#hydro trucks

[finlaure13]

Heroes. Cold, wind, rain, snow, dark nights, cranky people, frozen trees, live wires. They have my salute.

[cormierhill]

Advanced Excavation Without Damage or Delay

We specialize in hydro vac truck services offering accurate excavation to preserve underground assets and speed up work with less disturbance. Contact us at - 604-200-0118.

[reslogistical123]

Reliable Mobile Semi-Truck and Trailer Maintenance Services in Maryland (MD)

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[flowmarkv]

Purchasing a New Vacuum Truck: 3 Important Things to Consider

Adding a vacuum truck to your fleet is a major investment but with incredible rewards. A vacuum truck adds a tremendous amount of value to a wide variety of businesses, whether you're in a septic pumping business, construction, or even search and rescue. However, when you decide to purchase your first vacuum truck, there are quite a few factors that you should consider before choosing which kind of truck you may need for your business. Don't go with the first "vacuum trucks for sale" sign that you see!

1. Know the Exact Jobs You'll Be Doing

Before making any kind of purchasing decision, you need to understand the kind of jobs that you'll be handling with your vacuum truck. Will you be doing smaller jobs, or are you going to need an industrial vacuum truck in order to accomplish the kind of jobs you're anticipating? Do your research and speak to a professional like our team at Flowmark to help you make the best decision for you and your business needs. 

2. Understand the Climate Where You'll Be Working

Climate zones across the United States vary in extremes, and so knowing where you'll be handling most of your work is imperative to knowing what kind of features your vacuum truck should have. If you're planning to work in a consistently hot and humid climate, you need to ensure that the truck you choose will be able to handle hard work in those kinds of conditions. You also need to ensure that the cab of the truck has air conditioning for your employees.

The same is true for colder climates. If you plan to do most of your work in a colder area, then be sure that you're choosing a vacuum truck that has additional features and protocols to be able to handle the cold weather. How will the lines flush if they're frozen? Does the cab have heating? These are all things you should consider before making any purchase!

3. Come to the Table with a Budget in Mind

Just as with any major purchase, you need to consider your budget before making any final decisions. However, purchasing a vacuum truck comes with some additional costs that you may not be considering. You may have budgeted for the sale price of the truck, but you should also consider the additional taxes, maintenance fees, fuel expenses, licensing fees, and the additional costs that would come with financing the vacuum truck. While you may have the money for the outright cost of the truck, you have to consider all aspects of making a major purchase like this, and the sale price of the truck alone may not be enough. 

Making the Best Choice with Flowmark When you're considering making a major purchase for your business like a vacuum truck, Flowmark's team of specialists are here to help you consider all of the possibilities and choose what's best for your business. If you're interested in seeing what Flowmark can offer for you, contact us for a quote and more information today!

[beasangel]

the quiet between us

⤷ Joel Miller x youngerfem!reader | age gap

💭 “I ain’t gonna be good at this,” he said. “I’ve done a lot of bad. I don’t know how to be what you need.”

summary : he’s too old for her, too haunted by the past to let himself feel, but he does anyway. She’s too young to be carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, too stubborn to stay away from the one person who makes her feel safe.

warnings: injury (stabbed), light smut, age gap.

joel masterlist main masterlist

my first time writing smut so idk how i feel about it

You were twenty-six when you first met Joel Miller.

He was… not what you expected.

You’d heard his name whispered around town like a cautionary tale. Ellie’s guardian. Tommy’s brother. The man who walked across half the country with nothing but a gun, a girl, and a mission.

He was older. Weathered. Eyes like flint and a voice that could make people flinch. And when he looked at you for the first time, it was sharp assessing. Like he was trying to figure out if you were going to be a problem.

You weren’t. You didn’t want to be. You were just tired. You’d been on the road since you were nineteen—too young to have seen what you did, too old now to pretend you hadn’t.

Tommy offered you shelter. A bed. A patrol schedule.

Joel offered you silence.

You didn’t mean to care about him. But then you started getting paired up for patrols.

He didn’t like that at first. Said you were too green, even though you'd proven otherwise a dozen times over. You didn’t argue. Just kept showing up. Bleeding, bruised, breathing.

At first, he barely spoke to you outside of missions. “Watch your six.” “Stay low.” “You good?”

No softness. Just the rhythm of someone who’d been doing this too long to waste breath.

But you noticed things anyway.

How he always walked a half-step ahead. How he double-checked your ammo count when he thought you weren’t looking. How he’d never let you take the first watch on patrol nights. It wasn’t kindness exactly. It was… guilt. Protection. Like he’d decided that if you died on his watch, it would be one too many.

You were used to people brushing you off. Too young to be listened to. Too old to be coddled. But Joel? He didn’t brush you off. He watched you. He remembered things you said.

And when he let you patch a wound on his shoulder after a firefight, his eyes never left yours.

That was the first time you thought: he feels it too.

-

The age thing was always there.

Not in the way people stared—Jackson wasn’t like that—but in the way he held it. Quiet, heavy. Like a weight he carried between you.

You weren’t a kid. You were grown, capable, had seen more than anyone should. But still, when you laughed, Joel’s expression would twist—like it made him ache. Like it reminded him of a life he lost.

It happened after a patrol gone wrong. You and Joel had been paired together, again.

This time, it was a group of raiders on the road to the old hydro station. Too many, too fast. You both fought hard, but you took a knife to the side before Joel dragged you out of there, blood soaking through your shirt, your voice cracking with pain as you half-collapsed behind an abandoned truck.

He pressed down on the wound with his jacket, his hands surprisingly gentle. “Stay with me,” he said, voice rough. “Hey, hey. Look at me.”

You looked. Not because he told you to, but because you wanted to. His eyes were wild, scared, and that scared you more than the pain.

“You’re gonna be alright,” he muttered. “Just—fuck. Don’t do that again. Don’t get yourself killed.”

“I didn’t exactly plan on it,” you whispered, trying to laugh. You regretted it instantly.

“You think this is funny?” he snapped. Then softer, almost a whisper: “You can’t die. You hear me?”

You did hear him. And not just the words.

-

You woke up in the infirmary to find him still there, face drawn with days of sleepless worry.

When you tried to thank him, he just shook his head.

“You shouldn’t be this important,” he said quietly. “You’re too young. You’ve got time.”

You sat up, chest tight. “None of us have time, all this is just extra.”

He turned away. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I know exactly what I’m saying.”

And Joel - strong, stubborn, selfless Joel - still couldn’t look at you. “You deserve more than a man who’s got one foot in the grave.”

You laughed, wet and bitter. “You think I don’t know what this world is? We all do, I don’t care about age. I care about you. You’re the only thing that’s made me feel safe in years.”

That made him pause. Then finally, finally, he sat beside you, hand curling around yours with a gentleness that nearly undid you.

“I ain’t gonna be good at this,” he said. “I’ve done a lot of bad. I don’t know how to be what you need.”

You leaned in, eyes searching his. “You already are.”

-

He was waiting by the door when the nurse cleared her to leave days later, arms crossed tight over his chest like he was trying to hold something in. She moved slower than usual, still sore, but he stepped forward before she could reach for her things.

“I’ll take you,” he said, quiet but firm. She didn’t argue.

Outside, the cold bit through her jacket, but Joel walked close, hand hovering at the small of her back like he wanted to touch her but didn’t quite let himself. Not here. Not yet. Not when every step toward her house felt like crossing some invisible line.

 She glanced up at him once, searching, but he kept his eyes ahead, like if he looked too long, she’d see everything he was trying not to say.

When they reached her door, he opened it for her, stood in the threshold like he didn’t know if he was supposed to go in or walk away. And she just looked at him, soft and tired and still a little wrecked, and said, “You can come in.”

 So he did.

The door had barely shut behind you when Joel pressed you back against it, slow, not rushed, like he needed to make sure this wasn’t a dream. His hands cupped your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks like he was memorizing the shape of you.

“You sure?” he murmured, voice low and rough.

“I’ve been sure,” you whispered back. “Just needed you to be.”

That was all he needed.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, more urgent. His hands slid down to your waist, drawing you in, and when your fingers tugged his flannel open, he didn’t stop you. His breath hitched when your hands touched bare skin. Scarred, solid, warm.

“You’re beautiful,” you whispered, tracing a long-healed mark on his ribs.

He shook his head like he didn’t believe you, but the way he looked at you said he wanted to.

You ended up in your bed, half-undressed, tangled in each other, lit only by the soft golden spill of the bedside lamp. Joel took his time. Like he didn’t know if he’d get another chance.

His fingers were careful on your skin, unbuttoning your shirt slowly, pausing only when you shivered. You weren’t nervous, just overwhelmed. His eyes never left yours, even as he leaned down to press warm, open-mouthed kisses to your chest, your stomach, the inside of your thighs.

“You tell me to stop,” he said, voice gravel and heat, “and I will.”

“I won’t,” you breathed. “I want you, Joel.”

His hands slid beneath the waistband of your underwear, tugging them down as his mouth followed. When his tongue slid between your folds, slow and deliberate, your hips bucked instinctively. He held you in place, groaning against you, and kept going, torturously slow, then faster when you whimpered his name.

He didn’t stop until you came against his mouth, panting, one hand fisted in his hair and the other gripping the sheets.

Joel crawled up your body and kissed you like he wanted you to taste yourself on his tongue.

“Still with me?” he rasped, thumb brushing your lip.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I need you. Please.”

He slid a condom on, your heart caught at the way his hands trembled slightly, and lined himself up, pausing just long enough to rest his forehead against yours.

“This okay?” he asked.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him in. “Better than okay.”

He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you just right. You gasped into his mouth, and Joel groaned low in his throat, like he was barely holding himself together.

“Fuck- you feel so good,” he murmured, “so tight, so warm…”

He moved carefully at first, like he was savouring every second. You moved with him, hips rolling, hands gripping his back. The drag of his body against yours, the quiet, desperate sounds slipping from both your lips, it was overwhelming in the best way.

“Joel,” you whimpered. “Please.”

“Please what, baby?”

“Harder. I can take it.”

He growled softly, thrusting deeper, slow and rough and just right. You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders, and he kissed your throat, your jaw, your mouth, whispering your name like it meant something holy.

It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t frenzied.

It was real.

When you came again, he followed, grinding deep inside you with a ragged groan, like the sound had been ripped out of him.

After, he held you.

Not out of obligation. Not because he didn’t know what else to do.

But because he wanted to.

His fingers traced lazy circles along your spine. Your face was tucked into the crook of his neck, his scent—sweat, smoke, skin—like something permanent.

“Was that okay?” he asked softly.

You laughed, a little breathless. “Yeah Joel. That was okay.”

He kissed the top of your head.

“Then I guess I gotta make sure it wasn’t the last time.”

[i23kazu]

GENSHIN MEN & FALLING ASLEEP WITH YOU .

characters. xiao zhongli diluc kaeya childe neuvillette x gn!reader genre. romantic fluff. an. they r so eepy... | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

xiao

xiao falls asleep on your couch, exhausted with the overload of missions. and his sworn duty. you hastily pull a blanket over him as he snoozes – you notice that even when he's sleeping, he's never truly sleeping. there seems to always be that tinge of worry plastered on his face.

zhongli

zhongli falls asleep in your arms. he rarely takes the role of the small spoon – with his larger frame and taller body, he prefers to cuddle you to sleep instead. he rests peacefully, worry lines fading from his face. it's almost as if he's basking in his privilege of eternal youth again.

diluc

diluc falls asleep on your shoulder as the credits of beauty and the beast roll. his soft snores gently pierce the quietness of the room, as the music from the television fades out and the beast lays on your shoulder. he looks so young, no longer worn out by his work... he needs this kind of rest more often, you think.

kaeya

kaeya falls asleep, his head laying on your lap. the two of you had been winding down after dinner together, him resting against you as you read your book, and used his side as a table. you giggle softly as you take a picture to make the moment last forever. kaeya always insists on cuddling you instead, but when your prince falls asleep cuddling you? that's something to remember.

childe

childe falls asleep with you, lying against your side. the two of you had volunteered to babysit the children today, and all that running about and playing dress up and dolls and trucks and mr cyclops had truly taken it's toll on you. it's exhausting to keep up with teucer, when his big brother just simply didn't have the energy that day. it's adorable, and childe's mom snaps a picture.

neuvillette

neuvillette falls asleep, his head resting on your shoulder. the poor man had been worn out with the amount of work that had to be done recently, and not to mention his recent encounters with navia had left him more emotionally drained than it had in months. the children sing hydro dragon, hydro dragon, don't cry! multiple times a week. you feel sorry for your husband, but he's so cute when he's exhausted.

taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @chichikoi @ladyadii @soulsanta @sheiiths @genshinparty @eowinthetraveler @moonbyunniee @legitnoi @lemontum @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @starz222 @ilyuu @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @m1shapanda @aimynx @smokipoki @adeptuscharm @diorlumx @vennnnn-diagram @ryuryuryuyurboat @yuminako @st0pthatsgay @aqualesha (send ask/comment to be added to taglist)

reblogs w/ tags & comments help me lots !!! if you liked this, consider dropping me a follow as well :-) they all go a long way!

[ixiot-ghostrebel]

playing fontaine made me really want to introduce freminet and neuvillette because i think they would be good friends. could you write a little sagau drabble thing about introducing them?

No problem, anon! Thank you so much for requesting!

Having Neuvillette and Freminet Meet!

(Warning: May be OOC & Slight Use of Speculation/Theory on Behalf of Neuvillette!)

You were chilling around in Fontaine, when suddenly the idea of having Freminet and Neuvillette hits you as powerful as Truck-Kun smashing into you hard.

So, with the encouragement of Furina, and legal agreement on behalf of Freminet's part (you asked Lyney and Lynette), you have managed to arrange a small lunch meetup between the two. And, to be honest, you were the only one doibg most of the talking. You can't help but feel like this was going to be an awkward, sunny day....

Freminet

There's a lot to say. He's really blessed and lucky to have time to get to know you and all...but he's not really good with social interactions.

And then you brought Neuvillette into the picture. This boy's brain melts almost instantly. He's trying his best to stay put and hold on, but it's safe to say he isn't sure how this will turn out.

"U-uhm..." Freminet can barely form a word without panicking if it will come out as something suspicious in front of the Chief Justice, no matter how much you and Neuvillette reassure him.

He does end up trying to talk to Neuvillette, but it's still awkward. Nevertheless, it was a start! Good job, Freminet!

Neuvillette

Hydro dragon, hydro dragon...isn't crying? Huh—it seems yoyr invitation to hang out at lunch hour made the stoic man hapoy, even if he refuses to let it show.

He wasn't expecting a young boy to also be joining, but he tries his best to make himself approachable. Though his efforts are a little fruitless, it was still a pleasant chat.

When the young boy, Freminet, finally does speak up and try to talk to him, Neuvillette can't help but smile. In a sense, they were pretty similar.

"I apologize if I have brought any discomfort to you, Mr. Freminet, but I do have a question—promoted by Their Grace. As a diver, what have you seen in Fontaine's waters?" He does try his best to start a few conversations via your help, but they usually end short as Neuvillette isn't sure what else to add. Also, he apologizes a little too much everytime he speaks to Freminet, so make you maintain both the nerves and the apologies on the table!"

And that's it! Sorry if this is a little short—I couldn't find anything else to write about lol—

Ghost Rebel Side Notes: N/A

✦ Check out The Ghost Rebel’s Blog Description & Info Page to See if Their Mailbox is Open! ✦

[starkissedbaby]

Girl in New York | 5

pairings - art donaldson/reader | challengers au! |

“_ _" = Y/N

masterslist | next chapter | last chapter

sypnosis - you have lunch with Art’s girlfriend and your parents….

warnings - messy blowjobs, dirty talk, slut shaming, cheating, voyuerism

word count - 2k

© elliotsblunt 2024. do not repost, modify, or translate.

You and Art….came to an understanding.

It was odd. Although it was winter—the sun was shining today. White shorts hugged your hips, showing off the curve of your ass. A black tank top let your breasts spill out just enough without flashing the entire tennis club. Birds chirped at the sudden heat, spreading their wings and able to fly away from their problems.

Sweat had gathered at the top of Art’s lip as he drank from his hydro. You two had agreed to meet on Fridays instead. He hadn’t mentioned what occurred Sunday night, diving right into your usual routine. The both of you had just finished an hour long practice—but Art didn’t seem it was long enough. “Let’s go again.”

You groaned, throwing your head back before plopping down onto one of the chairs. There were a ton of tables since there was a food court nearby and people liked to judge the players while stuffing themselves. “My legs are killing me. Can’t we just wait until tomorrow?” You kicked your legs onto another chair, looking up at him. “Matter of fact, let’s get ice cream. I’m craving it.”

“You should lay off the carbs,” Art placed his hands onto his hips, raising a brow at you. Something glinted in his eyes. “It could mess with your cardio.”

You sleep with a guy once and he thinks he could tell you what to eat.

“Whatever. I’ll get it myself.”

Art lit a cigarette, “Least you’ll be getting off your ass.”

You pushed yourself off the chair and hit his shoulder whilst passing him. As if you hadn’t just spent the last hour aggressively dodges Art’s stroke’s. You were pretty sure there were three bruises on your knee from falling to strike back. And on top of that, the concealer you applied on your neck to cover his hickeys was melting off. It was fucking December—why was it ninety degrees?

Bees buzzed around lavender colored flowers. You spotted around the corner the food truck. A familiar pair of pretty brown eyes and a charming smile popped into view. Humming to yourself, excitement flourished within you, approaching him. “Oh hey—it’s you again,” his brown orbs not so swiftly racked up and down your figure. “I was gonna text you but my phone broke. It like won’t turn on…it’s a piece of shit.”

You raised your brows, “Can’t even trust your own phones these days to not cockblock you.”

He laughed, “Literally. What can I get you? On the house.”

“A chocolate ice cream on a cone, please.”

A wink was thrown your way—shooting right down into your core. But his eyes didn’t swirl with the same hungerness as Art. This was more like desire…curiosity. It didn’t feel as exhilarating as tossing flirty banger with the gorgeous blonde. This guy was younger, and seemed like he tried too hard to impress you. Whereas Art didn’t give a fuck what you thought, he still said it regardless.

It didn’t irritate you that he wasn’t acknowledging the situation. All you knew was that it surely wasn’t a one time thing. Whether he expects it or not, he’ll eventually give in. And if he didn’t—you wished to savor his taste on your tongue for as long as possible.

“Here ya go, gorgeous.”

You snapped out your daze. There was a cutie in front of you—and were off thinking about Art. Get it together _ _.

He handed you the vanilla cone. There were sprinkles on top of the perfectly scooped ice cream. But before you could thank him, Art grabbed your arm, pulling you away from the guy. You knitted your brows, “Art what the f—thanks uh, Chase! Or Chad!”

“It’s Chris. How do you flirt with guys you don’t even know,” Art eyed you from the corner of his eye, not fully turning his head. Once you two got far enough, you tugged from his grip.

Your eyes narrowed into daggers. “Says the guy who cheated on his girlfriend.”

That shut him up. Ignoring the non-staggering death stare he was burning into the you—you licked at your ice cream. His eyes focused on the way the tip of your tongue twirled around the cream. “Perhaps I should’ve went with vanilla,” you tasted, locking eyes with his. They were hooded and cloudy, drinking in every movement you made with your mouth. No longer thinned into knives penetrating your skull.

And then it flew out your hand. You’re ice cream.

“What the fuck, Art—“

“Get behind that wall,” he sneered, shoving you anyways. You almost tripped before his hands pushed your shoulders downwards—guiding you to your knees. When you got the message, your eyes rounded up at him. “Art—we’re at the club. Your girlfriend—“

His fingers gripped your chin in a bruising hold. Taking out his cock with the other hand by pulling his sports shorts down, he then tapped the pink top onto your bottom lip. “Don’t mention her before I’m about to throat fuck you,” he smirked, before watching his head vanish between your lips. A salty undertone filled your taste buds, his thick head pulsing on your slippery tongue. Your eyes don’t leave his as you hummed, savoring the taste of his pre-cum. Sucking and swirling with your mouth, and jerking the rest with your hand, you put yourself to work.

His hips harshly snapped into your mouth. Art’s eyes were barely open, bliss taking over his features.

You couldn’t get enough of him. You wanted to see him break above you. Moaning around his dick, you felt it twitch in the warm walls of your mouth— before more of his salty liquid dribbled out. Signaling he was getting close already, your wrists began to twist the base of his cock. A patch of blonde hairs resided above it. He held his shirt up with one hand, holding the back of your head with another.

“Fuck, that’s it. Take it all like a good fucking girl.”

Sticking out your tongue, you continued to jerk off his huge cock. “I’m gonna—fuck—“

His cock twitched, blue eyes boring into your wicked ones—taking everything he had to offer. The liquid shot out all over your tongue, and on the ground.

“We would like to meet your instructor.”

You almost dropped your spoon, choked on your mashed potatoes, and screamed at the top of your lungs. Perhaps your mother had gone crazy. She took a sip of wine, shrugging her shoulders at your father. “She seems passionate about Tennis. It seems as if he inspired this newfound hobby.”

Oh…you have no idea.

“We’ll come watch you play next week. It’s set,” your father nodded, taking a bite of steak. A know it all look crossed his features. “You know—I used to dabble in the sport back in high school…”

You tuned out your father out.

Your parents were going to meet Art?

This could not fucking happen.

“How ya doing? I’m Bradford Smith, and this is my wife—Fiona Smith. _ _’s mother.”

Art’s eyes flew over to you. The sun shined without mercy, the tight long-sleeve that covered your tits due to your parent’s presence making you itchy. And to make matters worse, a high pitched hello sounded from behind. A pair of blonde pigtails came into view, and as soon as she spotted you, her arms clung to Art. “_ _! What a surprise! Speaking of those—I was planning on surprising Art. I didn’t know you were bringing your family as well.”

You laughed in disbelief that this was all happening. “Well isn’t that just strawberries and confetti throw up fun.”

Art sent you a behave look, earning an eye roll from yourself. Your mother chuckled, probably just as confused as everyone else, “_ _ wants to show us what the two of you have been working so hard doing.”

“I love watching you play, baby. Let’s do it!” La-la loopsie cheers, clapping her hands excitedly. You refrain from rolling your eyes again, grabbing your racket from the table and heading to the court. You overhead your mom tell your dad that Art’s girlfriend was cute—leading you to make a disgusted sound and warm up.

Art bounces his ball of the ground before hitting it with the racket. Just how you liked it. He started out aggressive, but you expected that, hitting it with yours quickly. The both of you dove into your skills, hearing your current audience clap every once in a while.

After about thirty minutes, you began to grow winded, and called for a break. Your father ended up talking to Art about his old tennis team. Surprisingly, the two got along—sharing a few chuckles here and there. Tiffany kept kissing your mother’s ass, asking her about the mug’s she liked to design. Just from listening to the conversation, you began to grow nauseous.

“I’m getting slushie,” you muttered, walking away from the scene. But before you could get too far, Art overheard you—his head whipping away from your still speaking father.

“I’m actually thinking about getting something too. I’ll go instead,” he offers, Tiffany noticing his sudden interest. You knit your brows together.

“I got it.”

“No seriously. I’m good friends with the dude anyway.”

“Chad?” You raise your brows, causing him to send you a glare before walking away. Tiffany followed him—wearing a painted smile. You thought the encounter was weird, but before you could think too deep into it, your mother pulled you aside.

“You should wear longer skirts, _ _.”

“Mom—I’m an adult. Please.”

Your father kissed the side of your head, “Why don’t the five of us have some lunch. There’s a cafe right there. Go let your friends know and we’ll grab a table.”

Before you could reply, they walked away to find a spot. Tiffany and Art returned back, him handing you a cherry slushie. “It was all they had.”

“That cashier guy asked about you. Is he like, your boyfriend?” Tiffany asks, sipping your Diet Coke. You didn’t see the point in diet anything if there was no sugar. It made everything taste a million times better.

Art pressed his lips together. You shrugged, sipping your slushie. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” your tone was uninterested. Being in the same vicinity made your blood boil. She had the ability to kiss him in broad daylight—and didn’t even take advantage of it. No wonder Art came to you for his sexual needs. It seemed like she was plain and simple. If a boy likes you, date him. If he doesn’t, run away.

She doesn’t know how to take care of someone like Art. Someone like you.

“Anyways,” you look at your nails, tension in the air. “My parents what us to have lunch together. I can tell them you guys are busy.”

“No that sounds fun!” Tiffany chimes in, holding onto Art’s arm again. His eyes slightly widen, face paling into a white sheet. He ground his jaw.

“I’m actually really tire—“

Tiffany tugged on his arm, whining in a tone that made you want to pierce your ears. “Please babe…”

“Yeah,” you smirk, thinking of a fun idea. Art’s eyes instantly met yours, a worried look crossing his features. While his girlfriend was looking at him, your tongue poked out and swirled around the straw—his teeth gritting at the sight. You noticed his fists ball at his sides. Tiffany looks at you, beaming excitedly. You send her a fake smile,

“You should taste this slushie I had last week. It was super creamy.”

“Alright let’s go.” Art grabs Tiffany, dragging her over to find your parents. You giggle to yourself, enjoying seeing him flustered.

“My mother is a Stanford graduate. That’s actually where Art and I met.”

Tiffany wouldn’t stop rambling about the history of her and Art. It was driving you literally insane. Your father helped himself to his club sandwich, barely listening to what she was even saying. Your mother on the other hand was absolutely ecstatic for the couple, sharing her own experiences about meeting your father.

You picked at your salad, glancing at the fair haired boy. He had been sipping his coffee—clearly uncomfortable with this entire situation. You decided to tease him a bit, taking advantage of the fact that you were seated beside him. Brushing your heel against his calf, he suddenly jerked, catching the attention of everyone at the table.

He cleared his throat, “Uh—a bee. It flew away.”

“Right. You remember that time we went to Cuba for that tournament, sweetie.”

He hummed, pulling out a cigarette from his back pocket. Tiffany made a face, “If you’re going smoke, at least go to the parking lot. Everyone’s eating.”

Jesus. What a bitch.

“I don’t mind,” your mother placed her hand on Tiffany’s. She smiled warmly at Art afterwards. “Bradford used to chain smoke those things until I eased him off then. Looks like we’ll have to do the same thing to you.”

Art returned her smile, ignoring Tiffany’s eye roll, sparking the cigarette. “_ _. Tell them about how you used to dance in the bathroom with my old tennis racket. It was the cutest thing. She’d be naked—“

“Actually, I’m gonna spark one up too. I’ll go to the parking lot though so no one complains.”

“I’ll come with you,” Art shot up, offering a nervous smile to everyone. “I just—feel so guilty.”

“Okay kids. We’ll be here.”

“What the fuck, _ _?”

You never thought it would be so hilarious to see someone smoking a cigarette whilst looking immensely frazzled. As soon as the two of you reached the back parking lot, out of sight of people, Art let you know how he truly felt. Fortunately, you weren’t in much of a talkative mood, so you listened patiently whilst finishing your cigarette.

“Not only are your parents here—but your mom loves my girlfriend. This fucked situation just got entirely more fucked.” He ran a hand through his light strands, pacing back and forth.

“I hate when she does shit like this.”

“Who?” You mumbled, leaning your back against the wall.

“Tiff!” His hands flew in the air, shaking his head. “She always pops up unannounced. I hate that kind of shit. She has no respect for my time nor schedule. I mean—what makes her think she can crash my lesson? “

“Why are you even with her?”

Art looked at you with a sudden calmness. It was as if your words urged him to think.

“I….don’t know.”

That made you pause. The cigarette burnt as the both of you stared at one another. For the first time, he was expressing his feelings. It was different than usual. “She doesn’t let you breathe. You’re a free soul, and she wants to keep it caged. You won’t stay with her for long. It’s only a matter of time.”

“I guess I like her company. She’s always there for me when I need it,” he shrugged, standing beside you. He looked away from you, “But if it came to actually being in love with her—I couldn’t tell you. She doesn’t accept me for me.”

“Then she’s a fucking idiot,” you smirk, “—because you’re like…kinda cool I guess.”

His eyes twinkled, your gaze meeting once again. You smirk was met by a sheepish smile from him.

“You’re pretty aggressive, you know that?”

“You love it.”

His eyes fell to your lips. “We should stop sneaking around, _ _. This is going too far.”

You laughed, throwing the cigarettes off the ground before crushing it with your heel. “C’mon, lover boy.”

[cessmaga]

my favorite genshin impact list

after playing this game for almost a year now here's my character I really throughout my journey

first 5: dehya

I remember being really salty that I can't use her at all cuz people keep telling that her kit is really that bad lol, and I found out that if I lose the 50/50 (I lose arlecchino to her btw) I can get the next 5 star guaranteed and that how I get furina as my first limited 5 star

favorite five star: baizhu

idc he's meta or whatever I'm happy that I got him, after so much grinding for primos after losing the chronicle banner to xiao I'm happy that he's on my account now cuz he's one of my favorite characters, and now he's on my wriothesley burnmelt team which is I really like playing

most recent 5 star: varesa

I really can't decide if I should pull for her or xianyun, but at the same time I'm expecting to lose to 50/50 cuz I wanna get escoffier, but yeah I really like playing her but I kinda stopped building her to properly build my other characters to finish to abyss 😬

most wanted 5 star: kamisato ayato

idc if he's not meta I want him his gameplay is fun and he's pretty and I want an onfielder hydro cuz I really don't have one (If I didn't lose that damn 50/50 on neuvilette's banner)

I doubt that they'll rerun him sooner cuz he's not super meta and I'm super sad about it

strongest 5: mavuika

even if she's not that invested she still hits like a truck, but I'm kinda annoyed that she's required to have xilonen or even citlali (which both I have) in your team and I can't have other teams in them without mavuika

mavuika, xilonen, citlali and bennett team is my ultimate unga bunga team lol

favorite dps: navia

I remember that I'm not expecting to get her after getting furina guaranteed, and I'm happy that I did cuz she's so fun to play and I like her design, she's my second strongest unit

favorite sub dps: nahida

idk I just like her, I like her aesthetic

I remember that I got really disappointed that I lost the 50/50 after many wins and keep grinding to get her

fave healer or support: xilonen

yeah I ruined my plan to not pull to get nahida cuz she's so pretty, and I don't regret getting her cuz she's easy to build, and I feel bad not really using kazuha to her, it's not like he's really useless

fave 4: ororon

i really like citlali and ororon's dynamic, I wish that I could watch it again

strongest 4: thoma

I don't really invest at 4 much but I use him a lot, I pretty much neglected xiangling cuz he has a good shield, also I like him

fave element: geo

I'm that weird kid but there's something about geo being different that gravitates me, and it's fave element next to cryo

fave weapon: claymore

kinda same for geo, also it mine ores faster

[floxtingdrm]

𝙐𝙠𝙞𝙮𝙤

(n): living in the moment, detached from the bothers of life.

“𝙿𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚑𝚢, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚎, 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚢 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚠𝚒𝚜𝚑 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚎𝚏𝚢 𝚘𝚞𝚛 𝚎𝚡𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚃𝚎𝚢𝚟𝚊𝚝 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚖𝚝𝚑 𝚘𝚏 𝚒𝚝𝚜 𝚌𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛.”

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: Fluf-ish, mainly Yandere (series)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: Furina

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞: On

𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: Series

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬: She/they (mainly they)

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Oh gods who watch over thee, I want to see you, curse me of my wish, the reward I want after such a long time..

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Sagau, poor English (not my first language), 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬, 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫. Major 4.2 spoilers

Waking up in a world you do not recognize your head spins as you stood up slowly, was it painful to feel the scars on your body dripping with blood and scratches? How did this happen to you?

You could barely moved as the sun kept on burning your skin, the harsh sun… as you finally had enough strength to cry the clouds had blocked the sun allowing the winds to blow once more. You could feel that you were in a grassland, slowly standing up while still in pain your body ache as if you had been hit by a truck of some sort.

With each step you took the pain became more unbearable, but what else could you do but reach for the waters infront of you?

Where were you? After the blur you called your memory there was nothing you could recall with so much pain, your blood mixed with the waters as your hand finally reaches it.

Who were you? That you still could remember, your name was (Y/n), unsure of what to do you continue laying down next to the river hoping you would be saved by some miracle.

What brought you to this place? You could only remember bright lights and the painful agonizing sounds of your bones breaking, though it seems your body wasn’t completely mutilated if your still moving perfectly fine.

Why were you here? As you slipped into the world of dreams, someone sings of a return, a gentle hand caressed your hair as you feel deeper and deeper into the abyss.

Teyvat’s skies cried for the return of a god who died oh so long ago, elemental beings have gone insane searching for the energy of their creator, beauty in all of its grace the waters of Teyvat carried that of blood, your red blood which was unable to mix with the waters.

Teyvat hears of your cries, scratches as you fell from the skies, a star brighter than that of its future, your arrival only meant one thing for Teyvat… your presence meant that change was coming. There was no time left for the elemental beings, they have no choice but to find and track you down immediately, wherever you were.

The waters which carried your blood seemed to have been brought to life… this was the gift of the creator it seems, the gift of life. With the little strength and form it had, the waters reached for the court of Fontaine, and it knew who exactly to find.

Water carries the memories of all living beings, though uncertain of the future it knows the past like a book that has been told over and over again. Furina though not the Hydro Archon, still has a vision, something that ties her to the name of Hydro once more, despite still healing and getting used to her new life she can't seem to let go of certain things.

Back when Furina was the Hydro Archon, more correctly acting Hydro Archon, she hated doing the rituals for the creator, Furina didn't really have anything against the creators it was just... she couldn't understand the meaning behind the sacrificing, it didn't seem nor feel right. While the other duties are tedious and she hates it, what she couldn’t handle was the blood curling screams and crimson red on the ritual that were meant to serve the almighty creator. It was the only task about being an Archon that gave her nightmares over and over again…

Resting in a bathtub filled with water, Furina ponders on what to do for the rest of the day, she should she make something for dinner? Explore the wilderness or just sleep for the rest of the day? Honestly now that she’s a normal person she doesn’t know what to do.

Water from the faucet kept on dripping, curious and pulled out from her thoughts Furina walked over to see if there was a leak of some sort. Cold to the touch as always, maybe she should have learned to get used to the freezing cold waters, trying to tighten the faucet to prevent it from leaking Furina had the surprise of her life when the faucet suddenly bursted.

“What the-?!” Blood mixed within the waters disappears once more, it truly didn’t have enough time to call out to Furina to help you…

“Tch… I have to call the plumber again for this..” cutting her shower short, Furina put on her clothes and decided to go for a stroll outside of the court… unaware of what she’ll meet later on.

Slimy… strangely wet and slimy… you were next to a bunch of hydro slimes. Now you would have freaked out, but your still in pain and is dying really slowly, basically if you move you die but with pain, if you don’t move you’ll still die but in a less painful way.

Now that you’ve gotten your painful situation out of the way you needed a recap on your situation, specifically how you came to Teyvat in the first place and why your body had been torn up like some rag doll on the side of the road.

*mystical rewind time noises*

*Car crash noises*

That basically explains it, what? Were you expecting to remember everything in detail? If you could then maybe you would have an answer to what the heck was going right now.

Aight, aight, you were in a truck accident, a very sudden one too. Bleeding out on the side road you could only remember a handful of incantations from somewhere along with the call an ambulance from other horrified by passers.

Something tells you that you happen to coincidentally get hit by a truck and reincarnated into a different world you totally didn’t read about before.

*mystical back to the present noises*

You’re still in the dirt but there wasn’t any more blood flowing from your wounds, the hydro slimes seemed to have taken care of you while you were on the ground almost dead. You try to sit up only to have a wet and heavy blob of small hydro slime above you making a sort of cute and weird sounds, convinced by its cuteness you lay there being huddled by the slimes.

“Why are you guys such cuties? Hm? Who gave you the right to act cute and all.” You could barely lift your hands, but once you did you just used them to gently squish the little slime on top of your body.

"You're acting much differently than I remember any enemy would" You felt like a child receiving a doll for your birthday, you wanna squish and make all sorts of adjustments to it yet you couldn't because that would ruin it.

You were in a cave of some sort, and lots of bodies of water seemed to be nearby since you heard of lots of water dripping, if anything though you think the hydro slimes might have kidnapped you into their home. You were able to move normally again after some time, the slimes led you outside of the cave... which turned out to be underwater, oh boy, better hope you can dive or else you're becoming fish food, that said though how did these slimes even brought you here?

Whatever happened though doesn’t really concerned you as much anymore, at least not as much as your Melusine problem right now.

“You have a pretty soul” accompanied by the slimes who helped you, the Melusines were like children playing around with your hair under water, well they are children in a way.

“Don’t bother them too much, look at those wounds! Let’s take them somewhere else!” The slimes looked trouble seeing you go, you didn’t really felt like leaving but, you were running out of breath and had no choice but to follow the Melusines.

Beautiful creatures, Teyvat was truly a world you never thought you’d see before, no, you have seen this world somehow and somewhere… while your past is still blurry and your body in pain you had no choice but to keep running.

For a tomorrow you fear won’t exist, this beautiful world is too dangerous for you, too dangerous for a human who can’t even defend themself.

Something didn’t feel right to Furina… why wasn’t anyone commenting on the strange behavior of the sea animals? Or how most of the Hydro slimes have disappeared? Even stranger was the waters of Fontaine growing… stronger?

There was something that didn’t feel right, somehow there was no one else noticing this, now she could go and tell someone about it, but who would believe someone who lied about being an archon? The people despise her, Neuvillette too busy to talk to her, Clorinde no longer had a reason to protect or be there for her, let’s not even discuss about Wriothesley or the children from the House of Hearth.

Furina had two choices, either go investigate what’s going on by herself and risk getting hurt, or she could pretend that nothing is wrong and return home once more. However how could she go back now that she’s already out of the city and following where the winds take her?

What a bothersome day… why did she decided to visit Elynas of all places? It was too quiet… too quiet near the statue of the seven, too quite near the pond of murky waters, too quite for there was a trail of blood on the ground.

Surely any sane person would have turned around and run away right? Surely she who knows of her limits, despite being gifted with a vision not too long ago knows that whatever had happened here could potentially hurt her right? So then why..?

“Let’s just go and see what happens… whoever is hurt I have to help them first” was she acting like a hero when all of her life she’s been a coward. “What are you doing Furina…?”

Jumping into the murky waters mixed with blood of a bright red, she can’t feel but be suffocating, there was too much blood and she was so scared… what if the person she wants to help has already died because of some monster?

Elynas, the remains of a dead god seems to have been revived in away, enemies rose, waters grew harsher, as if something was causing it, something was influencing the world. However when Furina looked closer at their behaviors, it seemed as though they were guarding something rather than looking out for enemies.

The blood trail though faint leads deeper into Elynas’ underground caverns, hydro crystalflies distracted the guards just long enough for Furina to slip by, was it fate or a coincidence?

“Now now you shouldn’t be moving too much, dear Creator. Your injuries are not that easy to heal” You winced at the pain as the Melusines applied medicine onto you.

“Creator? You must be mistaken, I’m only a normal human.” Truthfully you weren’t sure why were being called Creator by the Melusines, it just doesn’t make sense.

“Oh don’t be silly, us Melusines seeing things differently than the average normal human, you know that your Grace.” You knew, almost everything about the Melusines, from their father the dead Elynas who watches over them to the tragic tale of Carole, but this isn’t the evidence to prove that you were the “Creator”.

Furina, who had been eavesdropping the conversation between you and a Melusine, felt shocked to have heard of those blasphemy words, even though she wasn’t a loyal follower or believer of the Creator, she was still a believer, was she to believe that the Creator has returned or was she to execute a potentially imposter?

“Cosanzeana, I understand where you’re coming from but I just don’t think it’s possible for me to be the Creator.” Cosanzeana sighs at you still trying to hide your identity, why couldn’t you trust them? The Melusines know who you are so why are you trying to convince them and yourself that you were someone else?

“Your grace, we hope you can trust us enough to let your guard down for a while.” You were no Creator, just a person who had a hobby in daydreaming and dancing, just someone who got pushed into a world they aren’t even that familiar with, memories of the times they sat down and have fun…

“I need a moment…” you felt suffocated, wasn’t this a familiar scene?

How ironic, you used to hope to be someone who could leave a mark to a world, to be the shinning light many others would follow yet those hopes were crushed by reality’s cruel and harsh hands, they were burnt to the ground by those who you called family, they were forsaken by you who chose to move on. So then why?

Why when you no longer had the spark of life did these wishes came? Why are you suddenly given tasks you didn’t ask for? To be chosen for a role you have no interest for, why in death were you not allowed to rest?

You ran away from village Merusea, you’re feeling overwhelmed oh so overwhelmed, your body is still in pain so you couldn’t even walk two steps without breathing like you’ve ran a marathon, your mind a mess ever since you arrived in the supposed Teyvat, did you even have a moment to yourself?

“I hate it… I hate it… I hate it” on and on your tears began to fall, why were you being treated so unfairly? Why were you the one who had to die only to live again with a fate that you never even asked for. “Why me?!”

Still there was no answer, what were you even hoping for? Who could hear your cries and reply to you? You had no one in this lonely and dying world, Teyvat was not your home… no matter how much you used to think it was.

Furina how silently followed you pitied you, confused and not understanding of your role, a god who doesn’t even knows that they’re a god but then again, do the gods even bleed as red as you do? Messed up hair, dirty clothes, bruised and scared body wrapped in bandages, you looked too fragile to be a god of any sort.

She could be wrong and an idiot, she could be right and a genius, that was who Furina was, a great actor who wished to do nothing more than to be who she truly wanted to be. Even though she no longer had to play any role or put up any front it hurried her for some reason to see someone who was put into a situation similar to hers.

She doesn’t even know you, someone who was injured and somewhat helped by Melusines, someone who lived a life of pain, someone who still stands even when the pain was eating them alive. Yet for some reason, she couldn’t help but step closer to you, the warmth she found whenever the Traveler began talking to her... she felt it on you.

"Who are you?" You noticed their presences for a while already, not very good at hiding it either since you had already caught a glimpse of them as you ran away from the village.

“…” Furina didn’t know what to say, you kept on looking away, why weren't you turning around to see her? Aren't you supposed to be a little curious about who she is?

" It's okay if you don't want to say anything..." being human was a curse in its own way, but what does that make you, the one who they claimed to be the creator, what about you? “I’ll take a lucky guess and say, Furina.”

“…My name is quite popular among the people of Fontaine, I’m not surprised that it wouldn’t reach the ears of the likes of yours” ah, so it was actually Furina’s. “H-However I do believe the Melusines are wrong.. you don’t seem to look like the almighty Creator.”

“Do you pity me, Furina?” In all honesty you’re a bit glad it was Furina who found you out of everyone, it wasn’t just because she was your favorite, it was also because out of all the people, you assumed she’d be the most understanding.

“…I can’t tell if I do..” that was more than enough for you to tell, Teyvat right now… has passed the current 4.2 update, you have no idea if this means that the traveler will enter Natlan or is still adventuring in Fontaine, you can’t be too sure.

“You can’t tell everything by just looking at the back, even though I’m at my most vulnerable moment.” You turned around to face the seemingly stunned and quiet Furina. “See? I’m no god, just an ordinary looking person, a person who people call god…”

Furina who originally stared at you in contempt had soften her angry glares, however she can’t help but feel anxious, she couldn’t trust you so easily even now that she’s seen your face. You truly looked like anyone else, maybe for some prominent features like your bold (e/c) and the scratches that littered your face.

Teyvat had long forgotten the face of its creator, only a lullaby they once sang remained in the hearts of the creatures, there was no way to prove if you were the creator or not. A light and calmed voice laced with pain, perhaps that was the voice of which Furina had heard before, warmth and the feeling of being embraced coursed through her.

“I- I want you to sing for me.” You widen your eyes a bit shocked by the request, you were no singer per-say so it baffles you to be asked to sing, you didn’t know what song to sing either.

“I’m sorry, I really can’t-“ “Just this once, can you sing? I want to, no, I have to confirm something.” Heterochromia blue eyes burning with passion, it felt ridiculous for Furina, it was ridiculous this situation.

“…One small part, but after that you have to get me out of Elynas and take care of my injuries.” Was it a good idea to trust Furina? She wasn’t as dangerous as other vision users, but she could betray you and turn you in.

“I promise”

Long ago in the forgotten first lands of Teyvat, the Creator in they benevolence created the first beings, creatures of a splitting image of the Creator were born. Caring for them like children, the Creator sang and gave life to them, the lullaby of Teyvatians, the song of the beginning.

Furina remembers the tales which are as old as time, a god who no longer was remembered for what they looked like and instead for their voice. The Creator, the one who had been asleep for a while, there was a time she questioned if the said god was still even alive?

“When good old friends are going away

Will you wish them to remember your name?

When good old days are passing away

Will you promise your heart remains the same?”

It’s painful to start singing the only song you knew by heart, you learnt the words and rhythm, knew what it was like when the song was sung, maybe that was why when you started singing your heart ache as old memories started opening up.

“Never could we suspend the time

Having to leave the tracks behind

There is a longer way ahead after all”

There it was again… the warmth she felt as she looked towards the sky, the strange feeling of embrace and comfort each time she talked to the Traveler, and now it’s you, your eyes and expressions are telling her a story, one that she doesn’t quite understand yet.

“Furina… I hope you forgive for this.. forget me.”

She can’t seem to remember, she can’t seem to understand, the reason why her tears are falling, the ache she felt now that she’s feeling the warmth you have given her. However… it was more than enough for Furina, your singing and that beautiful expression you’re wearing, even as you yourself are crying, Furina could hear the sincerity, a voice she had long forgotten.

“Do you think we’ll ever meet again?” She held their hand as their blood spread across the white and pale sands, the end of a samsara… is the beginning of another, memories fades.

“Maybe..” the flowers in their shared home has wilted, the journey ending after living for so long, what happened? The question which will never be answered.

“I don’t want you to go!” Fate brought them together, yet it will also tear them apart once more when it deems the stage can still go on for much longer.

“If it’s too hard to say goodbye” A weak hand reaching out to wipe the stray tears away from her face, despite the red blood trail it leaves behind in the progress. A weak smile to mask the painful separation.

“Give us a chance to sing a rhyme” With that the world falls silent once more… the end which happens every *** years, like a dream which you can no longer remember, everything fades to wake up on a morning that washes away the remnants of yesterday.

Oh beloved Creator… why have you abandoned the person who needed you the most?

Jdbdkxndbfix this took so long T^T

Thank for reading the beginning of my series, master list will be added soon

Please reblog + like if you liked it ;-;

[lev-1athan]

How to Survive Being Online

There was an article going around a few weeks back that listed dozens of good things that happened in 2024 globally. The site linked to a weekly roundup newsletter called "Fix the News" that I subscribed to, and it's SO wonderful. It's free, but there's also a paid version. It links its sources as well.

As an American who has been spiraling into hopelessness, it puts into perspective that a lot of progress is still happening worldwide and it's helped to shift my perspective from being so Western-centric.

This week's newsletter included this advice from Mike Monteiro (cw for some ableist language; bolding is mine)

"The only way to defeat a narcissistic sociopath is to starve them. Protect yourself from their bullshit, of course, but move away from it. Let them have their stage, but refuse to be their audience. This isn’t easy. It’s especially difficult because capitalism is an attention economy. The New York Times and The Washington Post love a narcissistic sociopath because they generate clicks and clicks sell ads. Social media loves a narcissistic sociopath for the same reason, but it’s even worse. On social media, we’re the ones carrying their water. Trump says something that he knows will get him attention (i.e. renaming the Gulf of Mexico) and not only does it fire up hundreds of media outlets, who now divert attention to this idiocy, but it also fires up tons of people like me and you, who end up reposting his garbage. Some of us because we feel like we’re media outlets (we’re not), some of us because we’re freaked out and freaking other people out justifies our own freak-out, and some of us because we were once bitten by a narcissistic sociopath under a full moon and we want to generate some of those sweet sweet likes in our direction. The first four years of Donald Trump was a continuous panic attack. I’m not going through that again. You don’t have to either. They’re on stage, but you don’t have to be their audience."

A few positives in this week's newsletter: Wage inequality has declined in two-thirds of countries since 2000 A new report from the International Labour Organisation has revealed that, since the early 2000s, global wage inequality has fallen at an average rate ranging from 0.5% to 1.7% annually, with the most significant decreases occurring in LMICs. Global real average wage growth has started to surpass inflation, with projections reaching 2.7% growth for 2024, the highest increase in over 15 years. (source)

The fastest energy transition in history continues Solar and wind are being installed at a rate five times faster than all other new electricity sources—including gas, hydro and nuclear—combined. At these growth rates, energy think tank, Ember estimates that by 2032, solar and wind generation will surpass the combined output of coal and gas. Step by step, the outlook for the world’s energy mix is getting brighter. (source)

Aid begins pouring into Gaza Over 2,400 aid trucks have entered the Gaza Strip since the cessation of hostilities was announced on Sunday. The truce requires at least 600 truckloads of aid to be allowed into Gaza every day of the initial six-week ceasefire. “This is a moment of tremendous hope — fragile, yet vital,” says Tom Fletcher, the United Nations undersecretary general for humanitarian affairs. (source)

Anyway, I highly recommend taking a look. This has seriously helped my mental health, and I think we could all use a little respite.

[bomberqueen17]

how the writing is going

Ok so. LOL. About the only thing I am effectively achieving this week *is* writing, and even that is not really..... I don't have a draft. But I have a whole bunch of sample snippets I've written to try and feel my way through the worldbuilding and discover the sorts of things the characters are likely to be preoccupied with, which is often how I figure out what a plot should be.

The next thing I thought about after dolphins was modes of transport besides sailing ships.

So this is a fairly high-tech society, but they do not have fossil fuels, and they don't have a large-scale power grid. I decided that for aesthetics, but as I'm unpicking my plot, I'm realizing that it makes sense. See, the main driver for all my plot devices is that there's a lot of sun activity-- sunspots, coronal mass ejections, magnetic field anomalies, that sort of shit. A power grid could not survive on a large scale. So all power generation is done in small, local installations-- some very local indeed, panels on rooftops, little waterwheels, tiny wind turbines. Industrial-scale power is generated in hydro plants and used right at the site for hydro-powered manufacturing-- much of it direct hydro-power, not converted to electricity. Just direct drive waterwheel shit. Because the sun can throw whatever shit it wants at the planet and your waterwheel won't notice or care.

That said. Communication over long ranges does pose a significant challenge. You're going to need line-of-sight semaphores and shit, which I had not worldbuilt in the earlier versions but absolutely could add in.

There should be trains, and I haven't really pondered those yet because I need to know more about my geography. Please, god, don't make me draw a map, but I'm gonna have to. Oh well.

But the other thing I thought of and got really excited about was

DIRIGIBLES

It's feasible with technology we currently have, and this is a thing that some large companies are pursuing, to make very large, hydrogen-filled, entirely solar-powered dirigibles for long-distance cargo transportation, faster than ships, the same speed as trucks/trains but more direct, slower than airplanes but INFINITELY lower carbon footprint. And hydrogen is outlawed by the FAA as a lifting gas, not because of the Hindenberg (which had many contributing factors) but because of a Congressional hearing which was presented by the helium lobby in the 20s. Hmmmmm.

A fascinating detail is that you could make a solar-powered lighter-than-air craft operate day and night seamlessly by having a power generation process where some of the day's collected solar energy directly powers the thing, and some of it goes toward... I forget the details but it powers a chemical reaction that, come nightfall, is simply set to reverse itself, which will then release most of the energy that it took to power the reaction in the first place, which you can now use to power your aircraft. Which is not a thing I knew about and I now have to research how that would work because, fascinating.

Anyway. In Fantasy World, there are totally dirigibles, and they're also probably operated by the Navy, and the water-ship sailors fucking hate them, LOL. This will be a wildly entertaining dynamic and I am rubbing my little paws together.

Also.

While feeling sort of brain-dead and stupid, I got a sheet of paper, went through a bunch of lists of historic names and lists of like, suggested baby names from various ethnicities, and I just made lists on this sheet of paper of men's names, women's names, arguably gender-neutral names, and then a huge pile of surnames, and then I sat down with a bullet-pointed list cribbed from the website of the museum of the USS Constitution of all the personnel that would be on a 44-gun frigate ca. 1812, and I first pondered each of the jobs, added some, took some away, came up with my own numbers of how many guys I needed, and then I just sat there and combined the first and last names in aesthetically pleasing ways to generate characters, lightly crossing out ones I'd used. (and sometimes googling them to make sure they're not somebody famous or something, which i always recommend with fictional character creation, especially if you're as oblivious as I am.)

I was unable to resist also coming up with some backstories-- siblings, little work histories, criminal pasts, notable traits, that sort of thing-- for many of the characters.

I did not make up names for every individual person on this ship, which I decided should have a crew of about 150-180, but I made up some names for every position, and considered age and gender as well for all of them.

I will not use many of the characters I've created this way, I'm sure, but the ones with interrelationships will totally somehow get used, and this way as I'm writing if I need a character I can find them already made, and if that person has a defined role, I already know which one and won't lose track of them.

This also got me to consider why people wind up in the jobs they do in this society, what drives them to seek out certain things, and that gave me a lot of background as to what's going on onshore.

I should try to find a list of a dirigible's crew and think about them, too, and build out the train people and routes and whatnot.

I also bought a used older edition on Thriftbooks of The Annapolis Book Of Seamanship and have been reading that with... more interest than I expected actually. I have the 1983 edition and it has a really moving little plea to let the women on your ship also learn to sail because it is foolish to relegate them to the kitchen when if only they were taught how it works, they could save you all in an emergency. LOL I wonder if that's worded differently in the updated new version or not.

[cormierhill]

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[sassenach77yle]

7x13 “HELLO, GOODBYE”

“CAN YOU TELL when Jem’s at school?” “Yes. He goes on da bus.” Mandy bounced a little on her booster seat, leaning to peer out the window. She was wearing the Halloween mask Bree had helped her make, this being a mouse princess: a mouse face drawn with crayons on a paper plate, with holes pierced for eyes and at either side for pink yarn ties, pink pipe cleaners glued on for whiskers, and a precarious small crown made with cardboard, more glue, and most of a bottle of gold glitter.

Scots celebrated Samhain with hollowed-out turnips with candles in them, but Brianna had wanted a slightly more festive tradition for her half-American children. The whole seat sparkled as though the car had been sprinkled with pixie dust.

She smiled, despite her worry.

“I meant, if you played warmer, colder with Jem, could you do it if he wasn’t answering you out loud? Would you know if he was closer or farther away?”

Mandy kicked the back of the seat in meditative fashion. “Maybe.” “Can you try?” They were headed toward Inverness.

That was where Jem was supposed to be, spending the night with Rob Cameron’s nephew.

“Okay,” Mandy said agreeably. She hadn’t asked where Rob Cameron was. Brianna spared a thought as to the fate of her prisoner. She really would shoot him through the ankles, elbows, knees, or anything else necessary to find out where Jem was—but if there were quieter ways of interrogation, it would be better all round. It wouldn’t be good for Jem and Mandy to have their mother sent to prison for life, particularly if Roger—She choked that thought off and stepped harder on the gas.

“Colder,” Mandy announced, so suddenly that Brianna nearly stalled the car. “What? Do you mean we’re getting farther away from where Jemmy is?” “Uh-huh.”

Brianna took a deep breath and made a U-turn, narrowly avoiding an oncoming panel truck, which hooted at them in annoyance.

“Right,” she said, gripping the wheel with sweaty hands. “We’ll go the other way.”

26 WARMER, COLDER ~Written in my own heart's blood

IT WAS GETTING late; they passed fewer and fewer cars on the road, and Mandy’s head began to nod. The mouse-princess mask had ridden up on top of her head, its pipe-cleaner whiskers poking up like antennae. Seeing this in the rearview mirror, Brianna had a sudden vision of Mandy as a tiny radar station, scanning the bleak countryside for Jem’s small, pulsing signal. Could she? She shook her head, not to dispel the notion but to keep her mind from slipping all the way out of reality. The adrenaline of her earlier rage and terror had all drained away; her hands shook a little on the steering wheel, and the darkness around them seemed vast, a yawning void that would swallow them in an instant if she stopped driving, if the feeble beam of the headlights ceased . . . “Warm,” Mandy murmured sleepily. “What, baby?” She’d heard but was too hypnotized by the effort of keeping her eyes on the road to take it in consciously. “Warm . . . er.” Mandy struggled upright, cross. The yarn ties of her mask were stuck in her hair, and she made a high-pitched cranky noise as she yanked at them. Brianna pulled carefully onto the verge, set the hand brake, and, reaching back, began to disentangle the mask. “You mean we’re going toward Jem?” she asked, careful to keep her voice from trembling. “Uh-huh.” Free of the nuisance, Mandy yawned hugely and flung out a hand toward the window. “Mmp.” She put her head down on her arms and whined sleepily. Bree swallowed, closed her eyes, then opened them, looking carefully in the direction Mandy had pointed. There was no road . . . but there was, and with a trickle of ice water down her spine, she saw the small brown sign that said: SERVICE ROAD. NO PUBLIC ACCESS. NORTH OF SCOTLAND HYDRO ELECTRIC BOARD. Loch Errochty dam. The tunnel. “Damn!” said Brianna, and stomped the gas, forgetting the hand brake. The car jumped and stalled, and Mandy sat bolt upright, eyes glazed and wide as a sun-stunned owl’s. “Iss we home yet?”[...]

WHASSAT, MUMMY? Mummy, I scared, I SCARED!”

“And you think I’m not?” Bree said under her breath, heart in her mouth. “It’s okay, baby,” she said aloud, and pressed her foot to the floor. “We’re just going to get Jem.”

The car slewed to a stop on the gravel, and she leapt out but dithered for a moment, needing urgently to rush toward the building, where sirens and lights were going off over an open door at the side, but unable to leave Mandy alone in the car. She could hear the rush of water down the spillway.

“Come with me, sweetheart,” she said, hastily undoing the seat belt. “That’s right, here, let me carry you . . .” Even as she spoke, she was looking here, there, from the lights into the darkness, every nerve she had screaming that her son was here, he was here, he had to be . . . rushing water . . . her mind filled with horror, thinking of Jem falling into the spillway, or Jem in the service tunnel—God, why hadn’t she gone there first? Of course Rob Cameron would have put him there, he had the keys, he . . . but the lights, the sirens . . . She’d almost made it—at a dead run, impeded only slightly by thirty pounds of toddler—when she saw a big man at the edge of the drive, thrashing through the bushes with a stick or something, cursing a blue streak. “What do you think you’re doing?” she bellowed. Mandy, alarmed anew, let out a screech like a scalded baboon, and the man jumped, whirling to face them, stick raised. “What the bleedin’ hell are you doing here?” he said, so taken aback that he spoke almost normally. “You’re supposed to be—”

Bree had peeled Mandy off. Setting her daughter down behind her, she prepared to take the man apart with her bare hands, if necessary. Evidently this intent showed, because the man dropped the stick and abruptly vanished into the darkness. Then flashing lights washed over the drive and she realized that it wasn’t her own aspect that had frightened him. Mandy was clinging to her leg, too frightened even to wail anymore. Bree picked her up, patting her gently, and turned to face the two police officers who were advancing cautiously toward her, hands on their batons. She felt wobbly-legged and dreamlike, things fading in and out of focus with the strobing lights. The rush of tons of falling water filled her ears. “Mandy,” she said into her daughter’s warm curly hair, her own voice almost drowned out by the sirens.

“Can you feel Jem? Please tell me you can feel him.”

“Here I am, Mummy,” said a small voice behind her. Convinced she was hallucinating, she lifted a restraining hand toward the police officers and pivoted slowly round. Jem was standing on the drive six feet away, dripping wet, plastered with dead leaves, and swaying like a drunk.

Then she was sitting splay-legged on the gravel, a child clutched in each arm, trying hard not to shake, so they wouldn’t notice. She didn’t start to sob, though, until Jemmy lifted a tearstained face from her shoulder and said, “Where’s Daddy?”

30 LIGHTS, ACTION, SIRENS~Written in my own heart's blood

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[unpluggedfinancial]

Bitcoin’s Energy Usage: The Most Misunderstood Innovation in Human History

They say Bitcoin is boiling the oceans. That it’s an environmental villain. That its energy use is unjustifiable.

But what if the real crime isn't the energy Bitcoin uses, but the narrative built to demonize it? What if Bitcoin isn’t the problem... but the blueprint for the solution?

Let’s talk truth. Let’s rip apart the lazy headlines and go deeper. Because beneath the noise is a revolution most people still don’t understand.

Bitcoin uses energy. So does everything that matters.

The media loves to compare Bitcoin to Visa or PayPal, painting it as inefficient or unsustainable. But that’s like comparing a flashlight to the sun. Visa runs on the rails of a trusted, centralized system. Bitcoin is the rail. It’s the whole damn thing—a self-contained, decentralized monetary system that operates without permission, politics, or backroom deals.

Its energy use isn’t a bug. It’s the bedrock. Proof-of-Work ties digital value to physical reality. It makes Bitcoin incorruptible. You can’t fake a Bitcoin. You can’t conjure it with a keystroke. You earn it by anchoring to the laws of thermodynamics. It’s not "magic internet money" – it’s physics-backed truth in a world of fiat fiction.

Meanwhile, the traditional financial system gets a free pass. Nobody counts the fuel burned by fleets of armored trucks hauling cash. Or the skyscrapers lit 24/7. Or the servers running endless transactions across thousands of banks, hedge funds, and central banks. No one questions the carbon footprint of the military-industrial complex that keeps the petrodollar on life support.

Bitcoin replaces all that bloat with software. With math. With consensus instead of coercion. It doesn’t require tanks to back it up. It doesn’t need to spy on you to enforce rules. It just runs. Borderless. Permissionless. Unstoppable.

But here’s where things get interesting.

Bitcoin mining isn’t just not bad for the environment. It could be the greatest tool we’ve ever had for energy innovation.

Across the globe, Bitcoin miners are setting up shop where energy is cheap, stranded, or wasted. Remote hydro in the mountains. Natural gas flares in oil fields. Oversupplied wind farms with nowhere to send excess power. Miners turn this lost energy into economic value. They act as a buyer of last resort—a pressure release valve for unstable grids and a reason to build more renewables.

This isn’t hypothetical. It’s happening right now. In Texas, Bitcoin miners are helping stabilize the grid. In parts of Africa, they're jumpstarting economic activity by creating demand where there was none. This is not an energy hog. This is a global infrastructure upgrade wrapped in code.

So why the backlash?

Because Bitcoin exposes the rot. It shines a light on the inefficiency, the fragility, and the waste embedded in the old system. It asks uncomfortable questions. It refuses to play by the rules of fiat gatekeepers. And that scares people.

It forces us to confront the truth: that energy isn’t the problem. Corruption is. Misaligned incentives are. And Bitcoin is the first monetary network in human history that rewards transparency, efficiency, and truth.

We’re witnessing the dawn of a new era—one where money is no longer a tool for control, but a tool for freedom. One where energy isn’t rationed by bureaucracy, but unleashed by innovation.

Bitcoin’s energy use isn’t a moral failing. It’s the cost of freedom. The cost of opting out. The cost of building something better.

We’ve misunderstood the most important innovation of our time.

But the block clock keeps ticking. And history has a way of proving the truth.

Tick tock. Next block.

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