#environmental engineers near me

[m00ngbin]

I'm trying to pick a major that I would be the most interested in just because it would make my life so much easier and right now I have like three ideas and they all have a million problems

[mermaidgirl30]

✨New Beginnings✨

Joel Miller x fem! reader

Series Masterlist Part 1

A/N: I loved writing this, it was so soft 🥹 This can be read as a stand alone, but it is a continuation of my fic Fortnight! I hope you enjoy! This is the ending I wanted for them 🥰 Might write another little cute one shot for them in the near future because I love them so much. Thank you to @mountainsandmayhem for beta reading and helping me with the mood board 🩷

Summary: You’ve spent the last three years healing, growing, and letting go. During a day at the lake, fate steps in when you run into Joel without a wedding ring on.

Word Count: 2.9k

Rating: 18+ Only

Tags: fluff, flirting, making up for lost time, old flame, no use y/n, reader sees Joel again after 3 years, reader has a dog named Sammy

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The summer breeze of Austin rushes through your hair, the smell of fresh oak, the sloshing sounds of lapping blue water, and the feel of new beginnings permeates throughout the air. Summer. Your favorite time of year, your favorite place to be. Georgetown Lake. An escape, a picturesque safe haven where you can sunbathe and let Sammy, your golden retriever, pounce around the clear water as it splashes against his sandy fur. 

   You’ve been doing okay lately, healing, moving on like you should’ve a long time ago. After sulking around the house days after the mail incident with Joel, you knew it was time to do something, anything to make that pit of sadness wash away. You couldn’t face Tess again, face him, not after you broke down in tears the moment he slipped his calloused fingers firmly around your wrist. It was too much, too soon, too fresh. Even though it had been years since you’d broken up. You never quite got over him, his face, his eyes. But It was way past time, the time to move on.

   So you moved, put a sign outside your house to let everyone know it was on the market and sold to the first offer you got. You remember Joel’s face after he saw the posted sign in your yard full of dying roses. He looked so sad, the flecks of his dark irises shining in the February chill as you caught his eyes after hammering the sign in the soft ground. You were wilting more than your red roses, and you needed a breath of fresh air, a way to thrive and grow like your flowers used to be. It was your sign to flee.

   After you sold your house and moved half an hour away, you could finally breathe, the wilts of your lilting petals starting to bloom and thrive the longer you were away from them. 

   You saw the pictures of their wedding on social media, saw how truly happy they looked. You remember shedding a tear or two looking at the photographs, at her flowing wedding dress, at their shared kiss after saying their “I do’s”. It was enough to send you spiraling, enough to make you drop your laptop and crack the screen. And that was the last time you saw Joel Miller. There was no sense in dwindling over what if’s. It was over, done. You swore you’d never see his face again in the city of Austin. He was the past, you had to look towards your future.

   You got a new job, working for an environmental engineering company and helping with tracking the bluegill and catfish populations in the lakes around Austin. You liked working outside, loved being near the water. You always felt at home out on the lake with the soft sand sinking between your toes, the calm breeze always blowing away any worries of your messy life. But it wasn’t so messy anymore. It was peaceful, bright, made you feel alive. 

   You throw the damp tennis ball again, laughing at the way Sammy flops into the water and splashes around, eagerly fetching the soaked ball as he brings it over to you again. 

   “You ready, Sammy? Go get it!” you yell as you toss the ball back towards the water. He shakes his soaked fur and makes a run for it, but he stops half way and perks his fuzzy ears up at something in the distance. “Sammy?”

   You watch him pant happily and make a dash for it in the opposite direction, barking at nothing you can see. “Sammy!” You follow after him, sprinting behind as you hear his chipper barks and feel your hair blow back behind you as you chase after him. 

   “Sammy, come on! This isn’t like you,” you breathe out as you run until your legs feel like jello and feel as if you’ll pass out at any second. 

   Your bare feet drag through the sand on the shore, your breath feeling as if it’s on fire as you run and run and run until you finally see his giddy, long tail and golden paws that leap up off the ground. What’s got him so excited? He never runs up to strangers. 

   “Sammy! Come here, boy,” you clap your hands together as you walk towards whoever he’s got wrapped around his cute, fluffy face. 

   “I’m so sorry. He’s not usually like this. I…” You freeze, your breath hitching as you stare at the man that fully consumes your vision. Joel. 

   He looks over at you, a warm smile curling against the edge of his plush lips as his golden brown eyes crinkle down at you. It nearly takes your breath away. He looks so… good. 

   He’s filled out more, his flexed arms and broad chest clinging to his white t-shirt, corded veins twisting down his tan arms almost like you remember. He looks more buff, more healthy, like maybe he stopped drinking that amber colored whiskey he used to love. His grey threaded curls are grown out, his doe brown eyes more shiny, more alive than the last time you saw him. And he looks like he’s happy, so happy. It’s amazing what three years of not seeing him can do to your own mind. The sight of him almost makes you dizzy, delusional, like maybe this is fate. 

   “Joel?” you whisper out, your voice shaky and breathy as your eyes slide down his blue swim trunks, his leather sandals, his tan skin that seems to glow like glitter under the orange beams of the sunlight. 

   “Yeah, it’s me. Nice to see Sammy’s doin’ good. Guess he remembers me,” he chuckles as he bends down and scratches the back of Sammy’s fluffy ears. Sammy jumps up and licks the side of his face as another infectious smile takes over Joel’s glowing face. 

   Joel laughs as he wipes the slobber from his greying scruff and stands back up, bright eyes blazing through you as he flicks his gaze slowly over your figure. You feel a little self conscious standing in your too short denim shorts and baby blue crop top as you fold your arms nervously over your chest. Why are you so nervous?

   “It’s uhh… good to see ya. How ya been?” he asks slowly, rubbing the back of his neck as his hand drags through the curling strands that sit against the nape of his neck.

   “Good. Yeah, good,” you nod as your fingers dance nervously up and down your scorching arms. “What about you?” 

   “Yeah, I’ve been good, too. Busy, but that’s always good. Been workin’ a lot, contractin’, the usual.”

   You nod your head, watching the way his heavy gaze never leaves your eyes. Suddenly, it feels too hot, too intense. That spark simmers low in your stomach, that strong pull that you always felt when you were around him. It’s almost like you were meant to meet here like this, unplanned. Maybe it was fate. Maybe… but then you remember Tess. Where was Tess?

   “You, umm enjoyin’ your new place? House, apartment, wherever you moved?” His tone is gentle, like he’s genuinely interested in how you’ve been, where you moved. And it feels strange, but also like it needs to be asked.

   “Oh, yeah. Actually, I love it. I moved just a few miles from the lake. It’s so peaceful, being able to come out here whenever I want to.” Your eyes flick over the calm water, examining the gentle ripples of the clear lake, but then Joel’s deep voice brings you back to the present. 

   “Sounds like you’ve been doin’ good.” He gives you a lazy smile, one where it’s crooked and soft and so serene that you can’t help but smile back. 

   “Yeah, I really have.”

   “That’s good, real good,” he says as he nods his head, just continuing to stare at you in awe. And it’s like you’re just seeing him for the first time, that summertime glow just sizzling off his tan skin. 

   Your eyes wander over him, lapping up his broad muscles and dreamy smile and untamed curls. He looks so handsome. You don’t know what it is, but something brand new seems to shine through him. 

   “You look… different,” you say with narrowed eyes, trying to assess what exactly is different, but you’re not sure what. 

   “Yeah? That a good thing or bad thing?” he chuckles as he runs a hand straight back through his lush curls. The action makes your breath get caught in the back of your throat. 

   “I dunno. Think it looks good on you, whatever it is.” You smile nervously up at him and bat your eyelashes flirtatiously. 

   “Yeah?” he smirks as the flecks of his dark eyes glisten under the rays of the hot sun. 

   “Yeah,” you reply bashfully. “You seem more… happy.”

   He chuckles as he shoves his thick fingers into the pockets of his blue shorts. “Guess that’s what happens when a man stops drinkin’.”

   Your eyes grow wide as your mouth drops open. “You? The Joel Miller has stopped drinking his precious whiskey?” you ask dumbfoundedly. 

   “Mhm. Mostly. Haven’t touched a bottle in three months. Been doin’ good, feelin’ stronger, more sharp. Even been hittin’ the gym.”

   You smile warmly over at him, your eyes alight as you drop your arms to your side and nod, his words taking your breath right out from your chest. “Joel, that’s so great. I’m so… so… proud of you.”

   He nods slowly at you, the dimple indenting the middle of his cheek as his crooked smile makes you feel things you haven’t felt in a long time. Like there’s hope. “Proud of me, huh?”

   “Yeah,” you whisper out. 

   “Well, that’s sweet of ya to say, darlin’.”

   Darlin’.  He hasn’t called you that in so long, you almost forgot how good it feels to hear seep off his sticky sweet voice, that gravelly lull that soothes your racing pulse in your chest. 

   You suddenly notice his left hand, tracing every inch, every tan speck of his thick fingers. It’s unusually bare, no gold ring like in the wedding pictures you saw online. It’s gone, vanished. Was Tess and him, dare you say… over?

   He watches you assess his empty ring finger, his eyes flicking over your narrowed, confused face as you stare so hard that you think your eyes might fall out onto the smooth sand. 

   You open your mouth, drawing air into your tight lungs, until you release the words you’ve been wondering this whole entire time. “Are you and Tess still…” You can’t even finish your sentence, afraid that maybe he’d just left his ring at home or left it at the jewelry shop to get polished up. 

   He lets out a heavy sigh and shakes his head. “Nah. We ended things last year.”

   “Oh.” You’re dumbstruck, your mouth agape as he says the words you were almost too scared to hope for. Not that you wanted things to end badly between them, but somewhere deep inside you still wished that maybe one day you could find each other again. And as fate twisted its tethered vines around the two of you, it seems like this was meant to be. 

   “I’m sorry, Joel,” you say with tight knit brows. 

   “Don’t gotta apologize, wasn’t your fault.”

   “I know, but still. I’m sorry things didn’t work out.”

   He shrugs his broad shoulders and gives you a tight lipped smile. “After gettin’ married, we jus’ realized we wanted different things. Things weren’t the same as before, and we decided it was better off if we went our own separate ways. There’s no hard feelings, jus’ was better off not bein’ together. We gave it a good two years, but ultimately it jus’ didn’t work out, and that’s fine. Had a lot of growin’ to do after, found my own pace again. It was the best choice. I’m much… guess you could say happier now.”

   “Oh, well that’s good. I’m glad things turned out for the best.”

   “Me too.” 

   You give Joel a small smile, and he sends a dreamy one back your way, all crinkled eyes and that crooked smile that makes you dizzy every time you look at him. 

   He shifts his weight and digs his heel into the soft sand. His eyes look down towards the ground, then flick slowly up towards you, almost like he’s nervous. 

   “Hey, do you maybe wanna go grab some coffee this week with me?” His hand scratches the back of the scruff on his neck nervously as his jaw ticks from the building anticipation. 

   “Houndstooth Coffee?” you ask with a raised brow. 

   He chuckles warmly and nods. “‘Course. Only the best.”

   You smile in reply. “Okay. Yeah. I’m in.”

   “Great.” 

   You both stand there in the heat of the afternoon, gentle smiles pressing against both of your lips as Sammy barks and runs circles around you and Joel. 

   As if Sammy is trying to intrude on the awkward moment between you and Joel, he jumps up and presses his damp paws on your back which knocks you off balance and sends you lurching forward. 

   “Sammy!” you whine. As if on cue, Joel reaches out and catches you, wrapping his strong arms around your hips as he balances you back on your feet. 

   “Whoa there, easy now,” he chuckles as he lingers his big hands on your shimmering skin. Your mouth parts open, and you gasp as you look up to find kind, dreamy brown eyes staring down at you, almost like he’s mesmerized. And for the moment, it feels like the first time the two of you ever met, almost magical, but this seems new. 

   You hook a strand of hair nervously behind your ear and laugh. “Always showing up at the right time it seems.”

   “Yeah, seems like it,” he smiles kindly. 

   You stand there breathing his air, feeling a little dizzy at the smell of his woodsy scent, no more whiskey fragrance lingering in his sandy hair. You feel the tension, the chemistry just bursting at the seams. And you know now that this was fate, it had to be. 

   Joel gives Sammy a couple more scratches behind the ears and then looks over at you with a crooked smile. “Well, it was good seein’ ya again. Been a long time,” he sighs while you nod in response. 

   “Yeah, it really has…”

   Another long minute goes by and then he’s taking one hesitant step back. “Well, guess I’ll let you get back to it. I’ll umm text you about coffee.”

   Before he can take another step back, you hold your hand out as if to reach him. “Wait.” He ticks his jaw and knits his eyebrows together as he waits for you to finish. “Where do you think you’re going?” 

   He smirks over at you. “Jus’ thought I’d let you get back to enjoyin’ the lake. Figured I was interruptin’.”

   You shake your head. “No, not at all. Please, stay.” You give him your best puppy dog eyes, and he chuckles in response as his dark brown irises seem to glow in the sunlight.

   “Always knew how to get me with those big, beautiful eyes.”

   You crinkle your nose up at him and bag your eyelashes sweetly up at him. “What, like this?”

   He just crosses his broad arms over his chest and smirks over at you. “Mhm. Jus’ like that, gorgeous. Jus’ like that.”

   Your cheeks heat up as you feel the crimson blush taking over, lingering your fingers against his wrist as you ask sweetly. “So, will you stay?”

   Joel nods and smiles. “Yeah, darlin’. I’ll stay.”

   And he does stay, until the sun starts to slip under the fluffy clouds. He stays the entire afternoon, walking along the shoreline with you, playing fetch with Sammy, catching up on lost time together, starting fresh. It’s almost like he never left, picking up right where you left off. And maybe it was supposed to be like this. Like you had to fall apart to fall back into one another. 

   And when the sunset starts to fade to light purples and pink colors in the distance while you sit on the edge of the wooden dock, he leans over and kisses you softly. It’s like the world fades to black, and there’s only you and Joel getting lost in one another. His hands cradle your face softly, his plush lips melting into yours as you taste him and let the syrupy taste mix in with yours. 

   This is how it was supposed to be, how it was always supposed to be. You had to find each other later in life, begin again, have this special moment in time. It was fate, always had been. He was always the one for you, and this just solidifies it. 

   When he breaks the kiss, you lean against him while he wraps a large arm around you. You gaze out to the calm blue water and take a breath of fresh wildflowers in the air. “Joel?”

   “Hmm?” he hums as he looks down at you. 

   “Thank you for staying.”

   He leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “‘Course, sweetheart. I’m not goin’ anywhere. Gonna just stay right here with you in my arms.”

   You lean your full weight into his warm chest as he scoops you up into his lap and hooks his arms around your waist, his lips lingering against your jawline. You take a deep breath and smile as you look out against the misty lake. You were finally home, with him. 

   Your forever. 

Tags: @laurrrra @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @littlevenicebitch69 @honey-dip-24 @sawymredfox

@orcasoul @thundermartini @solllaris @vivian-pascal @jessthebaker @vie-is-punk

@hoeruiner @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @amyispxnk @morallyinept @milla-frenchy

@laramc-02 @keylimebeag

[beardedalcoholic]

Medical Emergency

‘Medical Emergency, Navigation 4, Medical Emergency, Navigation 4.’

The message repeated over and over across the PA system of the Leviathan Class exploratory ship. A massive space fairing vessel dedicated to finding the edge of creation and everything in between the Galactic Edge was a marvel of multi-species engineering.

Fifteen different habitats built to within micro-specifications for the species they were meant to hold, seven multi species common areas built to accommodate every race on board. Enough FTL drives to be able to be fired in succession so when one batch went down another could be brought online so they didn’t even have to stop for a cool down period between jumps. Recycling processes efficient within .0001% allowing near as possible full self-sustainability for an indefinite amount of time.

The main drawback of such a marvel of galactic traversal being of course…the FUCKING size…larger than some moons, a population numbering more than some planets (or at least it felt that way) and yet somehow never enough personnel in the right places at the right times.

‘Of course the emergency is right inside the border of my territory, because why wouldn’t it be? And of course, it had to be JUST as I was about to go off shift.’ Thought MD1 Joseph Jarl, JJ to anyone who wanted to continue a comfortable existence, after all no one knew how best to take someone apart than the ones who had to put others back together.

Running at full human speed JJ flew down the various passages dodging, spinning, ducking and jumping around the many obstacles in his way with all the predatory grace humans were gifted with.

‘Ha! and mom always said it was a waste for a doctor to learn parkour.’ 

Sliding on one hip beneath the centaur like body of a Gravelin engineer and popping back up to a full run JJ jumped and thrust one foot out to run alongside a bulkhead when he came to a T-section of corridor, narrowly missing the heads of a group of Ranki environmental scientists as he fell from the wall and rolled to maintain momentum.

Slamming a hand to the Medical Bypass Badge on his chest, signaling the door immediately in front of him to open JJ slid to a stop inside Nav.Bay 4 eyes flicking around the space looking for the emergency.

Sharp ocean blue eyes registered three different species, one of which still tensed when in direct line of sight of his forward-facing predatory gaze. Attention landing on a group of navigators clustered in a small huddle JJ slung the med-pack off his back and approached the group.

Head held high, shoulders wide and a purpose in his stride JJ projected every ounce of authority he could dredge up from his years as a medical professional he could when he ordered the group to back up and give him some space to work with. Approaching the center of the group JJ noticed the Elental on the floor, curled into a ball and rocking back and forth while making small pathetic whining sounds while very obviously having a hard time breathing.

Dropping to one knee in front of the one species on board that most closely resembled a human JJ slowly reached out and rested a hand on the Elental’s shoulder. Being a species that stood on average around 6.5-7 feet tall he barely had to reach to grasp the rocking figure’s shoulder.

Elental were a bipedal race with nearly translucent skin in direct light, long sharply pointed ears, eyes that stretched from the bridge of a dual slit nose to where the temple would be on a human with three pupils each, mostly human proportioned faces and a universally slender build.

It was a very little-known fact but the first time the human council met an Elental the lead diplomat was in fact recorded on official record as having muttered the phrase ‘Fuck me we found Space Elves’… though the actual audio recording of this moment was very deeply buried beneath as much galactic red tape as was possible. Noticing there was no response to his touch JJ turned to the closest navigator and asked for any details on the medical emergency.

“We don’t really know Human JJ, he was trying to determine some FTL jump coordinates and the timing required to make them when he started shaking and his speech became rapid and somewhat slurred, he began shaking and clutching his, well it would be the stomach on you, but his main pulmonary area and his respiration began to rapidly increase. When he tried to walk away from his station he collapsed and that was when we called the emergency, is he sick?” The Fenra asked nervously after the quick report on what happened.

JJ would never admit it but seeing a three-foot alien that looked like were-shitzu nervous and scared was absolutely adorable.

“I don’t think so no…hold on,” Quickly determining that there was no external injuries JJ tried raising the Elental’s head to look into his face but his patient seemed to be in a stubborn mood.

Taking a chance JJ reached into his pocket and pulled out a simple twentieth century zippo, an antique passed down in his family that he kept in working condition and never went anywhere without.

Flicking it open with a sharp, practiced snap JJ kept the grin off his face when the Elental’s gaze snapped up at the sudden sound. With a flick of his thumb JJ lit the lighter and held it directly between his eyes. The Elental’s six pupils swiveled and in a rather disconcerting motion…fused into a single large pupil for each eye the size of an Old Earth quarter, totally focused on the flame a mere six inches away.

“What is your name?” JJ asked slowly, in a deep and calm voice that witnesses would later report had a strange resonance to it.

“E-e-ekariel” The Elental responded with a slight stutter, eyes locked on the tiny flame as JJ slowly began to move it back and forth.

“Listen to my voice Ekariel, listen to nothing but my voice, focus on the sound of my words and know nothing but my words…What do you feel Ekariel, what is beneath you right now?” This question spoken in the same deep resonating voice.

“Tell me what is in the now, what is beneath you at this very moment.”

“Deck plates.” The answer came out in a somewhat hurried response.

“Describe the deck plates Ekariel, what are they made of?” The flame moved slowly from left to right and back again, never going further than the outer reaches of the human’s own eyes…left eye, right eye back to left and repeat.

“Cold, metal, textured in small waves, rigid.” Ekariels voice came slightly stronger, less breathless and wheezing.

“What do you see Ekariel, describe what your eyes are telling you.”

“Fire, small flame, glittering eyes, blue stars and black holes.”

“What do you smell Ekariel, describe what you smell in the immediate area around you?” JJ asked as he pitched his voice slightly lower and slowed the waving of the lighter marginally.

“Four species…Musk, fur, water…Otorian species fresh from the hydrosphere…Dust, heat, insects…Lidarians recently from the arid habitats…mold, plant decay, rain…Jaguras from the forest dome…pheromones, sweat, spice, disinfectant…human recently in the medical bay.” Ekariels breathing slowed and stabilized as he spoke, voice gaining slightly more strength.

“What do you hear Ekariel, tell me what sounds you hear in this moment.” The flame now slowly traversed from one pupil to the other, no faster than before but slowly closing in on the middle of the human’s face.

“Typing, I can hear digits impacting sensor boards to the right…scratching, someone is writing equations long hand for accuracy checks near the forward portion of the bay…breathing, so many breathing patterns.” The Elental’s eyes never wavered from the flame, slowly tracking it back and forth, voice becoming stronger, limbs no longer shaking as bad though still quivering slightly.

“Focus on the breathing Ekariel.”

Now the flame only traversed from the inner corner of JJ’s eyes, never moving faster or slower, JJ’s voice becoming slightly deeper, seeming to hum and resonate more from his chest than his throat or mouth.

“Listen to the breaths around you, feel the air move as it is taken in and expelled…smell the breaths of those around you, those who would look after you…now slowly block them out…block out all the breaths but your own…tell me about your breaths Ekariel.” The lighter now barely moved past the outer edges of JJ’s nose.

“Three respiratory voids…expanding and filtering contaminants from the air…nutrients being stripped from the atmosphere into the blood stream…collapsing and expelling by-products of respiration…oxygen, nitrogen, helium being removed from the system via respiration…” Ekariel’s voice now had an almost sleeping dream like quality to it, low and slow.

“Tell me about the heartbeats Ekariel…how many do you feel?” The flame was still now, directly between JJ’s eyes, the focused and unblinking eyes of a predator staring directly into Ekariel’s own dilated pupils.

“I can only feel one heart beat…I can only feel my own heart.”

“Come back to us Ekariel…focus on my voice and with every beat of your heart come back to us…with every beat, shed the fear that imprisoned you and follow my voice.” JJ slowly began to back away from Ekariel as spoke, incrementally rolling onto his haunches as the Elental followed the flame.

Slowly JJ closed the lid to his antique lighter snuffing the flame. As if waking from a deep sleep Ekariel blinked and shook his head, pupils splitting back into two sets of three and eyes widening.

“Easy, easy, Ekariel… focus on the now, sight, smell, touch, hearing focus on those. Come on lad breath in…out…in…out, there you go, no don’t get up…lay down and focus, gather your thoughts.” JJ slowly eased the Elantel down fully onto the deck plates and raised his reverse jointed knees as best he could.

“Ekariel I need you to listen to me, listen to my voice…are you listening?” Ekariel nodded his head, looking up a JJ with a slightly dazed look on his face.

“You had a panic attack E.K. logs show you haven’t had a sufficient rest period for three cycles and in that time your nutritional intake has sharply declined. You are suffering from lack of rest and negligence of sustenance. As such I am removing you from the duty roster for the next four cycles and requiring you to report to the Galley Watch for every normal meal time where you will eat AT A MINIMUM a full standard meal of no less than one and a half again the daily nutritional requirement for at least two cycles. You are barred from any areas or activities relating to the navigation or piloting of this vessel…basically you are going to take the next four cycles to eat food, sleep, relax and either work on or find a hobby.” JJ finished with a small smile at the oddly shell-shocked look on Ekariel’s face.

================================================

After having received JJ’s report on the medical emergency and that Ekariel would be fine with a few cycles of rest and full meals the captain instigated a mandatory rotation of extended rest periods lasting at least three cycles unless otherwise noted by a Corpsman.

On paper the decision was to help the training and cross training of individuals by exposing them to a variety of new positions for longer periods of time and to potentially familiarize more of the crew with the inner workings of other departments and areas of the ship. In reality it was so the entire crew could have a chance to catch their breath and actually enjoy it before being thrown back into high stress situations, they were going to be on this ship for quite a long time after all, no need to have them burn themselves out so early in the voyage.

[artbyblastweave]

Another loose thesis about Fallout’s overall implementation of the retrofuturistic aesthetic-

 From an environmental design perspective 4 and 76 knock the 50s retrofuturism out of the park. As a MA resident, Fallout 4′s version of Boston is extremely immediately recognizable as a retrofuturistic version of the real city, which also happens to have unrelatedly undergone an apocalypse; both components are visible and prominent, and in that order. In Fallout 3, by contrast, the salient aesthetic element is “rubble” and this much more immediate sense of oppressive environmental devastation, rather than the sense you’re specifically in a 1950s version of D.C. The fifties stuff, the art deco stuff is still there, certainly omnipresent when you remember to start actively looking for it, but in my experience it was an element concealed an inch below the grit. 

(New Vegas has the same thing going on to a lesser degree- the 50s elements are definitely present, but in a way that comes part-and-parcel with setting something in Vegas. A lot of the rest is rubble, and the western elements are mixed in as a confounding thing. Harder to describe what’s going on with New Vegas aesthetically, particularly when you throw in asset reuse due to the short turnaround time.)

But. One area where I think Fallout 3 and New Vegas actually surpass fallout 4 and 76, one area where I think the newer games back-tracked a bit in terms of 50sishness, is the mutant design. FO3/NV Mirelurks are a big example of this. The regular ones went from bipedal near-humanoid crab people of the sort you’d see in a b-movie from the fifties, to.... semi-plausible Big Crabs. The super mutants went from kinda looking like guys in yellow rubber costumes to lovingly-detailed-and-animated abhuman colossi. Ditto for the feral ghouls, who went from looking almost sculpted (and textured with pictures of raw meat!) to the twitching, crawling, lurching serkis-folk of Fallout 4. The 3/New Vegas deathclaw feels to me a bit like a Ray Harryhausen sculpted clay thing, while the Fallout 4 deathclaw is, well, the Fallout 4 deathclaw.  And fundamentally both games and films were subject to the same process here- better fidelity became possible. The monster designs of Fallout 3 and Fallout New Vegas were informed by the limits of what was technically possible within the engine of the time, and did a great job within those limitations, just as the cheesy rubber-suit b-movie beasts were informed by the limitations of their effects budget, and often did a great job within those limitations. The budget improves, the tech improves.... insert Brian Eno’s quote about medium emulation, you know? Fallout 4, Fallout 76, those are monsters you fight in a green-screen environment. Fallout 3, those are monsters meant to be fought in a rented quarry that’s doubling for a new planet every single week.

[lambtotheslaughterr]

I Burn : Finale

A Rafe Cameron Mini Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 7k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART NINE | MASTERLIST

IMPORTANT NOTE* hey ya’ll! just a reminder that my requests are OPEN. please read this POST before making any requests as i have rules in place. there are two spots left (which you will see at the bottom of the linked post). so get your requests in if you’re wanting to use me;p

            The car ride to the Cameron’s was tense with silence. You felt under constant scrutinization despite your father not saying anything. But that was always the giveaway. He was upset with you, angry, & you were completely in the dark about exactly what. To what extent did your father know about your lies? What did Rafe tell his own father? What did Ward tell your father? As the car carried the two of you smoothly through town, you knew it’d only be a matter of time before you found out.

            You stared out the window, your fingers tangled within the hem of your dress. You didn’t have any other options in your bags to wear to an unexpected dinner so you went out earlier in the day to shop for something appropriate. As relieved as you were to get out of the hotel suite from your father who made it feel suffocating, you found little comfort while shopping. You wish you had your mother there to help you relax, she sometimes had just the right things to say to help you. But it was just you. And your father.

            After a few more moments of silence in the car, your father finally sighed heavily. You turned your head to face him but got quickly distracted as he pulled into a driveway that led to a beautifully crafted Charleston style home that was near the beach. You didn’t bother to hide the shock on your face. You knew most everyone at Arrowhead was well-off, but this was another level of wealth. The pristine & clean lines of the architecture & the environmental placement of the home was evident of the Cameron’s class.

            “Whoa.” You muttered under your breath as your father put the car into park while you peered up at the house through the windshield.

            All your father did was grumble, “Let’s get this over with.”

            With that, your father turned off the engine & began getting out of the car. You followed suit, holding the strap of your purse tightly against your thighs. You inhaled sharply, waiting on your side of the car until your father rounded to your side. He gestured for you to move towards the front of the house, placing a hand on the small of your back as you led the way. At the front door, you had just raised your hand to knock when the door swung open.

            A younger woman stood there in a stark white uniform, a welcoming smile on her face, “Harold & _____ , please, welcome.”

            You imagined she was the help. Your father & you stepped into the foyer & you took a moment to admire the interior of foyer. It was two levels with an elegantly crafted chandelier hanging above your heads. The young woman approached a near by display table & grabbed a platter that had two glasses of what you imagined to be wine.

            “The Cameron’s ask that we offer you a glass of a 2022 Linne Calodo Contrarian White.”

            “We’re okay, thanks.” Your father responded grimly, “Can you bring us to the host?”

            The woman’s smile faltered but she nodded, placing the platter back down, “Of course, follow me.”

            Following the woman through the house, you stumbled slightly as you went from room to room, admiring the furniture, artwork on the walls, & how every room in the house had a view of the beach. You were no stranger to the finer things in life, but your parents didn’t display their wealth like the Cameron’s clearly did.

            The woman approached a set of French doors that led to the backyard, she placed a hand on the handle before facing the two of you, “My name is Roxanne, if you have any questions, please, let me know.”

            “Mm.” Your father hummed in response. At least his displeased attitude wasn’t only geared towards you, though you did feel slightly guilty about the fact that the kind woman who was only doing her job was getting a taste of it.

            “Thank you, Roxanne.” You smiled at her. She nodded in kind before opened the door & stepping back, allowing the two of you to step through.

            “Ahh, Harold.” Ward Cameron was standing behind a small bar that was built into the back of the house, a hand towel thrown over his shoulder, “Just on time.”

            “You said six.” Your father returned, his tone short.

            You turned away from them when you felt Ward’s eyes fall to you. As you did, your own eyes met Rose’s, who was dressed in a white floor-length lace dress. She looked incredibly beautiful & years younger than she likely actually was.

            “_____, you look lovely.” She approached with a glass of white wine.

            “Thank you, you too.” You returned, forcing a fake smile as she hugged you with one arm.

            “Please, sit with me.”

            You peeked at your father over your shoulder. His attention was fully on Ward as they spoke low enough for you to miss their words.

            Rose led you to an outdoor table that was set-up on their obscenely green lawn that was exquisitely cut. She gestured for you to take the seat opposite of hers, adjacent to the head of the table. She then took a sip from her wine before she eyed your hands, her eyes widening, “Did Roxanne not offer the wine? Ugh, I knew she would forget.”

            Just as Rose was about to stand up, you corrected her, shaking your head, “No, she did! She did.” You chuckled lightly, “My dad just didn’t accept the offer.”

            “Oh.” Rose frowned, “Quite rude.”

            Your own eyes widened at that. Never would anyone have the gall to insult your father to his face, so you supposed it was a good thing he was a couple yards away.

            “Anyway,” Rose smiled, “how are you this evening?”

            “Oh,” you were unsure about her friendly demeanor, “I’m okay.”

            Rose scrunched her nose from smiling so hard. It made you feel uneasy.

            You wondered if she was a decent person. Rafe was an asshole, & from the little interaction with his father that you had, you guessed he likely got it from Ward, but would Rose be any different?

            “Well, here.” She reached for an unlabeled bottle of white wine at the center of the table, reaching for a wine glass near you at the same time, “Have a drink.”

            Your eyes flashed to your father. He wouldn’t like you drinking, but who were you to say no to your host?

            Rose filled the glass before offering it to you, “C’mon, honey. Don’t let it go to waste.”

            Smiling sheepishly, you took the glass, quickly bringing the lip of it to your mouth & taking a sip. It was light, fruity, & sweet. Everything you knew this evening wouldn’t be.

            “So,” you began as you placed your glass down, “what is the special occasion?”

            Rose laughed lightly, “I’m just in the dark as you are, sweetie. But I never say no to a dinner with friends, no matter how last minute they are.”

            “Mm.” You nodded, disappointed that she too didn’t know why you & your father received the sudden invite, forcing you to stay in Kildare for another day.

            The sound of footfalls grew close & you glanced up, eyeing your father & Ward as they approached the table. They both held a glass of amber liquid in their hands. So much for not drinking.

            Your skin pricked as Ward sat at the head of the table, just to your right, & your father moved to your left. You glanced at your father, “Would you like to switch seats?”

            Sitting next to Ward made your stomach flip. He was much too close.

            Before your father could respond, Ward spoke for him, his voice smooth yet hard, “You’re perfectly fine where you are, _____.”

            Rose laughed softly, none the wiser to the tension at the table. You sat stiff, your spine painfully straight as you faced Ward, nodding once.

            “Now,” Ward raised his glass slightly above the table, “to new business endeavors & new friends.”

            Rose giggled gently, mirroring her husband. You swallowed awkwardly before raising your own. Your father didn’t bother raising his. Ward eyed your father expectantly, but offered you a closed lip smile as he clinked his glass against your own.

            A moment later, the French doors that you came out of opened, & your eyes flashed towards the movement. Four staff members appeared, each of them carrying a plate of steaming food.

            “I hope you like seafood.” Rose commented as she sat back so the staff could place a plate of food before each of you.

            You cleared your throat, noticing that they indeed only brought out four. Would Rafe not be attending? You couldn’t decide if that made you feel better or worse.

            As if he could read your mind though, Ward commented on his sons whereabouts, “Rafe is busy at the moment, but he will be home shortly.”

            “Oh.” You replied, your voice small as you avoided the patriarch’s unwavering gaze.

            “We’ll eat first, then business.” Ward took a bite of the shrimp scampi, a confident smile gracing his aged yet handsome features.

            Wanting to distract yourself from the tense energy at the table, your forced your shaking hand to grab your fork, twirling a bite onto the utensil before bringing it to your mouth. You imagined the meal was excellently made, but your stomach was constantly flipping, making it difficult for you to really taste & savor the dish. In the corner of your eye, you noticed your father didn’t even bother touching his food.

            Rose noticed as well, frowning in displeasure before she shot Ward a look. If he noticed her expression, he didn’t show it. Just simply enjoyed his own plate of food.

            Someway, somehow, you managed to eat most of the food, but your full stomach did little to comfort you. Ward & Rose finished their plates as well. Ward made a gesture with his hand & the doors opened yet again as the staff returned to gather the plates. Once the staff was out of earshot, your father leaned forward, his elbows on the table as he eyed the host, “Alright, Ward. You said you had a business proposal.”

            “Impatient, aren’t we?” Ward’s voice was light & airy but there was an undertone of annoyance there that you made out.

            “First,” Rose gleamed, holding up the bottle of wine, “a top off.”

            She reached for your glass but your father swiped it before she could, “She’s nineteen, Mrs. Cameron. One glass is enough.”

            “Harold.” Ward laughed loudly as he leaned back in his chair, shaking his head, “How many times must I remind you that your daughter is a grown woman? She can decide for herself if she’s had enough or not.”

            “You do not parent my daughter, Ward. I do.” Your father returned, not bothering to hide his distaste for Ward’s intrusion.

            “Mm.” Ward cocked his head, “If you say so.”

            What the fuck did that mean?

            “I wanted to wait for Rafe to be here before we moved forward, but I suppose now’s a time better than any.”

            You tugged your cloth napkin into your lap, tangling your fingers into the fabric as you felt quite literally caught in the middle of a battle between two alpha businessmen.

            “No need to wait.” A voice sounded from behind you. Everyone, yourself included, turned towards the voice & were greeted by the sight of Rafe. He was dressed in a periwinkle blue button up & khaki colored shorts. He crossed the lawn towards the four of you, but his eyes were solely focused on you.

            “Rose.” Ward voiced. At the sound of her name, Rose was quick to move from her seat to the next one over, across from your father. The change in seating made your stomach roll.

            Rafe joined the four of you at the table, taking the spot Rose once occupied, directly across from you. He smiled jovially.

            “_____.”

            “Rafe.” You returned, unable to hide the sourness in your voice.

            “Great timing, son. Harold was getting impatient.”

            “Oh.” Rafe traded a smile with his father before glancing at yours, “In a hurry?”

            “To get this bullshit over with, yes.”

            Your lips parted in shock at your father’s use of a cuss word. He was always a man of class, knowing how to speak to which people, & these were definitely not people you spoke to like so. But your father was at his wit’s end, that much was clear. He was losing it. You pressed your lips together in concern, what the Cameron’s want?

            “Well, Harold.” Ward began, leaning forward to make direct eye contact with your father, “as we’ve already discussed, you’re looking for an investment opportunity, a means to move from teaching at the university to becoming a businessman that people will take seriously.”

            Your father wanted to quit teaching? But it was his whole life.

            “But, of course, after your lawsuit, as quiet & private as it was, anyone who matters knows about it, making it difficult to find business partners, yes?”

            Your father only glared at the head Cameron. Your eyes flashed to Rafe’s & he was grinning behind his hand as he stared at you, raising a single brow.

            “Now, I’m willing to go into business with you, after all, any support means everything to me since I’m branching out internationally, but I’m not quite sure I want to be associated with a man who fired his TA because his daughter is a nympho.”

            A gasp left you at the insult, your few interactions with Renee coming to mind.

            Ward chuckled lightly at the expression on both yours & your father’s faces, “Don’t act so surprised. I told you that your daughter would be needed in this deal.”

            “Dad?” You questioned, glancing at him, but he only stayed staring at Ward.

            “I can look past the lawsuit, put in a few good words for you to the right people, make it go away. That’s what you want, right? For it to go away?”

            Your father said nothing. Your heart began to race & the food you just ate threatened to come up.

            “I can do that for you.” Ward nodded, “But as all business deals go, I require something in return.”

            From behind your lashed, you glanced at Ward, & were startled to see that his eyes were already on yours. He grinned.

            “Rafe is ready to begin working for me, & I’m not one of those men who makes their son start out in the mailroom to understand how business works. He already knows, he’s my son, after all. My company purchased a few properties in England, London to be exact, & I want Rafe to oversee the progress. He’s more than ready to take on the roll, & I trust him. However, much like myself, he wanted something to keep his focus strong, his work ethic influential. So, he made me a deal. A deal, if I’m being honest, I couldn’t be prouder of.”

            Ward looked at his son, they shared the same eerie smile. Then Ward looked back to your father while Rafe focused back on you.

            “Your daughter.”

            “Excuse me?” You & your father replied in unison.

            “Ward?” Rose finally spoke, her voice small as she questioned Ward.

            “Not now, honey.” Ward raised his hand in her direction, “Well, Harold. How about it? You invest in my company, make a name for yourself, & my son gets your daughter.”

            “No!” It was you who finally joined in on the absurd conversation, “Hell no.”

            “_____.” Ward placed a smooth hand atop yours, patting it consolingly, “The men are talking.”

            “I don’t give a fu—” You pushed yourself to stand but Ward beat you to it.

            “Sit your ass back down, young lady.” His voice was firm & authoritative.

            “No.” Your father rose as well, offering you his hand, “We’re done here. My daughter is not for fucking sale.”

            You gladly accepted his hand, standing to your full height alongside him.

            “You can take your business deal & shove it up your wife’s ass, Ward.”

            An offended gasp escaped Rose as she glared wide-eyed at your father. But you never felt prouder of your father than you did in that moment.

            “Sit back down!” Ward raised his voice, slamming the table with a fist as he narrowed his eyes at the both of you, “Or I’ll make a call & Dr. Mooney will be released from his cell before you even reach your fucking car.”

            That caused for you both to pause, your father’s hand tight around your own.

            “Now.” Ward repeated. Rafe, all the while, sat there with a snarky smile as he watched the events unfold before him.

            “What the hell are you talking about?” Your father questioned, but you tugged on his hand.

            “Dad, please, let’s go.”  You voiced in a hushed manner.

            “_____, would you like to tell your father? Or would you rather I do it?”

            Your eyes flashed to Ward’s, wishing to the depths of hell that you could burn him alive in that exact moment.

            “Or perhaps Rafe?” Ward glanced at his devilish offspring, “You’d like the honors?”

            Rafe smiled but shook his head, his eyes trailing the length of you, “Nah, I think Mr. _____ should hear it from the mouth of his own daughter.”

            “Quit lollygagging, what the hell are you talking about?” A vein in your father’s forehead appeared as his voice cut across the table.

            “Sit back down.” Ward repeated, pulling out his cell phone, “I won’t ask again.”

            You felt your legs shake as your father let go of your hand, resuming his spot in his chair. You bit your lip, reluctantly doing the same.

            “_____.” Ward caught your eyes, “The table is yours.”

            Everything was spinning. You felt you’d be sick at any moment. You felt your father lean towards you, his hand on your shoulder in support, “What is it? What do they have on you?”

            Sniffling, you couldn’t look your father in the eyes, “Dr. Mooney, he….”

            You couldn’t say it, couldn’t admit to it. It was all supposed to be behind you, long forgotten. He got what he deserved! Why were you the one being punished? And by the fucking Cameron’s, of all people?

            “It’s okay.” Ward grazed his fingers along your wrist. You snatched your arm away, your skin tingling where he touched. “We’re all here for you.”

            His mockery only made it worse.

            “_____, look at me.” Your father demanded. You shook your head, unable to look him in the eye.

            Ward sighed heavily, disappointedly, “Your daughter, Harold, is a fabricator. A master manipulator, I dare say. A quality I admire, but one that can get you & your whole family into hot water if you’re not careful.”

            “_____.” Your father gently grabbed your chin, forcing you to face him, “What is he talking about?”

            Hot, angry tears pricked your vision.

            “Tell him.” Rafe pushed, “He’s going to find out from one of us, either way.”

            You threw Rafe a damnable glare.

            “Look at me!” Your father’s voice hardened, forcing your eyes back to his, “Don’t look at them, look at me.”

            Tears skipped down your cheeks. You had to tell him. Rafe was right, he was going to find out anyway.

            You sniffled, hanging your head, “Dr. Mooney didn’t rape me.”

            “What?” Your father responded breathlessly, his eyes peering around at the others.

            “I made it up.” You cried softly, “I’m sorry.”

            “But…” Your father frowned, letting you go to lean back in his seat as he absorbed the information.

            “I know that was tough, _____.” You felt a warm hand on your shoulder. Your skin prickled where Ward touched you, “But you’re better off for it, your whole family is.”

            You spun around in your seat, snarling, “What the fuck do you want?!”

            “It doesn’t matter.” The sound of your father’s voice, more so, his words, shocked you. You looked back at him in surprise.

            He glared at the Cameron’s, one-by-one, “You can’t prove it.”

            Ward laughed lightly at that, sighing heavily, “Unfortunately, that’s simply not true.”

            Your eyes flew to Rafe’s. He returned your hardened glare with a smirk.

            “When someone makes a rape accusation, much like your daughter did, what comes next?” Ward questioned your father. Your father said nothing.

            “Mm, that’s right.” Ward nodded, “A rape kit.”

            “Which they found evidence of rape.” Your father argued.

            “But no DNA.” Ward returned.

            “Because the bastard wore a condom.”

            “_____?” Ward stole your attention, “That true?”

            He was feigning a frown when you looked at him.

            You gulped, shaking your head, looking at your father, “There was a condom…but he didn’t wear it.”

            Your father was appalled at your revelation.

            “My son did.” Ward finally revealed, making bile rise in your throat.

            “One call, & with what my son knows, it’ll be a reversed sentence. And your daughter will find herself behind a jail cell.”

            “_____.” Your name coming from your father’s mouth was solemn. He ran a hand down his face. “You didn’t.”

            “I had to.” Your voice shook, “I knew they would need proof.”

            Your father slapped the table, causing the glasses to shake.

            “Why?!” He yelled, the vein in his forehead practically bursting as he stared at you, “Why? Why did you do it?”

            More tears escaped you, “Because I wanted to punish him.”

            “And there it is.” Ward’s voice was thick with contentment, “Just a young, foolish woman using her body to get her way. Putting an innocent man in jail. The courts will have a heyday with this.”

            “Dad, I’m sorry.” You reached for him but he stood abruptly, shaking his head as he paced near his seat.

            “Daddy.” You cried.

            “So!” Ward clapped his hands together, “Back to the deal. You invest, my son gets your daughter, & her dirty little secret remains just that: a secret. Or else you’re family will crumble within in seconds.”

            “Stop it!” You screamed, accidentally knocking over Ward’s glass as you swung your arms in distress. “Please, stop it!”

            Ward growled as the amber liquid stained his shirt, but he patted at it with a cloth napkin before he leaned towards you, his hand ensnaring your wrist, “I’m the only who can stop it. Take the deal.”

            “Take the deal, Harold.” Ward repeated, his hand still holding your wrist as he glanced up at your father, “I don’t want to see my son behind a stand anymore than you do your daughter. Though, she’ll receive a much harsher future than Rafe will.”

            Your father finally looked up, his eyes hard but also…sad. Your heart faltered. This was all your fault. Ward was right. If your father didn’t take the deal, your family would go down in flames. And it would be all your doing. Dr. Mooney would run free, & you’d be ruins.

            When your father didn’t speak, you chose to. “We accept.”

            You glanced between Ward & Rafe, both of whom shared the same loathsome smiles.

            Ward let go of your wrist, rubbing it gently, “And that’s how a deal is made. I knew I liked you for a reason.”

            Ripping your hand away from Ward, you stood up to approach your father, wiping your cheeks free from any tears.

            “I’m sorry.” You gently touched his arm. Your father met your eyes, his stare unwavering but shattered.

            “I can’t protect you.”

            “I know.” You sniffled, “But this is my fault. And I can’t watch you & mom suffer because of me. I promise you I’d be a good daughter. So, let me.”

            “_____...” He hung his head, “I swore I would never let another man hurt you. Me, most of all. I meant it.”

            “You’ve done everything for me. Sacrificed everything for me.” Tears blurred your vision, “Let me do this for you. I can do it.”

            “Awh.” Ward commented from his seat, “I do love a sweet father-daughter moment.”

            You ignored his comment, maneuvering your body to block Ward from your father’s line of sight, “It’ll be okay.”

            Your father shook his head, meeting your eyes once more, “I’ll get a lawyer, I’ll get 10. They won’t get away with this.”

            “But for now, they will.” You straightened your spine, “It won’t be for forever.”

            For the first time in what felt like ages, your father brought you into his arms, hugging you. You wrapped your arms around his middle, pressing your face into his chest. It almost felt as if he needed it more than you.

            “It won’t be goodbye forever.” Ward split you two apart with his words, “They’ll be back for the holidays.”

            You frowned at the statement, “Back?”

            Ward chuckled, “Like I said, honey, Rafe will be overseeing the progress from London. In fact, your boat leaves in ten minutes.”

            “What?” Your father pushed you behind him, “No! You’re not taking her, not now.”

            Ward sighed annoyingly, “I’m not doing this dance again, Harold. That’s the deal. My son gets her & your family remains intact. And my business thrives.”

            Rafe stood from his seat, slowly approaching the two of you. Your father threw Rafe the nastiest glare you had ever seen grace his features, “Don’t come near her.”

            Rafe grinned at that, his eyes falling to yours, “Too late for that.”

            He then extended his arm, his hand held out waiting for you.

            Swallowing the lump in your throat, you grabbed your father once more, “Tell Mom I love her. It’ll be okay. We’ll figure it out.”

            Your father shook his head, his hands desperately gripping your upper arms, but you begrudgingly pulled yourself away from him.

            “I love you.” You told him, letting Rafe slip his hand into yours.

            Never before had you seen your father on the verge of crying, yet there he was with his eyes red & watering.

            Ward joined your father where he stood, clapping him on the back, then he offered his own hand, “Welcome to the business world, partner.”

            The sound of a horn sounded in the distance & you peeked over your shoulder towards the beach. There was a boathouse & a dock & at the end of it all was a yacht with it’s engine running. An unknown man waving from aboard.

            “Time to go.” Rafe placed a hand on the small of your back, leading you away.

            “Dad!” You hollered & he made to move towards you, but Ward stopped him, his mouth moving but you were too far away to make out what he was saying.

            Your body began to shake uncontrollably as you grew closer & closer to the yacht. Once there, Rafe climbed aboard first before offering you his hand up. You slapped it away & climbed up yourself.

            “Captain.” Rafe greeted the man who had waved, “_____. _____, this is our captain for the journey, Captain Underwood.”

            ‘Welcome aboard the Horizon Voyager.”  He grinned, none-the-wiser to your reasoning being aboard.

            “Thank you.” You muttered.

            “We’ll be at sea for 18 days, with stop offs in Spain & France before making landing in England. If you need anything, ask myself or Rafe.” He nodded, “You’re in safe hands.”

            Oh, but you weren’t.

            It was dark out, the boat moving smoothly along the ocean waters. Captain Underwood settled your nerves, reassuring you that it’d be nice seas the whole way. You had never been aboard a boat before, like this anyway, in the middle of the vast ocean. It only added to your queasiness. Shortly after boarding, Rafe gave you a tour of the yacht. It was luxurious, & you expected nothing less from a Cameron.

            The inside was a decent size, but the bedroom, where you knew you’d be slumbering alongside Rafe made your skin crawl. It was tight. Suffocating. But Rafe looked more than pleased. After the tour, you escaped to the bathroom to throw up your dinner. You remained in there for some time, staring at yourself in the mirror. The whole night felt surreal, like a vivid vicious nightmare. When you did finally emerge, the captain gave you seasick pills to help with the effects of life on the sea while Rafe took over the wheel. You hoped he crashed the yacht into a reef.

            By the time night feel, you were lounging in the bedroom, your heels on the floor & your whole body tucked under the covers. You had no clue as to where tonight was going to lead to, all your clothes & belongings back at the hotel suite. Your father would be returning there & home alone. It made your heart ache.

            The boat creaked around you as you stared lied in a fetal position under the covers, staring at the wall. There was a TV mounted into the wall near the door but you had no interest in entertainment. You just wished more than anything that you could turn back time, take everything back before it came back to bite you in the ass. It wasn’t about Dr. Mooney anymore, it was about your family. You hadn’t thought of them, & now you all were being punished for it.

            The door to the bedroom cracked open & you hurriedly sat upwards, glaring at the unwelcome presence.

            “That’s not a very nice look.” Rafe feigned hurt. He handed you a plate with a sandwich on his, “Not much of a cook but it’ll have to do.”

            “Not hungry.” You responded bitterly, turning away from him.

            He sighed but didn’t fight you, placing the plate on a built-in dresser. Then he sat at the foot of the bed, his hand finding your leg through the covers.

            “I’m starving.”

            You tossed him a glare, not reading into his comment. You kicked at him under the covers, trying to shove him off the bed. Rafe laughed lightly, clearly misreading your shoving as something akin to playfulness. He gripped the covers & ripped them off you. You gasped at the action, quickly bringing your legs up towards you as you sat up.

            “What the hell are you doing?”

            Rafe furrowed his brows, confused, but smirked, “I’m starving.”

            His eyes fell to your exposed legs, his tongue darting out to swipe his lips.

            “No.” You pointed at him, “No fucking way!”

            He scoffed then, cocking his head, “Really? I thought you, of all people, would be jumping at the chance to fuck. I’m guessing it’s been a while, right?”

            “That’s not who I am anymore.” You snarled, glaring at him.

            “Oh, yeah? Arrowhead really worked on ya, huh?” He was mocking you. You rolled your eyes, “It’s none of your business, but yeah. Being surrounded by assholeish men kinda made me realize I don’t fucking need them. Even for a quickie.”

            Rafe nodded, appearing somewhat impressed, but it was short-lived, “So, you don’t get the burning sensation anymore? The need. The scratch you can’t itch.”

            Your thighs pressed against one another at his word. He leaned closer, his hand slowly growing closer to your legs.

            “Even if I did, I wouldn’t go to you. I’d rather drown out here then let you touch me.”

            “We both know that isn’t true. You’re a nympho through & through. Someone just needs to touch you just right.”

            His fingers caught your ankle, dragging you down the bed. You yelped softly, attempting to move back but Rafe was quick to straddle you, his hand gently grabbing your wrists & raising your arms above your head until he was directly above you.

            “I gotta say, this is a good look for you.”

            You growled beneath him, trying to push him off with your hips, but he was heavier than he looked.

            “Rafe, get off me, I’m serious.”

            “I liked you much more before. You were more fun then.”

            You narrowed your eyes up at him, shaking your head, “I never liked you.”

            “Remember what I said about you being a bad liar?” He leaned down until his lips were at your ear, “That hasn’t changed.”

            His lips grazed the shell of your ear, your spine erupting with tingles that danced up & down your back.

            “I’m sure if I touch you just right…” His teeth nicked your earlobe, “I can make you spread those legs for me whether you want to or not.”

            “You’re an asshole.” You griped, feeling your thighs shake.

            “You didn’t cum last time.” Rafe whispered, his lips grazing your neck next. You felt his tongue lick at you, teasing the pleasure zone there. “I’ll make you cum this time. And every time.”

            “No.” You begged through gritted teeth as you felt pins & needles erupt across your flesh.

            “Just relax.” Rafe kissed along your jawline, one of his hands still holding your wrists above your head while the other reached down to find the hem of your dress. When you felt his fingers dip under the fabric, your body jolted.

            A gasp parted your lips & you stared wide-eyed at the ceiling. It was coming. The burning.

            Rafe kneed your thighs apart, enough for him to settle between your legs. The pressure of his body against yours forced a pleasured sigh from the most fucked up part of your insides. You felt dizzy as the room rocked around you. Rafe shifted his hips upwards, his bulge rubbing against your sensitive center deliciously so.

            He then caught your chin with the hand that held your wrists, forcing you to look him in the eyes. His eyes were hooded, filled with lust & blazing with desire as he stared down at you. He took his time glancing over your features, lingering particularly long on your open mouth. He leaned down yet again, this time catching your mouth with his. He wasted no time sliding his tongue inside you mouth. You moaned regrettably into the kiss.

            “You taste so fucking good.” Rafe moaned, pulling away, “I want to taste all of you.”

            Words failed you, your limbs more so, as he slithered down the length of your body until his upper body was between your legs. He slipped your underwear down, letting them hang loose off one ankle as he flipped the skirt of your dress up.

            “I know you feel guilty.” He kissed the inside of your right thigh.

            “But you don’t have to.” His breath was hot & cold at the same time, making your pussy throb.

            “You can feel good, too.” Rafe licked the length of your thigh from your knee to just before your hot center.

            “I can make you feel good.” Your body shuddered under his touch.

            Rafe then reached forward, grabbing one of your arms & bringing your hand down to your cunt.

            “Touch yourself.” He breathed out, & you felt you would melt into the bed.

            He moved your fingers just over your mound. A shock sprinted up your spine at the contact. You hadn’t masturbated in months. Now, you needed to. You were burning up.

            Pressing your fingers against your pulsating clit, a wonton mewl parted your lips.

            “Good girl.” He looked up at you as he kneaded the meat of your thighs, nodding at you.

            Your chest was heaving as you moved your fingers, swiping your fingers along your entrance & folds.

            You bit your lip, your own eyes hooded as you watched Rafe watch you. Then he closed the distance, his lips closing around your mound.

            “Ah!” You squealed, gripping the covers of the bed. His tongue swiped along your folds expertly, his tongue delving just inside your pussy. You could feel how wet you had become, coating his face with your juices.

            Rafe wrapped his arms around your hips, pressing your hips further into his face as he ate you out. Your thighs shook around his head, euphoric moans escaping every breath you heaved.

            As he licked, prodded, & fulfilled your every aching need, his other hand glided up the center of your abdomen underneath your dress. His fingers grazed the sides of your breasts before his hand appeared before your face. He continued to fuck you with tongue as he glanced up at you. You felt yourself growing hotter & wetter by the second. Then he stuck a thumb into your mouth.

            You desperately sucked on his digit, tasting the saltiness of the ocean as you did. Rafe moaned into your pussy, the vibrations pushing you closer to the edge.

            Growling with impatience, Rafe suddenly removed himself from between your legs. He remained on his knees as he yanked his arm out from under your dress. You had no time to react before he reached for the top of your dress & tore it down the middle. His eyes glinted as he took in your mostly nude form.

            “Fuck.” He breathed out. Falling atop you, his mouth latched onto one of your pebbled nipples, suckling the bud. You moaned loudly, pressing your chest into his face. You felt as he reached between your bodies to undo his shorts. He then pushed himself off you once more to remove his shirt. Your eyes danced around his exposed chest, admiring the definitions of his toned body.

            Honestly, fuck this man. And you would. Whether you wanted to or not.

            Rafe returned his mouth to your breast, nipping the sensitive flesh there. Then you felt a hot, hard pressure at your entrance. You were slick, your evidence of desire pooling underneath you. You felt Rafe smile into your chest as he shoved his hard cock into your quivering cunt.

            “Oh, fuck.” You moaned, & he growled into your chest.

            Rafe wasted no time pounding into you. The small underwater room was quickly filled with the sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, your combined mewls & shrills, & the wetness of your cunt as you tightened around his girth.

            “You’re my girl.” Rafe breathed out as he looked down at you, one of your legs bent at the knee as he held it against his side. “Say it.”

            “I’m your girl.” You breathed out, your hatred for him nonexistent as he fucked the reasoning out of you.

            “Again.” He watched as your tits bounced with every thrust of his hips. You felt your walls clench painfully as you grew closer & closer to the edge.

            “I’m your girl, Rafe.”

            “Oh, fuck yes.” He groaned, catching your throat in his hand. He tightened his grip just enough for you to struggling breathing but not enough to make you pass out.

            “You’re my fucking girl.” He ground his hips against yours, your clit being manipulated devilishly so.

            “Ah, Rafe!” You cried out, feeling yourself about to cum.

            “Cum for me, baby.” Rafe gripped the back of your head, angling your head so he could catch your mouth with his, “I want to hear you.”

            You shoved your face away from his, clinging to his frame as you felt your world crash around you. A strained cry filled with regretful pleasure filled the corners of the room as you fucked yourself against him, your cum coating his cock. Rafe chuckled against you, his arms circled around your waist as he fucked you to his own orgasm. His hips grew choppy, rushed, sloppy until he finally stilled, a groan erupting from his throat as he stretched & filled you with his cum.

            He collapsed on top of you, the two of you breathing heavily, both of your bodies coated in a light sheen of sweat. Your whole body shook with the aftershocks of your orgasm & black spots blanketed your vision. Rafe rolled off you, his own chest heaving as he absorbed the effects of his orgasm.

            You two lied there for some time in silence, the scent of sex in the air. When you finally cooled down, you winced as you sat upwards, glancing the mess between your legs. Your cum mixed with his.

            And just as quickly as the euphoric feeling disappeared, your rage returned.

            Swinging yourself upwards you hurriedly climbed on top of Rafe before bringing a closed fist down onto his face. Rafe, unprepared for your assault, caught the right hook right in his high, howling momentarily before he harshly gripped your arm, rolling the two of you until he was back on top.

            “What the fuck is your problem?!” He yelled, his eye red from where you struck him.

            “I said ‘no’!” You yelled back.

            Rafe glared at you, an unamused smile on his face, “Your body said yes.”

            “Fuck you!” You screamed, thrashing under him, “Fuck you, Rafe! I hate you!”

            “Hate me all you want.” He huffed out, “But remember, your monster wants mine. Needs it.”

            You shook your head defiantly, “No. I don’t want this.”

            “That’s too bad.” Rafe shoved himself off you then, grabbing his shirt & shorts from the ground. He then peered at you with a cocky smirk.

            “You used me for your own benefit. Now, it’s my turn.” Rafe, once dressed, stepped forward & gripped your head to leave a kiss on your forehead.

            You shoved him away, “I hate you.”’

            “I know.” He nodded, but was unbothered, “But you’re mine. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

            He then rested his fists on the bed as he leaned forward, looking you directly in the eyes, “And no matter how many times you tell me no, your body will always tell me yes. I suggest you get used to it.”

            Then he turned his back on you, prepared to leave the room, but you shouted after him, “You won’t win forever!”

            “Maybe.” He said over his shoulder as he opened the door, then he faced you, “But I win for now. Don’t I?”

            With a smile, Rafe left the room, closing the door behind him. You threw the closest object to you, a pillow, at the door. Tears of frustration cascaded down your cheeks. The boat continued to rock & you along with it.

            This would be your life now. And it was all your doing. Rafe had gotten what he wanted in the end, & he would always remind you of that. Whether with his words or his tongue, you belonged to Rafe Cameron.

            The only person to blame was yourself. You & the goddamn burning. Do you feel satisfied?

another end to a Rafe Cameron mini series era. i gotta say, i'm gonna give myself a pat on the back for the closing sex scene. i think it's the best one i've written yet.

as always, & especially at the end of a series, your feedback & reviews mean everything to me. please share your thoughts/feelings via commenting, reblogging w reviews, or dropping an ask. i am so so so fucking curious to hear all your thoughts.

thank you for reading!

next mini series i will be working on is The Taming featuring reader x stalker!Clark Kent. so stay tuned(:

oona<3

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[loaksky]

hello! would you consider writing modern avatar stuff? if ur cool w that can i request modern human neteyam relationship headcanons?

wait hold the phone yes i would actually ! wanted to hold off on posting this to include headcanons about what modern!neteyam would be like in a relationship, but i’m so eager to come back ! instead here’s some background about him & reader leading up to the relationship (part 2 pending if you guys want it) ! headcanons under the cut & for all intents + purposes, i picture college-neteyam ! additionally, in my brain, it’s canon that teyam as a human would be poc, hence the reference pictures i included below ! <3

so i definitely see neteyam having a very soft aesthetic, he’s such a sweetheart tbh

fs think that the two of you would have a meetcute in university & then end up being college sweethearts

his major is something specific like environmental engineering or child psychology ? he’s definitely really smart and excels in all of his classes !

which brings me to how the two of you would meet ? perhaps he’s taking an elective course in pottery and your major is in art with a concentration in three dimensional composition

the class is considered a lab, so the professor emails out the syllabus and students come and go as they please during class hours to work on their compositions.

halfway thru the sem, you and teyam stumble upon each other in the storage room between two classrooms, fetching different pieces that need to be glazed + fired.

“sorry, you can—”

“nah, you first—”

you laugh and neteyam’s smiling because WOW you’re really cute + had he known that someone as lovely as you was in the same section as him, he’d probably hang around the classroom more.

from that moment on, neteyam’s always lingering during the class’ meeting time, even if he’s already finished with his projects for the week because he wants to get to know you SO bad, but he’s way too shy.

(probably still canon that he’s phenomenal at literally everything, but i think it’d be so cute if he had 0 legitimate rizz bc he’s so used to kinda just bein’ him and pulling bc he’s a jack of all trades type of guy)

“what are you making?” you ask him one day and he snatches his airpod out of his ear so quickly even though he’s not listening to anything.

“ashtray” he answers quietly, a lil self-conscious because he’s come to find out that you’re absolutely amazing at sculpting and while you do this for your future, he does it is as a pastime / elective to graduate. “but like i don’t smoke or anything yknow, i just thought that i’d be a good thing to–”

you’re staring at him with the corner of your mouth quirked and he shuts up quickly, scratching the back of his neck nervously as he slumps on his stool.

“you should score using a crosshatch,” you tell him simply. “makes the pieces stick together better.”

he looks down at where he’d been scratching the damp clay laterally and your hands hover over his, head tilting to the side.

“can i?”

oh yeah, yeah! sure,” he splutters, leaning back a little to watch you work your magic.

can’t help but watch the way your fingers work over the clay, knuckles smudged with glaze and dust coating the silver of your rings.

he watches your hands, but soon he’s watching your face because you’re concentrated so hard on making sure you’re using your best technique for the little ashtray.

lo and behold, the pieces stick together so perfectly and smoothly, ready to be fired in the kiln, and neteyam’s grateful.

“thanks,” he sighs almost dreamily.

“yeah, of course. glad to help,” you tell him.

when you return to your own project, you slam back the rest of your melting drink and neteyam’s eyes are squinting the get a read on what it is you order.

you’re pleasantly surprised when you turn up to pottery the next session to work on a new project, and neteyam’s there with two coffees, one next to his wheel, another near yours.

“what’s this?” you hum, tying your apron with a messy bow.

“a thank you,” he says shyly. “for helping me last time.”

your eyes widen when you see your favorite; a chai with almondmilk, vanilla, and a shot of espresso.

“how’d you…”

“it’s what you were drinking…” he responds. “last week. i think.

“oh…” you trail off, cheeks hot because he noticed ???

“you don’t have to—”

“NO!” you yelp, a tad loud. some of the other students working on a few last minute projects peer at the two of you and teyam’s grinning like an idiot when he sees the way you tuck your hair behind your ear and reach for the drink. “this is good! it’s great. thank you so much. i actually missed my run this morning.”

“yeah, of course,” he sighs, rolling his lips together as the two of you kinda get off to a clunky start.

the silence between the two of you is a lil awkward, but you decide to break the ice since teyam’s technically played his hand and the ball’s in your court.

“are you an art major ?” you ask.

“uh, nah,” he'd say, rubbing his sweaty palms on the thighs of his baggy jeans because HE SHOWED UP TO CLASS 15 MINUTES EARLY and the agony of not knowing if you’d show up made him so nervous. “environmental engineering.”

your eyebrows raise ever so slightly, lips forming an ‘o’ bc wow that must mean he’s super smart.

“wow, that’s insane,” you say quietly. “what made you take pottery ?”

“only elective that didn’t make me wanna claw my eyes out,” he laughs nervously. “what about you ? what’s your major ?”

you seem to mull over your thoughts for a moment, obviously a little hesitant to answer.

“3d art...nothing special...” you trail off.

neteyam begins working with the slab of clay waiting for him in the center of the wheel, cheeks going hot because the words leave him before he can stop them.

“no, no. i think that’s really cool. art is a really challenging passion to have & i admire people willing to dive in full stop.”

the comment makes you smile, fingers pliant over the wet clay.

neteyam wants to DIE because he can’t read whether or not your smile is genuine or if you’re grimacing because he’s the biggest idiot ever.

he supposes it’s the former when you two are parting ways, signing the attendance log and you decide to bite the bullet and write your instagram handle on the bottom corner of the page and tear it off to hand to him.

he’s barely able to get a ‘thank you’ out before you’re racing out the door with your gifted coffee in hand.

you’re so giddy when you run out of the building and your phone pings in the front pocket of your satchel and you see that teyam.sully has followed you.

after that day, you two become really friendly !

neteyam frequently dms you about class, but eventually, he starts sending you vids and memes, saying that they made him think of you.

it becomes so obvious to both of your friend groups that you’re crushing on each other, but both of you are too painfully shy to say anything despite every green flag.

soon, looking forward to seeing each other during class turns into neteyam subtly asking you to hang out.

you make a comment about one of his hoodies and he mentions that he thrifted it.

“wait really??” you’re pausing your work to look at him. “i love thrifting!”

he smiles wide, word vomiting before he can stop himself.

“yeah? i know a couple of good places if you’re down.”

you say yes, DUH !

looking back at it, maybe that’s your first date because he picks you up from your dorm & bc you guys live in a fairly walkable city, you commute to the thrift and you’re SO giddy because the backs of your hands keep brushing every time some impatient pedestrian pushes by you guys on the narrow sidewalks.

you guys end up spending HOURS and teyam’s internally screaming because you find a shirt that has a peeling heart with the phrase ‘if lost return to wife’ and he happens upon the match to it a couple aisles down that says ‘i'm the wife’.

when you’re not looking, teyam buys the shirts and stuffs them in his canvas bag.

DUDE IS WHIPPED.

he wants you SO bad.

after the thrift, you guys get pizza, and after that, ice cream, and JESUS he doesn’t want the day to end because being with you is so easy.

over the course of the rest of the semester, the two of you make it a routine to hang out at least once a week and you’re always looking forward to it.

dates excursions include; trips to the museum to see recent exhibits, weekly pizza parlor dinners, study sessions at the 24 hr cafe a block from the school (in which he always walks you home after), park days where he reads books on environmental sustainability and you secretly draw portraits of him.

in these times, he learns that you want to become an art teacher, your favorite cereal is froot loops with the marshmallows, your all time show is amazing world of gumball.

almost cries laughing when he finds out that you have a secret pet turtle you hide in your dorm named franklin.

acknowledges that he’s falling, but falls even harder when the florist who owns the flower shop you two always pass hands you the prettiest little bundle of flowers and you spend the entire trek to the park, handing out individual stems to couples, children, and the elderly, telling them to have a beautiful day.

it all comes to a head near the end of the semester when he realizes that he can’t keep dancing around his feelings for you and the feelings he’s almost certain you have for him.

tells you to clear your schedule for the upcoming friday night and dresses a little nicer than usual when he picks you up.

brings you two to the planetarium in the city and, instead of watching the exhibit, he spends the entire time watching how you light up.

he knows in his gut that you could be it for him.

he’s loved getting to know you and spending so much time with you.

he’s so immersed in this feeling throughout the entire night.

probably wipes his sweaty palms over the thighs of his pants before shakily taking your hand as the diagram of the constellations shift.

can’t help but smile when your fingers squeeze his and you seem to shift closer to him as the narrator starts the presentation.

and he’s especially quiet after the exhibit, fingers still twined with yours as the two of you walk down the bustling sidewalks of the city center.

two of you probably stop by a dessert cafe and sit outside on a bench in the spring air, enjoying the buskers as you share a little cake.

you’re talking about home and how you’re excited to see your family again and he can’t help but imagine bringing you home to meet all his siblings and his parents because he knows that they’d absolutely love you and—

you’ve paused your speaking, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth and he’s SHORT CIRCUITING.

“shit, that was weird i’m so—”

his palm cups your jaw, thumb on your cheek, pad of his pinky and ring finger soft against your neck.

“can i?” he whispers.

TRIANGLE METHOD !!

he glances at one eye, gaze dropping to your lips before glancing at the other.

you already know what he’s referring to, could feel the romantic tension between the two of you since the beginning, but only become sure of it in the recent weeks.

”can you what?” you swallow.

he breathes a short laugh because the knowing smile that quirks your lips is a dead give away.

“can i kiss you?” he asks softly, absently setting your abandoned dessert somewhere behind him on the bench.

“yeah,” you’d nod, leaning into him. “please.”

before the two of you go your separate ways for summer holiday, he shows you the shirts he bought at the thrift store the first time around, but insists on keeping the shirt that says ‘i'm the wife’.

neng © 2023

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Answer the Call

Prologue =-= Next

Author's note: Symith's debut in Husbandry!

Warnings: None. Let me know if I need to add anything.

Summary: Symith wakes up on a world he hadn't been on when he'd gone to sleep the night before.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34

The last thing Symith remembers before waking up on this warmly temperate forest floor was celebrating a victory with his brothers. That consisted of feasting, drinking, and boasting of fights and stories of the glories of the past. He'd been very drunk and had helped, as well as been helped by a couple of his brothers as the staggered to their beds, singing and drinking loudly in the halls of their ship.

They'd collapsed in a drunken heap, and fell asleep, he knows that neither of them are on top of and/or next to him, because Vaskarl snores like a bad engine, due to a badly broken nose that hadn't been fixed and Alvunn had a tendency to kick when he slept, the bastard. So he's not Happy when he realizes he's just in his sleeping shorts and weaponless.

He gets up, glad that his Space Marine Constitution means that he doesn't get a Hang Over that base line humans complain about if they drink too much. He takes in a couple of deep breaths through his nose as he looks around trying to gather his Barings. He can smell some pollution in the air, that means that civilization is somewhere on this planet, even if he can't see it at the moment.

Shrugging his shoulders he looks around and tilts his head to the side as he tries to hear for a river or stream as he scratches one of his cheeks as he starts to slowly spiral out from where he was placed. He wonders if this is a 'surprise' training session or if some of his naughty little shit Scouts had decided to prank him and his fellow Sergeants by separating them and putting them on a safe, if unknown planet and were watching and snickering at him from a distance.

If that's the case, he's going to find them, scold them for their audacity, and tell them he was impressed that they managed to pull of something like this. And to impress upon them to Never. Do This. Again. By having them run training sessions until they cried mercy, which he'd only grant two more cycles later.

Pups, could be, should be rowdy at times, but also need to learn respect and to listen to those who know better and have more experience and age under their belts. He'd learned of the Larger Pups- er Primaris Marines. They are an… interesting bunch, getting them to warm up to the rest of them had taken patience and skill.

Some of his brothers had been… uncertain about the pups, but they gotten to know them. Good pups, Large, strong, clever, good hunters. Just need to sharpen their teeth, but that comes with age and time and battles won. As he continued to explore the forest, he finds a river and watches how active it is and slowly scoops up a handful of water and drinks from it.

The water is nice and cool, refreshing, and only a hint of pollution making it bitter on his tongue. Watching it's flow he nods his head a little and starts to walk along the water's edge downstream. Most civilizations build along, around, or near sources of water. Unless some other reasons, environmental or dangers, made them build farther away.

He continues to walk, it's a nice forest, filled with life and greenery. He's used to the bitter ice and cold of Fenris, but more temperate worlds can be a treat to relax on from time to time. It takes several hours, but he hears the sounds of civilization a lot sooner than his sight starts to see the outline of base line human built buildings.

He hears the sound of city life clammer out cacophonously as he hears the… hm… He doesn't recognize the language that the locals are speaking, which will make things difficult. Well, time to see how these base liners react to partial nudity and Astartes in nothing but shorts.

The reactions from base line humans can be hilariously entertaining at times. Some can't stop but stare at his form, as muscular and strong as he is. Their eyes tracing his scars and what not. He's walking through the city and is amused to see the way that the base line humans to double takes and sometimes gawk at him. One of them is on a miniature data-slate, tapping away at it furiously and several minutes later some Imperial Fists show up. Boo. They can be No Fun at times.

As they head over to him, the Imperial Fist in Charge taking off his helmet and saying, "Greetings Cousin, I am Brother Captain Castor Polion of the Imperial Fists. What's your name?"

"I am Brother Sargent Symith of the Space Wolves, Fourth Company," Symith says with a drawl, "And before you say anything. I woke up in a forrest several hours on foot in the south-westerly direction."

They explain to him where, and when he is, and how randomly Space Marines from various Eras would arrive. It didn't seem to matter when or where they were from. Which Legion or Chapter, as well as which Alignment they are from. They also explain about the Alliance between the various factions, in order to not tear apart Ancient Terra.

He's not sure how he feels about that, but so long as the non-imperial factions don't start shit he won't. He tells them as such. The Imperial Fist Brother Captain nods in agreement and he decides to follow the lot of them back to their base.

He's glad to have more clothes and shoes, and a bit grumpy, but understanding that they don't have armor for him. What with it being damn impossible to make more in Ancient Terra. Still, he'd like to have something more than cloth to protect himself.

They likely want him to prove himself before arming him, as much as it chafes, it makes sense that they would have to be cautious and hoard their resources on this precious lonely blue pearl of a planet.

[edutainer2022]

It's Scott Tracy's birthday, but all my WIP stories are kinda angsty atm. So I decided to revisit this little thing on the day - it always makes me smile. It's mind-numbing fluff. A morning talk-show with Jeff Tracy upon return to Earth provides grounds for some much needed revelations. And hugs.

ONE WORD ANSWERS

As interviews were going these months, this was a smaller one. Done privately from the desk in the lounge via a holo-com. Ever since the dramatic return from Oort Cloud, already christened the "Rescue of the Century", every media outlet worldwide wanted a piece of him. Jeff didn't feel much like putting up with most of it - eight years in outer space on meager rations and slim hope was a brutal awakening once they were safely back on Earth. Besides, he'd rather not waste any more time than necessary on media coverage, away from his family. He'd done his fair share of that in his active duty days, and Lord knew he had A LOT to catch up with in his sons' lives. A lot! Some things he gleaned and pieced together in observations and a backlog of reports were more... thought provoking than others. But some visibility was needed and even expected. He understood that.

The interview for a morning show in a different timezone was to be short, capped up with a ten-questions blitz to lighten the mood. The outline of questions, as per usual, was screened by John and Tracy Legal, and pre-approved by Jeff himself. His only recommendation this time around was the order of points in a blitz.

If the boys were surprised he asked them to sit in through the interview, obscured by the sunken lounge, they didn't show it. Jeff made sure everyone was on the island, Scott back from NYC and the Tracy Industries Board full of questions and incessant worries as to the perspective changes in status quo, Alan back from campus orientation, even John planetside for the weekend (something that had become a frequent and welcome habit). They knew Dad sometimes struggled with social situations these days and needed some cheering along and support - which was provided with unreserved abandon.

The interview was running its course smoothly, as they neared the 10 questions section. The show anchor was all smiles - the mock-blitz questions were submitted by the viewers and the most frequent or special ones were selected.

- So, Mr. Tracy, you were the First Man on Mars, the Founder of International Rescue, you set multiple supersonic speed records. How would you describe yourself in one word?

Oh, that was an easy one. He would have used so many words years ago as applied to himself - some more on point, some vain. A pilot. An astronaut. An entrepreneur. A husband. A son. A Thunderbird. A man of the world. A friend. A savior. A failure. An idealist. A leader. A survivor. Jeff Tracy still was all those things, in different measures. But eight years of the endless night, with nothing but his thoughts, memories and dreams for company, have distilled his self-awareness to one point of absolute clarity:

- A father.

He could hear the collective breath escape his sons' lips and a soft glow washed over their features.

The blitz went on.

- What are you most proud of?

That too was a no-brainer, but he might need more than one word to answer exhaustively. Never hurts to elaborate on global television:

- My sons. There are no words to express how proud I am of their accomplishments and of the incredible people they grew up to be: my youngest son Alan is a prodigy, the youngest rocket pilot in history, Gordon is an Olympic champion, an environmental activist AND an Aquanot for International Rescue, Dr. John Tracy, the Voice that Answers, holds multiple PhD degrees in Astrophysics and Computer Science, my son Virgil is an accomplished pianist, like his mother, and a recognized artist on top of being busy full time with International Rescue engineering.

Smiles were blooming on his boys' faces up to a point it became apparent he stopped his answer at four. Jeff could swear there was a sheen of tears in Alan’s eyes, whereas light brown and turquoise turned momentarily hard. Virgil's whole face was a shimmer of disbelief and betrayal. Scott's eyes, soft and understanding, and infinitely sad, would be enough to stop the interview right there and backtrack. But he needed to see this through just right. The news anchor was beaming, as they were down to the last question:

- That is certainly a LOT to be proud of, Mr. Tracy. I'm sure the whole world, anyone who has ever needed help from International Rescue, would agree. But our viewers want to know one last thing from the Hero of the Century. Do you know you're called that? That's a tough mark to measure up to! Well, who is YOUR Hero, Mr. Tracy?

The anchor probably would have never guessed how simple and ready that answer was in his mind. He didn't need a moment to think:

- My eldest son. Scott Tracy. Everything International Rescue is today, everything our family is today - we owe him. I owe him my life. I know nobody stronger in the face of so much pain and pressure. I could survive in outer space, but I am not sure I could ever do what he did in my absence. I could never admire or respect anyone more. I am a better man for being his father. So it's simple as that, Scott Tracy is my hero.

The holo projector barely flickered out when he was barreled into midriff by a flurry of warm and blond, and fierce. Alan hugged him tight and mumbled "Thank you!", no doubt aimed at his words not only on all other brothers, but on Scott. He meant every one of those. Soon he was in a circle of strong arms and within reach of the most beloved young faces, incandescent with emotions and hope. All but one. Scott lingered behind, as he was disturbingly wont to since their first hug in the Oort Cloud - hence Jeff's little staged performance today, as a desperate measure. He held his eldest son's gaze unwaveringly across the lounge, aware of the tears streaming from still astonished blue eyes. It was an instant loss to step out of his boys' embrace even for a brief moment, but there was something he needed to do. He crossed to the couches in three big strides and held Scott as tightly to himself as the still recuperating muscles would allow. It hurt to know the boy would be this surprised to be acknowledged and appreciated. But Jeff was gifted a second chance to let all his sons know how cherished they were. How precious. He'd waste no minute of that. A tight circle of strong arms was soon  embracing him and Scott again, more confirmations of affection all around washing over. There was nothing he'd rather do for the rest of his life.

[rate-every-bat]

Could you rate the honduran white bat? They’re my favorite and I even have a character based on them!

Hello! I'd love to, thank you for the suggestion!

Today's Bat: Honduran White Bat

The Honduran White Bat is the first line of defense against bat-haters. "Bats are ugly-" WRONG. "Bats carry disease-" NOT THIS GUY. The second someone says they don't like bats, for any given reason, I want you to pull this picture up on your phone and tell them they're WRONG:

Environmental Impact: Not much is known about how Honduran White Bats affect their environments. They live across Panama, Honduras, and parts of Central America. They're frugivores, but don't disperse seeds. They aren't known to carry any pests or diseases. They are, of course, famed for their roost-making behavior: by chewing along the ribs of heliconia leaves, they create tents in which to rest, camouflaged from predators. Fun fact: their roosts are mixed-sex until mating season, at which point the bats will split into "bachelor" and "maternal" roosts for patrol and child-rearing, respectively. Unfortunately, the species is currently classified as "near-threatened" on the IUCN Red List because of habitat destruction.

🦇🦇/5

Beauty: I mean, look at them. Each is around two inches tall and weighs 5 grams. Their unique orange-yellow accents stand out against their white coats, making them look like cotton ball art dolls. Even if you aren't an enjoyer of leaf noses and echolocator's ears (which I very much am), you've gotta admit these guys are something special.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇/5

Power: Remember the unique orange-yellow coloration of their ears, nose, and wings? This pigment comes from lutein, a carotenoid often found in fruits in vegetables. Most mammals disperse these pigments evenly around the body, but Honduran White Bats take advantage of lutein's oxygen-carrying properties and accumulate the pigment at the spots of their body most likely to be injured to allow for speedier healing. This unique property makes them an object of scientific curiosity, as understanding how they utilize lutein may lead to developments in treatment and prevention of macular degeneration in humans!

🦇🦇🦇🦇/5

Overall: If you like bats, cotton balls, DIY, scientific research opportunities, or figs, this little guy has something for you. Thank you for sharing your favorite bat with me! C:

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇/5

(Today's sources: Animal Diversity Web, Chemical and Engineering News)

[ghostinthegallery]

If you’re still doing prompts, would you mind doing “Just... don't."

oh boy you just gave me an excuse to mess around with this pairing which had been bouncing around my head for ages! Behold, Szarekh/Imotekh (because you can’t just give me two rival kings and NOT expect me to wonder what would happen if they kissed)

Damn, I am getting mileage out of this prompt list ###

Mandragora did not have much in the way of native flora. Most species had been driven to extinction long ago by environmental shifts and violent acid rains. Biomancers saved, cultivated, and jealously guarded some plants for whatever nonsensical reasons they had to examine organic life. But Mandragora was not and would never again be a lush world.

So Imotekh was surprised to find a small, white flower lying in wait for him on the highest balcony of his palace.

He dismissed his lychguard, an act which was not unusual. He came to this spot often to think, to unravel the threads of logic and possibility that now formed so much of his mind. This was more easily done alone, away from any onlookers. On a clear day he could see hundreds of khet in any direction. This was not a clear day. It was foggy and damp, impossible to perceive much if he relied purely on visual data. Imotekh could only see his lychguard departing by the soft glows of their cores and weapons.

Once he was sure they were gone, Imotekh examined the delicate flower between the metal fingers of his gauntlet. Five petals the color of fresh snow surrounding a red pistil. He could not remember what it had been called in the time of flesh. His abilities of near perfect recall had only formed after his awakening from the Great Sleep. However he did not need to remember what it was called to know what its presence meant.

“Where did you get this?” he demanded.

For a moment he received no answer. His circumspection protocols revealed nothing. Until the mists swirled and his guest revealed himself.

The Silent King did not speak. Imotekh did not expect him to. Szarekh had always taken his kingly oath of silence comically seriously. There had been a time when Imotekh had enjoyed making him break that vow. Moans and cries of ecstasy counted just as much as words.

“You did not get it here,” Imotekh said, twisting the blossom between his claws. It took all of his meticulous control not to crush it. “It no longer occurs naturally. And I cannot imagine how you would have preserved an old specimen for this long.”

Imotekh had few memories of the time before the fires had taken him. Yet he remembered that once a general had been presented before his king after a great victory. A gauzy curtain separated him from the throne, but thanks to luck, chance, or some god's dreadful sense of humor an errant gust of wind had blown it aside. Just long enough for the general to see and be seen by the monarch he served. 

Imotekh had not been at all romantic, even when he had possessed a soul. He had simply been…enthralled. 

“No,” he continued. “I imagine you had one of your crypteks engineer it for you.”

Ensnared by the beautiful king who had done him the greatest possible cruelty…by loving him in return.

Imotekh released a static scoff through his vocal buffer. “What a sentimental waste of time.”

The affair would have been beyond scandalous, not to mention dangerous. Discovery would have meant disgrace for the king and execution for his sand-born lover. So they had devised a signal. A single white flower, left on the king’s balcony, and the general would know it was safe to enter his liege’s chambers. He had never found cause to object to the welcome he found there, whether it be sensual delights or simply calm. A rare thing for a general constantly at war. 

That chamber had been the only place in the universe he had truly felt safe. 

“Are you here to kill me?” Imotekh asked.

Szarekh’s glance fell. As much a sign of hurt as he had ever given. 

“That is what logic would dictate. Am I not in open rebellion against you?” Imotekh took a step towards the intruder. Where once the flower had promised unrestrained adoration, seeing it now only brought bitterness. How could it not when the king he had once worshiped had failed so utterly?

Szarekh closed the distance between them in three long strides, faster than Imotekh had calculated he would. He trapped Imotekh against the balcony’s railing, the only thing guarding them from a three-khet high fall. Rough stone ground against Imotekh’s back. Even more so than in life, the Silent King towered over him. Staring into Szarekh’s blazing oculars, he debated if he had a better chance of surviving gravity or the king’s wrath.

Or worse, his affections.

The Silent King’s slender fingers brushed against his hip as they moved to settle on his waist. He traced a line from the Stormlord’s shoulder, down his arm until their hands came together and began to intertwine. Sensory recollections flooded Imotekh’s neural buffer. Cool sheets, warm caresses, kisses both tender and desperate. To touch him after centuries, millennia apart was almost too sweet and painful to bear. 

Szarekh took hold of Imotekh’s chin and tilted his head back, bringing their faceplates close. 

“Don’t.” Imotekh’s anger, forged and tempered over countless years of war, suddenly felt brittle as glass. “Just…don’t.”

He pushed Szarekh away and pressed his hand against the balcony. The old memories burned in his core, but he shoved them down and strangled them with newly formed engrammatic chains. Not this. He did not want a cold mockery of the comforts they had once shared.

“You left,” he said, tone heavy with unspoken accusations. “You condemned us all, locked us away in tombs, and then you left. That doesn’t come without consequence.”

Szarekh recoiled. In that moment, Imotekh could have asked why? Had the guilt really been too much? Had Szarekh always been a coward, deep down? Instead, Imotekh turned away, unable to look at him any longer. Because of all the things biotransference had taken from the necron’s king, beauty was not one of them. 

Damn the weakness the gods cursed me with, even now, Imotekh thought.

“I heard it said that you had been killed by rivals while you slept.”

It took Imotekh a full half second to realize that it was in fact Szarekh who had spoken. The general nearly spun around, but he braced against the railing to keep himself in place. His fingers left furrows in the stones.

“It will pain me more than anything if it transpires that we must destroy each other, but still…I am glad the rumors were false. I am glad I got to see you again.”

“Selfish bastard.”

“Is selfishness not the right of kings?”

Imotekh could no longer resist turning, a retort forming in his vocal buffer, but Szarekh was already gone. Only a disturbance in the mist served as evidence he had been there at all.

It felt like something had been torn from him and his reactor had suddenly grown cold.

Imotekh shut down his optic array. He had known his resolve would be tested. That was the burden he had accepted when he had taken the phaeron’s throne. When he had challenged the triarchy. When he had denounced his one and only love. Their people needed someone to lead them out of this time of strife and darkness. There was no one else. 

Imotekh activated his gauntlet and watched as the white flower was consumed by flame.

[apteryxparvus]

L ♡ V E R ⇌ L ⦻ S E R — pov: you’re my therapist

Group chat — pov: you’re my therapist

masterlist • next

Y/N L/N Occupation: first-year bachelor of Civil Engineering at Sumeru Akademiya. Bartender at Lambad's Tavern and library assistant at House of Daena.

Living situation: currently crashing at Alhaitam’s place, enjoying alcohol and horror movie marathons with her second roommate Kaveh.

Due to her mother's job, she grew up used to frequent relocations.

After her parents divorced, she moved with her father to Sumeru.

Youngest member of her friend group at Sumeru Akademiya.

Closest to Alhaitam, often pretending to simp over him to make Kaveh annoyed (= jealous).

Kaveh Occupation: third-year bachelor student of Architectural Science, with a minor in Fine Arts at Sumeru Akademiya. Works as a freelance architect and a TA for small tutorial groups for the course Linear algebra; occasionally opens commission slots online.

Living situation: Alhaitam’s roommate since the start of the academic year. Both of his roommates have to endure his late-night tinkering sessions.

Both parents are renowned Sumeru Akademiya alumni.

After his father's passing, his mother moved to Fontaine and remarried.

In his late teens, he was forced to sell the family home.

Proud owner of an orange tabby cat called Mehrak.

Living with Alhaitam is tough, but despite their frequent arguments and debates, Kaveh recognizes that his friend holds a significant presence in his life.

Alhaitam Occupation: second-year bachelor student double majoring in Linguistics and Semiotics; works part-time as a junior library administrator and assistant at the House of Daena.

Living situation: owns an apartment close to the main campus of Sumeru Akademiya, sharing it with his roommates Kaveh and Y/N.

Lost both is parents at a young age; raised by his grandmother.

His passion for literature and science led him to graduating a year before his peers.

While he takes pleasures in engaging in debates his Kaveh, he feels genuine concern for his friend's well-being. 

Cyno Occupation: third-year bachelor student of Laws, interning as an Academic Misconduct Officer at Sumeru Akademiya. He’s an internationally known Genius Invocation TCG champion.

Living situation: resides in a small, cozy house with his long-term boyfriend Tighnari and their adopted sister Collei.

Born in the Great Red Sand desert, he defied the odds and got accepted at Sumeru Akademiya to study law.

Stoic and emotionless, often intimidating others, but his friends know his true character.

Regular customer at the board game café in near the Akademiya, always challenging the other patrons to a duel.

Tighnari Occupation: second-year bachelor student of Environmental Science at Sumeru Akademiya; weekend help at a nursery garden and renowned plant vlogger with a devoted following.

Living situation: lives in a small rented house with his boyfriend and their adopted sibling, hoping to buy their own place after graduation.

Grew up in Gandharva Ville and witnessed the devastating effects of pollution and deforestation.

Has a YouTube channel where he shares insights about the flora and fauna of Teyvat.

Frequently complains to his online followers about having to take care of hikers who consume psychedelic mushrooms from the Avidya Forest National Park.

Author's note: hoping to post the rest of the profiles sometime over the weekend, if work doesn't mentally destroy me that is 🤷‍♀️

[bruhstation]

I've been thinking about the setting of my TUGS au, the prequel to casa tidmouth, and by extention I began thinking about the show TUGS itself.

it's kind of depressing to know that TUGS is most likely set during the years RIGHT before world war 2. I remember watching a TUGS iceberg video a long time ago, maybe last year-ish. after a series of callbacks and alludes to the little environmental details right at the end of the video, the creator said that the show is possibly not set during the 1920s, but the 1930s, nearing another war period, and that's why I've changed the era of what this AU is set in many months ago.

mitton and cardona claimed that the show is set during the "booming era" of the 1920s, but I can't help but think that maybe the 1920s isn't the most fitting era with how the tone of the show is.

the 1930s setting really does make sense though -- the atmosphere in TUGS is much more, I dunno how to exactly say it, gloomy? serious? it's still a mostly lighthearted kids show, but, to quote some things indirectly from the iceberg video; what's with the munitions? the flammable barges? johnny cuba? the constant mention of broken ships? characters dying right on the screen in such a macabre fashion? burke and blair's whole job? then my mind thought about the star tugs and z-stacks, their relationship and purpose and how it ties to the pre-ww2 feeling of the story.

the conflict between the star tugs and z-stacks isn't fueled by personal grudge against each other. I apologize for comparing TUGS to ttte, but in comparison to its sister series where the engines of sodor have personal banter against each other selfishly, still manage to fool around during their jobs, get into accidents due to their own hubris, and end the day where they learned their lesson, TUGS is much different. they're just there to work and carry through their contracts. they still banter with each other but they know their priorities. they are also driven by their conscience and rationale, not just some "oh he made fun of me so I'm not gonna help him out. I'm bigger and more important so I refuse to do this job and go back to my berth".

zorran dislikes the star tugs but knows that the contracts are much more important and he is willing to work with them if it means the job will be done. top hat, despite his personal distaste for anything smelly, QUICKLY changes his mind about lord stinker and works with him to save the goods engine. zebedee is a character more driven by his personal view on what's good or bad -- he helped the star tugs push princess alice back into place and showed concern when ten cents was pushing the oil barge to the sea, but there's a part of him that's definitely concerned for his own well being.

they have their personal opinions on both their teammates and their rival company's tugboats, but they know better than to let those feelings get in the way. not working means their presence as tugboats will be jeopardized.

these points, added to the very high possibility that TUGS is set during the late 1930s, creates another layer to the overall murkier feeling of the show. the characters know the times are dire. the characters know that they have contracts to go through. they know that something big is coming. they've went through world war 1! with how bluenose and the navy inserted their presence in bigg city port, there's also an idea that there's gotta be at least one character with a sense of foreboding amidst the business.

I also reckon they've grown some kind of fondness (???) for their rival company? it's like when there's a kid at school who keeps annoying you, but next day they're not there and you got a bit worried on where they might be. the two factions don't necessarily like each other, but their rival has formed a place in their normalcy that to get rid of them entirely is not going to do any good, really.

so yeah. that's all I have in mind right now.

[beardedmrbean]

DEER PARK, Texas (AP) — A towering flame gradually subsided Tuesday morning in the aftermath of a massive pipeline explosion after a vehicle drove through a fence and struck an above-ground valve, officials said.

Deer Park officials said police and local FBI agents initiated investigations and found no preliminary reports that would suggest a coordinated or “terrorist” attack and that “this appears to be an isolated incident.”

The investigation included efforts to learn more about the driver of a vehicle that was incinerated by the pipeline explosion as flames scorched the ground across a wide radius, severed adjacent power transmission lines and ignited homes at a distance. Police did not provide any information about the person's condition.

An evacuation area included nearly 1,000 homes and initial shelter orders included schools.

Operators shut off the flow of natural gas liquids in the pipeline, but so much remained in the miles of tubing that firefighters could do nothing but watch and hose down adjacent homes.

Deer Park Mayor Jerry Mouton Jr. described intense heat from a fire that endured for more than 12 hours as ladder trucks showered houses from above.

"A lot of the house structures that are adjacent to that are still catching on fire even though we’re putting a lot of water on them,” Mouton said at an afternoon news conference. A spewing flame still lit up the sky at sunset Monday.

Firefighters initially were dispatched at 9:55 a.m., after an explosion at a valve station in Deer Park, adjacent to La Porte, rattled homes and businesses, including a Walmart. Deer Park officials said an SUV drove into the valve after going through a fence on the side of the Walmart parking lot.

At the news conference, officials said only one person, a firefighter, sustained a minor injury. Later, Deer Park spokesperson Kaitlyn Bluejacket said four people were injured. She didn’t provide details about the severity of the injuries.

Harris County Judge Lina Hidalgo said in a statement that 20 miles (32 kilometers) of pipeline between the two closed valves had to burn off before the fire would stop.

Anna Lewis, who was walking into the nearby Walmart when the explosion happened, said it sounded “like a bomb went off.” She said everyone inside was rushed to the back of the store and then taken across the street to a grocery store before being bussed to a community center.

“It scared me,” she said. “You really don’t know what to do when it’s happening.”

Geselle Melina Guerra said she and her boyfriend heard the explosion as they were having breakfast in their mobile home.

“All of a sudden we hear this loud bang and then I see something bright, like orange, coming from our back door that’s outside,” said Guerra, who lives within the evacuation area.

Guerra’s boyfriend, Jairo Sanchez, said they’re used to evacuations because they live close to other plants near the highway, but he hadn’t seen an explosion before in his 10 years living there.

“We just drove as far as we could because we didn’t know what was happening,” Sanchez said.

Houston, Texas’ largest city, is the nation’s petrochemical heartland and is home to a cluster of refineries and plants and thousands of miles of pipelines. Explosions and fires are a familiar sight in the area, including some that have been deadly, raising recurring questions about the adequacy of industry efforts to protect the public and the environment.

Letting the fire burn out is better, from an environmental perspective, than trying to attack the flames with some kind of suppressing foam or liquid, said Ramanan Krishnamoorti, a petroleum engineering professor at the University of Houston.

“Otherwise it’s going to release a lot of volatile organics into the environment,” he said.

Still, there will undoubtedly be negative environmental consequences, including a release of soot, carbons and organic material, he said.

The pipeline’s owner, Dallas-based Energy Transfer, said air monitoring equipment was being set up near the plume of fire and smoke, which could be seen from at least 10 miles (16 kilometers) away at one point.

A statement from Harris County Pollution Control on Monday afternoon said no volatile organic compounds had been detected. The statement said particulate matter from the smoke was moderate and not an immediate risk to healthy people, although “sensitive populations may want to take precautions.” The Texas Commission on Environmental Quality said it was also monitoring the air.

Natural gas liquids are used primarily in the manufacturing of plastics and basic and intermediate chemicals, Krishnamoorti said.

The fire burned through nearby power lines, and the website PowerOutage.us said several thousand customers were without power at one point in Harris County.

Krishnamoorti said the area’s extensive pipeline infrastructure will have to be closely inspected for damage beyond the explosion site, though the fire “won’t be a major disrupter of supply chains.”

The Railroad Commission of Texas, which regulates oil and gas in the state, said its safety inspectors were investigating.

Margaret Newman, who lives on the edge of the evacuation zone, said that when she heard the explosion she went out into her yard and could see the flame shooting above the trees. She lost electricity but has a generator to keep her home cool and planned to stay put.

[calamityardman]

i’m gonna gush about dead space remake for a second, i love the level of detail here, this ship is an OSHA nightmare and I’m so happy to be re-experiencing it.

there’s no story spoilers for the cut but i am gonna post environmental screenshots and yammer about the ship itself so

One of the things i adored about the original was the grunge, the rust, the reality of 62 years of continuous service, maintenance, and the usual level of corporate willingness to cut corners. Even before all hell breaks loose on the ship, this level of rust has been here for decades, at least.

This is from a fan grate, multiple slabs of steel to prevent people from walking into/something coming out of the gigantic-ass fan behind it, but it’s well engineered so that it’ll stay up. The fans themselves groan and creek while in operation and if you turn Isaac away sometimes you can hear the screech of overworked metal as your camera gets close to the fan.

like here, you can see rust on the fan rotor itself through the bars. The Ishimura’s maintenance logs show that things that are damaged and not working get dealt with, while things like routine maintenance seem to fall to the wayside as more and more big things start to fall apart. But the big things falling apart are 60 years old!! They were designed to last, built with a sturdiness that boomers speak out reverently when they say ‘they ain’t build em like they used to’.

But that level of good infrastructure design cuts corners still, with designs that clearly don’t care for people being near it. there’s an element of the Ishimura that is already pre-baked hostile to people because ultimately in Dead Space, people aren’t valued as much as the machines around them.

that’s a natural gas line that just goes into a fucking circuit board?? WITH A ‘HOT METAL’ warning?!

three still-kicking electrical switchboards stacked like fucking dominos? The ducts leaving to and from this insane electrical frankenstein’s monster are neatly spaced, curled to exact specifications, and neatly find their place within the steel walls of the Ishimura.

by contrast, the places where people walk are usually grates, cluttered with boxes of materials, and generally more cramped then even the space-saving efforts to place electrical infrastructure.

also while taking this screenshot the light flickered and just beautifully plunged the hall into darkness for me

Ducts just lay rolled out on the floor, crates of shit pushed into space where it can be found, further cramping the space people have to walk freely. The Ishimura feels like the carcass of a great whale, hollowed out to serve as equal parts home, workplace, and tomb but with enough infrastructure designed around the bones that it hides the fact.

i’m gonna keep gushing because i love dead space and this remake so maybe expect another of these

[osakaonryoif]

This might sound weird but...

I want to hear more unhinged train rants. Please provide your answers to the following questions:

Your favourite train model.

Detailed information about the model you chose for question 1.

You 100% have a model train set in your basement. Please provide pictures and nerdy ramblings.

Ever thought about writing an IF set fully on a train? I think you'd knock it out of the park.

That is all. Thank you.

Ah, someone who enjoyed the train rant in the demo. I appreciate you, Anon.

And no, no no, it isn't weird, in fact I find it flattering!

Fun fact, that train rant is 742 words, which is just over 0.5% of the total current word count! But, onto the questions.

Easy, BR Standard Class 9F 2-10-0 Steam Locomotive. Although a close second is the Pere Marquette 1255, but that's just me being nostalgic for a Christmas movie.

While yes, the models used on the Shinkansen lines, (such as the N700S Enu-Nanahyakuesu series, which is the train the MC rides in Act one), I am and always will be a sucker for the steam trains over modern electric trains.

Main reason, the big smokestack. Now I know, I know, environmental pollution and all that, but you can't deny how cool they look, as well as acting as a visual signifier of an approaching train from a distance. Second, the whistle. Ohhhh the whistle. Modern trains have whistles, yes, but they are more akin to the horns on cars than traditional train whistles. There's just something distinct about them, but I love the noises. (I may or may not listen to distant steam train noises on youtube while trying to sleep.)

Also, the bell. Of course, not every model had a bell, but they might as well have done. When you think of trains, there's a good chance you associate them with bells, and for good reason.

Finally, the chugging of the wheels as they move along the tracks is iconic, and frankly one of my favourite noises.

Ah, went off on a bit of a tangent, should've been justifying my choice of specific train model, rather than steam trains as a whole.

The 9F Steam Locomotive was the last steam locomotive designed and constructed by British Railways during the 1950's. It was also one of the most powerful steam engines ever built.

I love this model because the front of the locomotive has these side plates, which to me, looks cute because it looks like it's trying to hide it's face because it's shy.

The picture above is actually the last of the 9F classes to ever be constructed, The Evening Star, which was the last steam engine ever constructed by British Railways, and is on display at the National Railway Museum in York. I went there once, and ooh boy lemme tell you I spent ages there. My friends had to physically drag me out of the building. Slight side note though, why does the museum, which is British, have a coach from a Hikari-model shinkansen? The British Museum struck again.

Another reason I like the 9F class is because of it's versatility, which by that I mean that it was run as both passenger trains and freight trains. While they were originally designed as freight trains, some madlad decided to slap some passenger coaches on, and found that it worked wonders! Though if you ask me, it should've been a no-brainer that the most powerful engine you ever built would be a good versatile model.

I suppose by doing that I actually answered question 2 as well. huh. Although, I suppose I didn't go into details about the technical stuff, so here we go.

2)

The full name is the BR Standard Class 9F 2-10-0. All steam locomotive classes conceptualised by British Rail had a 6 digit code after their official name. This code tells you the number and layout of the wheels on the locomotive. For the 9F, you have two tiny wheels at the front with a radius of 3 feet, known as the leading wheels, made to help the train around corners and bends in the track, and then 10 MASSIVE wheels, which provide most of the acceleratory power, and are 5 feet in radius.

Traditionally, the wheels near the back of the locomotive were smaller, but the 9F had massive wheels across the entire length, meaning the rear grate had to be set higher than was standard. This had the effect of a smaller firebox than on other models, which meant that the stoker had to shovel coal more frequently in order to keep up maximum fuel efficiency in the steam engine. There is a reason most standard locomotives had a wheel map of 4-6-2.

There are 9 9F, (probably not intentional) that survived the scrap, and are in use in various locations across the UK. We have the aforementioned 92220 "Evening Star" on display at the National Railway musuem, but there are a few being used for other reasons.

In operation at Tourist Destinations/Steam Heritage Railway sites.

92134 (In service at the North Yorkshire Moors Heritage Railway. It is however missing it's original tender, which has been replaced with one from a class 5 73050.)

92203 "Black Prince" (In service at the North Norfolk Railway.)

92214 (In service at the Great Central Heritage Railway.)

Non Operational:

92207 "Morning Star" (This one is in a bit of a sad state. It is literally just a scrap piece of metal tube, which really has no business being called a train. Some dedicated people are trying to restore it to pristine condition, however.)

92212 (In service at the Mid Hants Heritage Railway until December 2019, when it's boiler ticket expired. Is currently being stored at the site.)

92219 (Being stored at the Strathspey Heritage Railway, and is awaiting Restoration. Poor guy is covered in grime, really needs a wash.)

92220 "Evening Star" (On display at the National Railway Museum in York.)

92240 (Is undergoing restoration at the Bluebell Heritage Railway site.)

92245 (Sadly, is being marked for scrap, and will bring the total survivors down to 8. The boiler is going to be given to 92212, which is a prime example of sharing is caring.)

3. I'M SORRY NO I DON'T. IF I DID I WOULD 100% BE CONSTANTLY SHOWING IT OFF.

But, it is definitely on my list of things I want in the future. Just couldn't afford one at the moment, unfortunately.

4. Oh, funny story that. I actually have, several times. While working on Onryo, I have had that itch of wanting to also have a second project. But I would not want to work on more than 2, as at that point I think it would just become excessive, and I doubt they would ever be finished.

So I did have 2 concepts that I couldn't decide on, which I posted on the Choice Of Games forum a few months ago. I'll link it below.

https://forum.choiceofgames.com/t/interest-check-thread/39424/5922?u=leinco

I have since decided on the concept of Broken Rails, and will devote myself to writing the first chapter once I have completed act 2 of Onryo. From that point, I will alternate between the two, writing a chapter for each, then switching, until both are done.

I have considered making a tumblr page for it, but I don't want to do anything like that until I have a demo ready, so I have held off.

Bonus fact about Broken Rails - the train you are on is a Class 9F! Because of the apocalyptic setting, electric trains are a no-go.

That is all, you have reached the light at the end of the tunnel. Or is it an approaching train?

[everlastiingiimmortals]

[LIFT]: sender gently cups the receiver's face and lifts their chin so the receiver is looking up at them. (aventurine to ratio!)

To cup a face. | @apocryphis

"...But the issue -- one of many, I should say -- glaring at me from this proposal, is that there is a particularly pathetic lack of consideration put into the procedure of the application. The cost of this so-called 'plan' to excavate all the material necessary to simply establish a foundation for the thermal generator is not only unrealistic, but pushes the budget far beyond the estimated projections. Additionally, high geothermal activity is a double-edged sword, especially with the location they chose. I am hard-pressed to believe these idiots passed a single civil engineering course--" A pause to take a sip of wine from his near-neglected glass, and Ratio dives right back in to tearing the proposal to pieces in all but physicality, "-- because according to even the most incompetent reports on the region, the instability of the location they selected indicates there's a relatively high risk for subsidence. Honestly, did they not anticipate the occurrence of seismic events damaging their infrastructure? Did they even check the depth of the water table? Not to mention the other environmental effects of these horrific oversights --" cue further flipping through the proposal, "-- and future plans for deep-sea mining? Who do they thing they're talking t--"

A gloved hand sliding against his cheek and tilting his face upwards brings an immediate halt to his rant. Somewhere in between sitting down with his glass of wine and beginning to complain about the proposal submitted for his 'consultation,' he'd entirely forgotten that the audience he had was in fact a living, breathing person, and not one of his little ducks seated on the right of his desk.

There's a barely-suppressed smile dancing on the corner of Aventurine's lips as he gazes down at Ratio from his seat on the desk (he was sure he'd scolded Aventurine about sitting there; had it escaped his notice this time?), amusement clearly etched on his face. Ratio's tongue goes dry, inexplicably rooted to the roof of his mouth. Your blood pressure, Doctor, Aventurine teases, and the sound of his voice is enough to snap Ratio into wresting his gaze free from the Stoneheart's eyes.

"My blood pressure is fine," he grumbles, like a liar. The way Aventurine's smile widens is enough to know he doesn't believe the retort in the slightest. Ratio definitely isn't sulking as he makes a show of slapping the proposal shut and tossing it into the recycling bin sitting to his left. "...I'm not approving that proposal," he (unnecessarily) adds, a sullen tone seeping into his voice.

The following peal of laughter doesn't grate against his ears as it might have once before.