments in the gladiatorial arena. He will give you his daughter’s hand without question. Shall I respond and set up the arrangements for your interplanetary travel to Kaiaten to meet the Princess? This could be arranged after your coronation as the New Baron of Giedi Prime m’Lord the timing would be immaculate.” The Lord in waiting awaits Feyds response.

Feyds rage calms realizing it is still in the initial meeting phase and no binding contracts have been made. He needs to make an impression on his new advisors and governors as Baron to change their minds on the decision.

“Have each of you signed off on this?” He asks his twelve advisors. They all nod in agreement, beginning to murmur with each other. The Lord in Waiting speaks for all of them. “This is the decision made by your uncle to ensure your empire m’Lord . The Baron - - -“

Feyd cuts him off

“Vladimir Harkonnen is dead” he says coldly.

The room falls silent. Feyd begins to walk the length of the table peering over at each member in attendance, judging them before he continues.

“The Emperor knows what I know and what everyone in this room knows. I am his only choice of ascendant. Just as I have been ascended to the throne by my uncle Vladimir, I will ascend the throne as Emperor.” He stops his pace at the Lord in Waiting who is standing at the foot of the table.

Feyd turns to speak to all of them. “The Harkonnen house is the strongest of all the houses. We are the richest of all houses. We are the farthest reaching with the largest army. Do you think any of that will change based on who I chose to marry?” He reaches past the Lord in waiting and slips the cylinder from its nesting dock. The Lord in waiting does not dare stop him.

Feyd glances it over, seeing his uncle's signet and smirks. “What my uncle failed to realize is that Princess Irulan has her own set of interests in mind. Do you think she cares for the Inhabitants of Geidi Prime? No. Her eyes are filled with blue, filled with the urge to exploit our most coveted resource. The spice of Arrakis.”

The advisors slowly nod in agreement.

“Why do you think the Emperor is so hasty to have me join his daughter? Maybe it is because we slaughtered an entire planet for him. Emperor Shaddam permitted us to wipe out our only leading rivals, the Atreides. All because Duke Leto was gaining too much power and defied him,” he smiles sinisterly.

“My uncle told me it was ordered to him directly by the Emperor to wipe out House Atreides. The decision was made so swiftly, that hundreds of thousands were slaughtered mercilessly as our armies reined down on them that fateful day”

The advisors and governors beam with pride, reminiscing the day they annihilated their most hated and long standing enemy.

Feyd smirks to himself again before continuing. He holds up the decree swishing it through the air as he speaks. “We have the hidden advantage of spilling our little secret, that Emperor ordered a genocide, any time we wish. In front of a tribunal of the Great Houses he will be exiled as a war criminal, and it was all orchestrated under my Uncle's reign. As your new Baron unattached to these ‘horrible atrocities’ we will remain unscathed and continue our exploits in this endless empire.” He says with a grin.

The governors and advisors are mystified at the way Feyd Rauthas mind calculated such an advantage so quickly.

He turns, pointing the cylinder at the Lord in waiting. “My interests are for Giedi Prime and my wife carrying the future Harkonnen heir. I ascend with my Harkonnen Baroness.”

The men nod in agreement and begin to clap before standing with a round of applause. Feyds rationale making them realize they hold power almost on par with the Emperor. As for their new Baron it is better he rule with a female under his control who knows the Harkonnen ways. Princess Irulan is an independent female free from male domination. She will combat his leadership and challenge his heritage at every instance in order to raid their resources.

“Have this destroyed” Feyd says as he slaps the metal cylinder decree into the Lord in Waiting’s palm. “Are there any other matters of importance you need to address with me?” Feyd asks, the Lord with a cold stare.

The Lord in Waiting studies Feyds menacing demeanor. He knows he will be a resolute Baron both cunning and ruthless. He decides to immediately pledge his loyalty to Feyd. “That ends the meeting m’Lord,” he bows his head gracefully. Feyd raises his hand in the air dismissing all in attendance and continues the rest of the day completing his other responsibilities as Baron.

Role of a Female

When Feyd returns to you in his chamber for the evening he feels accomplished. He secured you as his reigning Baroness. You lock eyes with him and he smiles at you before continuing on his path.

He strips naked out of his fighting gear, just having completed his sparring with Ghul. He heads straight into the decontamination chamber. Though sparring doesn’t compare with empaling his sword through the throat of a gladiator slave, he made it work just to appease you. Once he emerges from the decontamination chamber, he cleanses his mouth.

He has an enormous day tomorrow for his coronation and finally crawls into bed naked. You are resting against the headboard, reading “The Ancient Ways of Giedi Prime.” deeply invested in a chapter about the subservient roles of females on his planet. He gently pulls the sheets from your lap without you taking much notice.

Once he grabs ahold of your thighs spreading and resting between them you tip your book down and look at him. He tips the book back up into your hands. “Read it to me” he says sensually. You smile and begin to read aloud, “Though females have their place in the Giedi Prime hierarchy, it is to a lesser role and nearly on par with a servant… “ Feyd pulls your hips down, angling them towards his face. Distracted, you lose your place in the book.

He parts open your robe gaining direct access to your exposed pussy. “Keep reading,” his words fan against your folds as he spreads them open with his fingers.

Your heart rate increases with anticipation as you continue “ The main purpose of a Giedi Prime female is for personal pleasure and child bearing for the male… …-who controls her.”

You let out a moan and close your eyes as his warm wet tongue softly probes your entrance.

You are trembling with pleasure as he sucks onto your folds. You try to read one more sentence for him before going weak. “A Giedi …-Prime female will ..-never -..hold a ..position of power over a male …in ..-any way.” You let out a moan as he pushes his fingers into you thrusting them in and out. You put the book down already wet and aroused.

Your eyes close tighter at the added feeling of his tongue brushing against your clit with his fingers plunging in. He begins lapping up the arousal releasing from your folds for him.

His cock is throbbing, aching to come into you.

He climbs up and slowly kisses your mouth. When you taste yourself on his tongue you whimper and hold the back of his neck, pulling him into a deeper kiss.

He grows weak from your soft lips overtaking his and recalls what you read to him in that moment. He would gladly let you hold power over him. He has fallen madly for you. The three forgotten words he is meant to say elude him.

With your back pressed to the head board he lifts your legs one at a time around his waist so you are sitting in his lap. He places both hands on your hips to hold you in place.

As you continue to kiss him he becomes needier and restless. You feel his hand brush between your thighs making you break the kiss. You look down between your bodies to see he’s aiming his cock for you.

He presses his tip to your entrance and you watch him slowly penetrate his shaft inside of you inch by inch. When he buries inside of you beyond capacity you look into his eyes mystified feeling yourself stretching to fit the size of his girth.

He slowly presses his hips onto yours making moans fall between both of your lips. He lustfully kisses you then, lulling you into a dream-like state as he remains stilled inside of you, warming his cock. You lock your ankles around his waist and feel him smile against your lips.

He begins gently thrusting into you with passionate warmth. Feyd is making love to you for the first time. Your psychotic, dominating, sexually-depraved husband presses into you gently, letting you feel every inch and vein of his cock. His tenderness all but makes you climax.

Your walls begin to pulse against his shaft, readying to orgasm. He stills his movements. “Why did you stop? I’m so close,” you plead just above a whisper. Your voice is full of neediness. He smiles as his pretty blue gaze into yours. “I want your pleasure intensified,” he says, grabbing ahold of your jaw and planting a kiss on your lips.

Once your walls stop fluttering he begins slowly thrusting into you again this time you feel an explosion of pleasure in your core as your mouth falls open. You cling onto him trying to stay sane. Your walls begin to flutter on his cock once more and he stills his movements a second time.

Your clit is throbbing to your core, you are painfully tight. Feeling him fully inside of you without moving makes your walls intensely pulse around his cock seeking any type of friction. “Feyd please….-please let me cum.” You beg at your peak, completely covered in chills feeling sensitive to every part of his being. He leans back, looking into your pleading eyes and smiles.

He knows you can not withstand being denied another orgasm, even though the build up would give you the most pleasurable experience upon release.

He sucks his thumb into his mouth wetting it and brings it down on your clit pressing into the nub and rubbing in circles. You moan staring into his eyes as your abdomen constricts and you are unable to move as you orgasm. Your walls pulse and clench hard as you cum without him even thrusting into you. You pant heavily feeling the euphoria and relief wash over you.

He rises to his knees, lifting you higher on the headboard with his strength and presses you back against leather. He begins clapping his hips into yours. The moans that fall in from your lips are foreign to your ears.

His hand caresses your throat as he gazes at you with his intense blue eyes. He feels the deep connection between your bodies. He thrusts into you deeply for what feels like an eternity with his stamina. When your walls flutter his cock twitches and he snaps his hips forward slamming you against the headboard the shock makes him cum as you orgasm.

His parted lips faintly touch against yours as his body tenses releasing rope after rope of his warm cum into your core.

You both moan in unison as your walls rhythmically milk him. He presses his hand to your throat softly kissing along your jaw and the side of your face in reverence. He inhales your scent as he rubs his soft lips and grazes his black teeth against your jaw. He can’t get enough of you.

He holds you to him bringing you down from the headboard. He slowly slips his cock out of you and lays you in bed pulling you to face him.

As he caresses the side of your face with his finger tips he gazes into your pretty eyes. You make him remember the forgotten words never spoken to him before. The three words that have all the meaning in the world. He plants a kiss to your forehead and pulls you to his chest. He drifts to sleep dreaming of you at his side for his coronation in the morning.

To be continued..

Part 6 Brazen Baron Available Now ->

Feyds Coronation| Feyds Pleasure| Feyds War

Part 6 Smut Requets: Sex against a window•sex in the throne room• Dom Feyd •Sub Feyd •Feyd wearing a collar •Feyd being handcuffed for sex•Feyd being whipped(with a crop!)•semi public sex• Feyd BJ•size kink• Feyd willing to give up his kingdom for you• Feyd gives up his kink (what?!)

⚔️ Fic tag list ⚔️

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[turtlesandfrogs]

Ok, now I'm really concerned that how to prevent rats isn't common knowledge like I thought it was. So, to anyone whose parents/guardians/adults didn't teach you, here's the basics of prevention*:

Rats, like you, need three things: food, water, and shelter. If they don't get these things, they don't bother sticking around. Access to food is probably the biggest draw, and the one you can do the most about.

Rats eat the same foods you do, and the same food that most pets eat. You don't want them to have access to this food, so:

Don't leave dirty dishes laying around, the smell will attract rats. Don't put leave dirty dishes in your bed room, or under the couch, or in your car, or whatever. Dishwashers are great, but if you don't have a functional one, and you're low on energy/executive function, at a minimum cover your dirty dishes with soapy water instead of leaving them out. Rats can't eat soapy food.

Work to minimize food waste, because the smell of tasty food in your compost or garbage will attract rats.

Don't put food scraps in your indoor garbage unless your garbage can is rat proof. Take it outside asap, to a rat-proof bin.

When composting, if you're composting food that would be attractive to rats (grains, fats/oils, dairy, meat) it's best to: bury the food down in the center of the pile, try out bokashi composting, or have a rat-proof composter. Generally people do tell you not to compost dairy and meat, but I do know that some people do it anyway.

Keep your grains & legumes in rodent proof-containers. Glass jars, metal trash cans, etc.

If you have dogs, put their food away at night. If you have birds or other animals that eat a seed-based diet, then it pays to make their food/enclosures inaccessible to rats as well. Cats are rat deterrents so leaving dry food out for them is probably the one exception.

Clean up spilled foods immediately.

If you have fruit trees (like those apple trees everyone has that were planted 3 or more decades ago) and notice that something besides a deer is eating them, it's really best to pick all the fruit. You probably can't eat it all, so giving it away is a good option. Compost the rotten/icky ones fallowing the advice above, or dig a hole and do some trench composting.

Rats also need water, which is another reason to make sure you don't have any leaks anywhere, and to not leave beverages out in open containers.

Beyond that, thoroughly looking around your house, inside and out, to make sure there's no access points. Vents can be covered with wire mesh, holes the size of a dime need to be patched (because mice exist, too). Keep vegetation clear from around the base of your house, and make sure there's no trees or shrubs growing close enough to your house that a rat could make the leap to your roof. Keep an eye out for tunnels near your house's foundation, because they will tunnel underneath.

Also, while I'm at it, for the love of your house's structural integrity, DO NOT store wood piles against your house. Termites people!!!

And yes, there's a reason why cats are such a common pet. Not only do they hunt rats, the very smell of a cat is enough to deter rats. Do not just get a cat for rat prevention though, only get a cat if you're going to provide it a good home and are able to take on the additional care tasks without over extending yourself. Getting a housemate that comes with a cat is a great alternative to getting your own cat (and I'm only halfway joking).

*because prevention is much easier and much less terrible than dealing with an infestation. Prevention is so, so, so much easier than getting rid of them, particularly because once they're there, they'll start eating other things that wouldn't have been enough by themselves to draw them in.

[dyggtheway]

Fashion and the Messaging Machine: Balancing Authenticity🎸

Fashion has always been a dynamic and expressive industry, constantly evolving to reflect cultural shifts and societal trends. However, in recent years, the emphasis on influencing has led to concerns about authenticity. Are these brands prioritizing controversey over substance?

Join Us Down the Rabbit Hole

The fashion industry has undergone significant transformation over the decades. From haute couture to ready-to-wear, and now the dominance of fast fashion, the industry's evolution has been marked by its ability to adapt and innovate. Streetwear culture, with its roots in urban environments, has significantly influenced mainstream fashion, bringing a new level of edginess and relevance.

Streetwear has revolutionized fashion by blending fabrics, labels, and attitude for the daily life. Gaining power from empowering the individual, the antidote to a long history of exploitation that continues to push back.

Messaging in Fashion

In the flurry between the Battle of the Brand crossfire, messaging is vital.Communicating values, social stances, and cultural relevancy. This messaging shapes identity and influences perception. However, with this power comes the responsibility to ensure that messaging is genuine and not just a marketing ploy.

Fashion Marketing Hangovers: Greenwashing-Rainbow Washing-Woke Washing

Greenwashing refers to brands falsely promoting themselves as environmentally friendly.

Rainbow washing occurs when brands use LGBTQ+ symbols during Pride Month to generate revenue without actually supporting the community.

Woke washing involves brands adopting social justice rhetoric, imagery or even labels to seem socially aware and progressive.

Who's To Blame? Brands that feature representation in their ads but lack representation within their corporate structures, leading to the erosion of trust and pain at the bottom line.

Encouraging Authenticity- begins and ends with people. In the People First model we can retrace our roots and regain integrity.

To quote Nemo it's time to break ,"The Code".

Fashion's relationship with messaging is complex and multifaceted. Want in on the conversation? Explore our Free Online Fashion Design Courses and start creating your unique designs today. And when you're ready to bring your creations to life, print them with Unique Boutique Streetwear.

Let's make magic, together!🤘🍑

[anendtopursuit]

how come nobody's mentioned that max jägerman's blazer sleeves have veins on them? is his blazer part of his skin?

ok i'm ngl i momentarily had no idea wtf u were on abt but then i did a quick google image search for reference and

no yeah those are... those are for sure veins??? i'd maybe assume they were just sort of miscellaneous spooky stains on his jacket if not for A) the very specific shape and colour of them, B) the placement (most visible in his forearms, and seemingly connecting to the veins on his hands), and C) the exact same style used for the veins on his face (and hands, as established):

so we have established that, as far as you or i are concerned, those are For Sure max's veins, that are for some reason attached to his jacket sleeves. cool. for the question of WHY i offer you two options!

first: the meta, theatrical reason of just... cool costume design? it looks good. zombie (ghost???) max's costume is just the right amount of cluttered; it looks messy and torn without being distracting or sacrificing the actual structural integrity of his costume, and it's very consistently A Lot, compared to the plain letterman jacket he had in life. you could argue that the veins on his sleeves are simply an attempt to make white sleeves more visually interesting, and connecting them to his hands/face/etc so as to not fuck up the coherency of the whole Look™️.

but this is hatchetfield, and that's boring, so here's what i propose:

the old waylon place is already pretty fucking pet sematary, right? they buried max under the floorboards and he didn't just come back from the dead, but he came back WRONG, infused with the power of the lords in black. well, as we know, magic like the kind the cult of starry children used can be... dubious at best, and the lords don't exactly treat humans as anything better than sacrifices or playthings - so who's to say that they care enough to differentiate between flesh and fabric? who's to say there's not an extra layer of body horror in max's unceremonious revival? who's to say that, when his body stitched itself back together from the nerds' dismemberment, his veins didn't get confused and slot between the threads of his jacket? i mean... it's not like we ever see him take it off.

i am now incredibly tempted to write a fic with this premise. god damn it.

[tj-crochets]

Sometimes a pattern just grabs your attention and you have to make like half a dozen or so of them before it's out of your system for a while I'm making at least three more of these and I'll make drawstring pouches using the scraps :D The next ones are ravens and teal, moths and gold, and rainbow and blue. Well, rainbow or sunflowers? That one is for my mom. I might go patchwork??? Idk yet

Beetle bag! Bag of beetles!!!

This might be my favorite one yet, I love how these fabrics look together and this beetle print is just fantastic

[frannyzooey]

Short Days, Long Nights: 11

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Explicit, pregnancy symptoms, gun violence

a/n: An ENDLESS thank you to @the-ginger-hedge-witch for having my back on gun lingo (me: American Citizenship=REVOKED) and for everything else. You're the best. ❤

Series Masterlist

--

“Are you just letting me win because I’m pregnant?”

His eyes lift to your face, unimpressed.  “That’s not a thing.”

“Sure it is,” you reply. “Grateful for carrying your child, you’ve taken pity on me and now you’re letting me win.”

He starts a low chuckle halfway through your explanation, and you grin at him as you slide a piece of wood from the middle of the tower, resting it on the top. You on the couch and him on the floor, your hands rest lightly on the small but hard swell of your stomach as you watch him choose his piece. 

“It always scares the shit out of me when it falls.” He says the words quietly, as if the volume of his voice alone could knock the tower over. Successfully sliding a piece from the bottom, he rests it on the top next to yours. 

The baby kicks, a sudden, sharp movement that has your hand automatically soothing the skin there and his eyes flash up from the table, his brow knit with concern. 

“You good?”

“Yea, I’m good. Just kicking again.”

He hums, watching you study the remaining pieces left. 

Near the end, this is the fourth time in a row you’ve played this game and your back twinges a little when you lean forward. Using the tip of your finger, you nudge several pieces to get a feel for how loose they are. 

“That’s cheating,” he protests. 

“It is not.”

“It is. I told you that already. You just gotta pick one –”

“And I told you,” you tease, “that everyone plays it this way. You test the pieces and –”

“You’re not testin’ anything,”  he insists, attempting to talk over you. “You’re compromising the structural integrity of the tower -“

“What?” you laugh. “What is this, another episode of Construction Corner with Joel Miller?”

He shakes his head with the curl of a smile, his hand reaching out to knock yours away and laughing again, you dodge it. His hand collides with the tower instead, knocking it over on the table between you, the pieces scattering everywhere. 

“Joel!” you scold him, but he isn’t listening. Done with the game, he gets on all fours with a slight grunt, crawling around the perimeter of the table.

“M’fuckin’ knees,” he says under his breath, and you giggle, watching him come closer. 

Pushing the table aside to get to you, he stops in front of your knees, and you automatically open your legs so he can fit his body between them, his large hands resting warm on the top of your thighs. 

“You lost,” he says lowly, grinning when you break into open laughter before feigning outrage. 

“Hang on, no I didn’t! You sabotaged me!”

“I would never,” he says with mock earnestness. “The mother of my own child? You think I would do that to you, honey?”

“You just did!”

You slide back to make room for him when he starts to crawl up to join you on the couch, reclining as your limbs shuffle together as he stretches out. He’s careful to rest himself on the side of you; one elbow propping him up while his other hand drifts down to the hem of your shirt. He plays with the worn fabric, lifting it slightly until he can see a peek of taut skin and then he’s smoothing it down, his hand lingering in place.  

His pinky brushes along the waistband of your sweatpants, your thighs shifting to press together.  

His eyes flick up to your face for a moment. “You need somethin’, honey?” he asks nonchalantly, his gaze back on his hand. 

“You know I do.”

It’s been distracting, your need. Insatiable, now that you’re not sick anymore and you aren’t sure if it’s the flush of hormones swirling through your system, but you’re always so wet. So wet, and empty. A fact that he’s only too willing to take advantage of. 

This morning, in your kneel by the bed as he eased himself into your mouth. 

Last night, when you were blinded by the strength of your release as you came from his tongue alone. 

The pleasure soaked haze of days before: a constant, needy ache blooming in your core, an almost desperate need for him, in whatever way he can give himself to you. 

He hums low at your response, a rumble that drags out of his chest. The sound washes over you, your nipples tightening. 

“Already want more, huh,” he asks, the tips of his fingers teasing beneath the band of your pants. “This mornin’ wasn’t enough?”

Planting your foot on the cushion, you push your hips upwards with a soft whine, and he chuckles. 

“My girl is needy today.”

“Seems like every day,” you answer him, turning your face to press a kiss to his throat. You push the collar of his shirt to the side, tugging it down for more access to his firm skin, and finding it, you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck and kiss him again, this time with an open mouth. His skin tastes like salt and sweat and him, and you moan lightly against the tan expanse, dragging your tongue over it. 

His hand gently presses on your hip bone, keeping you on your back when you try to roll onto your side and you respond by wrapping your hand around the nape of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss. 

“Please,” you whisper, your lips brushing against his mustache before you kiss him. 

He wordlessly grants you your wish, his mouth opening yours as his hand slips underneath your cotton underwear, and when he cups your damp heat with a firm squeeze, he swallows the moan you let out into his mouth. 

His fingers push through the soft hair that covers your cunt, brushing along the hollow dip of your entrance and gently parting you, he lets out his own groan at the wetness that greets him. 

“I just fucked this pussy a couple of hours ago,” he says, his middle finger dipping inside you before sliding up to your sensitive clit. The pressure makes your hips jump towards his touch, and he smiles. “She already need me that bad again?”

You nod, your hand reaching down to join his. Threading your fingers together, you guide him where you need him most and he pulls back to watch your face as he sinks two fingers in down to the knuckle, an audible wet sound barely heard in the softly lit living room. His thumb finds your clit, circling it with practiced, sure strokes. 

Maddeningly precise, firm circles, ones that stoke the fire building in your belly until the soft sounds you’re making turn into shameless moans, and your hips rock against the full pump of his fingers.

He curls them inside you, his thumb speeding up into a faster, firmer rub and you lift your shirt, exposing your breasts to the cool air. His mouth finds a peaked bud, his tongue swirling over your nipple before he draws it into his mouth and your back arches, your voice hoarse when you cry out. 

“Keep going. Please keep going,” you chant, breathless and lost in a lust filled haze, chasing the high he’s built so expertly inside you. 

His fingers speed up, his thumb never ceasing and pulling the taut peak of your breast into his mouth with a suck, you clench around his fingers and come with a cry; the need between your hips spilling over with a heady wave of relief. 

His fingers are soaked and smeared with your slick when you help him work his belt buckle open, your fingers trembling as you reach in and find him hard and hot. The weight of his cock fills the palm of your hand, a sound breaking in the back of his throat when you pull him out of his pants and using his slick smeared hand, you hold his hip as he pumps himself with a rapid, firm hold, spilling slick ropes onto your stomach after a couple of strokes. 

Your body boneless and sated, you roll lazily onto your side to face him. 

“Hey now,” he scolds quietly, slightly breathless, tucking himself away. “You’re gonna get it all over the couch.”

“I don’t care.”

You don’t. Lord knows his spend is on the couch already for how many times he’s fucked you on it, but more than that, you don’t want to part from him to clean yourself off. 

Sleepy, spent and perfectly content, you tuck your face into the hollow of his throat and inhale his warm, masculine scent. His heart thrums beneath your lips, your nose nuzzling the fragrant softness of his skin and your hand slides up underneath his shirt, seeking out more. 

He’s so solid next to you, so broad. Barely fitting on the couch together, he lifts his arm to allow you to tuck yourself tight along him, and his beard catches on your lips when you tilt your face up to give him a kiss along the line of his jaw. A nibble, another small brush of your mouth and when you move down to give him another one over his shirt, you let your mouth rest against the beat of his heart. 

Alive, strong, healthy. 

Yours. 

You take another deep inhale over the cotton, your eyes closing. 

“You wanna take a nap?” you ask, so comfortable and content you’re already starting to drift. His responding laugh rumbles against your lips.

“Lazy bones,” he teases, no real conviction in the words. You nod, burying your face further into the safety of his chest, and he chuckles. 

Your breathing already evening out, your body relaxes next to his and he gives in, finding a comfortable position to rest his head. He lets his chin rest on the crown of it, and tightening his hold on you so you don’t fall off the couch, closes his eyes. 

–

The last dregs of summer slipping by with stagnant heat and a sweltering last gasp, autumn begins.  

You swim while you can, obsessed with the thought of a child floating weightless inside you while you float weightless in the river. Water sluicing over your skin, you let the current lift you from the bottom, the small swell of your stomach a rounded island above the surface as the rest of you floats just underneath. Hours spent this way, it’s the only time you can get true relief from the growing pressure between your hips. 

Your limbs weighted like lead upon getting out of the water, you try to explain it to Joel, who tries to explain it in terms of gravity and while it is clear he doesn’t really know what he’s talking about, you find joy in the obvious affection on his face every time you drag yourself up the bank. 

Harvesting what you can from the garden without a means of preserving it, you base your methods on the gardening book turned into your personal Bible. The pages bent and marked in dozens of places, your cache is well stocked: the food you grew plus the food you found in other cabins alongside the meat Joel brought back from hunting, with an organized system of dried seeds for preservation next to it all. Everything in a cool, dark place tucked away in the pantry closet, you store everything that you can and cross your fingers for the rest. 

The tiny bump between your hips is a marvel to the both of you. Some days it’s nearly forgotten: an afterthought hidden underneath your clothes as you work in the garden, clean the cabin, organize your supplies. Each week slightly bigger than the last, you slowly find yourself breaking free of the days of constant sleep and nausea and shifting into something that seems more normal. 

The first day you notice a true, solid difference in your changing shape, Joel wakes to find you standing sideways in front of the mirror, studying your body. You watch his image reflect behind yours as he sits up, letting the quilts pool around his hips. His hair sleep mussed and flat on one side, you smile at his reflection and turn to face him. 

“Crazy, right?” you ask tentatively, both awe and insecurity creeping into your tone. 

He says nothing, his eyes locked on the bare swell and holding his hand out towards you, he guides you to stand between his legs. 

Then, he just…touches. Broad sweeps of exploration across your stomach, his thumb stroking what should be a hollow above your hipbone but now is rounded outwards with life. He looks up at you in a silent plea for you to understand all the overwhelming things he is feeling and wordlessly, you do. His face has always been more expressive than he realizes. When he’s done, he rests his forehead against the plane of your chest and wraps his arms around you so tight you’re forced closer to him in his hold. You stay there for a while, dragging your nails through those dark, rumpled curls until your body curls over his, returning his embrace.

An estimated timeline drawn up on the back of an old calendar, the dates are truly a best guess based on when you left the QZ. Your life ruled by the slow changing of the seasons more than anything, it takes you a couple of hours to work out that it’s approximately late October and counting backwards, the baby should be born sometime in the spring. 

One year here. A smile lifts the corner of your mouth as you think about how unsteady your footing felt with him when you arrived here versus the concept of birthing his child one year from that date. 

Filling the neat squares out, you felt it only right to add other important dates: Thanksgiving, Christmas, your birthday. 

“When’s your birthday?” you ask him, flipping through the limp pages to make sure you got everything. 

“September 26th,” he replies, and you pause, looking up. 

“Damn, baby. We missed it.”

He shrugs, busying himself with the tool kit in front of him. 

The date tugs at your subconscious for a moment and then it dawns on you. 

“Are you kidding me? Outbreak Day? That’s — Jesus, Joel.” You find yourself laughing, even though it isn’t really funny. A grim sort of laugh, devoid of humor. “That’s terrible luck.”

“Tell me about it,” he replies dryly, and before you can stop it, a laugh slips out. He looks up and smiles at you, the dimple in his cheek a deep indent and you mark it on the calendar all the same, shaking your head. 

That night in bed though, you give him a long, tight hug. 

“What’s this for?” he asks, murmuring the question into your hair. 

Sorrow had been slowly building in you all day, thinking about that birthday. He had joked about it, but the more you thought about your initial reaction, the worse you felt. It weighed you down, the realization of how he probably woke up that day with a certain way of spending it in mind, only to have the world in ruin and his only child dead by the time the day ended. 

His birthday now circled on the calendar, it was also the anniversary of her death. A visual reminder you weren’t sure he wanted.

You squeeze him tighter, burying your face into the soft crook of his neck. “Your birthday. M’sorry.” 

His body resistant to your apology at first, his first instinct seems to be to pull back. “For missin’ it? You’re kidding me, right? We –”

The shake of your head stops him, and when you don’t let go, he eventually melts into your embrace. His arms tightening in their hold and in understanding, his voice soothes you. 

“S’okay, honey. Don’t worry about it. It’s alright.”

–

You writhe on the sheets, the quilt twisted in your grip and a soft moan catches in the back of your throat when he licks your clit again, increasing the pressure. A damp sheen of sweat beads along your lower back, sticking to the cotton underneath you when you arch your hips into the heat of his mouth. 

For weeks he’s indulged your need for him, his own growing along with it. The calendar flipped to November just this morning, there wasn’t much to be done today and so he relished in dragging you back to bed, intent on keeping you there for as long as he could. 

He has. With slow, lingering kisses that grew in need until you straddled him with a weighted grind, with touches that bordered feral in their trembling hold as he grasped every inch of you that he could reach, and pulling two releases from you with those calloused hands alone, you felt limp and all used up, but he wouldn’t let you stay that way. 

His tongue is insistent, yet patient. The movement of it practiced, yet maddeningly slow. 

It feels good but it’s not enough.

“Don’t tease Joel. Please.”

“I’m not teasin’ honey. I want you to come like this. I know you can. You’re so –” he lets out a low groan, “- fucking sensitive, I want you to show me you can do it.” 

The dark crown of his head fits in the space between your thighs, and his eyes look up at you, watching your expression of frustrated bliss. His tongue flicks over you, laving a firm, wide stripe from your entrance to the bundle of nerves and when he starts to firmly circle it with the tip of his tongue, you cry out. 

The pressure between your hips from the baby centering all sensation between your legs to an impossible to ignore emptiness that you ache with constantly, the need amplifies into an all consuming sensation that quickly overtakes you – sometimes bordering on too much if he isn’t careful. 

He’s taken it slow this afternoon; nothing but seemingly endless time on his hands while he ignores the strain underneath the fly of his jeans, and his tongue works you a little harder, a groan slipping from his throat into your spread, soaked cunt. 

His hand splayed over your belly, it keeps you in place as you try to squirm away and a wave of saturated pleasure ripples through you, your body curling into itself. Any words you try to form slide into a breathless moan, your thighs starting to tremble against his ears, your fingers sliding through his hair. 

“Fuck – fuck,” you keen, arousal building to an upbearable height while your feet plant on the bed to push your hips into his face. He gives your clit a direct kiss, drawing it into his mouth as he fills you suddenly with two thick fingers and you let out a sob. 

“I’m – I’m–”

A sudden noise from outside makes him jerk back, alert. 

It takes you a minute to catch up, submerged deep in the weighted waters of an impending release, but the expression on his face sobers you quickly. 

“What –” you start to ask, but he gives you such a stern look that you immediately fall silent. It’s a look you haven’t seen in months, and adrenaline sends a shiver across your exposed skin, flooding quickly through your body. He slips his fingers from you, and you watch as he quickly rises from his knees. 

He’s shirtless, the top button of his jeans undone with his small belly pushing against the waistband of his pants as he leans forward to grab his rifle from the corner of the room where he’s left it propped. His broad frame is rigid with tension, but outwardly calm: his face still yet hyper focused, his dark eyes narrowed as he listens. His chin still smeared and damp with your slick, you watch as he flicks the safety off and in a practiced, fluid motion, positions the gun with the butt tucked into his shoulder with a glistening finger poised near the trigger.

Near silent, he crouches and takes a step forward, shaking his head in a reprimand when you scoot forward on the bed to join him. 

“Stay there,” he says quietly, but firmly. 

“You can’t go out there alone,” you plead, your hands searching for your pants among the bedding. 

“You ain’t comin’ with. Just stay put.” He jerks his chin at the corner of the room, at a small space between the dresser and the wall. “Get over there and hide. Don’t come out till’ I say so. You got it?”

“Joel,” you whisper fiercely, his back already facing you as he turns towards the door. “Joel!”

As soon as he rounds the corner into the hallway and disappears from sight, you stand and shove your legs into your pants, pulling them up into place. Wet and sticky between your thighs, you ignore the uncomfortable way the fabric clings and debate: stay or follow. 

You hear something in the front room of the cabin, furniture scraping over the floor as it’s being pushed to the side and peering out from the bedroom, you see Joel trying to set up a vantage point. Half hidden behind a chair and the window frame, his eyes are trained on something outside, and a shift in your footing has him looking over at you, urgency and anger tightening his features. 

“I said hide. Get back in the room,” he orders, a vein in his neck flexing. “I told you to stay in there.”

His attention snaps back to the window and then he’s standing up, finger near the trigger. 

Someone is outside, a figure distorted by the windows, moving along the edge of the property. Not a clicker, telling by their cautious, deliberate steps - a human. A man, judging by the size. 

After that, it all happens faster than you can process it. 

Whipping the front door open, Joel has his gun trained on the man immediately.

“Stop!” Joel’s voice is loud and terrifying, your body flinching at the sound. 

The sound of movement from outside and a low curse from Joel tells you that the order isn’t heeded, and you bite back a scream at the same time a shot rings out, splinters of wood exploding into the living room. 

Another shot bursts through the air, shattering a pane of glass and crawling quickly on your hands and knees, you fit yourself behind the couch, shaking as you curl into a tight ball. You can see Joel from your spot, his bare back tightly locked into place as he tries to line up a good shot. Whoever it is must now be hiding behind the tree line, because you know Joel would have taken a shot by now if he had a clear one. 

Instantly transformed into the Joel you knew before, you can’t tear your eyes away from how powerful he looks. Imposing and calmly confident, with a barely restrained rage in the tremble of his muscles, he’s terrifying. He doesn’t move, one eye closed as he keeps aim and when a corresponding two shots fire at him in rapid succession, he takes a deep, shaky breath in, not even flinching as they hit the door about a foot away from his head. 

The closeness of the shots has you covering your mouth with your hands, panicking. 

Your gun, your gun — where the fuck is your gun? 

Your mind races through your mental map of the cabin, and remembering it’s in the kitchen, you run a visual path between the couch and where you need to be. You’d have to cross right in front of the open door, but it could be worth it for two guns against one.

Right? 

Another shot rings out, this one piercing an instant, bright hole through the wall in the living room. 

“Come on,” Joel growls to himself. “Come on.”

You flick your eyes over to the kitchen, willing your body to stop shaking as you get ready to move when one more shot rings out, and then Joel is suddenly standing tall from his position behind the chair, aiming and squeezing the trigger. The deafening bang makes you flinch and watching him reload, your knees automatically draw into your chest to protect yourself.

He moves to walk quickly outside, and you scramble again to follow. 

His strides are longer than yours, but still cautious as his eyes scan the edge of the property. The silence around you is unsettling, and confirming there is no other immediate threat, he turns back towards you. When he comes closer, you take a step back at how furious he looks. 

“What did I tell you?” He spits out the words between clenched teeth, one hand whipping out to tug you close. “I said to stay put. Why the hell did you follow me out there?”

Tears immediately fill your eyes, slipping down your cheeks in a warm rush as the tremors in your body start to get stronger. “What – who was that?”

“Are you okay?” He ignores your question, the intensity of his gaze raking over your features, dark and laced with worry. His hand comes to cradle your face, sweeping down over your collarbone, his knuckles dragging over your stomach. A tactile confirmation of your safety, not satisfied until he’s inspected it. 

Nodding, peering over his shoulder at the treeline. “Was there only one of them?”

“I think so, but I gotta go check.”

Panic grips your body, your hand clamping around his wrist. “No. No you can’t. You –”

“I gotta, honey. If there was one, there’s probably more. You know that.”

You do. You’ve been on both sides enough to know the truth in his words, but it doesn’t make it any easier to swallow the idea of him leaving. 

His arm slips around your shoulders, turning you towards the cabin. His words are directed at you, but his eyes remain vigilant. “I’m just gonna walk the perimeter, make sure there isn’t anyone else.”

“But you just said there would be –”

“I know what I said,” he replies firmly, guiding you through the door. “I know.” 

He faces you fully, his hand cupping your chin to keep your eyes on his. “You and I both know it’s better to get them before they get us. We can’t just sit and wait. I need you –” he pauses, giving you a look when you start to open your mouth. “I need you to get your gun, and then hide. Okay?”

“But –”

“No buts. Please, honey. Please.”

His expression brooks no room for argument, but it’s the softness around the corner of his eyes that has you nodding. Worry has seeped into his features, and if he’s worried, you know it can’t be good. 

But you also trust him.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself while committing his face to your memory. 

“Okay.”

[luvnami]

not a glory hole! - chapter 2

an | maybe one day he'll even out the score / mlist cw | mdni (18+)

ushijima wakatoshi is not a small man. 

he’s absurdly tall for a japanese person, towering over you at about 190cm and weighing in at a whopping 90kg. you know these facts because of the sports column in the newspaper you work for, and not because you’re evaluating him like a freshly caught fish on a weighing scale. 

you haven’t known ushijima for long. he moved in a few weeks ago and sent his regards to you with a polite gift of rice crackers left at your doorstep. you’ve been staying in this same apartment ever since you were in college. it’s small, but enough for someone living alone. 

you’d really like to keep that 16,000 yen deposit once your lease expires, so the ushijima-shaped hole in your wall appears to be quite a predicament. 

the ushijima-shaped man stands awkwardly. he looks out of place in the two-room apartment you call home, decorated appropriately like a 20-something year old who recently learnt what financial liberty meant, and promptly spent half their paycheck on little trinkets. the domo gachapon you bought at the nearby grocery store oddly suits him. 

“i’m sorry for intruding.” ushijima raises a hand in both greeting and apology. “but i thought i should clean up the mess i made.”

your eyes drift over to the broken pieces of your wall on the floor. if this was someone else’s apartment, you would be rather impressed by the damage. it’s less funny when your money and landlord are on the line. besides, you’re now incredibly concerned about the structural integrity of your apartment building. god forbid all three remaining walls come crashing down at any point in time. 

you hand ushijima a broom and dustpan. he gets to work, sweeping up the dust and paint chips rather efficiently. 

you make a mental note of the score: wall 1, ushijima 0. 

[yomogi-mogi-mochi]

Unnecessarily Convoluted Analysis of TWST Dorm Architecture

Putting that Art History degree to use 💪 I am getting my Masters in art history, so I am like semi qualified?? to do this. Tried my best with some of the dorms since some don't have an explicit cultural/architectural parallel irl. And obviously lots of liberties taken since I'm sure the people at Disney were not going for historical accuracy

Masterlist here

Much of this analysis can from my Spolia fic (Malleus x Light Fae MC)

Diasmonia: Early Gothic

Gothic- but early gothic. It's got a few flying buttresses, indicative of technology in later gothic movements- but in combination to the lower ceilings (lower than later gothic), fewer levels (celestory, triforium, doric columns, and shorter windows makes me think it's early gothic (more towards Norman architecture/Sens Cathedral), because it's a lot simpler and less technologically developed than high gothic (larger windows, rose windows, higher and pointier style, flying buttresses, more decorative stuff like Corinthian columns and stained glass). Still, I think the Fae would be been more concerned with its structural integrity against the waves of time- therefore gargoyles become a very prominent symbol in protecting this eternity and preservation of architecture since it basically prevents rain/weather from eating away at the building.

There's some interesting symbolism with Malleus' fixation with gargoyles, but I'm sure you can make that connection on your own based on what's out in Chapter 7 and how he reacts to both Lilia's and MC'S impending goodbyes.

Gothic was actually a term used by the French to demean the style, since it was seen as more 'savage' and 'lower' than classical architecture- which is symmetrical, solid, and values very literal and realistic (albeit idealized) characterization. Gothic architecture in contrast is a lot more airy, focuses on light and windows, and values more allegorical representations, which is why it resonated so well with the religious ruler and monarchies because they were able to not-so-subtly point to their influence and power in every single way without it being in your face all the time.

Because of this very stank contrast, it was labeled as "gothic" because people were criticizing it to be "savage" and "unkept". The goths were painted this way because they were mainly responsible for Rome's downfall, leading to the dark ages. Regardless of the French ruthlessly roasting the goths, this type of design flourished after the dark ages because technology was beginning to be advanced once more, and materials were more readily available.

My theory would be that the fae began to first develop this architecture because they had the advantage of magic, but then the humans were influenced by it- which leads them to high gothic (Noble Bell College), as well as Baroque and Rococo architecture (like the Pomefiore dorm). The Fae kept their style of early gothic since they didn't really see a point in changing much- maybe just more decorative gargoyles called grotesque as a symbol of the Fae's gratitude in their protection against time.

Also the hallways have what are almost like ribbed vaults which was one of the primary and first symbols of gothic architecture because they allowed more weight to be distributed to the vaults, and therefore allow for bigger windows.

Another distict characteristics in gothic architecture are clearly defined elevations.

Traditionally, they will have the celestial at the top, then gallery, then the main arcade (especially as we get into the later gothic periods and buildings get even taller and taller). Of course Disney isn't completely accurate with these things, but it seems that they're sort of going for that vibe, as many things end up being as our contemporary notions of historical design often creates a vague iconography of things that is often a copy of a copy of a copy of the original medium.

However I do think the intention to mimic the original design is still there overall, and combined with many of the other elements such as the prevalence of pointed arches that are a symbol of gothic architecture, and the sheer number of windows that were allowed originally due to the technological advances of the gothic era (and of course Malleus' own obsession with gargoyles), I think it would make sense to categorize this is like "gothic adjacent".

If I were to redesign the diasmonia dorm however, I would definitely begin by fixing the exterior- but I think they were referencing Malificent's tower in the Disney movie than any sort of historical accuracy lol. You win some, you lose some.

Pomefiore: Rococo with a touch of Art Noveau

Very obviously modeled after French Rococo architecture- the illustration of the hallways of Pomefiore dorm are almost exactly like the Palace of Versailles

It is definitely a toned down version- but pretty spot on, right? When I first saw the Pomefiore dorm I immediately Googled a picture of the Palace of Versailles cause I knew I saw it somewhere. Autistic spidey senses at it again.

Honestly wish they went more all out with the chandeliers, and had painted ceilings on the dorm colors- but I feel like they got the general vibes right. It feels closer to Romanesque with its simplicity but it still holds an aura of decadence and frivolity that I like. Very rich, extravagant like it's members (maybe not so much Epel lol)

Elements of Art noveau in the furniture (the peacock chair) and the embroidery of the uniforms.

Also, the peacock chair sort of reminds me of James McNeill Whistler's Peacock Room. He was an American impressionist that was sort of the forefront of art nouveau, since impressionism was one of the mainstream movements that really began the explosion of Japanese inspired design that is also used in Art Nouveau aesthetic.

(Vil would definitely have this room if he could)

The carpet in the room reminds me of William Morris' designs, and just art nouveau in general.

As far as I can tell, the exterior is based on a variety of German castle styles from 13th century Romanesque styles, to 18th century Neo-Gothic styles. Which is coincidentally what a lot of the castles on Disneyland are based off of.

Everything is very florial, Corinthian, and extravagant. I love it. It's very baroque, I dig it.

Scarabia

Please don't come for me I'm not as well versed in Non-Asian and Non-Western architecture except for religious architecture in Turkey and Jerusalem so I'm gonna try my best with this one

So I think it mixes a lot of the icons we think of in association to Arabic architecture like domes, pointed/ogee (rounded, then pointed)/multifoil (multiple curves) arches, and ornate floral designs that derive from the use of calligraphy in Islamic structures (as iconography, or pictures depicting the faces and bodies of religious figures were not allowed).

And I think all those tiny buildings resemble Minarets, or tall towers built adjacent to mosques where the muezzin can issue the call to prayer. But the artists were probably like "hm. Not enough. How do we make it more arabic??" And of course the contemporary orientalist perspectives that dominate the artistic realm made they go "quick just add a bunch of domes"

I think Kalim's room and the lounge in particular best shows the general "airiness" that parallels Islamic acthicture (ie the Sheikh Zayed Grand Mosque on UAE)

Open air courtyards are also a characteristic element of Islam architecture, which you can see with the areal view of the dorm, and also makes sense with Kalim's unique magic.

Jali window designs (the intricate gold metal covers on the arches) are also popular on Islamic architecture

The Haga Sophia in particular has been described to have a dome "suspended by the heavens", as the section connecting the building and the dome is made entirely of arches that allows the sunlight from the heavens to pour inside the building. Though the haga Sophia is a very special case, as it was occupied by varying religions with different architectural styles at certain periods- I think it's also a good representation of our contemporary prototype of Arabian architecture that makes up the final design of the dorm.

Ignihyde: Classical Greek

Looks like it's modeled after the Parthenon, which was built during the Classical period on Greece where Athens was flourishing as a center of mathematics, technology, and architecture. These are sentiments which becomes reflected in the Renaissance afterwards, such as symmetry and a very systemic way of approaching things. I think it fits perfectly with this dorm, since they're the "tech geeks" of NRC

It's got your pediment, your doric columns (would have preferred ionic columns but whatever Disney), your arcades. Pretty straight forward unlike the actual movie it's based off of lol (Hercules has so so many mythological inconsistencies. Like why are you talking about Achilles in the movie??? Trojan was hasn't even happened babe stop manifesting that shit)

I think the symmetry and order of Classical Greek design goes well with the overall futuristic look Ignihyde and the Island of Woe are going for. Pretty clever, Disney.

Heartslabyul: Tudor Revival Style

Though Alice in Wonderland is set in the later 19th century, I think the Tudorian Revival style than began in the beginning of the 20th century just shortly later fits best.

Turdorian revival style is characterized through half timbering, which is like the timber panels you see on the surface of the building; oriel windows (windows that jut out); mock battlements; and courtyards.

The Tudorian revival style also takes elements from Elizabethan era architecture and perpendicular gothic architecture, hence the long gallery and the tudorian four point arch)

The glass panes in the lounge leaves me to believe it's sort of like a glass house where part of the house is sort of like a greenhouse. This is characteristic of Victorian glasshouses that rose with the availability of timber, paint, and brick and the popularity of botany in the Victorian era propelled by botanical imports from British colonies. Architecrs like Joseph Paxton were also known for his opus magnum- the Crystal Palace, which held the Great Exhibition of 1851 (kind of like a world expo with the theme of industry and art) also popularize the movement- and was a significant sign of wealth, as glass and window taxes were especially high. But in the later century when iron and steel frame construction was advanced, people could be built out of iron and window panes, so they could be assembled easily, and also afforded by middle class citizens.

So it's basically a mix of Elizabethan and Victorian revival styles (tudorian and gothic), which is in theme with the Victorian period the original media is set in, albeit taking inspiration from styles little later in the period.

Savanaclaw:

Again- I am blind when it comes to Non-Asian/Non-Western architecture- but this one was kinda confusing cause it really doesn't have any architectural cohesivity??? Like it's just got a general "jungle vibe" which I'm not surprised at because Disney is infamous for glossing over non-white cultures and kind of just simplifying them into a "general vibe" which wow yikes my guy

Kind of reminds me of Mese Verde, which are structures made directly within a cliffside, or the Great Mosque of Djenné and the African Heritage house in Kenya which have very smoothed, natural designs that blend into the environment

What I could gather from my research and my juicy autistic brain, savannas are regularly subjected to wild fires- so a lot of the heavy, rocky architecture and interior style makes sense, opposed to one made of wood (which are mostly in the inside of the structure, besides the roof which I imagine is less likely to catch on fire). Much of the building seems also to be directly carved within natural rock formations- a very functional use of the resources around you- very savannaclaw!

The textiles in each of the dorm members' rooms resemble Kente fabric, a style of hand weaving from Ghana, originally reserved for royalty but now commonly worn for ceremonial occasions and such. Also unlike other African textiles styles, it's strictly a male practice. I think it would make sense for Sunset Savanna, a place where women are highly respected and perhaps take on more political and military positions- leaving largely men to the practice of textile making (both are honorable acts- not comparing the two). There aren't distinguished aesthetic styles of textiles that differentiate each weaving from another- rather, it is divided by technique and region- so this is not like a definite connection, just thought it was interesting to includle

Textiles seem to occupy the only decorative role in the entire dorm- so perhaps there is significant cultural significance? Maybe there is a certain region that's known for their practices? Or is weaving a symbol of adulthood or growth and therefore is why they're hung up in each of the dorm member's rooms with the exception of Ruggie, who may not have had the socioeconomic privilege of making one? Or does the practice vary across species? Much to speculate 🤔

Octavinelle: Art Deco and Art Nouveau

Saved this one for last because oh boy I don't even know where to start with this. Obviously the design is very creative and I love it, but there's a lot less historical elements I can use to analyze the style, kind of like the Savanah claw exterior.

But it leans towards the art deco style, which is most fitting for the business dorm I think.

Elements of Art deco like geometric aspects of design, thematic and aesthetic consistency, and decorative/geometric windows are seen throughout the dorm interior and exterior

But I think the art nouveau elements are also there too, with the cheeky sea-themed elements that use natural shapes and icons into the architecture, design, and surfaces of the dorm.

Otherwise, not much else to say about this dorm 🤷 it's not really based in anything historical but there are bits and pieces of art nouveau and art deco in there, but I definitely wish they would lean more into the art deco elements since I think it would go well with the general themes of the dorm values.

So uh, yeah. Told you it would be convoluted.

Feel free to add and or correct!

[artist-issues]

About Greta Gerwig, Little Women, and Narnia

Greta Gerwig should not be in the Narnia realm at all. As anything.

The Narnia stories are inseparable from Christianity. Greta Gerwig is a Unitarian Universalist. This means she, in her own personal life, doesn’t believe in the saving work of Jesus Christ, which is a core belief of Christianity, and a core theme in Narnia. Everything in the Narnia books hinges on this, from the character motivations to the structure of the fantasy world to the way the magic in Narnia works.

Additionally, the women in Narnia do not adhere to post-modern or even antique feministic values. They are celebrated for their love and tender-heartedness and faith, all of which require self-sacrifice. Aravis of The Horse and His Boy starts out a proud warrior escaping an arranged marriage and ends up a humbled lady of Archenland court marrying the Prince. Susan Pevensie is at her best when she’s tender-hearted and at her worst when she doubts and becomes more concerned about her own identity than others. The school that Eustace and Jill go to in The Silver Chair is derided for it’s feministic views. By contrast, modern feminism is opposed to self-sacrifice, and that is the kind of thing Greta Gerwig demonstrates belief in throughout all of her works.

Am I saying that no person who isn’t a Christian or some type of conservative when it comes to feminism can ever work on Narnia? Absolutely not. I’m not saying that. Lots of people on the Walden Media Narnia movie (the first one), which was great, were not Christians and did not believe in the saving work of Christ. But they stayed faithful to the source material, even if they didn’t believe in the source material themselves. So the story retained it’s autonomy and power.

Greta Gerwig can’t do that. She has already demonstrated that she does not know how to make a story that hangs on to it’s integral source material if she, herself, doesn’t agree with that source material. She can’t be objective, and therefore, she can’t be faithful to what Narnia is.

How do I know that? Little Women.

I don’t care if you liked the Little Women movie by Greta Gerwig. I don’t care if the acting was “amazing” and I don’t care if Timothee Chalamet and Florence Pugh are great in it. I said exactly what I said. Greta Gerwig made a great movie—but she made a terrible adaptation of Little Women.

It was not Little Women. She made changes to Little Women. What changes, you ask? Changes to the specific pieces of the source material that did not reflect Greta Gerwig’s personal views.

That’s the cardinal sin for directors of adaptive stories or remakes—to make changes to the core themes of a classic tale, because you don’t agree with those core themes. That’s called mutilation, not “updates.”

Here’s how she did it in two major ways in Little Women:

She cut out Jo’s humble response to Friedrich’s gentle rebuke of sensation stories, and replaced it with a feministic self-pitying outburst from Joe and s borderline apathetic, cool piece of feminist advice from Friedrich. That takes all the continuity out of it and warps the characters. That scene is so pivotal in the book. It’s Jo, respecting a man who is much older and excellent in character than any other she’s ever known, and feeling immediately humbled by him calling her out. She’d never have responded that way if Laurie called her out. They would have argued. But this scene was supposed to show what Jo needed from a future romantic partner. She needed someone she respected, someone who could be wise and gentle—two things Laurie is not. She needed someone who would help her take her eyes off of worldly success and herself, and onto eternal benefits to mankind, specifically, the effect her stories might have on children. His gentle, respectful, wise love (and the love of characters like Beth) turns Jo from a self-absorbed writer into a selfless mother, like her own Marmee.

But Greta Gerwig never wanted Jo to be a selfless mother. She wanted, and I quote, “Jo’s love to be her work, and her romance with Friedrich secondary.” You know why?

Because that’s what Greta Gerwig believes in. Greta Gerwig’s life is her work. Watch any of her movies, you’ll see the smudge marks of that wholehearted belief all over them. She can’t even be objective when the whole point of a character is to make work secondary, as was certainly the case with the character of Jo March. No. She has to twist up one of the best American heroines ever into an automaton of herself.

The second way she mutilated source material is with Amy and Laurie. In the books, Amy and Laurie grow to love each other out of the character deficiencies that they make up for in one another. At the start of their courtship, Amy is ambitious and Laurie is lazy. Amy wants to marry for advantage, and Laurie wants to make much of his spurned love for Jo by giving up on life. And that’s it.

It’s Amy who first wakes up to feeling something romantic toward Laurie, not Laurie, and Laurie is not the first to make a move on her. Laurie does not know he is in love with Amy until well after she knows she loves him. Then, he does not make the first outward advance on Amy. They both come to the same conclusion together; when they do, she does not resist. In Greta Gerwig’s version, he’s back to falling in love with a girl who’s resisting, because that’s where Timothee Chalamet’s emotional acting shines or whatever.

But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that she adds a feminism speech from Amy, as a reason for her resistance, and she subtracts the scene where Laurie actually proposes. The scene where Laurie proposes, in the book, is so beautiful.

The two characters are in love, they know they’re in love, and neither of them is insecure about it. Amy has learned that she needs a life-partner who knows her and will protect her, like her old home-values did, and not some rich aristocrat or prince. Laurie has learned that he needs a life-partner who can stir him toward change, not through big explosive arguments and hope of conquered affection like Jo, but with gentle love and sheer inspiration, found in Amy.

So, in the most beautiful analogy for courtship that ends in marriage ever, he proposes to her while they’re rowing on a lake. She’s sitting next to him in the middle of the boat, she’s got one oar, he’s got the other, and she says, “How well we pull together, don’t we?” And he says, “so well that I wish we might always be in the same boat. Will you, Amy?” And she says “yes.”

That’s it. No argument. No big, passionate, sentimental explosion like he had with Jo. No wrenched and broken heart-strings. He didn’t have to convince her. She didn’t have to resist. Because entirely without force, and entirely without insecurity, they protected each other’s hearts and came to a conclusion that was based on something so much deeper and more eternal than fleeting passion.

Greta Gerwig cut that out and listened to Meryl Streep and put in another stormy lover’s-quarrel speech from Amy about why she couldn’t be with Laurie because she was in Jo’s shadow, and feminism and marrying for advantage, blah blah blah. It’s terrible. It’s mutilation. It ruins everything the original Little Women had.

it doesn’t matter if she got some of the characters right. It doesn’t matter if she got a lot of the quotes right. It doesn’t matter if all of Act 1 of the movie is mostly-book-accurate. If you change load-bearing themes or character motivations, you show that you can’t be objective and faithful to the source material.

It is fine if Greta Gerwig wants to make a movie about a woman who loves her work more than anything else. It is fine if she wants to make a movie about how women are under-appreciated for their minds and souls, and have characters that go on a journey to prove it. But it is not fine to use someone else’s story to say it. Make your own story, Greta Gerwig.

Oh, you already did? See: Lady Bird? See: Frances Ha? Then come up with something new. Don’t shoehorn your same beliefs into every franchise that is offered to you, like vomiting, then eating the vomit and regurgitating it over and over in new colors. Figure out how to tell someone else’s story in a faithful way, objectively, or else keep your stained hands off until you can clean them up. Especially, keep them off Narnia.

Greta Gerwig makes movies for Greta Gerwig, by Greta Gerwig. She can’t be objective, and for that, she can’t do Narnia. She can’t do it justice, she can’t do it faithfully, because she makes movies for herself, by herself.

[reality-detective]

Was the Baltimore Bridge attacked? 👇

The Baltimore bridge collapse was an “absolutely brilliant strategic attack” on US critical infrastructure - most likely cyber - & our intel agencies know it. In information warfare terms, they just divided the US along the Mason Dixon line exactly like the Civil War.

Second busiest strategic roadway in the nation for hazardous material now down for 4-5 years - which is how long they say it will take to recover. The bridge was built specifically to move hazardous material - fuel, diesel, propane gas, nitrogen, highly flammable materials, chemicals and oversized cargo that cannot fit in the tunnels - that supply chain now crippled.

Make no mistake: this was an extraordinary attack in terms of planning, timing & execution.

The two critical components on that bridge are the two load-bearing pylons on each end, closest to the shore. They are bigger, thicker and deeper than anything else. These are the anchor points and they knew that hitting either one one of them would be a fatal wound to the integrity of the bridge.

Half a mile of bridge went in the river - likely you will have to build a new one. Also caused so much damage to the structural integrity of the bottom concrete part that you cannot see & won’t know until they take the wreckage apart. Structural destruction is likely absolutely.

Attack perfectly targeted.

“They have figured out how to bring us down. As long as you stay away from the teeth of the US military, you can pick the US apart. We are an arrogant and ignorantly - lethal combination. Obama said they would fundamentally change America and they did. We are in a free-fall ride on a roller coaster right now - no brakes - just picking up speed.”

The footage shows the cargo ship never got in the approach lane in the channel. You have to be in the channel before you get into that turn. Location was precise/deliberate: They chose a bend in the river where you have to slow down and commit yourself - once you are committed in that area there is not enough room to maneuver.

Should have had a harbor pilot to pilot the boat. You are not supposed to traverse any obstacles without the harbor pilot.

They chose a full moon so they would have maximum tidal shift - rise and fall. Brisk flow in that river on a normal day & have had a lot of rain recently so water was already moving along at a good pace.

Hit it with enough kinetic energy to knock the load-bearing pylon out from under the highway - which fatally weakens the span and then 50 percent of the bridge fell into the water.

All these factors when you look at it  - this is how you teach people how to do this type of attack and there are so few people left in the system who know this. We have a Junior varsity team on the field.

Tremendous navigational obstruction. Huge logistical nightmare to clean this up. The number of dead is tragic but not the whole measure of the attack.

That kind of bridge is constantly under repair - always at night because there is so much traffic and they cannot obstruct that during the day. So concern is for repair guys who were on foot (out of their vehicles) working who may now be in the water - 48 degrees at most at this time of year.

When you choke off Baltimore you have cut the main north-south hazardous corridor (I-95) in half. Now everyone has to go around the city - or go somewhere else.

To move some of that cargo through the tunnel you may be able to get a permit but those are slow to get and require an escort system that is expensive and has to be done at night.

For every $100 dollars that goes into the city, $12 comes from shipping. Believe this will cripple the city of Baltimore at a time when they do not have the resources to recover.

- Lara Logan

The traffic issue was mentioned in this 👇 post

Maybe we have to dig deeper into this Bridge collapse further. Could it be a deeper issue? What's in those shipping containers? Who owns the ship?

Is it for this 👆

It has been 3 years and 3 days since the Evergreen blocked the Suez Canal. Does the number 33 mean anything?

Was this a "Black Swan Event?"

I'm just asking questions? 🤔

[slaymitchabernathy]

The Type of Boyfriend

People often wonder what type of boyfriend Coriolanus Snow would be like.

He’s a coat of many colors, a jack of all trades, a fucking wild card if you will, so a definite answer can truly never be given.

However.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend who insists on the stereotypical gender roles, his girlfriend must look presentable at all times—to help his image—and he is to be the sole provider of their household.

Coriolanus does however hold his girlfriend’s purse whenever he takes her shopping, the six-foot-two man proudly wearing her outrageously expensive handbag on his broad shoulder while he follows her around the store.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of man to roll his eyes at any signs of weakness. He doesn’t tolerate things like that, childish notions that he left behind years ago when the war ended.

Coriolanus does make the exception for his girlfriend though. Especially when she falls and hits the pavement hard, scraping her soft knees. He’s thorough in cleaning them, wrapping them in bandages and then placing kisses on the bandages cuts for good measures.

A woman’s body is something he knows much about but he always seems to be lacking when it comes to the somewhat taboo topic of his girlfriend’s menstrual cycle. Quite the painful topic where she’s concerned. He does everything to help make her feel better. Heating pads, chocolates, kisses, whatever she wants. He truly does hate to see her in pain to the point where he begins to grow a certain disdain to her uterus for inflicting such pain on his precious girl.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend to claim he despises being forced to indulge in cute little dates. Don’t ever try to get him to do a simple face mask, even though he’ll complain when he feels that the amount she’s applied isn’t “an even coat.” And heaven forbid he be coaxed into wearing a matching set of pajamas while he watches her construct a pillow fort in their living room, mostly because he’ll just have to take over since the structural integrity is clearly at risk with these throw pillows.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend to absolutely despise his girlfriend being in the company of other men. He might make the exception for her father but that’s about it. He can’t help it, can’t trust these other men and their intentions with his precious rose. She is the air he breathes and for that to be taken away from him is something that terrifies him.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend who looks forward to falling asleep but only because it means his girlfriend is safely tucked away in his strong arms. He loves to watch her sleep, listen to her soft breathing and watch her nose twitch every once in a while. She’s managed to touch a deep rooted kindness in him that he thought no longer excited until he met her. To have her seek him out for comfort and safety is a gift within itself and one he could never take for granted.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend to be surprisingly good at braiding hair. It’s no secret that braided hair is all the rage in Panem and he’ll be damned if his girlfriend is left out of the rising trend. He can do a mean fishtail and don’t even ask if he can dutch braid because he sure fucking can.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend to be extremely petty when it comes to the simplest things like putting the dishes away or making the bed. He can’t help but keep a mental spreadsheet in his mind of what has been done by who. Even if it lands him cleaning out the litter box.

Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend to claim that he can’t stand his girlfriend’s cat but rushes both of them to the vet when her cat gets sick. He’ll be right with the love of his life while they wait in that oh-so crowded waiting room with the parrot who keeps saying the most creative curse words he’s ever heard. He’s most definitely going to pester the veterinarian with a thousand questions concerning the cat’s health even though it turns out the spoiled thing ate a sock. And his girlfriend won’t get a chance to pay for the vet bill, because Coriolanus insists on paying for everything.

And when it’s later that evening and all is well and his girlfriend has drifted off the sleep he’ll confess to the feline that he was just a tad bit worried about her health. But he’ll deny such claims should they be brought up.

But Coriolanus Snow is the type of boyfriend who has a certain dark side that he hides away. So heaven help his girlfriend when she finally discovers it and realizes that it’s far too late to escape the jaws of this venomous snake.

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