#inspection and then close to get through after tuesday

[butts-bouncing-on-the-beltway]

.

[princessbrunette]

gooner!rafe would always be lifting up your skirt to get a look at your panties. He’d start making comments about how he prefers the ones you wore the day before or how he thinks the bows look cute, not so subtly rubbing you through the thin fabric 🤭

───── ⑅ ♡ ⑅ ─────

“you wearin’ the ones i got you?” rafe follows you like a lost puppy through the hallway of his student apartment as you set your purse on his table near the door— rifling through it as you look for your pass on its lanyard.

“rafe m’gonna be late!” you whine as he corners you to the wall, lips parted and wet from his tongue and eyes blown out. he always seemed to be horny, and mid day on a tuesday was no exception.

“yeah well, just one second alright?” he complains, getting a hold of you by the waistband of your skirt and lifting it up. you gaze up at him with doe eyes as he does his inspection, waiting for his usual check to be over. he kicks your feet apart with his dunks, getting a better look at your underwear. “i haven’t seen these before.” he comments, and you wince when he greedily rubs his fingers down the front of it right over your clit like he just couldn’t help himself.

“they’re new.” you shudder as he feels at the fabric, tugging them up to give you a total camel toe before he thumbs at the bow at the top.

“yeah… yeah these are real cute. better be wearin’ em when you’re done with your class, a’ight?” he instructs, finally stepping out of your space just a little and lets you tug your skirt back down.

“you have class too in an hour you know. you’re not even dressed.” you refer to his lack of shirt and grey sweatpants, even the backwards hat on his head suggested he wasn’t going anywhere for a while. atleast he had shoes on from when he went down to get his mail. he waved you off with a lazy hand and unimpressed expression.

“whatever. i got time, okay?” he grapples your waist and easily pulls you towards him. “kiss, c’mon.” he orders quietly and you press yourself to his toned body, letting him shove his tongue down your throat. before you go to pull away, his lips hover over yours and he takes your hand, pressing it to his half-hard on beneath his sweats.

“rafe i’m gonna be late!” you repeat and he keeps you pressed to him, his larger hand staying atop yours to keep it there.

“just give me something to work with, alright? m’gonna go and jerk off.” he begs aggressively and let out a quiet groan of exertion (which only aroused him further) and licked the entrance to his mouth, giving him a few more rubs through his pants. he sighs through his nose and you pull away, dropping to your knees. holding onto his thighs, you give him a long loving kiss to his cock before standing back up and fixing your skirt with an amused grin.

“yeah, that was so helpful.” he drawls with a slight eye roll, but from the tone of his voice you knew he was amused. you grab the lanyard before tossing your bag onto your shoulder and heading to the door.

“bye rafey!” you muse and he gives your ass a slap, watching it jiggle as you depart.

“better be here after class, i mean it.” he watches you go before closing the door, dealing with his own arousal.

───── ⑅ ♡ ⑅ ─────

[princessanneftw]

A rare insight into the usually unreported work of Princess Royal

Visiting military graves of unsung heroes was fitting appointment for perhaps the hardest working member of Royal family

By Victoria Ward for The Telegraph

Of the many war heroes buried in the windswept Dover chalk grassland is one Sgt Maj Charles Wooden, who was awarded the Victoria Cross after saving a fellow soldier’s life under heavy fire during the Battle of Balaclava.

The Princess Royal studied his grave closely as she was told he was “a bit of a drunkard” who had unfortunately met a sad demise.

Suffering from excruciating toothache, he had tried to dislodge the offending tooth with his gun, only to blow his brains out. “The ultimate pain killer,” the Princess, 72, observed drily, with the wry humour that is never in short supply.

Another, Gunner Andrew McDowell, had been blown to bits as he sat with two other soldiers in Dover harbour out of sight but directly in the firing line of a new 42-pound cannon.

The firing party thought someone said “fire” and duly fired. Gunner McDowell’s arm was found in the local town. The Princess peered closely at his newly restored grave, decorated with a cannon. “It’s almost adding insult to injury putting a gun on there, isn’t it?” she remarked.

The Princess, patron of The Remembrance Trust, was at St James’s cemetery, in Dover, Kent, to inspect its latest work restoring the military graves and memorials of those who made the ultimate sacrifice.

It was the second engagement of at least four on her itinerary, but as a royal who opts to get on with her work under the radar, most of it – as always – will go unreported.

However, on Tuesday, The Telegraph was invited to join the Princess as she travelled to Kent for an update on the work of the Trust, of which she became patron in 2021.

Engaged and unguarded, she delighted the small band of charity trustees and council dignitaries with her easy humour and obvious interest. “You can’t fake that kind of fascination,” one observer said later. “She’s great fun and you can talk to her like a normal human being.”

The Princess, accompanied by her husband Vice Admiral Sir Tim Laurence, 68, made a point of chatting to each member of the small gang of around 15 that was on hand to greet her.

Introduced to charity trustee and “tomb expert” Dr Roger Bowdler, she joked: “See tomb, will travel.”

Darren Solley, head of parks and open spaces at Dover District Council, told the Princess he was trialling a new approach to managing the cemetery land by leaving much of it to grow wild, improving biodiversity.

“It’s quite a difficult balance, rewilding,” she commented. “Actually, you do look after it but it doesn’t look like it.”

Warming to the theme, she continued: “You do have to cut it but it’s when you cut it that’s key – and what you do with the leftovers.”

Former corporal Steve Davies, a military grave restorer who has worked with the trust since its inception and preserved six of the seven graves on the Princess’s one-hour tour, proved an enthusiastic and informative guide.

The Restoration Trust returns graves to their former glory while at the same time creating a database spanning more than 200 years.

Founded and chaired by North Sea oil pioneer and former Grenadier Guards officer Algy Cluff, 83, it has a vast remit covering an undefined period up until 1914. He was motivated to help future generations understand the nation’s military past after working on the graves of British troops killed abroad.

Those killed from 1914 onwards have their graves kept by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, funded by the Commonwealth governments, but those killed earlier fall through the cracks, their headstones left to fall to ruin.

One of those whose grave has been lovingly restored is Maj Gen William Sutton, who received the Second China War medal and Companion of the Order of the Bath but who requested none of the usual pomp and circumstance at his funeral and asked to be buried in a common grave alongside soldiers of other ranks.

It was fortuitous then, that of all the well-known faces to visit his resting place almost 160 years after his death aged 56 was the Princess Royal, that least showy and no-nonsense member of the Royal family.

“It doesn’t say who he served with,” the Princess commented as she studied his headstone. “56? I’m surprised he lasted so long.”

Mr Davies ushered her along. “We’ve got to hit the hill now, ma’am,” he said. “Don’t worry, I live on the side of a hill,” came the reply as the Princess ploughed on, stopping to study several other graves along the way.

“Oh, it’s a Sherwood Forester, well, well well,” she said, pausing by one that she was keen to point out to her husband.

When Mr Davies told the Princess that he had queued for 14 hours to see her late mother, Elizabeth II, lying in rest, it prompted a discussion about the merits of certain footwear.

The Princess admitted that the boots that form part of the Blues and Royals uniform were none too comfortable. “Which is why I didn’t volunteer to walk after the Coronation, I was riding,” she laughed.

Later, the Princess and Sir Tim retired for a private lunch at Dover Castle before moving on to the next engagement.

Meanwhile, those who had enjoyed her company that morning were unanimous in their praise.

“She’s got common sense running through her like Brighton Rock,” one said. “But she’s enormous fun and absolutely interested and engaged. One couldn’t hope for a better patron.”

[afewproblems]

Lost and Lonely, Just Like Heaven (Part Two)

You can read part one here!

Steve sits frozen, upright against the headboard staring at the man they had left behind, he had left behind, in the Upside Down just weeks ago. 

He doesn’t scream. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d dreamt of Eddie, coming back to haunt him, his bloody hands reaching for his throat with pallid blue tinged fingers, ‘Your fault Harrington, you let me die Steve, you let me die,’ warbling out of ripped vocal chords and torn lips.

But this Eddie is different. He's lost some of the unnatural pallor, and the gore that had painted his body is gone. 

He’s clean. 

The wounds on his face and neck are still red and raw but don’t appear to be actively seeping. The bandana is missing, leaving Eddie’s mop of brown curls free flowing down his shoulders and back. The battle vest and jacket are gone as well, leaving him in the Hellfire shirt - which is miraculously spotless. He looks as though he has wandered straight out of the Hawkins High music room, out of the latest D&D session, rather than the noxious wasteland he’d been discarded in. 

This Eddie also hasn’t said a word the entire time he’s been in Steve’s bedroom.

He wanders around, inspecting Steve’s desk and the corkboard above it, leaning forward to take in the pinned polaroids and ticket stubs, old memories that used to make Steve grin when he’d see them. 

It’s hard to smile like that now. 

This Eddie reaches for a framed photo on the desk, one of Steve and Robin that Jonathan had taken the year before, but his hands travel through it and Steve’s heart drops into his stomach as Eddie tries again and again to pick up the photo. 

His arms fly out to grip at his hair in silent frustration as Eddie paces back and forth, he still hasn’t made a sound. 

But that's when he notices Steve. 

He’s making his way from the farthest corner of the room and turns back to stalk towards the desk once more but not before halting as he seems to spot the bed where Steve still sits, frozen, not daring to even breath at this point. 

“Steve?” Eddie whispers once, the words are croaky and soft as though Eddie hasn’t spoken for ages. 

And in a blink, he’s gone. 

Every night without fail Eddie appears in his room, sometimes pacing, sometimes looking out the window, sometimes sitting on the edge of the bed. 

These nights are the worst. 

Eddie is close enough to touch, but the bed does not dip from the weight of Eddie’s presence and the warmth of him does not seep into the blankets like it should. 

He only ever manages to say Steve’s name before he disappears, blinking out of existence like he was never there. 

It happens every night for a week straight before Steve tells someone. 

“What is up with you lately,” Robin asks on the following Tuesday as she gets into Steve’s car after school, he’s already dressed in the Family Video vest for their evening shift, ready to stand around and sort movie titles for the next six hours before heading home to his dark and empty house.

It's probably the most he can handle at the moment if he’s being honest with himself.

There were a few businesses that had survived the wreckage of the quakes, the arcade, the old cafe run by Ms. Benly, an older lady who took no shit and made the best apple pound cake on weekends; this too had become a regular haunt for Steve and Robin in between hospital visits and school. Mevalds general store was still running despite the hole in their roof, a large blue tarp had been fixed over it to stop the spring rain from coming in and causing even more damage. 

The rebuilding efforts were certainly coming along, but the fact that their rental place had been left completely untouched meant that the Family Video store was now a strange mixture of busy, with rushes that left Steve and Robin dead on their feet some nights, and slow. Some people still had the money to come in for a movie, some people simply needed the distraction. 

Tuesday would be slow, weeknights still typically were. 

He startles at the hand suddenly waving in front of his face, “He-llooo? Earth to Steve? Do I need to throw on ‘Head over Heels’?” Robin chirps nervously, she already has the tape in her hands and Steve winces at having brought back even the smallest memory of Vecna for her. 

“Sorry,” he says softly as he puts the car into drive, his movements sluggish, and pulls away from the street, “lost in thought”.

Robin watches him from the passenger seat, and snorts as she buckles up, “I’d offer you a penny for them but we both know they aren’t worth that much,” she snickers, flashing a soft smile his way.

“Rude,” Steve grumbles, but he can’t help the small laugh that bubbles up out of him, tension broken for the time being. 

She’s quiet for a moment, he can feel her blue eyes on him for the majority of the drive as they eventually pull into the parking lot and Steve puts the beemer into park and turns off the engine. 

She leans over him and reaches into the back to pull out her bag from the seat, letting it catch him on the back of the head as she brings it up front, “Asshole,” he snorts, rubbing his ear as Robin laughs and gets out of the car. 

Steve follows her through the double doors as Robin greets Keith who nods at her before going back to the book he’s reading at the counter. He ignores Steve, which is fine by him. It seems that Keith has moved on from actively threatening to fire him for the smallest offenses to merely pretending Steve doesn’t exist. 

It’s the small victories that count. 

They drop their things off in the backroom, Robin tosses her bag into one of the four lockers, not bothering to even close it properly before she heads out front to clock in. Steve rolls his eyes and flips the locker closed before putting his own jacket away. As he steps back to follow Robin the overhead fluorescent light flickers once. 

Steve swallows. 

He shakes his head and brings up a hand to pinch into his eyes roughly, lights flicker, these things happen, get a grip. The shadows around the room seem larger now, they seem to move as the lights flicker again.

Robin's locker suddenly takes this as an opportunity to slowly creak open as all of the lights flicker rapidly, over and over.

Steve's breathing catches in his chest as the small table set in the corner begins to shake, an old newspaper and several pens that had been left for the crossword slip off the table and roll into the dark. The violent rocking of the table set is just slightly offset from the rhythmic swinging of Robin's locker door. 

No, no, no, why was this happening? 

"What do you want?!" Steve shouts as he raises his hands to cover his ears, he shuts his eyes tight, willing it all to stop.

"Steve?" Says a voice behind him, he cries out sharply as he whirls around with his arms raised, only to see a startled Robin in front of him.

"Woah! What the fuck man?" She yells, taking two steps back.

The break room is normal. 

The lockers are closed, as he had left them. The  newspaper and pens are still sitting on the table undisturbed. The low hum of the fluorescent light above then continues on, the harsh white light illuminates every corner of the sparse room.

Steve wills himself to slow down his breathing; he grabs his hips to hide the shaking of his hands as he stutters out an apology.

"Sorry, got distracted, I'll-I'll be right out," he tries for a small smile but feels his face fall into a grimace the longer Robin stands there.

Robin stares at him, one eyebrow cocked in barely disguised skepticism before she sighs.

"Hurry up, Keith is unbearable today," she mutters before turning on her heel and walking back out the door.

Steve slowly releases a long breath through his mouth. He lifts a shaking hand to slide through his hair. This was the first time that this…whatever it was, had followed him, that it had happened outside of the darkest corners of the Harrington home. 

Maybe he's finally lost it, Steve thinks bitterly as he makes his way after Robin, leaving the empty break room behind him.

As he crosses the threshold he spots at the counter with Robin. She's inside the square employee's only desk and sitting at the computer while Keith prattles on at her. He slides a paper across the counter to Robin as he shrugs on a jean jacket. 

"Try and get through these before close," Keith mutters, "don't let Harrington slack off," he continues, still refusing to look at Steve even once. 

Robin nods and gives an exaggerated salute as Keith walks out the door, she turns away from the glass windows to make a face at Steve as she wags a finger at him, "you heard him, no slacking Harrington". 

He snorts and finishes stuffing his time card into the machine on the side of the counter, clocking in before taking a look at the list.

"So," she says quietly, "are we going to talk about what happened back there?"

Steve sighs and grabs the list and steps back, reading the first bullet point in Keith's messy scrawl, "I told you--"

"Yeah," Robin snaps, crossing her arms over her chest, the pins and her name tag on her vest click together from the sudden motion, "you were pretty convincing," she uncrosses her arms to place her hands on her hips and in a strained deep voice she says, "Sorry got distracted”. 

She lets her voice warble and shake and bites her lip as she lifts a hand to rest on her forehead like a distressed southern Belle.

Steve rolls his eyes, cheeks burning, his fingers crease the paper in his hands slightly, he resists the urge to crumple it up to toss in her face. 

"I don't sound like that, and nothing happened," he bites out before he walks to the returns cart and begins pushing it towards their New Releases section. 

He tries not to shout as Eddie's reflection stares at him from the window, as though he's standing in the stacks behind Steve and Robin.

"Yeah, okay," Robin says slowly, looking from Steve to the empty window, "did you take something? Do I need to call a DARE officer? Joyce? Maybe a priest?" 

Steve swallows as Eddie's reflection takes a step closer to him, "Maybe a priest Robs".

Robin's face seems to vibrate with the number of expressions she moves through in a matter of six seconds, she eventually settles on a worried grimace -the small vein throbbing in her temple is new though so, more worried than annoyed Steve thinks to himself as he forces himself away from the window. 

Steve can't quite bear to see Eddie right now, not when he knows he isn’t really there. 

"Explain. Quickly," Robin says, her voice clipped but soft as she throws the, 'Back in 1 Hour', sign on the door and hauls him into the backroom. It's only 4:45PM but no one's even walked past the front of the store in the last half hour so it feels safe enough to close for a bit.

Steve sighs as he takes a hesitant seat in the rickety chair that had been shaking and seizing only a few moments before. 

"Do you, and I know how stupid this sounds," Steve mumbles, licking his lips, his eyes trained firmly on the breakroom floor, "do you believe in ghosts?"

When he finally raises his gaze, Robin is looking at him with raised eyebrows that nearly disappear into her curly fringe, great.

"Forget it," Steve sighs as he brings his hands to his knees and rises from the chair, but Robin steps in his path and places a firm hand on his arm.

"Okay stop, first of all -it's only a little stupid," she says with a wry grin that tilts the corners of her mouth up until faint dimples form between her freckles, Steve rolls his eyes and tries to step past her but she moves with him, keeping her hand on his arm. 

Her blue eyes dart back and forth between his own as she continues slowly, "And second, I think people can be haunted? Like things from the past or whatever, maybe that's all ghosts are?" 

And, huh. 

That, that makes some sense doesn't it? He hasn't been sleeping well, they could be dreams, do people have waking dreams though? If they are tired enough? 

He doesn't want to think about the possibility of hallucinations. 

Not yet. 

"Is it," Robin bites her lip as though to catch the words, to stuff them back down before they can escape, "is it Eddie?" 

Steve nods and brings both hands up to grip the back of his neck, hard. She's always been perceptive, or maybe he's just too easy to read, either way, he's grateful for it. Robin's warm hand falls away from his arm as she lifts it to chew on her nails. 

He tuts at the sight, she'd finally started growing them out, having proudly mentioned to Steve her attempts to break her old nervous habit. 

"Hey, hey" he says gently, grabbing her hand to pull it away from her teeth, "you know, it's probably just a nightmare or something Robs, you're right, okay?" 

She nods and grins, it doesn't quite reach her eyes like the last one but at least she doesn't seem moments away from deadbolting the door anymore. 

"Yeah, I mean, what would Eddie even want to say to you of all people," she snorts, letting the tension fall away with her laugh. 

And that's when the radio turns on. 

Steve and Robin slowly turn to the old Seville Radio that had been donated to the breakroom by a predecessor. 

The sound jumbles from station to station, a mixture of static and voices spread through the room as the fluorescent light flickers again, just as it had earlier. Robin freezes beside him and Steve feels himself stop breathing. 

He wasn’t crazy, this was happening.

The stations change again and again, moving around faster and faster until the slightest pattern emerges.

"Som-" 

"Tele-"

"Evan-"

And again.

"Se-"

"Ton-"

"Edu-"

"Van-"

And again.

"S-"

"T-"

"E"

"V"

"E" 

...

"Ssss-"

"T-"

"Eeeee"

"Vvvvv"

"Eeeeee" 

And as suddenly as it starts, it stops, leaving the room in silence. 

If it hadn't been for the small shuddering breaths from Robin, Steve would have thought he had gone deaf. She slips closer to him, her face white as a sheet.

"I guess I stand corrected," Robin whispers, "what the fuck Steve?"

Part three now up!

[mr-and-mr-diaz]

okay listen, I saw the onesie and this fic fell out of me.

IT’S NOT MINE

“I’m getting Chris, then we’ll head over to yours for Tuesday night pasta and video games, ‘kay, Buck?” Eddie yelled over his shoulder as he adjusted the grip on his duffle and headed to the car. 

“Uh, wait--” Buck came running after him, hair still wet, t-shirt only halfway over his torso. “Uh, right now isn’t a good time for my apartment, it’s a little... a bit messy.”

Eddie snorted. “Like we haven’t seen it messy before? Honestly, I think Chris is going to care more that you still don’t have a couch.” 

Buck squirmed suddenly, startling as the motion reminded him that his shirt was only half on. “Ah, yeah, it’s just--” his hand got tangled in the neck hole, wiggling pointlessly for the dangling empty sleeve. Eddie chuckled and dropped his bag, reaching out to help.

“It’s okay, Buck. We’ll help you straighten up,” he firmly pulled Buck’s hand out his collar and reached into Buck’s shirt to feed it into the errant sleeve, “And then we can all do dinner, okay?”

“...Can we do it at yours?” Buck wasn’t looking at him. That was never good.

Eddie tilted his head, grin teasing. “What, you got something hiding in your place I should know about?” Buck’s flinch told him that yes, maybe he did.

Buck’s high, choked-out, weak chuckle confirmed it. “Nah, Eddie, I don’t have any good hiding places, the loft is totally open plan, I couldn’t...” He was definitely avoiding eye contact now. “Anyway, like you said, I don’t even have a couch, your place is better.” His eyes finally turned to Eddie, wide and blue and begging. Please stop asking.

Eddie nodded. “Okay.” For now.

***

“You shouldn't have let me have that third beer, Eddie,” Buck mumbled as the car rolled up to his building. 

“I trust you to know your own limits, Buck. Besides, you looked like you needed to forget your troubles a little.” Eddie shut off the car and turned his attention to Buck. The whole night Buck had been distracted, checking his phone. At one point, Chris had caught a glance over Buck’s shoulder, saying “Wow, Buck, that’s a big Amazon order!” And Buck had flinched and quickly turned back to the TV, reaching for more beer. By the time the night had rolled to a close, and Chris put to bed, Buck wasn’t safe to drive.

“Me?” Buck jerked his head side to side. “I’ve got no troubles, I’ve got nothing, I’m--me? I’m good, Eddie.” He stopped suddenly looking nauseous from the excessive movement.

Eddie sighed fondly. “Well, then, let’s get you out of the car and up to your place then, Mr. No Troubles.” Eddie pulled himself out of the driver’s seat and came round to Buck’s side, opening the door and holding out a hand. “Come on.”

“I’m good.” Buck shook his head, gingerly this time. “You don’t need to walk me up.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, Buck. C’mon, I promise not to enter your super secret apartment, just let me get you up there.”

Buck’s eyes narrowed and he leaned toward Eddie. “You promise?”

Eddie chuckled. “I promise.” This time, Buck took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled out of the car.

*** 

Getting up the elevator to Buck’s place didn’t take much effort in the end. Buck was tipsy, sure, but hardly stumbling drunk and only had to lean on Eddie’s arm once or twice. The challenge would be getting Buck through his front door, which was barricaded on all sides with Amazon and UPS boxes.

“Damn, Chris wasn’t kidding about you buying out Amazon, Buck, what gives?” Eddie knelt down to inspect the pile, squinting to read the labels on the packages.

“Don’t look!” Buck’s hand tugged on Eddie’s collar, his tone panicked. “You said you wouldn’t look!”

“I said I wouldn’t look in your apartment, Buck, this is still outsi...” Eddie’s voice trailed off as his eyes took in the names on the labels. 

Baby Barn. For Evan Buckley

Toddler Emporium. For Evan Buckley.

Parent One-Stop-Shop... Babies R US... Rockabye-Babeez... For Evan Buckley.

“Buck,” he breathed.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Buck was pulling at Eddie’s shirt hard now, stretching out the collar. 

Eddie stood and turned to face him. “Then what is it, Buck? Tell me what I’m looking at.”

Buck just looked at him, blank, lost for words, panicked. And sad, so incredibly sad.

Eddie sighed. What could he say to this Buck? This Buck who so determinedly stayed positive whenever the subject of the sperm donation came up? ‘Hey, no I’m so happy for them!’ spoken right after ‘I’m gonna be a dad!’ 

Buck wasn’t going to be a dad. This new child would be connected to Buck genetically. And that was where the connection would end.

In Buck’s eyes, Eddie saw all of that.

“Come on, Buck. Let’s go inside.”

“It’s fine, Eddie, I’m okay, I just got a little overexcited, bought some stuff--”

“Buck? Give me your keys, or I’m fishing for them myself.”

Wordlessly, eyes defeated, Buck reached into his back pocket and handed them over.

Eddie couldn’t even get the door open all the way for packages. They were stacked against the wall, piled on the kitchen island. Some were open, their colorful contents laid lovingly into baskets or lined up on the floor.

“I was on Amazon a few days ago, and I just… got carried away.”

“Carried away,” Eddie echoed. This was not carried away, wasn’t here are a few things to pad out your supplies. Buck had purchased everything a new baby would ever need, from diapers and wipes to bottles, pacifiers, swaddles… 

Buck was shopping like an expectant father.

“What was your plan for all this?”

A pause. “They don’t need to know it’s from me?”

“Buck,” Eddie held up an LAFD baby onesie in his hands, eyes unreadable in a way that made Buck want to squirm. “They’re going to know it’s from you.” He sighed and laid the onesie back down, folding it back on top of another onesie decorated for Christmas. “I don’t think they’ll be… No, they definitely won’t--” he stopped himself again. How to say this?? And it’s not like Buck didn’t already know this, so why…? “Buck, are you--”

“Don’t say it.” Watery, shaky. Eddie turned. Buck looked at him, stripped open and raw, surrounded by the physical evidence of his not fine with it anymore laid out in this vibrant collection of love and pain on every available surface of his home. 

Eddie looked and saw in each toy the home Buck would build if only he had someone to build it for. Saw the pain in Buck, the self-doubt and deprecation. I was born for parts. The only piece of me that’s been deemed worthy to build a family is a part, not the whole, not me. 

A child will be born soon, and I am empty about it. I am filling the empty with all the things I would shower my child with if I could. My child is being born and I can’t even call it my own.

Eddie opened his arms and Buck walked into them. At first, he just leaned heavily against Eddie, face buried in the juncture between neck and shoulder. Then he started to shake, just his chest, then his arms, then his whole body. Eddie tightened his arms, and Buck let out a wail, a loud and broken thing and held on for dear life, sobbing. 

“It’s not mine, Eddie! It’s not mine! I was fine with that, I was, I was so happy to help, so happy that someone thought highly of me like that, wanted me, chose me! I’m so stupid!”

Eddie’s hand lifted to the top of Buck’s head and rested there, combing through the curls. “No, Buck. No, you’re not stupid.”

“It’s mine, Eddie. It’s mine. That kid is a piece of me, and I don’t get anything back. I’m so selfish, Eddie. God, I’m the worst.”

“Buck, stop.” Eddie carefully guided them both down so they were sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by the pastel carnage of Buck’s dreams. Buck leaned heavier into him, almost in his lap. “Stop judging, stop calling yourself names. Just cry it out, okay?”

Buck did. Tears flowed anew, soaking into Eddie’s shoulder and Buck curled closer and closer until those long legs were wrapped around Eddie’s waist, arms holding on for dear life as Buck finally let himself feel the pain and regret he’d been hiding behind cheerful comments, big smiles, and shopping. He cried until there was nothing left but gasps and hiccups, and through it all Eddie held him, rocked him back and forth in his arms until he had quieted.

“Sorry,” Buck whispered, nasal and horse. “Your shirt…”

“If you’re sorry for anything, let it be that you didn’t feel like you could talk to me about this sooner, Buck.”

“I wasn’t… I wasn’t even really letting myself…” A sniff. “I just want--I don’t know what to do, Eddie.  I don’t know how I’m going to live with this.”

Eddie breathed deeply, fingers still combing through Buck’s hair, thinking. “I don’t either, Buck.” He sighed. “But I do know that you need some sleep. And then we’re going to go through all of this and make some returns at the post office.”

Buck made a noise of protest.

“No, Buck, I don’t know what will be good for you, but I know sure as hell that this isn’t it.” Eddie grasped the nape of Buck’s neck and pulled until Buck’s head was off his shoulder. He glanced down, waiting until Buck met his eyes. His were watery and red, lashes all clumped together, his cheeks swollen. “You can’t torture yourself like this, okay? It’s going to take you somewhere bad, and I can’t watch you go there, okay? So tomorrow I’m going to help you wrap this all up, and you can choose one thing to keep, because you’re going to be a dad, Buck, even if it isn’t the kind of dad you dream of being.”

Buck didn’t respond, but he didn’t protest. Fresh tears flowed from his eyes as he looked at Eddie, and Eddie made himself maintain eye contact, even though seeing this fresh pain made him want to run laps around the apartment building, destroy every item in this room until it looked as bruised and damaged as Buck’s heart.

“For now though, you need sleep. And you’re coming back to mine to get it.”

Buck started to shake his head again. “I couldn’t--”

“You can, Buck.”

“But Chris--”

“Is a big boy and can handle you not being at your best around him.” Eddie huffed. “He’d probably be mad if you tried to hide it from him, deprive him of extra hugs, hm?”

Buck gave the barest inch of a smile. “Okay.”

Eddie stood up, then reached down a hand to pull Buck to his feet. “Come one.” Buck rose heavily and made for the door, reaching for his keys that had been discarded in the mess around them.

They reached the door when Eddie stopped. “Buck?”

“Mm?”

Eddie reached out and grasped Buck’s shoulder, turning him gently and looking into his eyes. “He may not be your genetic material, but Christopher thinks the world of you. Not because you’re strong, or because you take him out on trips, or for any one thing, Buck. But because you’re all of those things and more--you’re smart, funny, kind, fun,” Eddie cupped Buck’s cheek in his hand, “Beautiful, even when you’re all puffed up from crying.” Buck’s eyes darted away but Eddie wasn’t finished yet. “You’re an amazing man, Buck. That’s what your roommate saw and what made him ask you to be a piece of this child.”

“I shouldn’t have said yes.” Buck whispered.

“No. But it’s a reflection of your kindness that you did.”

“I’d never been chosen before, not like that.”

Eddie huffed. “That kind of choosing is only the tip of the iceberg, Buck.” He turned Buck around and reached for the door. “Let’s go.”

***

Later that night, after Buck had finally sunken into sleep, Eddie sat by the couch and watched. He’d insisted that Buck blow his nose and wash his face before sleeping, so he wouldn’t wake up congested and puffed up any more than he had to be. Now, he lay there, vulnerable in his sleep, curled up on his side in Eddie’s shorts and t-shirt.

Eddie couldn’t sleep. He ached, his heart raw. It always had been tender where Buck was concerned, and Eddie often found himself surprised and forced to see new angles and facets of Buck every time he thought he’d seen all there was to see. But seeing Buck standing in the loft, heart bleeding on the outside had done it all over again. The tender spot in Eddie’s heart had been blown wide open, and he suddenly found himself hating Buck’s former roommate, for seeing what he had steadfastly pushed away, be it from fear or confusion. It was all clear now, watching Buck’s chest slowly rise and fall.

Chris is right, our Buck does snore.

He reached out and ran a hand down the side of Buck’s face, where stubble was beginning to grow in. “Tomorrow, okay? We’ll show you what it means to be chosen, Buck.”

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

steve x reader fluff to angst where steve forgets something important and has to make it up to the reader

pairing: steve x gn!reader

summary: steve forgets your birthday and has to make it up to you.

warnings: angst (with a happy ending), fluff.

a/n: thank you so much for the request! <3

Disappointment hung over you as you watched Steve from where you sat on your couch. He was currently stood in your kitchen, his face illuminated from the open fridge. All day you'd been waiting for it to drop, for him to finally remember that it was your birthday, except he hadn't. He was still standing in your kitchen with his hand against the fridge door, like it was any other day.

"Steve?" You finally asked, a sense of nervousness coming over you when he turned to face you.

"What's up?"

"Do you...know what day it is?" You asked him, wringing your hands together in your lap.

A look of confusion crossed his features as he furrowed his brows at you. "Tuesday?"

"It's my birthday, Steve."

"What?"

"It's my birthday." You repeated, the disappointment evident in your voice as you forced yourself to keep looking at him. "And you forgot, didn't you?"

"What? No, no I didn't. I didn't forget."

"Steve."

He paused for a moment then, hanging his head as he closed the fridge door. "I'm sorry." He mumbled, slowly crossing the room and sitting down next to you. "What can I do?"

You sighed, shaking your head as you turned away from him. "I dunno."

A moment of silence passed between you then before he stood up, hurriedly patting you on the shoulder. "Alright, just...I'm gonna go. But I'll be back, okay? I'm coming back."

You barely had any time to respond before he was rushing out the door, leaving you alone in your living room.

~*~♡~*~

Music was playing outside your bedroom window, indicating that somebody was likely having a party. Except it didn't sound like it was coming from a nearby house, it sounded like it was coming from right outside your window, like right outside. And upon closer inspection, you realised that not only was there music playing outside, but it was your favourite song.

You got up from your bed and made your way over to the window, and you were shocked to say the least. There he was, standing on your lawn, with a boombox held above his head. Steve Harrington was outside executing the cheesiest apology ever.

You couldn't help but laugh as you opened your window further, poking your head out to speak to him. "Steve?!"

"I'm sorry!" He shouted over the speaker. "I swear I didn't mean to forget your birthday, and I feel like really bad, and I know I don't deserve it but I really hope you can forgive me!"

"Just...turn that thing off and get up here!" You yelled back, ducking your head back in the window, unable to control the grin on your face.

After a minute, you heard quiet grunting outside before a pair of hands landed on your windowsill, Steve's hands.

"You know when I said to come up, I meant like through the front door." You chuckled as you helped pull him through your window.

"Yeah, well isn't this just more exciting?" He grinned, stumbling slightly as he tried to steady himself. And before you could say another word, he started digging around in his pockets, clumsily pulling out a tape and a slightly crushed bag of something. "I uh...I figured I'd uh...bring you your favourite movie...and your favourite snack of course."

"What, as a birthday present, or an apology?"

"Both?"

"Good answer." You smiled, taking the items from him and setting them down on your bed.

"So you're not gonna kick me out?"

"You're an idiot, Steve Harrington." You smiled, shaking your head at him before pulling him into a light kiss.

"So, you wanna watch that movie?"

[Main Masterlist] [Steve Masterlist]

[popcornforone]

Target Practice

Part of the additional One Week With Dave York Training Chapters

Master list

Sorry Dave, life got in the way & unfortunately I then also had a huge creative block. So I’m sorry this has taken a while. But it’s here now, it’s done. I didn’t want to give you something I wasn’t proud of, but this is short but I enjoyed writing it.

Synopsis: After the events of that week, Dave has seen you as so much more than just his lover & he wants to make sure you are safe & know what to do should the worse case scenario happen.

Word Count: 2400

Warnings: DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18! DAVE YORK AS ALWAYS COMES WITH HIS OWN WARNING. Established relationship, sexual fantasy, fingering, pleasuring, gun play, mentions of sex, PIT, swearing, lots of sexual tension, almost PIV. If you’ve read any of my Dave before you know exactly how much a menace I make him.

As always thanks for the read peoples, I hope you enjoy. All feedback is welcome as always. I’m also available to talk about anything msgs are always open.

You’ve been at it all week. It started off enjoyable & fun, but now it’s getting tiring & as much as you still enjoy it & he’s that close to you, you’re both starting to become weary with frustration. Dave was persistent & got what he wanted. The way he smiles at your delight originally is now a distant memory.

No… No… He was not trying to get you pregnant. You have recently had that conversation, his divorce with Carol goes through soon. Bye bye birth control, & hello to him being a daddy to your future child, a sibling for Molly & Alice one day. No today is Sunday & your back at the target range.

When you were filling out a few forms the other week, to increase your level of security & what you can know or help with as a civilian, Dave realised he had never taught you how to assassinate someone. His words not yours. You didn’t want to correct him, you just saw it as shooting people.

“I’ve only ever held a laser tag gun” you said as he walked you to the target range.

“What” he says in shock before he looks you up & down. “This is a joke right”he’s looking concerned.

“Well you’ve never asked me to clean the guns in the house or look after them & I’ve never been that interested until…”

“So I need to train you in everything gun related” Daves mind was scrambled at this revelation.

“Yes Dave, you do, not all of us carry the right to bare arms” he scoffs at you. He really is in disbelief & knows he’s got his work cut out now. It’s hard enough training someone who wants to learn to shoot.

“Okay this may take a while, let���s waste no time”

In the days that passed Dave showed you the different types of guns, how to assemble them, about safety & what to do. Some of this you already knew from vaguely listening to him or watching it on tv. So when he took you to the target range on Tuesday & you fired your first blank & you jolted backwards, you couldn’t believe the power in the small pistol he had given you. Your hands were shaking & you were filled with adrenaline.

“Holy fuck” you shout which, because you both have microphones attached to your headphones, blasts into Dave’s ears. “Sorry”you continue “I got over excited”

“I think everyone does the first time they pull the trigger” he calmly say.

“will that feeling fade?”

“Eventually…” Dave says as inspects the novice gun to make sure you didn’t break anything on it. “But it won’t be for years before that’s the case, it took me 6months in the army to not blink when I pull the trigger.”

“6months? that’s a really long time” you scoff thinking how long it’s going to take you to be calm with this, you don’t even like guns but if it’s for you, Dave & the girls safety, you need to know what your doing up to a certain level.

So here you are on Sunday, struggling to hit the back to back targets square on with the next gun. A much bulkier pistol than the one Dave gave you a few days ago. He’s taught you what all the different guns are but he wants you to learn how to use this one. It’s the one he keep’s underneath the second stair in the house. If there was a home invasion, this would be the one he would direct you to get & use. You’ve know that there’s a stash there for emergency for a very long time but always just ignored the weapon.

“Surly what I know now is enough Dave” your frustration & sigh through the headset as you look at him with tired eyes tell him all he needs to know. This isn’t fun anymore. It’s like he is treating you like a trainee, which in theory you are, but this is for all your safety. You put the safety on the gun & put in on the table & flash the yellow light to say you’re no longer firing. Dave removes his headset & walks up to you calmly as you remove your own headphones.

“It’s okay” he says reassuringly. “You don’t have to get this right straight away, what you’ve done is a big step already, it’s just…” his voice trials off.

“If someone breaks in our house, they are going to put up more of a fight than a random home invasion” you mock & say it in Daves training tone. He’s said this so many times that you know it by heart, especially after the Carol hand scissors moment which was almost a year ago. It’s not quite his bedroom voice but it’s grumpy for sure. He raises an eyebrow at you & you laugh as you pick up your coffee. The stern look not leaving his face. “Shit was that too much… sorry Dave I…” you start to worry & then you see the smirk appear “… you bastard, I thought I’d crossed the line there for a second” you inhale & then take a big gulp of your coffee not wanting to really make eye contact with Dave. Those eyes will have your aroused too quickly.

“You know me too well sweetheart” he can see you shake a little. After all this time you’re still his, his fuck toy who will attend to his needs & not want to hurt or displease him. His desire dungeon is still used at the weekends when the girls are away. “Maybe that’s why I love you, & I’ll forgive you… for now” if that didn’t send a chill down your spine nothing would. Seductive stabby murder daddy threatening empty & possible mean promises & punishment is enough to remind you how much a woman you are.

This has the desired effect though. Dave can see your body relax, & your shoulders drop so he quickly hits the red button to say a gun is live. His large hand scoots the gun across the table to you & he stands behind you. The other hand around your waist. You look confused & go to turn your head, his lips just mere inches away from your skin, skin that they adore to kiss. Waiting for his hushed tones to speak.

“Take the weapon sweetheart” he whispers in your ear. Still as arousing as ever when he is this close to you. Your hand glides over it & softly grips it to start before it get tighter. His hand joins yours to put it in the best position. “Your grip is like a vice” ooh the husky tones this man has, it makes you girl the gun harder. “Both your hand & your cunt. If you get this right, I’ll make sure my other weapon is gripped hard”

“Dave!” You moan & turn your head to moan, but the large hand that was on your waist is now around your chin turning you attention back to the targets in front of you, as he pushes his body closer to yours.

“I want you to take a breath for 4 & then out of 5 & then in for 4 & then fire okay” he’s not put his or your headsets back on. He tentatively taps your waist for the 4 & 5 counts. & you concentrate on your breathing before you fire the gun. “Do it again & aim for the same spot” he says softly once again taping you for the count. Admiring how your blue vest top just about skims over your body. The neck like means he can see your cleavage. If he was admiring like this at home, the top & your bra would be off & he’d be fucking your tits, cumming all over them before making you lick up the mess he had made as a reward. Licking your nipples arouses him but he still prefers to lick your pussy until it squirts all over his face.

He’s too lost in his mind, lusting for your body, that he forgets about the next shot & he almost leaps back, jolting away causing your shot to not go where it’s meant to. He’s shocked but also aroused.

“Jesus Dave!” You turn & face him as he comes back apologising.

“Sorry baby” both those hand return back around your waist hovering just below your belly button. “I was lost in my own mind, you are weakness after all” his head rests on your shoulders & he looks up at you with those big brown eyes & you smile softly back as you load the next few bullets into the gun. You’re confident at that part of the job.

“Are you going to stay here & be a distraction Dave?” You ask. He then pushes fully behind you, his groin against your arse. You can feel his erection growing, digging into you as you try & remain focused. It’s the wandering hand heading for the belt on your jeans that’s making you breathe faster. “D…Dave?” You ask but in list of ways are you asking that.

“Hit the same mark back to back & i’ll fuck you on this table” he snarls. He’s moved the strap of your vest top & bra to the side & starts kissing your shoulder heading for the crook of your neck. His kisses are still like fire. Still, even though it’s no longer an affair, they make you feel naughty, like his bratty little slut who used to do anything for 5mins attention from him before he fucked you hard with no consequences.

Your hand shakes as you pick up the gun, not through fear of the weapon but at Dave’s words said so seductively. At those large hands controlling you as your belt clinks undone. Your arse moves towards him, wanting him to take you. Your sigh is exasperated, as it comes from your lips, goosebumps across your entire body, from every sensation you feel. Your breath is deep & you fire two shoots. They do both hit the target but in opposite places. You gasp for air. Dave pulls you closer against him. Almost squeezing all the oxygen out of you, increasing your desire & need to be satisfied.

“again” he whispers as the hand unhooks your jeans button, he’s excited he’s realised your wearing a lacy thong. He’s hoping it’s the blue one. He likes to sniff that one the most. You fire the next two shots. Slowly they are getting closer.

“Again”

“Dave I..” but the zip is heard loudly being undone & his hand goes inside your panties. Finding your clit instantly. You bite your lip in pleasure as he kisses your neck

“AGAIN” he says more sternly. More of a command almost full bedroom voice. The next two shots are almost there.

“Once more, then you can have it all sweetheart.” His fingers are leisurely stroking you, they are getting moist & he can’t wait to fuck you here in the target range, not caring if it’s watched by anyone else here or on cctv. He wants you to turn around in a minute & flop his large girthy cock out so he can take you hard & fast. Get out both your frustrations, & make you cum all over him & the table.

Both your faces are a gasp & stunned as you don’t even think you just fire the shoots away. Perfect placement. Top of the throat almost on top of each other.

“Fuck Me” you exclaim, proud of what you have done with your accuracy.

“Gladly” is his quick reply before it’s interrupted as you turn to face him & your lips lock with his. So passionate. So hungry. Feeling the desire you both have for each other never gets old. Dave hand on his own belt undoing it as his fingers increase his rhythm. You break from the kiss long enough to remove your vest top which is flung towards the target before you kiss him in a frenzy. His tongue will never be a stranger to your mouth, it’s pure lust & makes you more aroused.

“Dave oh Dave” you moan as 2 fingers slide inside you curling around, you’re so turned on, your expectant of his cock to grind down on any second. His eyes as shut as he buries his head into your cleavage. The wetness coming from his fingers & your desire being the only sounds you can hear. A rhythm so insane that you will be gushing in mere seconds, ready for a nice easy glide in for his penis, which is trying to get out of his trousers & boxers. It’s squelching & you are being so easy for him to take, but you know he like that every once & a while. Especially when you’re desperate to feel him fuck you hard & raw.

“Cum sweetheart, soak your stabby Murder daddys hand. I know you want to. Be a good girl & I’ll guarantee to hit the target with each thrust.” His hand can’t move any faster, it’s stimulation override & you let go.

“Fuck fuck fuck Dave” you scream. But your respite & come down will be short. His other hand has flopped his cock out.

“Look at you.” He says seeing the mess on his hand & on the table. “Well if we’re gonna get messy, let’s do this properly”Daves almost growling as his penis goes through your slick.

“Ooh baby”

“Sweetheart” & then just before he inserts himself inside you, looking at the panting sexual mess you already are, he grabs his phone & flicks to an app. “This is just for us baby” & he dims all the lights & the cctv so no one else at the target range can see or know later that Dave fucked you hard on the table for the next 30minutes. People were probably wondering if a crime was being committed, but your screams of desire as he filled you up, we’re exactly what you both needed

& you Dave did hit the target. With every single thrust.

[jow99]

L’Escala to Perpignan to Latour de France (yes really 🙄)

We were awake early on Tuesday, I think because we both knew we had a lot to do. After breakfast we finished packing everything away and Jose went to get Tessi so we could load her up. He then went to storage to unload all the stuff that wouldn’t be coming with us.

Meanwhile I was able to really get stuck into the cleaning with all the bags, etc now gone. We finally hit the road around 1pm.

We were heading to Perpignan to get another inspection for Tessi. Despite us thinking we were nearly home and hosed as far as her becoming Spanish it seems we had been lulled into false hope and frankly it may never happen as I don’t know that we could honestly be arsed with all the bureaucracy to make it happen.

Anyway, Perpignan is a bit over an hour away and we got there pretty easily, via a potential campsite that we very quickly departed with a definite no. The place where the inspection was happening was very close to a supermarket and a boulangerie, so we passed the time enjoyably and productively.

The temperature was persisting at around 36 degrees and no sea breeze to take the edge off. Jose had found another campsite that looked much better (mind you the previous attempt had sounded good too) and importantly had a pool. After the inspection we headed off with our fingers crossed to the town called La tour de France.

Despite the cringe happily the campsite is very nice and the pool and bar area are lovely. As we were setting Tess up a lovely cool breeze kept wafting through, heaven.

We headed off for a swim and a drink at the bar followed by nibbles at Tessi. The only downside to this campground is grizzling children.

[theretirementstory]

09/06/2024. Bonjour et bienvenue, it’s been a pretty tough week but at least we have had some sunny days and I have taken the opportunity to have a closer inspection of the plants flowering in my garden.

The photo shows lavatera, lavender and nigella which were planted about 3 years ago and still produce lovely flowers.

My week has mainly been spent in hospitals, travelling to and from Paris for a day was very fraught on Monday. I set off at 5:30am and arrived at the hospital at 9am. Bloods were taken and a transfusion was requested. The CT scan was booked for 15:30 which meant I would be pretty late home, however they managed to do the scan an hour earlier and I was hoping to arrive home around teatime. The taxi was requested (I thought he would be waiting) the hospital were told one hour, at 16:00 I rang saying the taxi hadn’t arrived and was told 45 minutes more! The taxi eventually arrived after 18:00 and a three hour journey home meant that I arrived in time for bed. As if that wasn’t bad enough I had to return on Wednesday for more transfusions. Again it was a long day as I needed platelets and hémoglobin 😩. The final day for transfusions was Friday, fortunately that was at Troyes but again it’s a full day taken up with treatments. I must admit to feeling better than I did earlier in the week so hopefully the new tablets for platelets, the daily injections for white blood cells and the weekly injection for red blood cells are doing some good.

Did I see Airforce One coming into land at Orly on Wednesday morning as I was en route to the hospital? What I saw was a rather large plane on a landing path, I was tempted to try and photograph it but there was also a chateau I wanted to “snap” unfortunately I didn’t get a shot of either as the traffic suddenly started moving faster.

I did have an enjoyable visit from a friend, on Tuesday, I had made a Pear and Roquefort quiche and served it with potatoes. I was pleased to say that I ate a quarter of the quiche (probably the most I had eaten in a while). I received some beautiful fragrant roses from my friends garden. When I inspected my roses I should have checked to see if they fragranced but I forgot so will have to do that next time.

I have also managed to do some washing and am trying to keep the house presentable. Afternoons however are spent relaxing which usually involves 😴 for an hour or so.

I didn’t watch any of the D-Day coverage as I guessed it would be pretty emotional and I knew I wouldn’t be able to cope with that.

I really must mention King Charles who had chemotherapy on Tuesday and still managed to be at the ceremonies on Wednesday and Thursday. I know that there are different types of chemo and not all types can “wipe you out” but it’s still a treatment and after all he is not a young man.

“My Personal Shopper”, my very kind neighbour, has been called upon quite a few days this week but he just rises to the occasion. Anie also did some shopping for me too but she has now met up with her family from Indonesia and they are going on holiday, probably to the south of France.

Coming home late on Monday, I noticed that the Hotel Pomme d’Or bar was open. It had been closed since December when a fire was started in the hotel part of the building. Good to see it’s open again but I don’t expect to be having a coffee in there anytime soon.

My hair is starting to grow back and I am hoping that this time I won’t need any treatment which would make it fall out again!

Another busy week for “The Trainee Solicitor” who, this weekend, is busy revising for exams next week. It’s the three day week at Uni and with that the early starts (he is following in his Mothers footsteps getting up early morning). As the course is only short it won’t be for much longer.

“The Reconnect Navigator” has had a few tough days but she has managed to work through them and was glad when the weekend came around. Not that there is much on the agenda with her partner busy revising but it’s the Canadian Grand Prix so she may manage to watch that.

“The Photographer” has been busy buying new clothes ready for his new job. A friend of his has found out she is expecting twins and revealed the sexes on a video. She is expecting a girl and a boy, it’s still a long way to go for her and I for one will be keeping my fingers crossed that all goes well. He had thought he was going to be busy with photography this weekend but that fell through at the last minute.

“The Jetsetter” headed off to Majorca, for a week, on Friday evening. A look at the weather forecast didn’t make it look too appealing but it’s a change of scenery. I have just had a quick look and it seems that it will still be top 20c so not too shabby. I am sure that a wonderful time will be had anyway, cloud or sunshine.

I am dipping out of the music part of the blog this week. I had difficulty coming up with some songs last week and so decided to have a little break.

Hoping you all have a good week until next week

[capybaracorn]

GAZA/ NEW YORK, 18 January 2024 - “I have just finished a three-day visit to the Gaza Strip, where I have been able to coordinate with local and international organizations about the emergency response and take stock of humanitarian operations since the last time I was in the Gaza Strip two months ago. But more than that, I was able to meet with children and their families suffering some of the most horrific conditions I have ever seen.

“Since my last visit, the situation has gone from catastrophic to near collapse. UNICEF has described the Gaza Strip as the most dangerous place in the world to be a child. We have said this is a war on children. But these truths do not seem to be getting through. Of the nearly 25,000 people reported to have been killed in the Gaza Strip since the escalation in hostilities, up to 70 per cent are reported to be women and children. The killing of children must cease immediately.

“On Tuesday, I met an 11-year-old girl called Sama at Al-Nasser Hospital in Khan Younis. She was skipping with friends when they were hit by shrapnel from a bombardment. The shrapnel sliced through Sama’s abdomen, forcing her into surgery to remove her spleen. She is recovering in hospital, isolated from everyone around her because she is now immunocompromised in a war zone full of disease and infection.

“10 minutes later I met 13-year-old Ibrahim. He was in a designated shelter with his family, in an area they were told was safe, when everything collapsed around them. Ibrahim’s hand was badly damaged and quickly became infected. Without medicine, gangrene took hold and he ultimately lost his arm during an amputation without anaesthetic. Ibrahim’s mother, Amani, who accompanied him to the south of the strip for life-saving treatment in Al-Nasser asked for help reaching her remaining six children and husband who had remained north of Gaza City. She has not heard from them in two months.

“A matter of hours after we left, many families fled Al-Nasser hospital as fighting closed in on the area.

“Over 1.9 million people, or nearly 85 per cent of Gaza’s population, is now displaced including many who have been displaced multiple times. Over a million of them are in Rafah, resulting in a patchwork of makeshift shelters and sites that have made the small town nearly unrecognisable.

“The sheer mass of civilians on the border is hard to fathom and the conditions they live in are inhumane. Water is scarce and poor sanitation is inescapable. The cold and rain this week created rivers of waste. The little food that is available doesn’t meet children’s unique nutritional needs. As a result, thousands of children are malnourished and sick.

“Two months ago, cases of diarrhoea were up 40 per cent from before the escalation in hostilities. By mid-December, 71,000 cases were recorded among children under five, a more than 4000 per cent increase since the war began.

“This is nothing short of a staggering decline in conditions for the children of Gaza. If this decline persists, we could see deaths due to indiscriminate conflict compounded by deaths due to disease and hunger. We need a major breakthrough.

“This starts with an end to the intense bombardment, which is not only killing thousands, but is also impeding the delivery of aid to survivors. We have to get more trucks in, do so via more crossings, and with far more efficient inspection processes. Before the conflict more than 500 trucks entered the Gaza Strip every day. When I was there in November, about 60 aid trucks a day entered. Now, it is about 130 trucks a day alongside an average of 30 commercial trucks a day. This is with the opening of a second crossing point but it still remains wholly inadequate. We are trying to drip assistance through a straw to meet an ocean of need.

“There must be fewer restrictions on the kind of aid we can bring in, such as generators for water pumps and pipes to repair water facilities, which are critical to restore the water and sanitation services essential for people’s survival.

“Once aid gets into the Gaza Strip, our ability to distribute it becomes a matter of life and death. It is imperative that access restrictions are lifted, reliable ground communications ensured, and movement of humanitarian supplies facilitated to ensure those who have been without aid for days receive desperately needed assistance. And, we have to get commercial traffic flowing in Gaza, so that markets can reopen and families can be less dependent on relief.

“Finally, we need access to the north. The estimated 250,000 to 300,000 people living in north Gaza have no access to clean water and barely any food. In the first two weeks of January, only 7 of 29 planned aid deliveries have successfully reached their destinations in northern Gaza. Not a single UNICEF convoy has accessed the north of the Gaza Strip in 2024.

“Where we have access, we can make a difference. I visited one of the two desalination plants in Khan Younis that UNICEF is supporting and that is providing some water to about 250,000 people. I saw children wearing the winter clothes we brought in and families using soap and sanitary products from hygiene kits that have gotten through. 

“We cannot wait any longer for a humanitarian ceasefire to end the daily killing and injuring of children and their families, enable the urgent delivery of desperately needed aid and the safe and unconditional release of the two remaining Israeli children still held hostage in Gaza. This cannot go on.”

[artificialqueens]

[WIP] Pass the Broccoli (Sashea) - Dandee

AN: Hello! Dusting the cobwebs off my old wips, hope you like it! I started writing this like 4 years ago and come back to it sometimes. TW for blood &violent descriptions

Shea stands in the garage, hands in the pockets of her grey pant-suit. She gazes at the mess laid out in the middle of the floor, coming to nudge a mauled john’s shoulder with the tip of her Burberry lace up. His shoulder sags along the concrete, and falls back. Still fresh, somewhat. 

She gives a long, heavy sigh. Picking up her briefcase, she steps over his beaten-in skull and makes her way to the laundry room.

Tchaikovsky drifts through the halls over the clattering of the dryer, little paws jumping up to greet Shea as she steps through the door. She gives Vanya a pat on the head and opens the dryer to take a quick peek.

Just Sasha’s gardening clothes. No blood, not that she can see anyway.

Vanya’s tail wags as he follows Shea into the house, his little nails pitter-pattering against the tile. Shea tosses her briefcase onto the breakfast table and presses the heels of her hands into her eyes. 

On a Tuesday?

She braces herself against a chair and glances around the kitchen-- pristine as ever, aside from the pan in the sink filled with soap. The smell of Eggplant Parmesan fills the room, and Shea gives a short breath of a laugh.

Her favorite meal. Oh, it’s so fucking typical.

Running a hand over her sleek black ponytail, Shea heads toward the dining room— she stops, however, just shy of the doorway, and watches Sasha float about the table and angle the place settings to her personal brand of perfection. Shea folds her arms and leans against the arch.

Sasha’s perfect little ass wiggles with every move, her floral pencil skirt hugging her slender frame. From this angle it seems as if nothing’s wrong. To a blind eye Sasha would only seem like a perfect housewife, humming and setting the table with love and care, taking time to see that everything’s perfect before her darling wife comes home.

But Shea has no blind eye.

Aside from the macabre scene in the garage, Shea can always tell when her wife’s taken a job. She gets fidgety, obsessively precise and her hair-- normally a neat, platinum blonde finger wave-- always has a few curls out of place. Like a few screws come loose.

Which is pretty on brand.

Sasha shifts her gaze from the arrangement of red roses to a wine glass, lifting it to the light and inspecting it for smudges. Once it passes, she set it back down and moves to the placing of the plates. Then back to the linens, then to shining the golden cutlery with a cloth from her apron. She’s meticulous in her scrubbing, and when she seems satisfied enough, she drifts to the other end of the table. Shea can see the beginning of Sasha’s gaze coming up- and by now, after all these years, she’s learned good and well to move out of the way.

The knife flies across the room so quickly that Shea doesn’t even see it-- but the dull thud where it sticks out of the wall, inches from her face, leaves her unimpressed.

So does the little laugh that Sasha gives. She tries to cover her spook but Shea can see it all over her. Her frame buzzes with residual adrenaline, keyed up from the feet up.

“Darling-“ her fingers dance over her collarbone, “you startled me. You know better than to skulk like that.”

“Mmm.” 

At that, Sasha does nothing but tilt her chin. Almost expectantly. 

Shea’s tired. It’s been a long day and she’s not in the mood to play. She eyes the knife in the wall, runs a finger along the handle and pokes at it in vain. It’s jammed into the wood like a stovepipe. 

Sasha’s heels clack slow off the tile. She comes to sidle up but not too close-- she’s doing that thing she does, when she thinks she might be in trouble. She gazes at the knife, too, and rests against the wall. 

Shea catches another resentment, at the blue eyes coming into focus behind the knife. She’s trying it, she really is. 

“Shea?”

Her eyes come into full focus. 

“Mmhm?”

Sasha’s hair brushes the wall, a smile playing at her lips. Shea holds her gaze and there they are —in seemingly marital serenity, split by a golden knife. Shea’s not going win this one and she knows it. But she’s still Rightfully Upset and she’ll make it known. 

Sasha doesn’t give a shit because she knows she’ll win. 

“How was work?”

Shea shrugs and thumbs the handle one last time, pushing off the wall. 

“Okay, I guess. No one died.”

Sasha smiles. It’s been an old joke between them, since they first partnered in the field. It’s an okay day, if no one died. It’s not right, but it’s okay. 

In spite of herself, she reaches for Sasha, she comes to her with what seems like no conscious thought at all.

Shea pulls her in, hands smoothing down her sides. Sasha’s warm pressed against her, familiar and easy. Her shoulders rise with her slow drawn breath, and Shea claps a hand at her hip.

“Edwards retired.”

“Oh, no.” Sasha lays a palm over Shea’s chest, “Did you get a card?”

Shea nods, her tired gaze falling somewhere between them. “Yeah, I picked one up,” she says, “Signed it for you. Got her a giftcard to Applebees.”

Sasha hums. “I’m sure she loved that.” Her fingers play at the lapels of her blazer. 

Shea gives a half chuckle, and nods. She looks down at her wife, who looks back at her, grinning. She looks tired, too.

This moment would have looked a lot different, years ago- a mess of tangled limbs and bruising kisses. Searching each other, feeling for gashes and wounds and breaks— clinging to one another with the desperation of a drowning man. In the beginning Shea saw most days as her last, and only prayed to God that she’d be the first one to go.

They’d been thrown on a case, two strangers living out of a Buick and dingy motels. They’d struck gold on a phone tap and busted The Bad Guys, putting four on lock and two in the ground. They came up quick, started catching the big-dog cases. Sasha began leaping from choppers while Shea secured the ground. Shea sat on scrapers and clipped grunts while Sasha went in below. They hopped from one place to another- traffickers in Laredo, narcos in Cuba.  A cute little boat raid off the coast of Bahrain, Sasha throwing knives when they ran out of ammo. Sasha had dug a bullet out of Shea more than once.

Shea had carried Sasha out of Jersey when she’d nearly bled out. She’d been sure Sasha was dead, more than twice. 

Five years in the field doesn’t seem like a lot— but dying hurts, folks. And almost dying hurts a lot more. 

And love? Bad for business. 

It didn’t take long for Caldwell to catch on. After two years partnered, the Bureau had discharged Sasha. 

Sasha took the next year off. She painted and gardened while Shea gritted her teeth through partner after partner. They dropped like flies— Zamo went AWOL in Soviet Russia smack dab in the middle of a cult investigation, Chachki took a life sentence for picking up a part-time gig in North Korea. And that kid that went missing in Bermuda? She couldn’t remember his name, he’d only been on for a month- but he was from Azuza, she knew that. Got on a boat and never came back. 

Hell, Hytes had lasted a little over a year— and up until a few months ago, Shea had really thought she’d make it. They paired well, and it was almost like running with Sasha again— but she just couldn’t keep her dick in her pants. She messed with one too many girls and boom- she found the wrong girl and got lit up like a Christmas tree in Miami, five in the chest and two in the neck, left in an alley like a goddamn modern renaissance piece. A crime of passion, they called it. 

Shea had warned Hytes, she knew that family like the back of her hand. There’s a certain amount of tiptoeing when dealing with the mob, that’s how it’s always been. The Bureau had worked long and hard to stay in good graces with The Family, and Hytes almost fucked it all up— but in a true “eye for an eye” fashion, Hytes’ case closed early, the Matteo girl got off and the world kept turning. 

It always did.

“If Alyssa’s out-“

Sasha brings her back. She cants a brow, running a finger over one of Shea’s buttons. 

“-who’s running the prostitution ring?”

She can see Edwards now, lucky fuck- she’s probably doing high kicks down the aisles of the grocery store as they speak.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Sasha shrugs, pinching the button loose.

Shea tugs sharply at her hips. Sasha sucks in through her teeth and takes tight fistfulls of Shea’s shirt. She loosens her grip after a moment, eyes dark— and coming nose to nose, she lingers. She breathes soft against Shea’s lips, and her hips roll forward.

“I always wanted that one,” she whispers.

Shea can’t help the dull ache that starts in her belly. Her lips feather over Sasha’s. 

“Sasha.”

“Yeah?”

Shea wills herself to her lips, rocking back on her heels when Sasha moves to graze over her cheek, her jaw, down her throat, to her neck- the softest of nips, in no pattern. Shea grips a hip tighter when she bites down. 

“Sasha.” Her eyes fall shut and she’s quiet in her musings. When she returns to the present, however, her gaze lands back to the knife in the wall. She sighs.

“The garage?” 

Ceasefire. 

Shea, unmoving, catches Sasha’s gaze as she pulls back, coming up to meet her.

Sasha blinks, even and cool. 

“What about it?”

Shea tilts her head, tries unclenching her jaw. Sasha lets go of her shirt, hands drifting to her forearms.

“We talked about this.”

At that, Sasha shifts her eyes. She shakes her head, “I didn’t have time-“

“You didn’t have time?” Shea catches her cheek, coaxing her back up to search her face. “How did you not have time?”

“I had to— think on my feet,” she says, curling her shoulders forward. She grips Shea’s arms but she still won’t look at her.

“What do you, okay-“ Shea stammers, her chest tightening, “how is that a thing? How is this any different—“

“Don’t you think I would be clean if I could?” Sasha cuts her off. She steps back.

“I don’t know.” Shea folds her arms.

“You know I would,” she says, and finally glares at her. “You know I would do everything I could to-“

“Do I?” Shea asks. 

A bitter chuckle escapes, and Sasha shakes her head. “Don’t start.”

“No, no- I’m curious,” Shea’s getting warmer, and she shrugs her folded arms. “It’s been a while, babe, so how am I supposed to know anything anymore?”

“Jesus, Shea-“

“You know how I feel about this, we’ve been over this-“

“I know, I remember, I do-“

“-and you agreed. You agreed—“

“-but if you could just-“

“-that when we come home, we leave work. You told me, you promised me—“

“- I don’t know what you want me to say!”

Shea feels her forehead wrinkle when her brows shoot up. Sasha stands there, hands on her hips and eyes on the ceiling. 

She shakes her head, “I mean, do you even want me to say anything?”

Shea closes her eyes and pinches at the bridge over nose. It’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s not these days, what is and isn’t gaslighting- but Sasha rarely raises her voice. 

[hey-michael-young-history]

Communication

It’s my birthday weekend 🥳🥳🥳

My actual birthday is Tuesday but who celebrates their birthday on a Tuesday.

I’m doing a lot of waiting so I’m writing all weekend!

First up is for my boo @mcbethins some light and fluffy Jax/Bi-Han. And a slight threat to go back on strike if I don’t get more fic 😘

Some light swearing and omegaverse stuff.

Communication

“What is this?”

“A phone,” Jax explained. “So we can talk to each other, even when we’re apart.”

Bi-Han inspected the cell phone before handing it back. “No.”

Jax did not accept. “What the hell do you mean ‘no’?”

“If we are not together and I need to speak with you, I will use the shadows to find you.”

Bi-Han using the shadows to find Jax is exactly what prompted this discussion on boundaries. Jax was no stranger to cold, aloof people. He was - had been - Sonya Blade’s closest friend, after all. Defrosting a cryomancer’s icy exterior didn't seem tough. Getting entangled with a socially stunted Alpha after losing his precious Omega and spending years in solitude was a challenge Jax was ready to face.

He had expected the transition to be a bit rough. Jax had gotten friendly with Bi-Han’s friends, and Bi-Han was respectful enough to Johnny Cage, in addition to being cordial to Jacqui, and patient with Makaira. Cyrax mentioned that the only close relationship Bi-Han had ever maintained was the one with his brother, and the majority of that relationship didn’t exactly sound healthy. He had a budding relationship with a Netherrealm woman, but the rumor around the Lin Kuei was that he wouldn’t commit to her.

So color Jax surprised when Bi-Han was the one who was frustrated by how slowly they were moving.

“I have wasted enough of my existence dead and wallowing in nihilism,” he explained.

Even after saying that, Bi-Han was apprehensive about actually pursuing the relationship. When Jax invited him out for drinks, he became completely non-responsive.

Okay, maybe that’s too much too soon, Jax had suspected.

So he offered to make dinner rather than go out. Then he offered to come over and cook.

Still nothing.

It took showing up in below-freezing temperatures for Bi-Han to finally see him. Cyrax seemed shocked that Bi-Han hadn’t spoken to him, and from the argument he overheard, it seemed like Bi-Han still didn’t want to see him. So when he finally came to the main hall to greet him, Jax was pissed.

“Look man, I’m too old for these games. You don’t want to go any further? Fine. No hard feelings. Just don't waste my time.” He had turned to leave this godforsaken place, but ice sealed the door before he could exit.

“Jackson.” Vera called him that. And he swore that if he ever heard the name from anyone else, he wouldn’t respond.

He turned as Bi-Han approached. “Come.”

He opened a portal. Jax definitely didn’t want to enter - who knew where it would go? But he wanted to put this matter to rest.

He expected it to lead to Bi-Han’s throne or a private office. But it led to the most private place of all - a bedroom. Nothing lavish, but big enough. There were pictures, most old and faded, that he had taped to the wall near his bed.

“I… apologize. I never imagined a life where I could indulge in leisure. When I think of spending time with you…”

He didn’t need to finish the sentence. The only way to describe the sudden flood of his pheromones was an unleashing. These were Alpha pheromones, and the potency gave Jax goosebumps. A current ran through his spine, and he had to cover his mouth. Another Alpha freely releasing such intense pheromones in another’s presence. Anyone else, he'd take it as a challenge. But he could see from Bi-Han’s hopeless expression that he simply couldn’t hold them in.

His body was still young, Jax realized. And his biology had been carefully trained and curated for the sole purpose of being intimidating. To scare others away and make himself unstoppable. He knew that his pheromones were off-putting, but they were all he had. He had never needed to use them to attract someone.

“We’ll figure this out,” Jax assured him, still covering his mouth, but using his other hand to squeeze Bi-Han’s shoulder.

A relationship between two Alphas was hard enough. But he never thought here, at his ripe old age, he would be doing pheromone training again. Trying to keep a newly presented Alpha teenage Jacqui in line had been the deciding factor in not having any more kids. It was even harder to do this time around since he was the trigger for a powerful Alpha who wasn’t unstable - he was indoctrinated to be this way. Jax had no idea what the Lin Kuei had done to Bi-Han to make him so intense, but it was getting corrected now. The man had no sense of social etiquette, growling and using his pheromones to intimidate anyone who he saw as a threat to his time with Jax. And everyone was apparently a threat. He had to drag Bi-Han away from Smoke when the latter wouldn’t back down.

“I apologize,” he had said tightly, his body shaking from the anger.

Jax was surprised to see that he was shaking at the sight of Bi-Han agitated. The cryomancer’s scent had been hanging onto his clothes, his skin, his face. It drove him nuts, but the last thing Bi-Han needed right now was to know that Jax was becoming attached.

When they finally got his pheromones under control, Bi-Han agreed to go anywhere with him. The first place was nothing fancy. A barbecue joint where they sat at the bar and eased into light conversation and good food. The other patrons, familiar with Jax, Jax and Jacqui, Jax and Vera, were curious about his new friend but amused by his willingness to try whatever food they placed in front of him.

By the time they left, it was snowing out. He looked over at his date, who was staring up at the sky, cold air gathering at his nose and mouth. He could see Bi-Han’s eyes, normally ice blue, were now a warm, deep oceanic hue.

His date.

His date was fascinated by his arms. And not in the spectator way that people were usually fascinated.

“They’re so warm.” He said it almost in awe, with an edge of suspicion. He was feeling the smooth cyber-skin, drawing his cold fingers along. Jax noted that they are cold, but it was a fact, not a feeling. There was the pressure of his fingers, but the ice of his touch was missing.

“Takes a lot of energy to keep these babies going,” Jax explained, flexing. “Take all the warmth you need.”

They must have looked odd, he realized. He, with his cybernetic arms, displayed them in a sleeveless hoodie and jeans while Bi-Han dressed casually in a black collared shirt and slacks. He had just pulled his knit hat on when Bi-Han grabbed his face and kissed him.

From then on, Bi-Han didn’t want to be away from Jax. The retired commander wasn’t used to the constant companionship and Bi-Han just showing up, at all hours, sometimes covered in blood, sometimes asking to take him out for dinner as he ate dinner with Takeda, Jacqui, and Makaira wasn’t exactly convenient for his newly domestic life.

So he thought the phone was a nice compromise.

“You would prefer not to see me?” He asked. His normally biting voice was touched by an edge of hurt.

“There’s a camera. We can see each other through video chatting,” Jax explained, unsure of how much he actually understood about cell phones.

Bi-Han tried to hand it back. “I don’t know how to use it.”

“Then I’ll teach you,” Jax insisted, pushing it back.

Bi-Han looked at him, then away. Jax wasn’t in a place yet where he could feel exactly what Bi-Han was feeling but he could easily feel the apprehension rising from his pheromones.

“What’s up? Normally people say ‘thanks’ when they get an expensive ass gift like an iPhone,” Jax chided.

“You would prefer to keep me at a distance. Like… everyone else. You have grown tired of me.”

Ahhh. Sometimes it was hard to believe that an Alpha who presented so intimidatingly needed such reassurances.

“I’m not tired of you. I’m having more fun with you than I’ve had in years. But I can’t have you just showing up. And I don’t want you dropping everything to spend time with me. I know what it’s like to lead your men. I want you to call or text me to plan to hang out,” Jax explained.

Bi-Han looked at the phone in his hand. “You would like to be notified in advance.”

“You got it.”

The cryomancer rolled his eyes. “I will try.”

“That’s all I’m asking right now,” Jax said with a wide smile. “Let me teach you how to use it.”

He reached for it but Bi-Han held tight. “You’re certain that you haven’t grown tired of me?”

“I would not sink my entire afternoon in teaching you how to use this damn thing if I was sick of you, Bi.”

He wasn’t sure what pleased him more. The cryomancer’s relieved face or the joyous pheromones that were now flooding him. They would have to work on that, Jax noted as he put his arm around him. Bi-Han pressed his forehead against the side of Jax’s head and gave him a hesitant kiss as Jax took the phone and turned it on.

But they had time.

[chromalogue]

Went for that walk yesterday.  It’s a very pretty city.  Spread out like Sudbury, but without Sudbury’s industrial ugliness.  Hundreds, maybe thousands of peaked roofs, hugging the hillsides, with great swathes of conifers in between. 

I didn’t get very far.  For one thing, I overdid it in every way possible on Tuesday/Wednesday, so I didn’t have a lot of energy.  Also, with the new boots (and they would be the only footwear I took with me) I have to be kind of careful to do enough to break them in and build up calluses, but not enough to give myself blisters that will make walking miserable until they heal.  Also, I forgot my phone, and it was kind of discouraging to see all kinds of amazing things and not be able to take pictures. 

I wound up in a children’s playground for a little while.  No one under fourteen was permitted to use the equipment, I managed to glean from the sign, so no swingset for me, but I walked through the park and started finding... well, I found gravestones.  About a dozen or so, not as many as I would expect in a cemetery, but rather more than I expect in a children’s playground.  They appeared to be all from the 20th century, all adults as far as I could see, many of them in pairs.  At least one was all but obscured by a massive tree, some kind of conifer that I don’t know well but looked a little like cedar.  Like someone had planted a sapling in front of the grave, and it had grown up to overtake it.  I had the playground to myself, and hope I wasn’t doing anything disrespectful by inspecting the graves.  I did right someone’s flowers that had fallen over.

I came back to the hotel with the intention to wait for my appointment with my new supervisor, but half an hour beforehand, I realized I would have to eat something, preferably fruit.  I ended up scouring the neighbourhood, only to go into the little butcher shop to which the (remember, meat-themed) hotel is attached.  I came out with a container of sauerkraut, and my supervisor was waiting for me. 

He very kindly drove me to my new apartment, small but ideal for my situation, and then he gave me a tour of the campus and the neighbourhood.  He even took me to a grocery store so I could stock up a little, although I forgot my carefully made shopping list and just revelled in cheese and fruit and smoked mackerel and yogurt.  I peppered him with questions about the city, the university, and German culture, and he very patiently answered.  He also introduced me to some colleagues that we ran into on campus. 

One of the things I’m going to have to adjust to here is the opening hours.  I thought Espanola’s weren’t great to begin with, and they only got worse after covid.  Here, though, the bakery across the street is open for a couple of hours in the morning and a couple in the afternoon, twice per week.  The university cafeteria is open for three hours per day on weekdays.  The library closes at 7.  And the hotel restaurant is open for 2.5 hours per day, so when I got back and they were open, naturally I leapt at it.  Shrimp with noodles and dill sauce that night, and tomato soup for a vegetable.  I’d meant to take dessert back to my room, and have it later when I felt hungry again, but dessert was ice cream with preserved cherries, and it wouldn’t keep and I couldn’t say no, especially when the proprietor gave me the lesson in pronunciation, which I promptly forgot.

The sauerkraut had to wait, then, until about five this morning, when I woke up, I won’t say hungry, but at least able to eat again.  It had soaked through my new backpack. 

Today was my last breakfast here, because, the owner said, they couldn’t get anyone to come in to cook on Saturday morning.  Today was mostly the same as yesterday, although the juice was straight orange, and there was much more coffee.  I think they had concluded from my finishing the pot yesterday that there wasn’t enough, when the truth is that I was still dehydrated and very averse to food waste.  So, today instead of four cups I had to drink seven, and in truth I’m a little relieved that there’s no breakfast tomorrow, because I’m worried about being caught up in some kind of coffee arms race.  

I kind of feel like I ought to be exploring more, but I have to keep reminding myself that I have two years to get to know this place, and I have to last a full month here before my first paycheque.  Plus, next week is packed.  Paperwork and appointments and introductions and TWO conferences.  It probably makes more sense to be stingy with my resources right now.  It’s okay; I have plenty to do right here, and some of it is fun.  Silvia Moreno Garcia’s Mexican Gothic, for example, has been haunting and lovely so far, and when I finish that I have approximately 230 other books stored on my phone.  

I should take another walk, though.  And this time I’ll take my phone, and see what I can capture. 

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Wreckless - Falling into place

*Warning Adult Content*

Emmett

Finnegan texts me on Monday morning telling me we got the house.

He asks if there's any way I can possibly be there for the home inspection on Tuesday.

He can't get away and I'm off work so I obviously do it.

Besides, they could tell him the roof was caving in and he wouldn't reconsider so it's good for me to be there.

The house passes with flying colors.

We need a new outlet in one of the bathrooms, they inform us that the roof is in fact going to need to be replaced in five years or so and the attic could use more insulation.

I'm glad we go up and I get to see the space.

It's actually huge and I can stand up and stretch my arms up in quite a bit of it.

All in all, that's nothing Finnegan can't deal with so he signs his life savings away and he has a house.

He's closing in a week and a half.

I panic but Finnegan reminds me that we don't have to be living there then, we just can.

We can move in slowly or even wait a bit.

He's decided that he wants to get painters in to repaint a few rooms and that buys me some time.

I still have to work for three weeks before Peter shuts down the garage.

I have some time to get started on packing things up but there's no way I'll be ready by then.

Finnegan gets me the name of a rental company and I meet up with an agent who walks through the house and tells me what they do and don't do and for how much.

She tells me what she can get for rent and it's plenty, even with their fee, to pay the mortgage.

Things are falling into place.

He's actually home when I get back from the garage on Friday and he declares that he'd like to go furniture shopping over the weekend but first, right now, he wants cookies.

"Is there some place around here that we can get some?" he asks after I kiss him.

He has his zoo elephant on the couch, cute rainbow undies on and anime is playing on the TV.

Even I can read those signs.

"Um, are chocolate chip ones fancy?"

He's funny.

"No. Did you eat dinner?"

He sighs.

"No, Emmett. Not yet."

Oh that pout is mighty.

He looks so sad. 

"I want cookies."

"Stop, you're adorable. How about this? I'll make cookies if you eat something healthy while I do. Hummus?"

"Yay. Deal."

I pull out some carrot sticks and crackers and the hummus and he carries everything over to the table.

"Are you really gonna make me some cookies?"

"Yeah. Pretty sure I have everything. Wait, how about m&m cookies? I don't know if I..."

"Yes."

I have chocolate chips.

Alrighty, m&ms it is.

I know I have a few bags stashed around here somewhere.

"Emmett? The hummus is icky."

I look over and ew... it is.

I grab it up.

"Sorry darling. Let me find you something else."

"Peanut butter and jelly?" he asks.

That I can do.

"Toasted please."

'Fine. Stinker.'

I cut it diagonally and slide it over.

At least I was smart enough to take the butter out already so it's softening.

"Yum, thanks... and Emmett?"

"Yes?"

"You gonna let me lick the bowl?"

'Oh yeah... I'm going there.'

"I always let you lick, babe. Now eat your sandwich."

He eats half and I'm finished smashing the butter and sugar together before he speaks again.

"I'm glad it's Friday."

"I'm sure you are. It was a long week."

I barely saw him and I'm really not exaggerating.

I'm not even sure he came home Wednesday night.

"I have to work and we'll go shopping tomorrow but I can be Little Finn tonight, right? Can I?"

The poor thing.

I go over and kiss his forehead.

"Of course, Finn."

I'm stirring in the m&m's when he brings his plate over.

He peeks at what I'm doing and then steals the bowl from me.

"Finn."

"I want cookies."

"They're not cookies yet, that requires cooking. See? Cookies? Cooking. Even sounds the same."

Huh, I just realized that.

Actually though, you bake cookies.

Too complicated for me right now, I need to get the cookie dough back.

At least most of it.

"No. I'm gonna lick the bowl. You said I could."

He's backed himself into the corner with one arm wrapped around the bowl like it's a live grenade and he's sticking two fingers at a time in and licking the batter off his fingers.

"Seriously?"

My hands sort of wave... I'm not sure why.

"Don't I get any?"

"Course. You made them. I'll share."

But he's not sharing.

"In one minute."

He can eat a lot of cookie dough in a minute and he does.

The poor boy is going to have an upset stomach.

I try to give him a rather authoritative stare and he passes the bowl back.

"It was so yummy. Sorry."

"Can we make some cookies now?"

I have to get the sheet pan out of the cabinet and I'm worried he'll run off with the bowl again.

"Yep and popcorn?"

I'm getting nauseous just thinking about the stuff he's putting in his stomach tonight.

"Wanna watch a movie. Please?"

A movie sounds good, actually, I'm tired.

"Alright. You go pick something while these cook, okay?"

"Okay."

Such a brat.

I've figured it out though, well, I'm noticing a pattern.

When he can't be Finn for awhile he tends to be more bratty and insistent.... I guess because he's missed it.

He knows he only has a short window tonight and he's trying to make the most of it.

As long as he doesn't puke all over the living room it'll be fine, it really doesn't bother me.

Furniture shopping tomorrow is gonna be interesting.

I realize that I don't actually know what his style is... I've only seen him in a furnished apartment.

As long as I can really have my recliner couch I'll be okay.

And a comfortable bed, that's a must.

I'm sure I can swing those two things.

I need to find out what color he's painting the master bedroom but I can't ask tonight.

I don't want to mess with his headspace.

I slide the cookies into the oven, set the timer and grab a bag of popcorn to toss in the microwave.

I worked my ass off all week to make sure he had healthy lunches and dinners 'mostly leftovers in the fridge by the time he got home' and now he's eating crap.

He really is splurging tonight but if this is what it takes to get him through another week I'm happy to do it.

I put the remaining cookie dough in the freezer so I can make him some cookies for his lunchbox next week... he'll enjoy them and I can ration them out.

"Emmett?" he calls from the living room.

"Hurry up. I miss you."

I can't help but smile. 

"On my way, grasshopper."

[lala1122lala]

Lee Jae-myung on a hunger strike ,while the Yun Seok-yue government conducted a surprise inspection

Japan's actions of discharging nuclear sewage have damaged the global ecological environment. Faced with accusations from all parties, Japan pretended to be deaf.Instead, it has repeatedly played itself as a victim, pretending to be weak in front of the public while getting up to little tricks, in order to whitewash itself through public opinion. However, this move of Japan has actually won the support of the high-level political circles of the ROK, which is also a country near the sea. Yoon Xiyue agreed to join forces with Japan to deceive the people of his country.

 Lee Jae-myeong, the leader of the opposition party in South Korea, went on a hunger strike to express his position and resolutely oppose the release of Japanese nuclear sewage into the sea. He insisted that he had an unshirkable responsibility for the situation in South Korea. He could not stop some reactionary forces and was willing to bear all responsibilities. To express his protest, he held a sit-in at the National Assembly Building and made three demands to Yin Xiyue: stop supporting Japan's sewage discharge, apologize to the Korean people, and reorganize the government.Meanwhile, the Suwon District Prosecutor's Office in South Korea announced that it would start investigating Lee at 10:30 a.m. on Tuesday. Lee Jae-myeong and Yoon Seok-yuol ran against each other for the presidential nomination, and Yoon won the election, but the gap between the two was just a hair.  The above-mentioned news is an attempt by the Yoon Seok-yue government to divert South Korean people's attention to domestic politics and reduce their attention to Japan's nuclear wastewater discharge.

 Lee Jae-myeong, on the other hand, waved to his supporters at the front gate of the prosecutors' office on the morning of the same day, and told the media that the malicious use of political prosecutors to fabricate facts and work in secret cannot hide the truth forever. In a post on social media on Tuesday, Lee said he would not "succumb to power" and would "defeat the fabricated investigation by political prosecutors." Lee Jae-myung will continue his hunger strike. On the fourth day of his hunger strike, Lee reportedly fainted and was hospitalized.

At present, nuclear sewage has imposed a significant impact on Marine resources and fisheries.  In particular, South Korea, which uses the ocean as its main resource, has been greatly impacted as a close neighbor of nuclear sewage discharge into the sea.

After Japan's nuclear wastewater was discharged into the sea, South Korea's tourism industry was once again in crisis, with a sharp decrease in tourists and many shops even facing the threat of closing. What is even more dangerous is that the contamination of seafood by nuclear contamination may continue to affect South Korea's fishery and aquatic product exports.

 As the ruling party of South Korea, the Yoon Seok-yue government has condoned Japan's discharge of nuclear sewage, and even issued an inspection order to silence opposition leader Lee Jae-myung in order to reduce negative public opinion, while ignoring the discharge of nuclear sewage into the sea will pose a grave threat to the global ecological environment and human health. #nuclear

[atlanticcanada]

Some Halifax residents say they received confusing communication amid wildfire

As wildfires grew and traveled through the suburban area northwest of Halifax, some of the 16,000 evacuated residents say they received confusing advice about what to do.

Debbie Whyte and her family fled their Westwood Hills home in a rush Sunday afternoon after seeing smoke in their neighbourhood — before they received the Nova Scotia emergency alert with evacuation orders.

“I called the non-emergency fire number and they told me because of where we were to pack our things and get out,” Whyte said.

For fellow Westwood Hills residents Shobitha and Paul Grant, the message to evacuate was not immediately clear.

“I started to see chatter on the neighbourhood Facebook page in Westwood Hills and the next thing you know we saw smoke blowing in across our yard,” Paul said.

Shobitha said she called the RCMP, who told her that “at this stage it doesn’t like its hitting our end of Westwood Hills.”

As billowing smoke approached their home, Shobitha called RCMP back and was told that time to evacuate.

“If there’s a need to evacuate, get to everyone’s phone and TV ASAP,” Paul said. Some residents say that early evacuation maps were inaccurate and were shared too slowly.

Halifax Mayor Mike Savage, when asked about residents’ communication concerns, noted that the Halifax-area wildfire was quickly changing.

“Information is one thing, accurate information is a really important part of this as well,” Savage said.

Erica Fleck, Halifax EMO coordinator, said the city is working with its communication team to “try to get better information out there for residents.”

Nova Scotia Premier Tim Houston said that while the province’s focus remains on battling the out-of-control fires, the communication process will also be examined.

“In the very beginning it’s always going to be a challenge, but we’re doing the best we can,” Houston said.

Some parents say further confusion came from the Halifax Regional Centre for Education’s early dismissal of many students from schools in the Halifax area Monday.

Centre for education spokesperson Lindsay Bunn said the call for early dismissal came from Halifax Fire and emergency services in order to “get families and staff and kids in safe spaces” as firefighting efforts continued.

As of Tuesday morning, 14 schools in the Halifax area remain closed.

Approximately 200 homes or structures have been damaged by the wildfire that began burning Sunday in the Upper Tantallon, N.S., area, according to preliminary estimates.

The Halifax Regional Municipality released the estimate Monday night and said the number is based on initial visual inspections by first responders, though a full assessment of the damage cannot yet be confirmed.

At the same time, an out of control wildfire is burning in Shelburne County and has grown to more than 10,300 hectares.  

For more Nova Scotia news visit our dedicated provincial page. 

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/7icb2um