#and they're like oil and water now because he does not even want to speak her name out lout
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starpros-sunshine · 18 days ago
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I hate suddenly knowing a lot of people how did I literally become that one bitch in the sitcom that's always everywhere
#im soaking wet and I smell like second hand smoke#i just spent the evening with the ex of my childhood friendish something person whom he hates because he thinks she cheated on him#and they're like oil and water now because he does not even want to speak her name out lout#she thinks she didn't cheat because she told him upfromt she might start something else during their relationship break and to her that was#all very clearly communicated#so now I have spent an evening with her her boyfriend and two of her friends#sitting in a smokey bar with loud jazz remixes playing in the background#knowing fair well I will never be able to tell anyone from the other people about this#I'm like a double agent#neutrality in the face of conflict in the way that I just hang out with everyone still even if they're all shit#and the worst thing is. me and the new guy. my childhood friendish persons sworn enemy. we get along really well#is this already moral greyness or am I just a horrible person#I'm in their WhatsApp group now I don't even know how I did this the first thing I said when I saw them was not even hello it was literally#“wow you all look the same damn''. that should not end up with me being considered so chill to be around that they want me in their WhatsApp#why do I always get myself in situation head in hands#like a year ago I knew nobody I jad five people I talked to on the regular and that was just because of school now suddenly I make a few#silly jokes and Boom. social life. i didn't even want this to escalate like this I just wanted a few fun evenings#there were never supposed to be connections to be formed#but hey if I keep this up I can become the guy that knows a guy for everything
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llamagoddessofficial · 1 year ago
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Bad Sanses with the “who hurt you” trope?
Horror: His big arms are walls against the outside world. He pulls you in close, nothing can reach you. He holds you with a love older than blood, a love that asks for nothing in return - you feel the words through his great chest rather than hearing them. You aren't sure if he's touching your hair to comfort you, or to stop himself from quivering with rage. Perhaps it's both. He smells like a food you didn't know you were craving, he sounds like a home that's waiting for you, and he feels like somewhere you can sleep.
He absorbs the scents on you like a bloodhound. Asking who did it was redundant. If he ever sees them, he will know.
Dust: The cuts to your body are amateur, ragged, as if someone took a hacksaw to his favourite porcelain doll. Where did his gloves go? One hand on your back, one cupping your face. The proximity shuts your mouth. You're close enough to feel how he's trying to control his breathing; from within the shadows under his hood, you see his eyelights, the anger pooling within them. Dust's words are so rare, they're soft but something frightening is following when he asks, lightning without thunder. Death by a thousand cuts? No. Just from holding his gaze, you know that only a thousand cuts won't be enough to satisfy his thirst for revenge.
Killer: He doesn't speak. He doesn't ask. He places a loving kiss to your temple, as if to assure you there's still something of your silly jester left in the leaking wraith before you. But he knows better than to be close to the thing he loves most when he doesn't want to smile anymore. The mask is missing, there's few things more terrifying than Killer without words, emptiness where the face once was. Was it all an act? No one knows. Not even Killer.
... You might expect the others to intervene when he's leaving. But they merely step aside, even Nightmare dares not stand in the way of Killer's hunt. They only ever laugh because they know he wants them to. Right now, they don't have that right.
Nightmare: He holds your chin. He's gentle - he always is with you. You thought he'd rage like an animal, command you to tell him who did this, as shadows choked you from the inside out.
You forget that there's no one who could feel your fear as intimately as he does. He's tasted your terror, your pain, the ache of the bruises and the sting of the cuts, the salt of your tears and the ice of the chills. He knows. He understands. He touches his forehead to yours, it's alright. You can fall apart, he's here, there's no shame, there's nothing he hasn't seen a hundred times before. Just let go. Let it all out. You can't drown in this sea, dear; not when he is the water.
There will be time for fury later. For now, the king needs to tend to his love.
...
Error: Will you tell him who did it? You can feel his rage, it's splitting the air around you, lines between realities are shimmering like hot oil. Whoever did this will suffer in a way that a mortal mind cannot comprehend. He'll peel them apart like crumbling sheets of wet pastry. Could you do that to someone? Could you knowingly sentence them to a pain that doesn't yet have a name? Perhaps you could talk him down from it, soothe his fury. But is that really what you want to do, when you're so tired?
The choice is yours. Just know that this is one web that cannot be undone.
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puffin-smoke · 6 months ago
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hi my brain is going a mile a minute right now and the world needs to know so
Here are Puffin's vaguely organised thoughts about Lovely x Treasure :DDD
They've been friends since high-school, they're basically attached at the hip at this point, you can't get one without the other
You invite Treasure somewhere? Lovely is coming for moral support. You invite Lovely somewhere? Treasure is being dragged along.
Lovely is Treasure's scary dog privilege. Habitually threatens to slash the tires of anyone who hurts them. "I just want to talk to them-" "Love, last time you "talked" to someone you ended up in the ICU."
Everyone Treasure dates has to get through Lovely first. It's like meeting your partner's parents. Almost nobody gets their approval
Now, why are they doing all this? Because they have feelings for Treasure, but won't act on them. Lovely has fully resigned themself to the idea that they're not good enough for them, so they're trying to find someone who is. Who can treat them right, who can be what Lovely can't.
Lovely is convinced it would never work out; eventually Treasure would figure out they're too good for them. Where Lovely is brash Treasure is calm and collected. Where Lovely acts without thinking, Treasure never stops thinking. They're convinced it would be oil and water.
MEANWHILE, Treasure has liked Lovely since the day they first met, but thinks that Lovely doesn't feel the same way because they keep trying to set them up with people.
They actually start to think that Lovely already knows about their feelings for them and is trying to let them down the easy way. Which honestly just hurts more than outright rejection.
miscommunication trope my beloved.
requited unrequited love my other beloved
So they both repress their feelings and eventually drift apart.
Until they meet again at the Vampire Summit (the fact that Treasure didn't go originally is a CRIME)
Vincent sat Lovely and Treasure next to each other without knowing they had a past together. Neither of them knew the other would be there, so the reunion was incredibly unexpected
They get to catching up, and Treasure can feel all their old feelings resurfacing the more they learn about who Lovely has become. Vampire Royalty is just their type apparently
Same goes for Lovely, who's missed them for so long. They regret ever letting them drift out of their life but still can't bring themself to tell them how they feel. And also they look hot as shit in their summit outfit.
And then things start going to shit, as the Summit does. Lovely sticks by Treasure's side throughout it, knowing how terrifying this must be for them. They planned to give Porter a talking to as soon as this was all over, and probably a repeat of their famous right rook. At this point they'd firmly decided that he was nowhere near good enough for Treasure. Internally they are keying his car.
Things are going well, as well as can be expected, up until the trial. The verdict is cast and Christopher is beheaded. And Lovely freaks out, immediately reminded of Adam's death.
So Treasure watches the strongest person they know, the person who defended them through thick and thin, who never showed even a sliver of weakness, run from the venue as though they had seen a ghost. And finds them hyperventilating on a bench in the cold.
They run to sit by them and coach them through the panic, holding their hands in theirs.
All Lovely can think about is how warm Treasure is.
When they begin to breath normally again, the pair just sit in silence for a while. Lovely is the first to speak.
"One hell of a party."
Treasure laughs. "The appetisers were pretty damn good."
"So's the company." Lovely smiles, and leans their head on Treasure's shoulder, soaking up their warmth. "I missed you."
In that moment, all Treasure wanted was to kiss them. To grab their chin and press their lips to theirs and steal back all the time they'd wasted. But instead they just lean into the touch as much as they'll let themself, and close their eyes. "Me too."
and that's all for now BYE
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meowmeowchapel · 2 years ago
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the west wing, 20 hours in america, sentence starter meme.
You know the story about the guy whose cars gets stuck in a muddy hole. A farmer comes along and says he'll pull the car out of the mud but he's going to have to charge 50 bucks 'cause this is the tenth time he's had to pull it out of the mud today. The driver says, "God, when to you have time to plow your land, at night?" The farmer says, "No, no. Nighttimeis when I fill the whole with water."
Why aren't you there?
It's tough to explain.
[name] has trouble concealing his displeasure.
Stepped on it.
You seem pissed that I brought it up.
When somebody can give me an answer to that question, I'll let you know.
I am lightened up. This is me lightened up. You're saying lighter?
You want to lighten up a little?
Speaking of health and fitness...
I had half a grapefruit.
You think I'm lying?
You've been up the past two nights and I don't want a zombie.
Go to sleep.
I'm kidding. that was a joke. I kid because I love.
No kidding, it feels good out here.
You sure i'm not taking you away from something you need to be doing?
You have a second job?
This is fun. We're roughing it.
Remember some of that stuff I said, okay?
Yeah. Doesn't sound quite right, though, does it?
Just out of curiosity, what do you think would happen?
I'm not very easily impressed.
Yeah, you know what? Sue me.
It's a-a common mistake.
How did...? I don't understand.
What is this, a joke?!
Okay, this is a whole new thing now. My guys are going to need to walk this off a bit before they can regroup.
No, I'm sorry buddy. I know you're supposed to be sleeping today.
I don't know what it is you do in there.
Welcome to the club, partner. We got jackets.
You ever love so much it hurts? Like, physically hurts?
It's not intellect, it's memory. It's a different gift. A wonderful one. I've never had it.
I make fun of the French as much as anybody and I don't even know what that meant.
Elitist, feminist-- you can't do that to the English language.
Several of the men I've dated haven't yet gotten over their fear of frogs.
Option one is we make a joke out of it.
We make a joke out of it? What would we have to do to it to make...?
What's your specialty?
No, I mean I can't believe you're considering doing it.
I didn't know you were superstitious.
How long have we been talking about this now?
Okay, let's not tell anybody that.
Whatcha' doin' on the floor?
I'm sitting here listening, already I've turned to a life of crime.
And they're using Act V scene from Hamlet? Are these Batman villians?
300 IQ points between them-- they can't find their way home.
I swear to God, if [name] wasn't there, they'd have to buy a house.
I don't know. I'm a puzzle.
We'd rather people didn't exercise common sense but I agree with what you're saying.
You know I can hear you, right?
I'm in your corner.
You call me a liar to my face?
Well, I'm afraid we're at a classic impasse, [name].
You were strange the first time I met you, and you're strange now.
Hey, the first time you met me there was a good reason.
My powers of deduction are not to be mocked.
That come with tights and a cap?
I'm going to figure it out anyway. What I lack in memory, I more than make up for with exceptional powers of deductive reasoning.
By the way, my powers of ordering are a joke.
Ah, you pulled the switcheroo.
You are so heartbreakingly easy at the end of the day.
You deceived me.
You played upon my love for you.
I'm going to make fun of you while you do, okay?
Did you have other plans?
As a matter of fact, I did. I was planning a quiet night...
If you ask me, it's soft porn. No one needs to massage garlic oil into a leg of lamb that much, on top of which...
You know anything about chaos theory?
Let me get you home. I don't think you're going to make it.
Good writers borrow from other writers. Great writers steal from them outright.
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gothibara · 3 years ago
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Shigaraki's Skin: A Guide
tldr local disabled man with skin conditions tired of seeing how people treat disabled people also i think it makes fics better when they acknowledge little tidbits abt the character like this
for context i have a skin condition called sebhorreic dermatitis. its grody. but its only grody for ME
Stop calling Shigaraki dirty and crusty please god please im begging you
This is probably the biggest issue I have with Shigaraki fans on here it's genuinely like...do you even hear yourself. People live with skin conditions like is, especially ones that are aggravated by psychosomatic stressers. I used to scratch my skin raw when I had anxiety attacks. Also, people with skin conditions being considered dirty is something that leads to harsher stigma...when in actuality that's not really the case! For example, my dermatitis is caused when oil when my sweat (or any build up of moisture) aggravates yeast in the skin. Now I hear you saying, "well that's a yeast infection, isn't it, that's gross"-- it's not! The yeast is supposed to be there. You have it too. It grows on human skin symbiotically like millions of other organisms. The difference is that mine is much more easily aggravated due to immune issues. That's it.
Moisturizer doesn't always help clinical issues like this. It's likely Shigaraki, by nature of his condition, showers more than average and uses medical soaps and moisturizers to prevent it from being worse. Because of how Shigaraki's manifests and when we see it manifest, I'd probably assume he also has immune system issues due to his quirk (which may have also killed the pigment in his hair), but that's mostly theory.
Regardless, Shigaraki is probably a very clean person. Yes, his living quarters may be disorderly, but things like changing clothes frequently to avoid sweat, showering often, and exfoliating are all going to be things he does. I really doubt AfO would allow his successor to succumb to the beast that is dealing with an undermedicated skin condition.
SCRATCHING.
Shigaraki scratches compulsively! Which is pretty common among people with skin conditions, especially ones like his that appear to cause build up of dead skin (this happens to me too). This is different than the average itch-scratching...you tend to get caught in a loop of it, especially if it's fueled by emotional dysregulation. Scratching your skin raw is more likely to happen than it puncturing skin, for the record. It's possible, but usually what happens is you'll get little red spotting from blood vessels getting agitated, and then a weird waxy feeling on the raw skin. I didn't ever treat mine, so now I have scarring on my arms (thankfully it's been so long they're mostly faded), but they would get sort of a strange scab in the pitted areas. Unsure if this is a common experience, though.
Regardless, you should always clean and bandage these raw areas-- or at the very least clean them, if you're a person who would rather let the wound air out. Just because it doesn't bleed doesn't mean you can't get sick from it, and it helps the healing process along.
Speaking of, this is a common fanfic trope...don't just grab someone compulsively scratching to stop them 😭😭😭???? unless that's a rapport you have established, dont fucking manhandle people.... just offer an alternative method of stimming, and maybe a way to get to a shower.
Showering and exfoliating tends to help, at least in my case. Even if I'm not dirty, or haven't done anything particularly strenuous, when I feel "grimy", all I can do is scratch until I get to shower. It's like a nice way to make sure you feel 'clean' and avoid agitating the already sensitive skin. However, super hot water isn't recommended. It can irritate the skin further, and it's good to dry gently.
Anyway if anyone else w skin conditions wants to add on ur free to but oh my god stop calling shigaraki crusty or dirty or ugly please please please
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ablednt · 2 years ago
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Ok so update at about 11 chapters into this 63 something chapter long book (not as long as you think these chapters are pointlessly short but too long for this concept boy can I tell you)
Taking a break to write down some of my thoughts somewhere other than my notes document but to summarize my biggest gripe with this book and also summarize the plot our main character Skylenna (almost every character has some made-up fantasy name and I think Skylenna is more stupid sounding than the time we committed the same crimes as a kid and came up with "Raviella" as a name idea/hj) knowingly gets a job at a graphically violent and abusive psych ward
I thought from reading the synopsis that she was doing this so she could gather evidence of the abuses going on in there, like they were somehow being covered up. Instead, she's started working at this psych ward because her special empath ass is just so kind and smart that she'll reform it from inside despite being in nothing even hinting at a position of power to anyone except the patients.
She's such a good little empath that she gets a nonverbal person to speak to her and she's like yayy now they'll start taking me seriously here and let me make this place better!
And it's just. Yeah ok I hate this I hate everything about this how does this allegedly anti-psych media manage to be the most potent psych ward nurse propaganda I've seen in my goddamn life.
Also if you hate the brand of cis white feminism that thinks corsets are the sign of oppression and were literally killing helpless victorian women rather than just being like. bras. you're going to be even more uncomfortable with this book because it replaces the concept of corsets by having the government make every woman in the country have a mandatory eating disorder like literally anorexia or bulimia they are told to pick one and if they don't do this they're sent to the asylum. This is awkward and unrealistic to how nuanced societies work enough but it's emphasized how Horrible it is to be a woman in this society to a ridiculous amount that is actually so fucking uncomfortable.
The main character taking a fancy bath with oil in it and putting on lotion was described more vividly and as if it was more horrible than someone experience actual water torture and I have no fucking clue why but it is So Fucking Weird and unsettling to read.
I deliberately chose not to look up any of the criticism this book was getting because I want a genuine/unbiased first thoughts review on everything but when I learned about the book from the beginning of a review I didn't watch the youtuber mentioned she was linking to videos of a trans person talking about the transphobia in the book so I am really not going to be surprised if the author is terf adjacent somehow.
Oh and when she's empathing all over the place she describes the mentally ill people she's helping (all of which we've met so far are convicted murderers by the way) to animals and says it makes her feel like she's playing games with children when she communicates with nonverbal people.
The plural character hasn't even been introduced yet because everyone is too afraid to speak his name or go near his door and it's this big mystery on who this terrifying person is. The ableism of that aside it's so funny to me that so much mystery is supposed to surround this character considering the entire synopsis goes into detail about him so we know exactly who he is already.
I have a lot of thoughts on the structure and overall writing of the book (it all really sucks lmao!) but I don't feel like typing those up right now.
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almasexya · 5 years ago
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Carnivorous Plants and the Things I Know About Them
I've been kicking around the idea of making a post like this and I figured it was of enough general interest to folks on Tumblr to go for it.
So
One of the things I do is grow carnivorous plants, like these
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
From top left to bottom right we have a Venus Flytrap, a North American Pitcher Plant, a Sundew, and a Butterwort. All of these are pictures I've taken of plants during the growing season.
Now if you look at these weird looking plants you probably wouldn't expect them to be native to North America, but they are. You can find pitcher plants all over the southeast up to the northeast into Canada, flytraps in the Carolinas, and butterworts and sundews all over the continent.
These plants are a lot of fun and easy to grow once you understand their requirements, but before we get into that, I want to take a moment and explain how they came to be in the first place.
To keep it short, carnivorous plants are carnivorous because they grow in soils that are lacking in the nutrients plants need to put out new growth. Because of this, they evolved to find their nutrients a different way - by luring, trapping, and digesting insects. While these plants still photosynthesize, they supplement this with the nutrients they absorb from insects.
Now that we've got that out of the way, I'm going to go into the basics of growing them, point by point. A short disclaimer - I'm specifically talking about temperate North American plants, since they're what I have experience growing. I can provide basic info on how to take care of tropical plants like the southeast asian pitcher plants, but as of this post I don't have experience with them yet.
Soil: For carnivorous plants, a good soil mixture is a must. These plants grow in nutrient-poor marshes, and the soil they call home is constantly wet. The main ingredient in basically any carnivorous plant soil mix is sphagnum peat moss, which is slightly acidic. The second part of the mixture is often perlite or horticultural sand. Some nurseries use a mix of equal parts peat and perlite while others use 80% peat and 20% perlite, but I've had success with both. The most important thing to ensure is that your soil doesn't have any fertilizer added to it. Because carnivores grow in low nutrient soil, any kind of medium that contains fertilizer can actually kill them.
Water: The other vitally important part of the equation (and the one that kills lots of plants when incorrectly applied) is water. Generally, unless your tap water is soft, water carnivores with distilled or reverse osmosis water. The minerals in tap water or even bottled drinking water can eventually build up and kill your plant in the same way fertilized soil does. Carnivores love waterlogged soil, and some even get flooded in nature. To approximate this, set your plant in a tray of water no more than an inch or two high. This ensures your soil stays wet without having to constantly water it.
Containers: Plastic pots are your friend. Avoid terra cotta clay pots, since they can leech minerals into the soil and also tend to dry out your substrate faster. Glazed clay containers can also work. If you're using the tray system, make sure to buy pots with drainage holes, so the water can get in. Also, a trick that lets the water in but keeps the soil from escaping is to line the bottom of the pot with long-fibered sphagnum moss. If you go with an undrained container, make sure to keep the soil wet at all times, but allow some of the water to evaporate in order to keep the water table fluctuating.
Sunlight: Since carnivores evolved their leaves to catch insects, they're pretty poor at photosynthesis. As a result, these plants love sun - the more the better. Many a store bought flytrap has perished as a houseplant due to lack of sun, so if you can, put these plants outside, in the sunniest spot you can. Generally, it's good to give most carnivores around 6 hours of sunlight per day. Many can get by with 4, but they don't often thrive with that amount of light.
Dormancy: Plants that grow in temperate or warm temperate climates tend to buckle down and hibernate during the late fall and winter months, conserving energy until spring. Generally speaking, the large traps die off, or in some cases the plant dies down to the roots, or forms a small bud that rests on the ground. Plants grown outside respond to colder temperatures and shorter photoperiods, while plants grown inside usually need some help. If you're growing your plants on a windowsill or in a terrarium, move them somewhere cold or cut down on their heating, and also diminish the amount of daily light they receive. You can also slow down on watering, though they still need some water to get by.
Temperature: Temperate and warm temperate carnivores can tolerate a wide range of temperatures, despite what you might think. My pots survived the freak snowstorm the Pacific Northwest got this February without a single dead plant. Most species can tolerate temperatures up to 100 degrees Fahrenheit and down to 20 degrees, though not for prolonged periods of time. If you see long spells of hot or cold weather coming, try and move your plants to a protected area until they pass.
Feeding and Fertilizing: Now I know what you're thinking. Fertilizer? He just told us that stuff was death! And it often is, but there are ways to fertilize your plants. Generally, a fertilizer made for acid-loving plants can be diluted and applied to the leaves during the growing season. I use Maxsea 16-16-16 on plants that are too young to easily catch prey (diluted down to a half teaspoon per gallon) and haven't had issues. Try not to spray the soil unless you frequently water your plants from overhead, as the dreaded mineral buildup can still occur. That said, if your plants are outside, they'll fertilize themselves. You can also "feed" your plants insects using tongs - keep in mind that some plants require their prey to be alive in order to secrete digestive enzymes. I'll get into prey in more detail in other posts about specific types of plants.
Flowering and Propagation: For a lot of carnivorous plants, flowering is an exhausting effort that tends to deplete the energy they would use creating traps. As a general rule, if you're not interested in seed, clip the flower stalks off. Many plants can be propagated through leaf or root cuttings, which produce genetically identical plants. Some plants also clump and form their own divisions over time, meaning all you need to do to get more is wait for a year or so, depending on the age of the plant.
Pests: Carnivores can be targeted by various pests. For insecticides, I've seen neem oil recommended, as its generally less harmful to the plant and the environment. I haven't had to make much use of these yet, so my information on insecticides is a bit of a blind spot. Generally, try and stay away from soap insecticides and aerosols, and stick to less concentrated varieties. If you're dealing with squirrels or rodents digging up your plants, I found a generous sprinkling of cayenne pepper around the plants works wonders, and does no harm to the plants.
This is a basic rundown of carnivorous plants and how to take care of some of them. I must stress there's a ton of information out there - this post is geared more towards starter plants that are fairly forgiving and simple to grow.
So why grow carnivorous plants when you can just go out and buy some petunias?
They're active: Carnivores are showy, unique plants that can move on their own through some incredibly unique and complex evolutions. Watching a Venus Flytrap snap shut or a Sundew curl around an insect is a truly special thing to see.
They're a conversation piece: The relative rarity of carnivores in cultivation means the average person doesn't know much about them, despite maybe having heard of a Venus Flytrap before. A 12" pot of flytraps, sundews, and pitchers is a surefire way to grab attention.
They can control certain pests: Carnivorous plants can act as natural pest controllers. North American Pitcher Plants gorge themselves on flies and wasps, and considering some pitchers can grow over two feet tall, they can hold plenty of them. Sundews and butterworts specialize in catching smaller prey, such as fungus gnats, fruit flies, and even fleas. These plants can work as limited, natural pest controllers, though they won't eradicate a yellow jacket nest for you.
They're endangered in the wild: The wet, marshy habitats carnivores call home are rapidly dwindling due to improper land management and development. Some are nearly extinct in their home ranges, kept going through dedicated nurseries and attempts to naturalize them in other locations. By caring for carnivorous plants, you're raising awareness of these unique, underappreciated organisms and aiding in their conservation by keeping them alive.
Phew, I realize this was a lot, but I hope it was a fun read! Let me know what you think about carnivorous plants, or if you have any questions about them. I'm going to try and go into more detail on specific plants later, but for now, I wanted to bang out the basics.
If you're looking for more information, Flytrapcare.com is a great forum, and the r/savagegarden subreddit is very helpful as well. For books on the subject, the Savage Garden by Peter D'Amato is the go to source. Nurseries I've used and can vouch for are Sarracenia Northwest (located in Oregon) and California Carnivores (located in California).
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dothewrite · 8 years ago
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SCENARIO WITH AKAASHI AND FEM S/O WHERE AKAASHI IS AN ASSASSIN/SPY THINGO AND HE WAS ON A MISSION TO KILL HIS S/O AND NOW THEY'RE JUST STANDING IN FRONT OF ONE ANOTHER AND AKAASHI IS HOLDING THE GUN BUT HEJUST CANT SHOTO AND (i'm so sorry this is a cliche but please feel fee to make it as original as possible! )
My brain went on a wild ride with this one! I initially misread that both characters would be assassins, then I wanted to make it all badass, then my brain went ‘nope’ and… well, you’ll see. This was incredibly fun to write, thank you for requesting this. :) I hope you enjoy it!
The house is empty when he returns. Nothing is out of the ordinary; the porch lights are on, the garage doors slide up smoothly when he presses the remote button. The low grinding of the tires against gravel is a noise he hears every night when he parks his Mercedes next to her Porsche.
It’s 6.55, five minutes until dinner’s ready. Akaashi is a naturally quiet man, and he slides his key and unlocks the front door very quietly, as he usually does. The hinges make no noise, because he’d oiled them a week ago, and he slips off his shoes by the glass shoe-rack. It’s only a small thing, as neither of them like impulse spending, and he counts silently in his head. Yes, they’re all there. She’s probably in her slippers then, padding around the polished wooden floor on muted feet.
He’s not the type to shout, especially in such a large house with only the two of them, so his entrance past the foyer and into the living room is unannounced.
She’s not there, and the curtains are drawn. Akaashi really should be getting on, but he takes a moment to run his fingers over the fine embroidery of their antique couch. It had belonged to his grandmother, and they had without hesitation, both decided to place it where they would see it the most.
“What do you think about a dog?”
“Depends on whose dog it is.”
“…Why do you know everything I’m going to say?”
“This is an expensive couch, let’s not ruin it with teething, infant beasts yet, how about it?”
“Well at least I know what you feel now about having children.”
“My feelings on children are entirely different.”
“Really?”
“Yes. They shit everywhere too.”
“Keiji!”
He peeks his head around the corner into the kitchen, and she’s not there either. It’s out of the ordinary, because both of them are quite tidy individuals, and the lights and oven have been left on. Akaashi reaches out to bring up a knife dirtied with the slight orange colour of chopped carrots. It’s all there, neatly sorted into bowls of prepared vegetables on the counter. The salt and pepper are out too, ready to go on the steak that’s still sitting on the chopping board.
Before he walks out of the kitchen, he takes a minute or two to put the condiments back into the shelf where they belong.
Seeing dinner almost complete makes him a little hungry, and it gives the uncomfortable churning in his stomach an edge- a nagging feeling that tugs at his sides. She always tells him off softly for that too, when he stays out too late or overworks himself at the office until he’s back at three in the morning looking completely famished. He remembers her late night snacks for him like it was yesterday, but he’s stopped coming home so late for two years. He misses them a little, maybe not the worried expression on her face, but the way she laces their fingers together and bumps her hip against his in a gentle admonishment.
It’s supposed to be his turn to cook tomorrow evening, if she’s doing it tonight. The only logical conclusion would be to make a stew, since she’s making something seared tonight. A warm smile touches his lips, unbidden, and when Akaashi pictures the scene of the two of them wrapped up next to each other on the sofa eating off fancy plates and watching bad soap operas, he forgets to be unhappy for a minute.
He gives the guest rooms downstairs a quick glance over, and she’s not there either.
“Mmmm, a boyfriend who cooks? Does this mean I’m set for life?”
“I’ll cook if you buy the groceries.”
“Sure, let’s leave the most tedious part for the lady.”
“Lady? I don’t see a lady here.”
“Oh, I see how it is. I guess it won’t matter if I do this-”
“-Stop! STOP! At least roll down the curtains, jesus christ!”
“I so am a lady.”
Akaashi is very proud of his stairs. He’s always been thankful that he chose to invest in good craftsmanship and good wood, and since they bought the house six years ago, he hasn’t heard a single creak from them at all. It’s all the better for him, because he knows that he’s used to stealth. He’s used to pretending that he’s not where he really is, and with each silent step he remembers what he’s supposed to do.
For him, silence has always been the loudest noise for him, and the way the house seems to be resonating with it, Akaashi has a lot of moments to think. One of the things that comes to mind is how she was happy to hear that he liked things quiet too, and now, he understands, that the soundless stairs were probably a good thing for her too.
The banisters reflect only the warm, dim light from downstairs’ corridor and his own shadow. He makes it to the top before flicking up the switch that lights up their second floor. Akaashi glances around without moving his head, only his eyes flickering here and there, and it doesn’t seem like there’s anyone upstairs either.
He heads to the salon first, and when the only sign of life he sees is their shared pot of white tulips, he can’t help but take a seat next to them. Although pale yellow is his favourite colour, he thinks that these flowers are the most beautiful he’s ever seen.
-
“Happy Tuesday! I have a present for you.”
“But Tuesdays are my worst days.”
“All the more reason!”
“You got me a scarf? In the middle of summer?”
“I saw it in a display today and, well, I kinda thought it would make your hair look beautiful.”
“…I have a present for you too.”
“A scarf??”
“No, tulips.”
“Did you choose to raise plants instead because they don’t shit and bite your furniture?”
“Correct.”
-
His fingers fall away from their supple petals in a lonely caress, and he pushes himself upright. He’ll come back and water them later, he decides. The piano seems to play itself a mournful tune of farewell as he slips out and closes the door behind him.
There are a lot of windows in their house, he realizes. Purchasing it, they had been more focused on the layout and the spread of space, and even at night they usually turn the lights on in a trail behind them. Rarely have either of them needed to navigate the house in darkness, and now that he’s chosen to do so, Akaashi finally notices the way the half-moon lays down checkered patterns on the floor like a mat. Window after window, it marks his progress down the hallway.
Usually, there’s music coming from at least somewhere. Wherever she decides to nest, really, and if Akaashi ever loses her or if she doesn’t respond to his gentle call of her name, he only needs to follow the source of the music until she pops up sooner or later. It’s too quiet for his liking tonight, so when he reaches their shared room, he slides their built in speaker system on.
It plays her favourite song, Chopin’s Piano Concerto No. 1, Op. 11, at a medium to low volume, and Akaashi feels a chill run down his arms. As much as she loves this, she seldom listens to it. Akaashi is the classical music lover out of the two of them, and this was the song he performed for her with a modest orchestra the night he proposed. She, however, thoroughly enjoys pop music and dramatic electronic tunes, and it’s despite all that she’s managed to fall in love with everything that Akaashi loves to listen to, too.
The melody feels like a love letter, a letter of apology, a message, a serenade. She’s not even here, not in the house like Akaashi had originally thought, but he falls in love with her a little more with each passing arpeggio.
Lithe fingers flip open the envelope on the nightstand, revealing an actual note on a post-it note. The laugh that this brings him aches from his head to his heart. He puts it back where he had found it after reading over the message, and makes his way downstairs again, a little faster than before. Swiping his abandoned jacket from the back of the couch, he leaves the house.
“I’ve been thinking of putting you in my will.”
“That’s sudden. We’re not married or anything. Do you have a terminal disease you’re not telling me about?”
“It’s just good to be careful. You never know what’s going to happen.”
“You’re… right, but… I don’t really want to think about anything happening to either of us yet. Not when we haven’t tried so many things together.”
“Alright. I won’t mention it again until you’re ready.”
“Thank you, Keiji.”
“Mhmm.”
The hotel lobby is so familiar to him that the busboys and the concierge all shoot him welcoming, yet knowing looks the moment he steps in. Akaashi supposes that he should feel a little abashed that he’s come here so often for dinner with his wife that everyone recognizes him, but nothing shows on his alabaster skin. He nods at them, a polite greeting that doesn’t disturb their work, and makes his way to the auditorium. It’s an odd combination, a hotel and an auditorium, but it’s the reason why he likes this place the best of all.
When he slips in from one of the side doors, he’s greeted with a solid flood of atmospheric lights, and a single spotlight that seems to be shining at the stage. She’s right there, waiting for him, her slim dress hugging her down to her ankles as they dangle off the edge of the platform. Graceful, yet obstinate, as always, and he clears his throat to let himself be known.
Her smile is so sad that it inspires a soft composition in his head. Akaashi makes his way closer to her and stops when he’s right in front of the dip that is the orchestra pit. Their eyes are locked onto each other, into each other, and he speaks first.
“Would you like me to play something for you?” His voice is terribly quiet, but it sounds like a cry in the silence and acoustics of the hall. “Chopin, perhaps?”
“Only if you’re planning on proposing again,” she laughs softly, bordering on a giggle and a chuckle. He watches wordlessly as her eyes wrinkle a little at the edges, her lips turn up at the sides and her fingers curl around the edge of the stage a little tighter. She’s not hiding a single thing from him, and it makes his breath heavy.
“Not tonight,” he murmurs.
A weighted silence hovers above them, and although they’ve spent more than half the time in peace, in each other’s arms, not needing to say a word, this leaves an uncomfortable tingle in their limbs. Stretched, sluggish, yet ready to go at a moment’s notice.
Her eyes finally flicker away from his own deep-sea ones, and they rest longingly on his shoulders and his hands. “Did you bring everything you need with you?”
Akaashi tenses his fingers. “Yes,” he replies, this time more solidly, “you left the bathtub untouched.”
Her smile is kind, and he returns one of his own. “I had to leave you with something, otherwise it wouldn’t be fair.”
“Thank you.”
She had always been the soft-hearted one, more so than he. Even her fingers look reluctant as they slide out a Desert Eagle .50 from behind her, wrapping around the grip with the same amount of delicacy she would cup his cheek with, or run her fingers over his lips with.
Akaashi can’t help but raise an impassive eyebrow, and draws his own Walther PPK/S .380 from its position by his belt. She doesn’t make a move yet, and he flushes a little in appreciation as he takes advantage of their stillness to double check his suppressor.
“I knew you’d be a suppressor kind of person,” she teases. Akaashi doesn’t look up, but continues to run his fingers carefully over any gaps he might have missed.
“And I didn’t think you’d really prefer power over speed, yet here we are.”
She shrugs, and this time he does catch it. He raises his head to meet her eyes again, and their grips on their guns grow firmer. “I don’t, not for actual work. A girl can have her guilty pleasures, after all.”
“Chopin?” He can’t help but grin a little, and she laughs again. Oh, how he loves that sound, more than music itself.
“Chopin,” she agrees, with a lingering smile, “and you.”
He lifts the gun to point it at the space between her eyes. She does the same, without hesitation.
“You were mine too,” he admits.
“Were?”
Akaashi gazes at her rather than stares, and his heart feels so incredibly full that it beats only pain that one feels when absolutely, irrevocably in love. “Are. You still are,” he corrects. It’s the most truthful thing he’s said all evening, perhaps all year, and the confession is worth three times its weight in gold when a rich, red flush spreads over her cheeks and her lips widen with happiness.
What a sight they must both make! She is beautiful- she is always beautiful, to him, even in tea-stained shirts and ripped pajama pants- in the black, full length dress that he had once commented on as his favourite. He, in his work clothes: a simple, black tuxedo with velvet highlights, and he knows it makes him look every inch a mysterious stranger. It was necessary for this afternoon’s job, you see. The job he took on because he had been taking too long on the current one he’s on. The one he put off for weeks.
He’s peering at her skin from behind his rear sight, down the barrel, and it’s a shame she doesn’t appear on stage more often because the gentle lights that beam up at her that makes her look a vision to him. He’s all coiled and tense, yet she’s still gripping her pistol loosely, swinging her legs like she always does when she’s nervous, and Akaashi has never wanted to pull her to him more in his life. He wants to murmur into her soft hair that she’ll be alright, that it’ll be better tomorrow, and that he’ll bring her a warm cup of tea once she’s tucked in bed.
She needs only to pull that trigger at him, for her to become the adult she’s always loathed being. Muscle memory will snap into place no matter how carelessly she does it, and without a doubt Akaashi believes that her bullet will hit its mark.
Maybe if she shoots at his heart instead of his head, it’ll distract him from that unshakeable ache in his chest for a while.
Akaashi Keiji is excellent at his job. He is one of the best in his agency, and he has never failed a mission before.
“Shoot me,” he looks her in the eye and tells her.
“I’m trying,” comes her strangled reply, forcibly light with stress and Akaashi lowers his gun. In fact, he lets it dangle off his fingers and drop of its own volition, onto the plush carpeted floor. It hits the ground with a muffled thud, and he lets his hands hang loosely at his sides.
“I love you,” he bleeds his heart from his lips, and all the pressure inside fades with each word he exhales, “I can’t shoot you. I wouldn’t be able to live afterwards.”
Her expression is pained, and her hands tremble when the tears start to roll down her cheeks in big, fat beads. It makes him feel a little better, because he’s adept enough at reading her expressions to know that she’s been holding those in for days now. Those stolen days built on stolen moments- taking as many normal, happy moments with them as they can.
“Keiji,” she whispers his name, “you’re a dead man if you don’t.”
“I’m a dead man if I do,” he replies stubbornly. His face betrays nothing, but his eyebrows are set in firm resolution, and his fingers wrapped into fists. He’s done nothing yet except for stand and stare, but he’s already exhausted and worn down to the bone. He can feel the beads of sweat form along his hairline but he doesn’t dare to break their tension. “If you want to shoot me, then please.”
“I don’t want to!” She grumbles indignantly. “Don’t put it like that. You always do that.”
He rocks backwards a little on his heels and smiles. “I do, I’m sorry.”
She lets out a heavy sigh, one that’s more impatient than solemn, and something in Akaashi’s chest leaps. He can’t quite believe his eyes, believe his life when he sees her toss her own gun to the side in a snap of her arm.
“Who’s going to play me Chopin in the middle of the night if I shoot you?”
“They did invent CDs.”
“Keiji, nobody uses CDs anymore.”
“Pirating is a crime, you know. You might get caught.”
“Funnily enough, I’ve done worse.”
She’s watching him out of the corner of her eye, and he’s looking at her with the deadpan expression he’s so accustomed to wearing. This moment finds them both submerged in complete disbelief, irony and utter ridiculousness that Akaashi is tempted to burst into laughter.
He opts to reach her as fast as he can, instead. His leather shoes carry him to the far end of the stage in a moment, and he can tell from her shifting shadow that she’s matching him step for step. Although he only has to wait half a second longer, it feels like the weight of the sea is dragging him down when he reaches out to trap her in his arms and never, ever let go.
She’s barely caught a breath, or a sob in this case, when he grips her face tightly in between his hands and covers her mouth with his in desperate apology. He drinks her up, each lap, each suck, until he’s sure that she’s the only flavour he’ll remember when everything is gone. He presses kisses along her neck next, or her forehead, or her eyelids, and anything else that he can reach because he promises that he’ll never take anything for granted anymore. She’s not always going to be with him, and he won’t always be allowed with her. This is yet another stolen moment, but to heck with it- Akaashi will sell every part of himself if it means that he can hang on to a few more of these.
He’s by no means a romantic, nor a very expressive man, but it’s the gravity of his decision that pulls him to one knee, cradling her hand in both of his. She looks ripped apart between relief and fear, but her eyes are wide and only for him in this one movement. Akaashi presses a kiss to her trembling knuckles.
“Marry me,” he tells her.
She’s silent for a second, until it’s broken by her hiccuping laughter.
“We’re already married, silly. You’re going to have to play me a different song this time if you want me to do it again.”
So he does. He pulls her beside him, slim figure pressed firmly against lean muscle and he begins to play a new song. Weapons on the ground, forgotten, and the promise of tomorrow’s daybreak also disappeared, the sound of fervent Piano Concerto in B-Minor: Allegro Appassionato winds together with the tune of an uncertain tomorrow, and a certain love.
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liesforaliving · 4 years ago
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Past relationships? How did they go? Do they still speak to each other?
Her past relationships are complicated and messy at best. Bobbi's most recent past romantic relationships are with Clint Barton and Lance Hunter.
Her relationship with Clint is complicated for... many reasons. Some part of her believed she did love him, and probably still does in some way or another. They were just.... like oil and water. They didn't mix like they original thought they did, and it's was more lust, than actual love. Though they did actually get married, she served him divorce papers, very unromantically on Valentine's day one year. Maybe that was a bit below the belt, but it was one of the first days she had been back in New York, and had been able to give the papers to him face to face. Of course, they still are able to work together, because they're both professionals and both on the Avengers roster, but Bobbi knows better than to try and fall back into old habits with him. She tries to avoid it at all costs, actually, even though he's still as charming as ever.
Hunter, in a lot of ways, is similar to Clint, which was why she was drawn to him in the first place. He's spontaneous, and funny, but again, they are like oil and fire. They set each other off like bombs, almost as much as they talk each other down. Their marriage could possibly have gone somewhere better if they both could have given up their lives as a spy and a soldier. Bobbi could never walk away though, given how deeply she was involved with Project Gladiator** and how much she actually enjoyed working for SHIELD. (** see tags for my info on this). They do still somewhat frequently talk, and Hunter has saved her life a few times, but it's not a good relationship for either of them. It's really strained, even on a good day.
Perhaps because both of these relationships ended so badly, even though they still talk, Bobbi tends to be a bit more hesitant towards romantic relationships now, not wanting to wreck any more relationships in her life.
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lucaslooksbrown · 6 years ago
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Harvey
Date: Wed, 22 May 2019 13:39:09 -0500 From: gwen uni <unicorn2012111@gmail.com> Subject: Harvey Was A Bitch by Cutter09 gay adult/youth Please remember to donate to Nifty. The thousands of stories available for your reading pleasure is provided by Nifty, so give a little and get a lot. Cutter09 http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html You can find more of my stories listed on the prolific authors page under Cutter09 Harvey Was A Bitch  To say that we were surprised by the impact of Harvey would be an understatement. Being in Houston for years, and having worked on oil rigs in the gulf, I had survived many bad storms. But Harvey was a real bitch.  In my area of town there had been flooding a few years earlier that had come to within a couple of blocks of my highrise apartment. They had said at the time it was a once in five hundred years flood. So, with Harvey imminent, I stocked up on food, water, batteries, etc., and planned to hunker in and ride it out. I was even smart enough to get coolers filled with dry ice for perishables.  I expected power outages, and not being able to get out of the area for a few days, but Harvey decided that wasn't enough of an inconvenience.  I watched the storm from my window on the sixth floor. The wind and rain were incredible. The lights went out fairly early in the storm, and with the flashes of lightning I could see the trees swaying as much as a forty five degree angle.  Across from my building is a very nice subdivision with large houses set on large lots. Many nights I would sit on my balcony and watch the residents around their secluded pools, thinking they weren't being seen as they did all sorts of fun things. A lot of the women liked to sunbathe topless during the day too, and with my binoculars, I got some nice views.  As I watched the storm, I happened to look down at that subdivision. One house in particular, I had seen the lady of the house blowing her hubby poolside one night. I couldn't see the pool.  I thought the storm was just distorting things, so I got out my trusty binoculars. That's when I realized Harvey was a bitch. I couldn't see the pool because it was under water. The car in the driveway was only half visible too. The last flood hadn't even come close to these people's house.  I don't know what the difference was, but within five minutes, the half visible car was no longer visible at all. The water was rising rapidly.  I didn't have a lot of time to consider the situation because another situation knocked at my door just then.  "Oh thank God. I was afraid the whole building was empty," said the young teen boy at my door.  "What are you doing out in this storm?" I asked, opening the door to let him in.  He was a full foot shorter than me at about five feet two inches [1.55 m] tall, maybe a hundred ten pounds [50 kg], tousled light brown hair, big brown eyes.  "I live on the second floor. I didn't know how bad it was, until water started coming under the door. I tried to stop it by putting towels under it, but soon that was useless. It was up to my ankles when I decided to leave, I opened the door, and the water in the hall was already knee deep. I knew the first floor was flooded, so I decide to try and find someone else still in the building. I knocked on every door on the way up. Nobody's here. You're the first one to actually answer the door."  "Where are your parents? Do they need help?"  "No. My mom just married her boyfriend. They're in Paris on their honeymoon."  "They left you alone?"  "No. My grandmother was supposed to check up on me. When we heard the storm was going to be bad, she said she'd come pick me up.That was yesterday. I think something might have happened to her."  "Do you know your mom's cell number?"  "Yes."  Surprisingly I got a signal, and handed him my cell phone. "Call her and let her know you're okay."  "Mom?... Yeah, I'm fine... I don't know where she is, she was supposed to pick me up but I think something happened... I'm with some guy on the sixth floor... Just a second. She wants to speak to you."  "Hello."  "Hello. Uh... Who am I speaking with?"  "Brandon Duncan."  ""Mr. Duncan, how bad is it there?"  "Well, I'm afraid your apartment is completely flooded. The power is out, and the storm isn't letting up. I have food and water to last awhile, so I think we'll be alright."  "We've just heard about the storm, and were going to fly home, but nothing is landing in Houston."  "Don't bother. It's going to be awhile before the water recedes enough to get here even if you were able to land. Just enjoy your honeymoon as much as you can under the circumstances. I'll keep you informed if things worsen."  "Thank you Mr. Duncan."  I handed the phone back to the boy.  "Yes Mom... He does seem like a nice guy... yeah I'll behave... Ok, love you too. Bye."  "So, what's your name kid?"  "Blake."  "Well Blake, are you hungry?"  "A little."  "I doubt that Domino's pizza is delivering tonight, so how about some peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?"  He shivered as he nodded his head. I noticed his jeans were soaked halfway up his thighs.  "First, let's find you something to wear."  Leading him to my bedroom by flashlight, I pulled out an old basketball jersey from my bottom drawer.  "It might be a little big, but it will do," I said handing it to him.  Blake wasted little time in taking his jeans off. Then he removed his tee shirt too. I had the flashlight trained on him, and could see his tight white briefs in it's glow. The jersey fit him like a dress, hanging to his thighs. It was then I realized it was mesh, and I could see through it. He either didn't notice, or didn't care.  "Thanks. It feels good to get out of those wet jeans."  I made the sandwiches and poured the last of my milk into two glasses to go with it. At least it wouldn't spoil. I lit a candle and set it on the table. In its dim light, I could still see Blake's chest and and briefs through the mesh material.  After we ate, we stood at the patio door watching the storm ravage the city.  "May I use your toilet?"  "Sure. Down the hall on the left."  I started to lead him there with the flashlight, then had a thought.  "Wait. Uh... the plumbing is probably not going to work. We'll have to go down to water level and do our business in the water."  "Won't it go into people's apartments, including mine?"  "Afraid so. But they're already ruined, and that water is a sewer now too. You don't even want to know all that's in it."  He worked it through his head, and nodded."  I reached for some toilet paper. "Uh... I don't need that right now," he said.  I led him down the stairwell till we reached the water halfway up the second story.  "I never thought I would be doing this," Blake said as he tucked the jersey under his chin.  The beam of the flashlight was soon joined by a stream of urine from Blake. I slowly trailed the beam up the stream to its origin.  Blake had a thumb holding his underwear waistband down, as his other hand held his dick. It was soft, about three and a half inches [8½ cm], fairly thick, with a nice round knob. I could make out a few hairs at its base, and his balls were mashed against his cock by his underwear. I would imagine it being a really nice cock when hard.  When he finished, I turned to go back upstairs.  "Don't you need to go too?" he asked.  "I might as well, since we're already here."  I pulled the waistband of my sweatshorts down in front. It took me awhile to get my stream started since I wasn't in dire need. The whole time, Blake had the flashlight pointed at my cock.  We headed back upstairs after I finished. Blake broke the silence by saying, "I've never seen a dick that big."  "Your's is pretty big too for your age. How old are you anyway?"  "I'll be thirteen next week. You're not mad about me looking at your dick?"  "I can't complain, I looked at yours too. It's only natural. If someone is standing in front of you with their genitals on display, you're gonna look. Male or female, it's hard not to look."  "At school if you're caught looking at another guy's dick, they call you names," Blake noted.  "Yes, that does seem to be the case. It's the unspoken rule in any public restroom. But most guys are gonna look if they can get by with it."  The storm continued to rage outside as we watched from the balcony door. Blake seemed pensive, so I asked him if he was okay.  "Yeah, I guess. It just seems like this storm is never going to end. Do you think we'll be alright here?"  "We're about forty feet [12 m] above the water. If it get's this high, there really isn't anyplace safe to be. Most of Texas would be gone. If worse comes to worse, we'll move higher. This building has ten floors."  Later I showed him to the guest room and left him with a candle. I had barely settled in my bed before the door opened.  "Brandon, can I stay with you?"  "Uh... sure."  He approached the bed, and with the candlelight, I could see he had taken off the jersey. His briefs glowed in the flickering light as he sat the candle down on the bedside table.  He blew out the candle and crawled in beside me. He lay perched on the edge of the bed as if he didn't want to invade my space.  "It's okay to be scared, Blake. This is a really bad storm. A lot of people are scared right now, even grown men."  "Are you scared?"  "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little scared. But I know we're gonna be okay."  Blake moved closer and drew my arm around him, laying his head on my shoulder.  "Thanks, Brandon."  He lay his hand down between our bodies, and discovered I was naked.  "Brandon, are... uh..."  "What?"  "Uh... nothing, never mind. Good night."  "Good night, Blake," I replied placing a light kiss on his head. ***  It was still raining when I woke up, though some light was coming in the windows. Blake lay on his side, drooling on my chest. His morning erection poking at my hip, his hand on my own morning wood. I thought about removing it, but if he woke up at that moment, it might appear as if I was trying to place it there, not remove it.  I decided to just leave it and let him figure out what to do. I lay there about fifteen minutes until Blake began to wake. I feigned sleep as he looked up at my face. He then squeezed my cock, checking how hard it was I guessed. His hand slowly made its way down to the base squeezing it along the way. Then all the way to the head, still squeezing it, checking the length.  He stroked it a couple of times, causing me to moan slightly. This scared his hand away from me, and he rolled onto his back. So I rolled onto my side facing him. I still pretended to be asleep, as I lay my hand down on the front of his underwear.  He let out a moan as my fingers lightly gripped his cotton encased erection. I released it, then moved my hand up to his belly, to slip my fingers under the waistband. He made no move to stop me, so I proceeded down to grip his young cock.  "You have a nice dick, Blake."  "Um..Thanks. I thought you were asleep."  "I was until you played with my cock."  "I'm sorry. I woke up and it was in my hand. I just wanted to see how big it was when it was hard."  "Show me yours, and I'll show you mine," I said with a smile.  He understood the schoolyard humor, and reached for his underwear. Once free of confinement, I could see his dick was a little over five inches [13 cm] long and thick for his age. On his tiny body, it looked huge. He only had a few hairs, and a set of balls that I couldn't wait to run my tongue over.  He got impatient as I stared at his jewels. "Can I see yours now?"  I pulled the cover off us, and got on my knees in front of him.  Blake gazed at it for a moment, then his hand wrapped around it.  He looked up at me and asked, "Can I suck it?"  Thank you God for sending me this angel.  "Only if I get to suck yours too."  He leaned toward me and took it into his mouth. It had been twenty years since I had been with a boy. My best friend Aaron and I had messed around when we were about Blake's age. I have dreamed of being with a boy ever since. Now I had that chance, I was going to take full advantage of it.  I could tell he hadn't ever done this before, but he was very enthusiastic. He knew what he wanted. A cock in his mouth. He yearned to feel it, and taste it. He also wanted what was soon coming his way. A full load of man sperm.  He worked hard for what he knew was his reward. His lips and hand moved in sync, enticing the load from my cock.  "Do you want me to cum in your mouth?"  Blake nodded and picked up the pace.  "I'm cumming."  Blake's cheeks puffed out a bit as my first shot fired. He quickly swallowed, and coaxed the rest out with his hand. Swallowing twice more before slowing his motion. Then he just lovingly sucked on it.  The kid was a natural, and liked it. I had just given him his first taste of something he would crave the rest of his life. Even after taking his mouth away, he still stared at it, wondering when he would get to do it again.  That time would come soon enough, but first, it was my turn. I swooped down and swallowed his boy dick. My mind instantly flooded with the memory of sucking Aaron's dick. His silky hardness filled my mouth, reaching the entrance to my throat. Blake was so turned on by sucking me, he didn't last thirty seconds before I got a taste of his boy cream.  The worst of the storm had passed, but it was still raining. We didn't bother to dress as we went down the stairwell to stand side by side and piss into the water below.  We laughed all the way back to the apartment. Blake immediately reached for my cock. He already needed another serving of cream. Who was I to deny a budding cocksucker.  We were sitting on the sofa, when his face dropped into my lap. His lips wrapped around my cock, and he slowly sild up and down on it. He didn't seem to be trying to make me cum, it was more like he just wanted to enjoy having a cock in his mouth.  I leaned back and let him have his way. His head lay on my stomach as he nursed on my cock, almost like a baby with a pacifier. After a couple of minutes, he pulled it out of his mouth, and held it straight up admiring it. His hand slid up the shaft and swirled around the knob end before sliding back down. Then he put it back in his mouth to nurse on it some more.  "You really like my dick, don't you," I pointed out.  Blake nodded, then pulled away long enough to say "It's beautiful. And so big."  As he put his lips around it again, I slid my hand down to his butt. I squeezed his little butt cheeks before slipping my middle finger into his crack. He pressed back into my hand as I toyed with his pucker. This got him excited enough to start sucking my cock in earnest. His head bobbed up and down my shaft quickly and when he felt my balls tighten up, he took me into his throat for me to explode there.  I pushed my finger into him up to the second knuckle and worked it in and out. Blake grabbed his dick and stroked it twice before firing his load onto his stomach.  "Are you ready for some breakfast?" I asked after we had calmed.  I scrambled eggs on the side burner of my gas grill, and we sat down to eat. I had never sat and ate with a naked teenager, but hoped it wouldn't be the last time. Neither of us seemed bothered by it, in fact I think Blake enjoyed it as much as I. He had a constant smile on his face, and kept glancing down at my cock.  We were cuddling on the sofa when I heard something. A motor. I stepped to the balcony railing and looked down. There was a guy in a bass boat looking for people who needed rescuing.  I yelled down to him, "Hey! Is all of Houston under water?"  "Just about. You need help?"  "If it doesn't get any worse, we'll be alright. It would be hard to get down there anyway. We have food and water to last awhile."  "Ok. I'll swing by again in a day or two to check on you."  "Thanks. I'd appreciate it."  Blake had a smile on his face as I entered the patio door.  "What?" I asked.  "Nothing. At first I thought you were going to ask him to rescue us.  "Do you want to be rescued?"  "You already did," he said, and threw his arms around me.  Later I was teaching him to play the card game 'Spades', and he began looking a little pensive.  "What's wrong?"  "Nothing. I'm just worried."  "We're gonna be just fine. The rain will stop soon, then the water will go down, and you'll be back with your mom."  "That's just it. When they get back we're gonna move in with Lucas."  "He didn't live with you here?"  "No. He's rich, and has a really big house north of here."  "Oh? What's Lucas's last name?" I asked, hoping he wouldn't say Bishop.  "Bishop."  "Shit. He owns the company I work for. He's probably fifty years old. How old is your mom?"  "Thirty. I guess she's like a trophy wife or something. She's really pretty."  Now I was getting curious. "What happened to your dad?"  "Never had one. Mom's worked for Bishop since she was sixteen. He got divorced last year, and started dating my mom."  "Had you met him before they started dating?"  "Yeah, he's been to our place lots of times. I can't remember when he wasn't around."  Okay, things were getting clearer. There has always been rumors about Bishop and a young girl. So, putting the rumors with this information, I would guess that Bishop knocked up a sixteen year old girl, kept her and her son around, divorced his wife and now married the mother of his son, I also knew he only had two daughters by his first wife. Maybe he decided he wanted a male heir.  "Well, after this storm, I'm sure you would have to move anyway."  "You're right. I know. But now that I've met you, I don't think I want to move. I've never been so comfortable around anybody like I am with you."  He reached for my cock again. "I've never been able to sit around naked with anybody, or play with their dick, and let them play with mine, like I can with you."  "You know, I will probably have to move too. The lobby is gone, all resident services are gone, the elevator probably won't work for a long time. It will be at least a year before this building is habitable again. Maybe I'll check into a hotel near where you live, and we can still see each other."  This brought a smile to his face. "Will you really? You will still want to see me after all this is over?" He seemed surprised that I would want to.  "Of course I will. Why wouldn't I?" I asked.  "I sorta thought this was like a convenience for you. You know. Like, 'I'm stuck with this kid, I might as well get my dick sucked' kinda thing."  "I don't let just anyone suck my dick. You're a beautiful boy and I like you a lot. And you have a pretty suckable dick too," I laughed.  My cock had grown hard in his hand. He was staring at it while lost in thought for a moment.  "So... If I wanted to do more, would you?" he asked without looking away from my cock.  "More? Like what?"  He hesitated for a moment, then said, "I really liked the way your finger felt in me this morning..."  "So you want to try something a little bigger?"  Blake smiled and nodded at me.  "I'm pretty big. Are you sure you want to?"  "I trust you."  I used my fingers, then a couple of different sized candles, to stretch him a bit. With each progressively larger item, he moaned and groaned as his hole was widened, but he never said stop. In fact, he seemed to enjoy every step of the way. His dick receded at each step, then returned to rigid hardness as I worked the candle in and out.  Blake lay on his back, and I was poised at his opening when I gave him one last chance to back out.  "Are you sure?"  He smiled and pulled my cock to his hole. "Please fuck me."  I leaned down to kiss him as I applied pressure. All the prep work had helped, and I popped in fairly easily. Blake groaned into my kiss, and wrapped his arms around me. I moved slowly in and out, gaining ground with every third or fourth stroke. He moaned as I took possession of each additional inch of his chute.  At about six inches [15 cm], I tried just fucking him with that, but he wanted more. Bucking up at me, and wrapping his legs around me to pull me deeper, I gave in and slowly fed him the last three inches [7 cm] of thick cockmeat.  As my balls banged against his butt cheeks, Blake screamed out, "Oh God!"  I felt his dick throbbing between our bellies as he unloaded his cream there. When his orgasm passed, Blake's lips met mine again, and he humped his hips up at me wanting more fucking. I obliged, and started to pound him pretty hard.  This kid was born to be fucked. I've never had a woman who was as enthusiastic and responsive as Blake was. His moans of pleasure in my ear were just as exciting as his tight tunnel gripping my cock.  His second orgasm pushed me over the brink, and I unleashed my cum in his colon. I collapsed on top of him, and we both tried to recover.  "Are you okay?" I asked after a couple of minutes.  "Couldn't be better," he whispered.  I started to pull away. "Please don't take it out yet. I like the way you feel inside me."  Looking down at him I said, "Where have you been all my life?"  "The first fifteen years or so of it, I wasn't born yet," Blake laughed, causing his ass to squeeze my cock.  "Just for that..." I said, and jerked my cock from his butt.  "Ooh... That was mean," Blake complained.  "It's up to us old guys to teach you young whippersnappers a lesson."  He pulled me back for a kiss. "Lesson learned. Now put it back in me."  "Later. Let's get something to eat."  Blake made his way downstairs to our toilet, as I grilled steaks and roasted corn on the gas grill. The rain had slowed, but still coming.  "The water didn't get to the third floor, but almost. And I think it's gone down some."  He sat with a big grin and watched me going to and fro as I prepared our dinner. His gaze never far from my swinging cock. When I sat the plates on the table, he stood on his toes and leaned up for a kiss. I leaned down to kiss him, and his hand grabbed my cock.  "I feel like a girl on her honeymoon, and I can't wait till my husband fucks me again."  I didn't make him wait too long. As soon as it was too dark to see, we went to bed. Blake was so anxious, he practically raped me. He pushed me onto my back, straddled me, and impaled himself on my pole. In the flickering candlelight, I watched his face. There was nothing but pure bliss to be seen. His dick was hard and drooling as he rode me. He soon squirted out his first orgasm, and I flipped him over and fucked him hard. ***  The man in the bass boat returned, but we declined assistance. The water slowly receded, and we spent the time fucking and sucking as it did.  As suspected, there was nothing in his apartment worth saving. The lobby area was even worse, and I knew I was going to have to move.  When I heard the first cars moving down on the streets below, I told Blake he should get dressed.  An hour later there was a knock at the door. Blake's mom and her new husband were happy to see Blake.  "As soon as I heard your name, I knew Blake was in good hands," my boss said.  "How is that sir?" I asked, taking his offered handshake.  "I make it a point to know about my employees. I told Tammy to relax, that you would make sure Blake was safe."  I wasn't aware that Mr. Bishop even knew my name.  Blake's mom still had him in a strangling hug as Bishop said, "Pack a bag. There's no reason to stay here. You're coming with us."  Blake told of how scared he had been and that I took really good care of him. He loved telling how we used the staircase as a toilet.  "Just think Mom, you probably walked through my poop on your way to the apartment."  She turned to her husband and said, "I'm throwing these shoes away." Which brought a laugh to everyone.  Bishop's house is excessively huge and luxurious. I was assigned a bedroom next to Blake's. I was a bit apprehensive when Blake snuck into my room the first night. That didn't stop me from planting his face in the pillow and fucking the life out of him.  It was two weeks before I could get my stuff packed and moved. Bishop gave me a condo in the building across the street from our company headquarters. I got the impression it was where he had taken sixteen year old Tammy and put Blake in her belly. Probably spent many a lunch hour there with her since then too.  My new position as 'Head of Operations' pays double what I was making before, and Bishop never questions the amount of time I spend with Blake.  He has however mentioned how well Blake fills out a speedo, then adds "As I'm sure you know." I suspect he knows about our relationship.  He says Blake and I are like the two sons he never had. I know that I am the only one that isn't his son, and since Tammy is pregnant now, maybe he'll have another.  Yes, Harvey was a real son of a bitch to Houston, but it was great to me. The End © Cutter09 Please send comments: Cutter09 would love to hear what you think of the story! Do you enjoy having access to all the great fantasy material and also having a place to share your own stories without having to censer them for a general audience? Please donate to Nifty and help support and maintain this free service. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
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