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[saganlife]

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[dixonsbrat]

could you write some fluff abt swimming with corio in the lake??

𖥔 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𖥔

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 ; you and coriolanus decide to visit the lake.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ; coriolanus snow x fem!reader, nothing that i can think of, some kissing and a lot of fluff.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 ; 1.1k .ᐟ

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 ; was obsessed with the lake scene and had to recreate my own

with each breath, the worries and burdens of living in the districts seemed to melt away, replaced by a sense of peace that settled deep within your soul. the warm air filled your lungs as you inhaled deeply, both invigorating and calming at the same time. there was nothing quite like the peaceful embrace you felt walking through the woods, offering you solace in its own unique way, letting you feel its energy. 

the clearing was bathed in a bright glow, sunlight filtering through the gaps in the high trees that surrounded, while birds chirped their melodious tunes in the background. they were all that could be heard, other than the low trickles of water from the lake, and the crunching of leaves beneath your lover’s feet as he finally met your side. 

you turned towards him, your heart filling with anticipation and excitement as he closed the distance between you. the affectionate smile on his face mirrored the feelings coursing through your own veins.

“it’s so beautiful out here,” you hum, taking in another deep breath and letting your senses fill with that of the earth.

coriolanus wraps his arm around your shoulder, a sense of warmth and comfort. his closeness brings a small smile to your face, and you rest your head against his side as he breathes a soft “yeah.”

your heart flutters as his gaze locks with yours, drawing you in like a magnet. as the sunlight illuminates his features, casting a heavenly glow upon his face, you find yourself captivated by his radiant presence. his eyes, like vibrant gems, sparkle with a warmth that touches your very soul. 

you could get lost in them – in him – forever. 

scrunching your nose up at him, you give a playful push and head towards the start of the dock, dropping your bag packed with necessities for the day as you do. he follows in your footsteps, kicking off his boots and removing his socks swiftly, all while keeping his eyes fully trained on you. 

there was a boyish grin on his face, something you didn’t see often, but when you did, it filled you with the most unruly butterflies. it made you wish you could see it more, while breaking your heart a little bit at the same time that you didn’t. 

you waste no time in removing your own items of clothing and letting them fall to the ground in a messy pile, leaving coriolanus as you wait in the middle of the wooden path for him to meet your side once more. 

standing there, you can’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for these stolen moments of bliss. in a world that often felt overwhelming and suffocating, being able to share these memories with him feels like a precious gift.

you remember the countless secret rendezvous, the stolen glances while he was on duty, and the hidden touches that were filled with a mixture of excitement and fear. your love, forbidden by the laws of the capitol, had never felt so important. the mountains in the distance stand tall and proud, reminding you that there is so much more to this world than just constraints and limitations. the open field beyond the water stretches out endlessly, just like the endless possibilities that awaited. it was humbling to remember just how small you really were in the world. 

yet, at the same time, as coriolanus meets you again, his arms reaching to wrap around your chest, you can’t help but feel like you were right where you were meant to be. 

with that thought in mind, you take his hand, intertwining your fingers together, and let him take the lead the rest of the way, until your toes hang over the edge of the dock. he looks down at you, that same boyish grin still present, and gives you a wink before the two of you jump off the ledge.

as you hit the cool water, you feel exhilarated, a wave of freedom washing over you. the splashes and ripples create a symphony of sound that echoes in your ears, and as you resurface, you’re immediately greeted by coriolanus’ beaming smile. 

in the midst of the shimmering waves, you catch each other’s gaze and laughter bubbles up from within you both as you playfully splash water at one another. there’s a shared child-like joy that comes out of the friendly competition, but ultimately coryo is the one to give in, raising his arms up to surrender. 

your laughter fades away with the wind, leaving you both in a comfortable silence. a silence that doesn’t need to be filled, nor do you want it to be. the two of you meet in the middle, your legs guiding you to wrap about his waist, as his hand meets the side of your face. 

you lean into the touch, and despite the cool water, you can still feel the warmth of his palm against your skin. his fingers gently stroke your cheek, tracing invisible patterns, and his touch lingers for a moment, filled with tenderness. you close your eyes, wanting to savour the intimacy of it. “you know,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a mixture of affection and what you could only pinpoint to be mischief, “i never expected to find someone like you in my life.”

you open your eyes to meet his gaze, a soft smile playing on your lips. “i feel the same way,” you admit. “i never could have imagined that i’d fall for someone like you, and yet here we are.”

coriolanus' gaze grows tender as his eyes bore into you now. “we may be different, but that’s what makes us so perfect for each other.”

a surge of emotions courses through you like a tidal wave and your lips finally meet. the sensations that had built up inside now overflow, causing you to release all inhibitions. the kiss becomes a catalyst for the intense feelings you were harbouring for the boy before you. 

his hand gently grazes the back of your neck and shivers rolls down your spine. the kiss deepens, filled with desire, longing, a reassuring promise that no one could ever break you apart. 

reluctantly, you have to pull away, the need for oxygen playing an undeniable factor. you don’t move far, your foreheads lingering together as your chests heave, and you catch your breaths. you smile, your heart racing, as you reach out to brush your fingers against his cheek now. you both stay in the water for a while longer, enjoying each other’s company and the tranquillity of the lake. 

there was an enigmatic force that kept pulling you together, and you may not know what the future held or where life in panem would take you both, but one thing you knew for sure was that coriolanus was yours, and you were his. 

[ad-caelestia]

basic ass witch tips 🔮

[revised post from ~2018 & last edited on 9.29.24]

please note that these are all related to things i have actually seen discussed or mentioned. please do your research before blindly following the advice of someone online, myself included.

if you're on some kind of medication, including but not limited to hormonal birth control, heart medication, and anti-depressants, double check with your healthcare professional/provider [HCP] before you drink that new tea you just bought.

always, always, always tell your HCP before trying any kind of herbal supplement, whether it’s something you made yourself or something you bought at the store.

have a diagnosed medical condition? talk to your HCP before ingesting anything or putting anything on your body that you aren’t familiar with.

don’t. drink. essential. oils. essential oils are not consumable!!!!!

citrus oils can cause photosensitivity, or being sensitive to light and more susceptible to sunburns so be mindful when using these oils on your skin.

if it hasn't been emphasized enough, PLEASE dilute your essential oils before use! common carrier oils are grapeseed, castor, olive, coconut, avocado, almond, etc.

oil and water don't mix, so you would need to use an alcohol based solution with essential oils to dilute them that way (if you plan to use them for a spray or something of that nature).

be mindful of using sprays, incense, powders, etc. that could release particulates into the air around pets or those who have allergies, respiratory issues, etc.

don't involve your pets in your practice in a way that could be harmful to them - no essential oils on them, no crystals in their water bowl, no moon water that's been sitting on your shelf for weeks.

i beg you, please don't put crystals in any uh bodily orifices.

there are some herbs you absolutely cannot burn (or use safely, really) for any reason, so make sure you're educated on all that beforehand; yew, for example, is highly toxic and potentially fatal if consumed or inhaled. the leaves, bark, and seeds contains a chemical called taxine, which is what some of the most hardcore chemotherapies are made from so keep that in the back of your mind.

that being said, please wear gloves and use common sense if you decide to forage for your own herbs or plants. i know that plant identifying apps exist so if you have a smartphone, that might be a good place to start.

putting salt on grass does a couple of things: salt removes moisture from the soil, thus drying out the grass and killing it; and, salt causes chloride to build up in the soil, thus making it toxic which inhibits chlorophyll production, leading the grass to eventually "starve" and die - please don't do this.

don't leave candles unattended - even small ones; it's not a good habit to get into.

also!! crystal balls in direct sunlight can cause a fire so be careful!

more fire stuff - be mindful of the environment and also safety so check for burn bans before you make a fire outdoors.

sterile lancets, not needles or pins. that's all i'm gonna say about that.

don't drink water you collected from anywhere outside unless you plan to properly filter it first.

if you plan to store water for later use (moon water, for example), refrigerate it or set it in a cool, dark place.

distilled water is free of minerals and contaminants so it has a longer shelf life than tap or bottled water - keep this in mind when making charged waters or other potion type things.

fresh herbs or other things of that nature left at room temperature can also grow super harmful bacteria. for example, putting raw garlic in olive oil and leaving it at room temperature will end as a breeding ground for botulism and mold.

be safe out there!

© 2024 𝚊𝚍-𝚌𝚊𝚎𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚊

[stargirlygirl]

rut suppressants pt.2

alpha!todoroki shoto x omega!fem!reader⋆｡°✩ — angst, fluff, talk of kids, in the shower, 2.1k

pt.1

The next week is a haze. You’re constantly out of breath, panting and mewing and moaning and squealing and screaming and all the rest of it. Your body belongs to your mate and he’s playing with it, moving it, folding it however he likes. And you couldn’t ask for anything more.

You two become one in a mix of sweat and fluids gushing and dripping onto any surface (un)fortunate enough to be touched by your passion. Bed, dresser, floor, island bench, couch, shower walls, balcony doors. He’s got you covered in his fingertips, stained black and blue. Hickeys paint the expanse of your neck, chest, and thighs. Not even your arms or hips are safe from his assault. And you love it.

Of course, you had to call in sick from work for next week. The reason you rasped out quickly over the phone to your boss while Shoto was drawing you back beneath the covers, was that you’re mate was “awfully unwell” and you had to “take care of him.” And taking care of him, you sure were. If the presentation went well? Who knows, who cares. It hasn’t crossed your mind since he had taken your phone from your hand and threw it across the room, onto the floor.

It was now day eight. The late morning sunlight was filtering into your mess of a bedroom. You were clammy with sweat and other fluids. Your body was pressed against Shoto’s side, arms wrapped around his torso. His warm arm is draped lazily around your shoulders, while his cold hand is resting atop yours just below his pecs.

You had woken up first, using the first few minutes to take in the sight that was your alpha. His mouth hung slightly open, soft snores coming from his rising and falling chest. His white and red locks were tangled and matted to his pale forehead. You waited patiently, watching to see if those long lashes would flutter, and if his eyes would open… but, they didn’t.

Chuckling quietly to yourself, you slowly remove yourself from his grasp, which is no easy feat, seeing as you were quite small compared to him. It took about ten minutes for you to finally drag his arm off you; it had tightened when you started to move, leading you to freeze up and wait it out, until his arm relaxed. You wobbled on your feet.

This is the first time you’ve stood on your own and tried to walk in days. You limp over to the bathroom, the ache in your inner thighs, your hips, your back, arms, everywhere, making it hard to walk properly. Once in the bathroom, your hands grasp the sink-top. Looking into the mirror, you see your own reflection staring back at you. Dark under-eyes; knotty [h/c] locks, some clinging to your ears and cheeks, others to your temples; the artwork his mouth had left behind all over your chest and shoulders. This man… You sighed.

Taking it slow, you make your way into the shower and turn on the hot water, than the cold. You wait for it to reach that perfect temperature before getting under and moaning with delight. The warmth washes away the stickiness on your skin and eases your sore muscles. It soaks into every part of your body, and all you can do is just stand there, palms against the little blue square tiles, eyes closed, and enjoy the sensation.

Soon enough, you’ve shampooed your hair and now let the condition sit in it, long hair in a makeshift bun. You’re rinsing off the suds from your skin when a pair of arms wrap around your waist. One hot, the other icy.

“Shoto!” You exclaim. You were surprised that he had woken up so soon, and even a bit saddened that you wouldn’t have more time to yourself before getting railed again.

“Hey,” your mate mumbles sleepily into your shoulder.

You lean back into him and turn around, placing your hands on his muscular shoulders. He hasn’t shifted. He’s just resting his forehead against your neck. He always does this whenever you’re cuddling. He’s thinking of what to say next, so you stay quiet and give him as much time as he needs to think. Seeing his usual quietness return, you let out a breath you didn’t realise you had been holding in and smile. Your fingers run themselves through his locks mindlessly, dampening them.

You’re curling your fingers in the hair at his nape when he speaks, “I’m sorry.” Your brows furrow and lips pout. You pull back from him slightly, lifting his face up so that you can see that look in his eyes. Guilt. But why?

“Why are you apologising? You didn’t do anything wrong,” you say more quietly than you had intended to, the words coming out barely above a whisper. The running water almost blocks them out.

“For all of this,” he says. He removes his cold arm from your lower back, long fingers pointing to all of the hickeys and bite-marks covering your décolletage.

You giggle, “Don’t be.” You run your fingers behind his ears. “I don’t mind.”

He shakes his head, dismissing what you’ve said. “No, you should mind. I can’t do this to you again, [y/n].” He averts his gaze, turning his head to the side. You guide his focus back towards you, much preferring those angelic, heterochromatic eyes on you than on the shower wall.

“Shoto, babe, I don’t understand what you’re saying," you say, forehead creased.

“You should be angry with me for how I’ve treated you this past week. I’ve been so rough with you. I haven’t been taking good enough care of you. I—”

You pressed your finger to his lips, shutting him up. “But I’m not angry with you. Well, a little over lying to me about your ruts.” You cock your head to the side, taking in that extra guilty look he’s got now.

Giggling, you continue, “But honestly, this past week has been one of my favourite weeks ever! Even more than the week we were staying at that beach villa. Do you remember that?” You grin wide, slowly removing your finger from his lips.

He nods in response, “But—”

“There is no ‘but’. I liked it and I hope you did to.” He brought you back into him, his forehead going back to it’s resting place on the side of your neck. His lips brush your mating mark.

He sighs, “I didn’t want you to see me like that.”

“Why not?” You can’t help but sound hurt. He’s your mate, your alpha, your husband… your best friend. Why wouldn’t he want you to know all of him the way he knows all of you so intimately?

“’Cause,” he mutters, “it’s shameful.”

“Getting batshit crazy to protect and screw your mate? I don’t think so. It happens to all alphas.” You laugh a little before continuing, “I hate to break it to you, but your not that special, pretty boy.” Looks like your massive ego has returned.

He chuckles all raspy into your neck, his warm breath fanning your skin, incomparable to the steam gathering around your bodies. “’Not that special’?” He pulls back and steps away from you, taking his cold and his heat. His eyes stare at you in disbelief, face painfully far from yours.

“Nope,” you smirk. You look up into his eyes, right brow slightly raised, daring him to take it further.

But, he doesn’t fall for it. Or at least, not yet. “You’re saying that I’m ‘not that special’?” You nod in agreement. “Hmm, you’re right. I’m not that special. But that doesn’t mean I want to hurt you every time I rut.”

Fuck, he still feels guilty. You look away, already wishing that you could skip the rest of the conversation and get to the part where you’re making out again. “Babe, look, I told you, I like it when you’re rough with me, okay? I like it when your slow. I like it when your romantic. I like it whenever you touch me, so please don’t feel so guilty about it.”

He still doesn’t look convinced.

“Honestly. I mean…” You trail off, thinking of a way to get it through to him that being aggressive and horny asf is a normal alpha thing and not a self-discipline problem. “Okay okay, do you think that I’m some horny, pathetic slut when I’m in my heat?”

“Of course I don’t,” he frowns disapprovingly.

“It’s the same thing!” You say, your hands flying up to his chest as you take a step closer. “I get super clingy, you get super protective, and we both wanna bang each other. There’s no shame in that.”

You’re on your tip-toes, leaning up towards him. He looks so hot when he’s mad, you can’t help but want to kiss him. He sighs and obliges, leaning down to capture your lips in a sweet kiss, hands back on your body, exploring conquered territory. You two stay like that for a little. Shoto moving to place small kisses on your nose, cheeks, eye lids, and forehead, before coming back to your lips. Much to your disappointment, he finally pulls back, cupping your cheeks and gazing deeply into your eyes.

“You never told me where you put my suppressants.” You groan, rolling your eyes involuntarily. Not this shit again. Don’t tell me he wants to start taking that cr—

“I’m not going to take them, there’s no use now. But please, tell me where you put them.” He wraps his fingers around your chin, bringing your focus back to him.

You shake your head ‘no’. He sighs in response, resting his forehead against yours and closing his eyes. You follow suit.

“Please.” You’re such a sucker for when he pleads.

Huffing, you give up the secret location, “They’re in the dresser, top drawer, beneath my underwear.”

No response. It’s quiet between you two for three seconds too long. Shoto questions, “But why?”

“Why’re they beneath my underwear?”

“No. Why did you take them?”

You bite the side of your lip, pondering if you should tell him why you really took them or not. You don’t have to think for long though, the flesh slipping out from your teeth. “I took them because I’ve never seen you rut before. And, um well, yea I just got a bit concerned, you know?” Your alpha removes his forehead from yours.

Tilting his head to the side, he asks “Concerned about what?”

“Well, um, you know—” It falls quiet between you two for another minute or two. The water hitting the shower tiles is the only sound permeating the tension.

“No, I don’t know.”

“Shoto,” you huff. “You’re gonna make me say it, aren’t you?” You pout. He continues looking at you adorably, confused.

You sigh, “Fine. I was worried that maybe you were on rut suppressants because you didn’t wanna have kids with me.” You got real quiet at the end there, averting your gaze to look down at your feet. Did Shoto always have such big feet? They look pretty massive compared to your own right n—

“You thought that I didn’t want to have kids with you?” He slid his hands to your waist, the similar sensation calming you. You looked back up at him, seeing that he had leaned back down now, your noses almost brushing.

You nodded, “Yea. You know, I-I thought that straight after we got married we would start trying but… we just, um, we just didn’t.”

You were biting your lip again. A nervous habit. A nervous habit Shoto loves. He brings his thumb to your lower lip, pulling it out from the clutches of your teeth. He watches as the flesh perfectly rounds. Sighing, he presses his lips to yours. The kiss is tender, but deep. Tongues are swirling, hands seeking more and more of each other’s bodies, little moans escaping here and there. He pulls away slowly, saliva connecting your lips before snapping with the distance.

“I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to make you doubt our future together. I just didn’t want you to see me like that.”

“I know,” you nod as you caress his cheeks with the pads of your thumbs, gently brushing over the edges of his scar. It’s quiet for a little as you two just take in this moment.

“Why don’t we start trying then? When our cycles sync up we can—” You squeal excitedly.

Grabbing onto his shoulders, you exclaim, “Why don’t we start trying now?!” You’re grinning from ear-to-ear.

“O-oh oka—” You cut him off, smashing your lips back together...

Let’s just say that your attempt at creating new life today seemed very promising.

[kaijuno]

It's currently fair season all around our state.

And in true, unfortunate fair fashion, they're giving away live animals as prizes again.

Goldfish have gained a reputation for dying quickly. Which leads many to think of them as fun little toys rather than living beings.

But be aware- They're not dying because they have naturally short lifespans. They're dying from neglect..

The #1 reason goldfish die is because they cannot survive longer than a few weeks without properly aerated water and most people are keeping them in a tiny bowl of stagnant water where they are literally suffocating to death.

If given the proper care though, goldfish can grow to 8+ inches long and live 20 years. Something to think about before making the impulsive decision to bring one home with you from the fair.

This is what proper goldfish care looks like:

🐟 Depending on the type, goldfish should be housed in a habitat that provides about 20 gallons of water per fish. However some varieties require a larger amount of space, around 50–100 gallons.

🐟 Good water quality is critical for keeping a goldfish healthy. The pH should range between 7–8.4 and you should test the water frequently with a water quality test kit.

🐟 Water aeration is vital to maintain oxygen levels within their habitat so they can breathe. This can be provided with an air pump and air stone.

🐟 Filtration is important because goldfish are messy. A filter helps remove small particulates, and it also houses a large portion of the biological filtration needed to keep your water parameters healthy and liveable.

🐟 Unlike most aquarium fish, Goldfish are most comfortable around 72–76 F. So depending on your room temperature, you may or may not need a heater to keep your tank within this range. You should always have a thermometer in your tank to ensure your water temperature is within a healthy range.

🐟 Goldfish are predominately omnivores and should have a diet consisting mostly of sinking pellets. Flake foods are not recommended as it often doesn’t sink and if a goldfish eats at the surface too much, they can develop buoyancy issues. Enrichment food ideas are krill, Daphnia and Brine shrimp.

It doesn't matter that it's "just a fish." They still deserve more than bare minimum care. Monetarily its life may only be worth 25-60 cents to you, or whatever you spent to win it at the fair- but morally, it's still a living creature and it deserves a proper chance.

Thank you.

[theambitiouswoman]

Hygiene tips

Wash your hands thoroughly with soap and water for at least 20 seconds, especially before eating, after using the restroom, after coughing or sneezing, and after touching public surfaces.

Carry a hand sanitizer with you. Make sure the sanitizer contains at least 60% alcohol and rub it over your hands until dry.

When coughing or sneezing, cover your mouth and nose with a tissue or your elbow to prevent the spread of germs. Dispose of used tissues immediately.

Refrain from touching your eyes, nose, and mouth as much as possible, as these are entry points for germs into your body.

Take showers or baths regularly to keep your body clean and fresh. Use soap and water to thoroughly cleanse your body, paying attention to areas like armpits, feet, and groin.

Brush your teeth at least twice a day for two minutes each time, using fluoride toothpaste. Don't forget to clean your tongue, and replace your toothbrush every three to four months.

Keep your nails short and clean to prevent the buildup of dirt and bacteria. Use a nail brush to scrub under your nails regularly.

Regularly clean and disinfect frequently touched surfaces in your home, such as doorknobs, light switches, countertops, and electronics. Also, keep your living space well-ventilated.

Wash your clothes, bed linens, and towels regularly, following the manufacturer's instructions. Use the appropriate water temperature and detergent to ensure proper cleanliness.

Avoid sharing personal items like towels, razors, toothbrushes, or makeup.

Practice good food hygiene by washing fruits and vegetables thoroughly before consumption. Cook food to the appropriate temperature to kill harmful bacteria, and refrigerate leftovers promptly.

Keep your surroundings clean: Regularly clean and disinfect commonly touched surfaces such as doorknobs, light switches, phones, keyboards, and remote controls. This helps eliminate germs that may be present on these surfaces.

Maintain clean and healthy feet: Keep your feet clean and dry to prevent fungal infections. Wash your feet regularly, dry them thoroughly (especially between the toes), and wear clean socks and well-fitting shoes.

Ensure that the water you use for drinking, cooking, and personal hygiene is clean and safe. If necessary, use water filters or boil the water before use.

If possible, use a shower filter.

If you are sexually active, use barrier methods (such as condoms) to protect yourself from sexually transmitted infections. Get regular check-ups and screenings as recommended by healthcare professionals.

Take care of your mental well-being by managing stress, getting enough sleep, engaging in regular physical activity, and seeking support when needed. Good mental health is essential for overall well-being.

Sleep with aloe vera on your face to help with scars and acne.

Massage your body with oils and lotions after shower or before bed.

Eat greek yogurt to help fix PH balance, acne and odor in your private area.

Wear cotton based underwear.

Do not treat your body like a trashcan.

To smell good during the day:

Regular bathing helps remove sweat, dirt, and odor-causing bacteria from your body.

Apply antiperspirant or deodorant to clean, dry underarms to control sweat and odor.

You can also use baking soda and lemon to get rid of under arm odor.

Put on freshly laundered clothes each day. Clean clothing helps prevent the buildup of odor-causing bacteria and keeps you smelling fresh.

When choosing clothes, opt for natural fibers like cotton or linen, which allow air to circulate and help wick away moisture from your body. Avoid synthetic materials that can trap sweat and lead to unpleasant odors.

Brush your teeth at least twice a day, floss daily, and use mouthwash to maintain fresh breath. Don't forget to clean your tongue as well.

Apply a pleasant fragrance, such as perfume or cologne, sparingly. Avoid excessive application, as it can be overwhelming to others. Focus on pulse points like the wrists, neck, or behind the ears.

Keep your feet clean and dry to prevent foot odor. Wash your feet daily, dry them thoroughly (especially between the toes), and wear clean socks and well-ventilated shoes.

Regularly brush your tongue, as it can harbor bacteria and contribute to bad breath. Visit your dentist regularly for check-ups and cleanings.

Drink plenty of water throughout the day to flush out toxins from your body. Staying hydrated can help prevent the buildup of odors.

Certain foods, such as garlic, onions, and spicy dishes, can contribute to body odor. Pay attention to your diet and make choices that minimize strong odors if you are concerned about smelling good.

Keep a small travel-sized deodorant, wet wipes, or refreshing body spray with you to freshen up during the day, especially in hot or humid weather.

Ensure your clothes, towels, and bed linens are washed regularly. Use a detergent with a fresh scent to keep them smelling clean.

Spray perfume on your brush or use natural oils that are safe for your hair.

Wipe front to back to avoid infections. Use toilet paper then wipes.

moisturize your skin.

When washing your hair, make sure you are using products that clean your hair without drying it out.

Keep feminine wipes with you.

[m1d-45]

dancing soldiers

summary: meka are infallible. meka do not stray from their path.. except when they do.

word count: ~2k

-> warnings: spoilers for fontaine (name and mechanics of open world boss)

-> gn reader (you/yours) and aether as traveller

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd

< masterlist >

fontaine was known for a wide variety of things, from their ornate fountains to the elaborate clothing it seemed nobody was without. any visitors from other nations were greeted by sweeping architecture and the sound of bubbling fonta, and swimming was a must. but even through the shine of the great lake, their fantastical clockwork meka was definitely the star of the show. every traveller was quickly starstruck by the machines roaming the streets, fitted uniforms not masking the clunking of gears within their chests. even underwater, scanning for raiders and filtering the water, keeping the water clear and cool. faceless, cold, employed both privately and for government work, the perfect tool for their job. they had one job, and they did it well.

meka were designed to protect. to guard. to defend their charge, whether that presented as patrolling a barge of merchants or leading the blind through the winding streets of the city. powered by indemnitium and equipped with efficient charging ports, every meka is intended to outlast their creators. few actually do, whether weakened by arkhe or attacked by those opposing their duty, but it remains a fact that they stick to their orders until the last spark fades from their circuits.

they are perfect workers. they do not disobey, they do not stray from their task. their actions are calculated in a split second, every movement taken to further their given goal.

lead.

support.

shield.

“dance!”

maillardet threw aside the screwdriver in his hand in frustration, kicking at the frost gathering in the arena. behind him, unmoving, were his magnum opus… though they refused to move.

“dance, dance. what’s the point of you?”

they did not dance. they did not move. they stood, hand in hand, one beside the other. coppelius and coppelia, the only signs of life being the frosty wind that would occasionally sweep by. they were in standby, with deflated skirts and unmoving hydraulics. normally, them being still would make maintenance easier, but their plates did not move as they should. he couldn’t even remove coppelius’ hat.

it was convenient, just not for him.

“looks to paimon like might just be the fault of poor design.” you watched from between the hairline gap in coppelia’s skirt, seeing paimon cross her arms. your traveller was stumped as well, merely shrugging.

“theyre infused with opposite arkhe,” aether said simply. “maybe they finally reacted with each other?”

“that’s impossible! the arkhe is held within them, far from where the other could react with it, and only one of them are externally charged at any one time.”

“so… why not reset them? paimon remembers one of the melusines saying that most meka around the city just need to be reset from time to time.”

“in those cases, the meka are given conflicting orders, typically by children. all these two need to do is dance, and-“ his voice choked, aether and paimon moving out of your field of vision to presumable comfort him. you try to shift and see, but coppelia’s skirt twitches inward, keeping you where you are.

you’re sheltered between the two meka, coppelius’ cape-thing making up for the gaps in coppelia’s skirt. you were lucky you hadn’t been seen yet, truthfully… but you didn’t want to stress out maillardet.

“what am i supposed to do?” he asked, words shaky. “i promised the chief justice i’d keep them functional for the divine one, and now- you know what they’re like, and they’re both broken-“

“h-hey, it’s okay! paimon’s certain you’ll get them working again! besides, they still seem to be functional, right?” she flies up, and you flinch at the knock of her hand on metal. it echoes around you, much louder than it should be in your hiding space. “oof, still as cold as ever…

“you should just restart it.”

“are you sure? what if something goes wrong? i can’t even perform maintenance, what if i can’t turn them back on after? you know how they acted last time—if lady furina wasn’t there, then..”

“..it’s better than nothing. besides-“ metal skidded over ice, and you see the flicker of aether’s boot as he kicks the discarded screwdriver back near maillardet’s bag of tools. “-you could always just not put them in stand-by. if they’re broken like this, just leave them dancing. i doubt they’ll notice, and it’ll buy you time until they want to visit again.”

”yeah! you only have a handful of hours until they arrive in fontaine, and it’s not like anything worse can happen!”

“i..” he sighed, and a long moment passed. “i guess trying is worse than doing nothing..”

“that’s the spirit!”

your hands twitch into fists, only partly from the cold. the ‘god’ they spoke of so highly, the one that got you into this mess… who were they, anyway? even you didn’t blame maillardet for needing maintenance between fights, but from his fear it sounded like they’d kill him for a malfunction.

you put those thoughts aside, pressing close to coppelia’s core as the meka were powered down. both of them slumped forward, a shift in their plating allowing a cold wind in. you shivered, and briefly considered praying before deciding against it—what god would answer?

gears clicked and switches flipped, both meka making various hisses. the elemental power seeping from both of them slowly ceased, and your heart picked up. how would this end? after a reset, would they remember to hide you? or would you get crushed beneath their skates as they danced?

“…you two should leave the arena.”

“why?”

“is something wrong?”

“no, but if they begin to dance again, i don’t want you to get hurt.”

“what about you? let me do it, i’m more experienced with combat.”

“it’s alright. in the early stages of their development, they didn’t even have a standby mode, so i’m used to repairing them while they’re dancing. don’t worry, i can get the memory you need unharmed.”

memory?

their memory? when aether had first approached, you’d assumed the ‘sabotage’ maillardet was talking about was the fact that neither of the meka would move. it made sense to want the memory to show which direction the saboteur left in, but that memory would show you, the most hated person in all of teyvat, and the melusine that had helped you hide from the gardes. veleda… you couldn’t let her take the fall for whatever crime you’d committed. she didn’t deserve that.

you take a breath, preparing to make a run over it, when you hear a small click. all at once, coppelia’s skirt snaps back to it’s normal formation, and you catch a glimpse of the traveller’s shocked expression before you’re pulled up and away. coppelius pulls you into his arms, coppelia smoothy following, spinning circles around the two of you like a top. when the two you skid to a stop near the edge of the arena, you quickly get your bearings, only mildly motion sick from the ordeal. maillardet is sitting in the middle of the arena, knocked off his feet beside his tools, and aether and paimon stand on the pathway leading back to the fountain. nobody says anything for a good few moments, the silence tense.

“…at least we know where they went?” paimon asks nervously, and aether draws his sword. coppelia sweeps in front of you and coppelius as he begins to walk towards you, and maillardet quickly gets up. he briefly slips on the icy floor, but quickly intercepts him, his words barely audible.

“traveller, the meka-”

“was tampered with.” his voice is cold, and you shiver at the weight of his glare. “don’t worry, i got it.”

“listen to me, please. coppelius and coppelia follow all the standard guidelines for meka-”

“this isn’t about you!” he shouts, “this is about something much more important then your meka!” his sword points at you, a shining blade despite the name. “this is about a crime too large for your opera house to handle.”

coppelius holds you tighter. the sound of his anger- of his hate makes your heart burn as it sinks, leaving an empty pit. you knew fontaine wasn’t the best at justice, but…

“traveller, have you ever read the machining requirements for battle meka?”

“why is this relevant? why am i talking to you?” he pushes off his hand and begins to walk, leaving paimon behind. after a moment, she gasps loudly, rushing forward to pull on his braid.

“wait! freminet lent paimon his copy of those guidelines once! she knows what maillardet means!”

“so what?”

your twin meka begin to slowly skate away from aether as he nears, ignoring paimon. maillardet is looking through his bag, searching for something, but all you can see are the traveller’s eyes. your traveller’s eyes, all your months of gameplay boiling into his rage.

maybe if the circumstances were different you’d forgive him for being so angry, but as it stands you’re barely convinced you’ll live through the hour.

“one of the clauses was about a special line of code that all the battle-capable mekas had to have- stop walking and listen!”

“how does that connect to this? don’t you care for our god? why are you stopping me?”

“because it’s about our god! don’t you remember? navia told you when we stayed with the spina de rosula!”

he does stop, then, staring paimon down instead. “fine. what is it?”

she lets go of his braid, waving a hand between the icewind suite and maillardet as she talks. “mekas have a special override wired into them in the case that the abyss got ahold of them which shuts down their combat functions when faced with the creator! it’s weaker when triggered through their vessels—which is why their attacks are limited instead of stopped—but is mandatory for every meka that’s combat ready, including coppelia and coppelius!”

aether turns to you, conflicted. you still carried in coppelius’ arms, you hidden under the plating of coppelia’s skirt, you who made the meka disobey their creator. you, the creator of those that made them.

“…maillardet?”

“it’s true, cease your fire.” he lifts a plain notebook from his bag, not that aether turns to see it. “i have my maintenance notes here. that override was the first thing i added, even before i gave them their weaponry. let’s bring our findings to the iudex and let our lord relax. please.”

aether’s sword dissolves into dust, a mix of shock and confusion still lingering on his face as he’s pulled away by paimon’s hand on his shoulder. maillardet packs his things and follows, taking some time to pick his way through the frosted floor. once the arena is cleared, coppelius skates to the center, setting you down carefully. then, he takes coppelia’s hand in his, leading her away. they begin their dance around you, gears clicking with elaborate pirouettes, leaving you in the middle of it all to wonder what just happened.

[daymemebeliever]

Hey Fanguins! Want to Help Real Life Penguins? :D

Why Now?

5 out of the 18 penguin species are listed as endangered

That’s approximately 28% that are endangered, not including those under the “vulnerable” or “near threatened” statuses.

These endangered species include:

The Yellow-eyed Penguin

Northern Rockhopper Penguin

Galapagos Penguin

Erect-Crested Penguin

African Penguin

Cute little guys like these African penguins are predicted to go EXTINCT by 2035.

Biggest Threats to Penguins:

Overfishing

Plastic Pollution

Oil Spills

Habitat Disruption

Invasive Species

Climate Change

So… What can We Do?

I know sometimes it seems hopeless when there are major corporations having extensive negative impacts on the environment.

But there are small, everyday changes you may be able to make to contribute for the better (at least a little).

Small actions can add up over time.

Shop Consciously

Overfishing and unregulated fishing are big contributors to penguin populations decreasing.

Less available prey means penguins have to spend longer time at sea to feed their chicks and themselves. This could force them to abandon their chicks, reach the point of exhaustion and pass away as a result, or return to emaciated chicks.

Seafood Watch is a wonderful resource to ensure the seafood you’re buying has been caught sustainably. https://www.seafoodwatch.org/recommendations/download-consumer-guides

Swap for More Sustainable Options

Aside from seafood, you might be able to make many swaps to reusable products.

Reusable grocery bags/tote bags can actually make transporting groceries easier while reducing plastic usage.

If you have access to clean water, a water filter pitcher or a reusable water bottle are also great options when available! 😊

Swapping plastic containers for aluminum cans or cartons (these are easier to recycle)

Swap balloons for other party favors (many released balloons end up in our oceans). Penguins and other sea animals can choke on or get tangled in these while swimming.

Conscious Pet Ownership

Choose pets responsibly and never abandon a pet if you can no longer take care of it. This could lead to the rise of invasive species.

Keep pets on a leash when outside even when you do not see local wildlife.

Penguins, especially those whose habits are around human populations, are regularly attacked and lethally injured by unattended dogs or cats. These include feral or stray animals that have become invasive.

Learn More Directly from Non-Profits:

SANCCOB is an internationally renowned rehabilitation center for South African seabirds (including African penguins) leading conservation efforts for this species. https://sanccob.co.za/about-sanccob/

The Yellow-Eyed Penguin Trust is another great non-profit located in New Zealand that tracks behavior and nesting patterns of the Yellow-eyed penguins. They also remove invasive predators to ensure Yellow-eyed penguins have a chance at repopulating to sustainable levels. https://www.yellow-eyedpenguin.org.nz/yellow-eyed-penguin-trust/about-the-trust/

Penguins International is a nonprofit that educates about penguins and penguin conservation efforts. https://www.penguinsinternational.org/about-us/

Any AZA-accredited zoos and aquariums that support conservation efforts

Advocate:

Sign petitions encouraging legislation change that aims to reduce climate change or regulate fishing

Write to/email legislators when penguin species are at risk

Donate (if you can/would like):

Both Penguins International and SANCCOB do symbolic penguin adoptions to support penguin conservation.

On SANCCOB’s website, you can choose an egg, hatchling, rehabilitated penguin, or long-term penguin resident to symbolically adopt/sponsor. You even get to give your adopted penguin a name!

The Yellow-Eyed Penguin Trust also accepts donations of various amounts.

I figured since if you follow this blog, penguins have inspired media and art that means a lot to you or that has at least brightened your day. If you’re as amazed as I am about the real life species, please consider taking steps to help or learn more about real penguins. I figured sharing this information, while trying to make these changes myself, are the least I could do to honor these amazing creatures!

Thank you for reading! 😁

(Lol I’ll get off my soapbox now 😉)

Maybe Tom McGrath can explain it better 😉 (skip to 3:16 to hear him talk about how amazing penguins are! 😊)

[eywaseclipse]

For the Thrill of It*

Characters: Jake and female avatar!reader, mentions of Grace and Neytiri 

Synopsis: You and Jake sneak out of the Omatikaya camp after a long day to go by the river and explore each other’s new bodies

Warnings: Smut Kuru/ queue play, oral pleasure, masturbation, swearing. 18+ only

Word Count: 1k

“Jake!” You hiss out in a strained whisper, “We’re not supposed to leave!” “You’re no fun at all.” Jake all but chuckles tugging your hands in the direction of the jungle away from Hometree. “When was the last time you did something you weren’t supposed to do?” A sly smirk forms on his face.

Your eyes dart back to your new Omatikaya camp, then to Jake. Having been recently welcomed back by the na’vi you’re treading on a dangerously thin rope right now. “I…” You stutter hesitantly. “Exactly, so stop being such a pussy and let’s go. Neytiri showed me a cool spot earlier by the waterfalls.” With his incessant tugging and demands, you can’t help but just concede. Sure, you’ve never really been one to stray from the rules, but this might be borderline crazy. Two newbie avatars walking the Pandora forest all alone, what could go wrong?

“You ready?” Jake chuckles dragging you along the bioluminescent grass. The strides of your walk are but twice as fast as being in your human bodies, relishing in your muscular tall form. “I swear to god Sully, getting in trouble from Grace is one thing, but the Omatikaya will skin us if they find out what we’re doing!” The anxiety bubbling in your stomach feels as if it’ll boil over any second when Jake comes to a sudden halt. You didn’t realize how long both of you had been wandering along the trail for, until the roaring sound of the waterfall reaches your ears.

“Woah…” You whisper in awe. The shimmering water stuns you with its natural beauty, as the reflection of the bioluminescence bounces off the wet rocks and flora and fauna. The quiet humming of the forest is drowned out from the rushing water, as the mist hits your face in the cool night. “Told you, come on..” Jake smiles as he leads you closer to the glimmering small lake. “This is crazy.” You laugh out cupping your face with your hands in disbelief. You look to where Jake is already removing his garments, noticing the small changes in his physique over the past few months training with the Na’vi. “Oh..” You cough out awkwardly as he strips down naked. “You comin’ or what wuss?” He turns around to descend into the water as you watch dumbfounded. “Fine..” You begin to slowly undress yourself supposing that your colleague and friend wouldn’t mind seeing you naked, after all this isn’t your real body… “Oh shit” You squeal as the water awakens your senses wading in closer to Jake. “Bit nippy isn’t it?” He laughs staring at the way your nipples immediately harden at the contact of the cold air. 

Suddenly looking down to your nipples, and back to him, you feel a brush of heat make its way to your face and neck awkwardly. “Fuck you, is it that cold or are you just naturally prone to shrinkage?” You spit back at him. “Hey now, it’s not easy carrying this third leg around all day with me, you’d think with the mix of the human DNA the scientists would go out of their way to humble me a bit.” He winks playfully, clearly unbothered by your little jab. That cocky asshole.

“Well I must say these new bodies of ours certainly feel a bit different huh?” You lower yourself into the water a bit more. “Oh yeah? How so? You mean like how if you accidentally touch those pink things at the end of your braid you might cream your jeans?” Your eyes widen in shock laughing loudly at his complete lack of filter. “I mean yeah that is kinda strange…” You smile unsteadily. “Or like how our senses seem to be dialed to 100… all the atoms in our body screaming at us on overdrive..” You whisper almost half speaking to yourself.

“So you touch yourself yet?” Jake swims right over to you. You cough out in bewilderment and shake your head. “Real subtle pervert..” You splash him in the face for good measure. He just laughs and wipes his face, “oh come on! You’re telling me you’re not the least bit curious y/n?” He whispers closely. “I… no! That’s crazy.” You can barely manage to look him in the eyes, as he swims close enough that your noses almost touch. “You wanna find out…? I discovered some cool new tricks…” He whispers in your ear.

The wanton moan that escapes your mouth is an accident, the way your body heats up to the temptation laced in his voice causes a surge of emotions to rush through to your brain as it practically short circuits.. “Fuck…don’t you want to know what it feels like?” He whispers into your neck. “L-like what feels like?” You stutter. “Gimme your braid, I’ll show you.” He snickers softly.

You hastily grab your braid from the water and hold it up for him, displaying the tufts of hair on the end that showcase the small pink tendrils dancing in the air seeking contact from something. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t completely amazed by the braided kurus of the avatar bodies. “Atta girl, I’ll be gentle I promise…” Jake brings his large hand caressing down your silky braid as the whimper rips out of your mouth instantly. “Oh shit” A shiver runs through your spine down to your toes from the foreign sensations of the touch. “Yeah…” Jake chuckles. He uses your reaction to continue, slowly massaging and caressing your braided queue sensually. The languid little movements cause your eyes to roll into the back of your head deliciously so. “Feels good huh?” He smirks playfully. You don’t have the voice to respond, only a whimper escaping your mouth to indicate the state of pure heaven you’re in. Jake’s fingers move to the end of the braid, gently caressing your moving tendrils. The small touch alone produces a yelp of surprised satisfaction from you, eyes popping open in astonishment. “Oh fuck!” You squeak out. “Told you…” He smiles with a shit eating grin.

“Holy shit…” Your whimpers of pleasure continue, as Jake watches in delight. “That’s it babygirl..” Jake guides you through your blooming climax burning white hot as you feel your breath begin to hitch with anticipation. His fingers work expertly around the tendrils, massaging and playing with them intimately with soft strokes and pets. “Good girl..” He peppers your neck with wet kisses when you hook your legs around his tiny little waist. “Fuck Jake I’m!” A loud whimper flees from your mouth when you feel your throbbing clit make contact with his torso. “Oh my god.” Your eyes roll back once more, feeling the sudden orgasm tear through your entire body, causing an accidental buck of your hips into Jake’s stomach. “Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck!” You cry out.

Your ears drown out the sound of Jake’s laughter, as your body begins to shake violently from the orgasm, “Look at you…” The sound of his voice becoming clearer once more. “Oh shit…” Your bring your head into the crook of his neck to help stabilize yourself, as your labored breathing fans across his skin. He observes a slight shiver of delight from your little show, feeling his own erection enlarge from the excitement. You bring your face to meet his, both of you still unspoken, when you grip the back of his neck and pull him in for a wet kiss. 

The kiss is desperate and sloppy, both your tongues immediately collide assaulting another, while your teeth clank together in a completely primal way. “Umph” Jake moans loudly into your mouth, his hands let go of your braid and grab your ass scooping you up and into his stomach even more. A groan leaves your mouth, feeling his fangs scrape against the bottom of your lip, harshly sucking as you grab his hair tightly.

With one sudden movement he hoists you out of the water, with a small yelp from you, bringing you onto your back in the lush grass. The water droplets from his hair pitter patter onto your face, gazing up to him as your hungry lust filled eyes meet. Without thinking you both go at it again, aggressively humping and kissing with teeth and tongue, nipping each other’s flesh leaving fang marks. “Get on your hands and knees.” Jake orders you urgently. Your long limbs somehow find their way onto all fours as you spin around, tail lashing excitedly in the air. He grips your hips harshly and gingerly presses your face into the grass as you feel your back instinctively arch up like a cat stretching its body. “OH” He moans out watching your glistening pussy from behind. 

Before you can even form another thought he dives into your wet folds, moaning loudly into your legs from behind. Your body presses into his face further and further seeking the pressure desperately so. “Jake!” You whine out feeling his hand sneak around your front rubbing your puffy swollen bud. You feel the vibrations of his moaning into your silken walls, losing any coherent thoughts while his free hand begins to pump his hard length up and down. “Umph” He groans while squatting in the grass. The downright sinful slurping sounds of his mouth making contact with your soaking wet heat drive your mind into another early climax. “I’m so-so close!” You barely squeak out.

Jake drives his face further into your pussy, rubbing his head side to side prodding his tongue into your wet folds, as his own movements around his cock quicken. Your aching heat clenches down desperately as his tongue fucks you into oblivion feeling the crescendo of the climax now crashing down. Your scream echos into the air drenching his face with your slick as your body trembles from euphoric bliss. Your body ruts once more into Jake’s mouth harshly, as his own release coats the back of your thighs with his hot sticky cum.

“Oh fuck” You face plant onto the lush grass with a soft thud, hearing Jake chuckle from behind. With a playful smack to your ass he joins you on the ground, with a successful smirk. The sound of your labored breathing fill your ears, when you turn to see his face glistening in the night covered in your slick, not that he seems to mind in the slightest. You both chuckle at the state you’re both in, crawling onto his chest, relaxing in the moonlight. “See? Told you I had a few trick up my sleeves…” He smiles with a shit eating grin.

[atomicbland]

Just A Mirage Pt. 3

Sorry this took so long yall! Anways here's part 3, my first ever spicey scene. did i mention i have an intox kink (this fic is practically dedicated to the gorgeous @ghoulphile at this point)

pairings: cooper howard x fem!reader rating: 18+ MDNI! warnings: bondage, degradation, pet names, mentions of age gap (obviously), Cooper Howard being a jackass in general, canon typical chem use, smoking AO3 Link

Golden morning light pours through the dirty filter of the windows, stirring you awake. As sleep left you you could feel the weight of Dogmeat curled up atop you. You pet her, forgiving her for scratching you, after all, she was too damn cute to stay mad at. You shift to see that the Ghoul was still sound asleep, his hat had fallen to the floor during the night, the scarred skin of his head on show for the whole world to gawk at. You decide to leave him be as it had been a long day yesterday and this was the first time in a while the two of you had safe lodging to relax in.

As quietly as possible you rise from your makeshift bed and creep past the sleeping ghoul, cautious not to let him stir or else you’d have a man and his dog up your ass all day earlier than you would’ve preferred. You gather your bag, holding it to your chest to muffle the rattle of contents and tiptoe your way back towards the glass house. Dogmeat follows behind you as if she were taking over the cowboy’s guard duty shift. 

It’s much easier to see in the glass house in the morning, you find a table next to the door stacked with boxes- something you hadn’t seen in the dim light yesterday. Nosey, you pilfer through the stack. Your years in the wasteland have taught you to never leave any box unchecked, loot was anywhere if you were lucky enough. The first few boxes were filled with faded papers, letters, diary pages, and some newspaper clippings with coupons for Nuka Cola, nothing really special or too important. In the next box, you find a small square tin, rust spots freckle the red lacquered surface, when you open it you’re rather surprised to see it half full, with a pipe nestled in the dried tobacco. You stash it in your bag, half considering giving it to the Ghoul in hopes he’d lighten up around you. Rifling through the rest of the box yields you some more canned water, Nuka Cola, and some nudie magazines filled with scantily clad women gardening. While you rather keep going through the boxes you didn’t want the Ghoul waking up to you missing lest you end up back on his leash. You found some more straw-berries closer to the entrance, picking some in hopes it’ll deter your greedy travel companion from breaking into your stash of food. Dogmeat, who had been in full guard mode sitting facing the door perked up when you moved toward the exit,  you tossed a straw-berry her way as the two of you walked back to the living room. 

“Had fun without me darlin’?” The Ghoul is upright on the sofa. his cheek was fat with his bullets as he spit-shined the barrel of his gun. He looks up at you through his lashes, spitooning a bullet in the palm of his hand before reloading. You’ve noticed his nervous habit, his mouth needed to be busy. If he wasn't using it to talk shit it was doing something else, smoking a cigarette, huffing chems, chewing on a piece of ass jerky, or sometimes sucking on the sweet lead of a bullet. And while you would think twice to put any form of ammo in your mouth -considering in the wasteland some people’s nervous habit involved stabbing- you didn't have much grounds to judge him.

“I was searching that place where I found the berries. Here.” You pull the red tobacco tin from your bag and hand it to the ghoul. 

He opens it and smiles, removing the pipe from the tin to examine it. He sticks the cavity of his nose into the tin, taking a sharp inhale. His exhale laced with excitement. “Now that's some top-shelf shelf dumb luck you got there sweetheart.” 

You ignore his backhanded compliment, fidgeting in place. You muster the courage to ask him to help you harvest some of the apples from the trees. You hated asking for help when it came to reaching anything since most men took it as an invitation to show off their size compared to you. The Ghoul stood a good foot over you, often having you hide behind him in sketchy situations knowing any foe would attack the smaller target first.  

“There’s more stuff back there,” you clear your throat, “I just can't reach everything.” 

“Well,” he spits the last bullet straight into the chamber with skilled accuracy, spinning it closed and returning the gun to its holster. “I ain't never been one to turn down a damsel in distress.” 

Dumb luck my ass. You think to yourself as you hold your breath to avoid inhaling the dank moldy air of the storage room. You could hear the Ghoul’s heavy footfalls from behind as he slowly scanned the shelves of the room, able to see much better in the dim light that poured through the door to the oasis.

It's almost blinding when you break free into the glass house, the morning light a gleaming beacon of life among the wasteland. You drank in the picture in front of you, it was a lush paradise filled with shades of emerald, and more plants than you had ever seen in one place threatened to burst through the windows. 

A low ragged chuckle from behind broke your stupor. You turn to look at the Ghoul, his hand habitually placed on his holster the other gripped the bandolier that slung across his shoulders a large grin plastered across his face. "Well, I'll be fucked." 

Ignoring him, you make your way to one of the closer apple trees. The bark was as warped and pockmarked as your cocky companion, branches splayed in every direction and littered with supersized apples ever so slightly out of your reach. Too engrossed in sizing up your woody opponent you don’t hear the gravel crunch behind you, the large gloved hand that claps down on your shoulder, startling you.

 “Ain't you the luckiest lil lady this side of the wasteland.” His hand slides down to rest on your hip, pulling you close as if to comfort you. The heat from his hand finds its way from your hip to your core, pooling between your thighs as you long for his touch to become more. You tilt your head up, meeting the rich hazel eyes of the monster behind you. You watch as his free hand reaches up into the branches, leaves rustling in protest as he plucks an apple with ease. 

“Two hours. Be back at this spot.” He mummers, sliding the apple into your hands. His palm lingers at your hip, and it may have been your imagination but you swear you feel his fingers curl ever so slightly as if to pull you closer. 

You break from his touch, your body on fire from where his hands were. Embarrassingly frustrated you venture into the foliage of the glass house, willing your mind to focus on finding supplies rather than linger on the fantasies the Ghoul kept dangling in front of you.

You had managed to make it to the other end of the glass house without coming across even a stray radroach. Alive at least. The remains of the beasts were still fresh, and Dogmeat, who continued to serve as your dutiful guardian while the Ghoul was out of eyeshot, lapped up the viscous bug goo like a hot meal on a cold night. The back end resembled a small study, short bookcases filled with tomes in various states of decay.

Withered crates, that had long been looted lay scattered around an ancient desk consumed by overgrowth. Despite the empty state of the crates, the desk remained untouched, drawers swollen shut with time and humidity. With some effort and prying with your knife, you break open the drawers of the worn and misshaped desk the contents spilling out onto the ground with a plume of dust. A rather large book sat atop the pile the worn cover read “Victory Vick’s Garden Guide: Sowing the Seeds of the Future!” Thumbing through the pages, each one contained illustrations of all sorts of plants with long blocks of text describing everything you could ever need to know about it, which plants would survive or even thrive in nuclear fallout, how to grow crops in artificial light- a section marked “Sponsored By VaultTec”- and towards the back were some recipes. Your body hummed with excitement at the discovery, a wealth of pre-war knowledge now at your fingertips. Encouraged by the find you bust open the rest of the desk, watching the junk spill out in hopes of striking gold. 

You had made yourself comfortable under the canopy of some large leaves, the dirt was a soft cushion beneath you as you curled at the base of the tree with your treasure trove of a book. Aside from Dogmeat's furious digging in the earth for monstrous worms, you were isolated from the world outside, unaware of the passage of time. You hugged your satchel of goodies close to your chest, as you became engrossed in the pages in front of you, determined to find information on some of the items you had found after searching the bookcases.  

A whistle breaks the peaceful silence of the oasis. Stubborn, you ignore it, convinced that the answer you’re searching for is just on the next page.

Another whistle rings out this time ripping Dogmeat from her worm hunt, head popping up, ears high and alert waiting for an order. The gravel crunched under the Ghoul's boots, his footsteps soft as to not give away his location.

 "C’mon now girlie, I been awful nice lettin’ you make your mudpies and flower crowns while I’ve been bustin’ my ass.” You can hear him circle in on your location, spurs clinking against the rocks. On instinct, you tuck yourself further under the brush you'd do anything if it meant more time in your paradise. 

He takes your silence as a challenge, you hear him suck his teeth as he mutters something under his breath. A long high whistle pierces your ears and makes your skin crawl, Dogmeat shoots out from your hiding spot to the origin of the noise. You scramble for your bag, shoving the tome inside and clutching it close.

 Dumb bitch. Cursing the dog as she’s given away your location to the Ghoul.

The familiar hiss of his inhaler can be heard next to you, a peak through the leaves reveal his dusty boots confirming his whereabouts. Lightening pain shoots through your head, a tight grip on your scalp tears from your little slice of heaven and into the icy glare of the Ghoul. “Gotcha.” He growls.

 A squeak escaped your lips and your eyes grew like saucers, your mind raced as to whatever punishment he had in store for you. The leash was uncomfortable, but it was better than being hogtied and hauled over his shoulder like a sack of scraps- and that was for running ahead of him and into a bunch of feral ghouls. His grip on your hair reminded you of the way his hand held your ass so tightly that you had bruises there for weeks. 

You could see something in his eyes, a dark carnal desire. His lips twisted into a smile as his grip tightened releasing another small squeak from you. "Ain't anyone teach you that you’re 'sposed to come when called."

You cursed yourself, his domineering touch never failed to turn you on.

“Sorry…” Your voice falters, hoping and praying he’d spare you the lasso if you looked pathetic enough.

“Sorry ain’t gonna cut it no matter how much you pout them pretty lips o’ yours babygirl.”  He pinches your cheek, patronizing you further as if the stupid pet names weren’t enough. "And to think I was fixin' to give your ass a treat for findin' this place." Removing his hand from your face, he pulls a jar of golden liquid from his pocket. "Somethin' sweet for bein' such a good girl." His words were a deep, hungry growl that twisted at the tension in your core. 

Your face grew red upon realization. He could smell you, every wastelander knew a ghoul’s sense of smell was heightened, however, you assumed that applied only to the feral ones. When he had you tied over his shoulder he could smell how wet being helpless had made you. He only released you from the hogties because the scent of you damn near made him disregard his bounty and take a bite, opting to squeeze a handful of your ass as a means to cope. And right now he could smell your drenched cunt. 

"I don't want any of your stupid chems," you spat, the feelings from his rejection bubbling back up. You felt stupid for letting him toy with you like this for so long all the while he got to have his fun. 

"Oh sweetie, this here's better than any drug you'd ever had.” He releases your hair and pockets the jar. “Now c'mon girlie." He grunts as he tosses you over his shoulder effortlessly, a familiar firm grip on your ass.

He had carried you all the way back to the living room despite your protests of being capable of walking yourself. He tosses you onto one of the battered couches, stealing your bag in the process. Not wanting to push his buttons further you sit quietly watching him meander to the firepit and kneel before it, Dogmeat follows him briefly before stealing a sofa for herself, exhausted from her worm hunting and uninterested in the foodless firepit. The Ghoul is quick to light a fire, taking his time to carefully pack the pipe you’d given him with tobacco in the bright amber light. He then takes to searching through your bag, your stomach drops knowing he’s discovered your stash and will more than likely pocket the items for himself, selling off anything else for caps. But a light wave of relief washes through you when all he takes is your matches, using one to light his pipe, and pocketing the tattered cardboard book.

"Now tell me lil' lady," he spoke, puffs of thick smoke rose around him as he came back to his feet. Each step he took towards you was accented with the creak of the floor, plumes of smoke crawled from his nose with every raspy exhale. "Why'd you go an' hide the best stuff for yourself?" His tone similar to scolding a child as he waves your prized book in your face before tossing it onto the cushion next to you. 

“I-” You’re cut off before you can manage another syllable, the older man not finished grilling you.

“And, I hadn’t forgot ‘bout your lil’ stunt back there. You damn sure know how to make my job extra difficult don'tcha sweetheart?” He flips your bag upside down, emptying the contents onto the cushion on the other side of you; another pipe, a jar of fuzzy green herb, a pair of shears, some caps, and two packs of RadAway. He knelt to your level, face dangerously close to yours, picking up each cap one by one as he watched you looking for any opportunity to further scold you. 

"Now sweetheart," He started, planting a hand on either side of you hunching over to meet your eyes and effectively cornering you between him and the tattered upholstery. "Best answer me this time 'round. I ain't one for repeatin' myself." He leaned in, narrowing the space between the two of you. The heat radiating from his body nearly unmatched by what welled between your thighs. Daring to close the gap you lean towards him, causing him to stiffen at the unexpected challenge. 

"Wouldn't have to hide it if someone wouldn't take everything for himself…” You pout, avoiding his burning gaze. Any bravado you had to stand up to him like last night has been stripped away leaving a flustered, sexually confused mess.

He smiles, eyes dark under the brim of his hat. “Not everything darlin’. After all, you’re still in one piece. Ain’t you?”  His question is punctuated with a cloud of smoke in your face making you sink back into the sofa your face burning hotter than the heat radiating off the Ghoul.

“Oh come on now, don’t start acting all shy on me. Don’t tell me this lil’ bitch is all bark and no bite.” The leather of his glove is cool against your flushed cheeks, forcing you to look back at him. “Now speak.” The command is low and gritty, his hand tightening on your cheeks.

“The stuff looked like it was worth the caps. I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you! And maybe I didn’t feel like being pushed around for a few fucking hours and wanted to be alone. The whole world doesn’t revolve around you jackass!” You can’t stop the words from flowing from you, overcome with the nauseating mix of every flavor of frustration the damn finally broke and you wanted to give the Ghoul a piece of your mind. 

Your withered companion smiles, his pipe balanced between yellowed teeth, completely unphased by your lashing. He releases his grip on your face, as if pleased with your answer and grabs the jar of green herbs, rolling it over in his hand, examining it.

"Dont’cha know what'd happen to ya' if you got caught alone with this?" He asks, dodging any of your accusations. Despite the rusted lid he manages to unscrew it, a pungent unreal smell pours out, a blend of peppercorns, old wood, and earth.  A low growl of approval roused deep from him, ripping the now exhausted pipe from his mouth. 

“And what is it exactly?” You cross your arms at the Ghoul’s obvious deflection.

 He plucked a small cluster from the jar, crumpling it into his pipe. "Ain't seen any of this shit since New Reno." He mumbles, transfixed on the herb, ignoring your question. 

You lean towards him flicking his hat back pulling his attention from his newly packed pipe and back to you. “What is it?”

"Mary Jane." He spoke low and eyes lidded sparking the pipe and taking a long drag, the cherry glowing like a small sun. The cowboy savored the draw, holding the smoke in as long as he could, choking down a cough. On exhale, long tendrils of smoke pooled from his lips as he spoke. "Sweet, sweet Mary Jane." 

The Ghoul moved to sit next to you, his long legs kicked out in front of him as he reclined. As he took another long, greedy drag you couldn't help but watch, studying the way his marred lips perfectly sat around the mouthpiece of the pipe. The sickly sweet smell of the herb made you awful curious if it tasted anything like it smelled. After all, you had never seen the Ghoul this visibly distracted by anything besides his vials that kept him alive. 

 Curiosity is getting the better of you as you watch him take a draw. "Can I try?"

A deep rumble of a laugh reverberated through you. "Thought you ain't want none of my stupid chems." Pitching his voice higher mockingly. He adds to his teasing by directing the pungent smoke to your face, enveloping you in a musky haze.

You look away in embarrassment never once interested in the plethora of chems available in the wasteland yet here you were entranced by this sickly sweet smoke that came from the ghoul's pipe.

Another crackle of the pipe as you hear your companion take a long, slow draw. Gloved fingers find their way on either side of your cheek as he gently pulls you close to his lips. A small gasp escapes you, allowing a stream of earthy smoke to dance across your tongue. Heat races from your core to the tips of your ears. Your head swimming from the taste of Mary Jane dancing in tandem with the Ghoul’s softer, intimate touch

You tried hard to ignore your arousal. You are fighting off the desire to close the small gap between you and the monster but to your disappointment, he pulls away before you can act on your hormones. Instead, he places the tip of the pipe between your parted lips, the taste of him lingers on the wood. Strong arms swing your legs over his pinstriped lap forcing you to pivot your body to face him.

 "Now take a big long breath for me darlin’." He stares deep into your eyes, hunger still there as he watches intently ensuring you’re following his directions. The smoke burns its way down your throat to your chest, the taste is acrid adding to the unpleasant feeling. A gloved hand gently pulls the pipe away from your mouth deeming you’ve had enough. 

“Now hold.” The Ghoul’s hand moves to the small of your back, rubbing small circles. Your head grows fuzzier with every passing second that you hold your breath. 

“Breathe out.” He gently instructs, you listen eager to rid the burning smoke from your lungs.

"Good girl." It's damn near a whisper. The words travel down your body settling into your needy heat. 

The pipe meets your lips again, and you quickly pull more smoke into your lungs, igniting the bowl of the pipe to a cherry red. The sharp inhale shoots smoke to the back of your throat making you choke. Plumes pour from your nose and mouth setting your airway on fire. Your pathetic sputtering for air is greeted with a gentle hand rubbing your back. 

“Easy now darlin’. Don’t need you passin’ out on me.” He says, placing the pipe between his teeth, leaving his hands free to caress your thigh and back as you catch your breath. Whatever Mary Jane was made you feel warm and fuzzy, your eyelids fall a bit as you cradle into the feeling and sink into the Ghoul’s broad chest. Your head moved with the rise and fall of his chest as he smoked, enjoying the impossible closeness and reveling in his tender touch. One hand held onto your waist working to keep you upright and balanced in his lap, the other hand lazily kneaded the softness of your thigh. 

Touch starved, and dazed you spread you legs ever so slightly in hopes of a wandering hand. The warmth brought on by the Mary Jane mingled with the growing need in your core, your threadbare underwear soaked. A pitiful whimper escapes your lips when a hand dips lower, brushing your achingly still clothed mound, and your hips roll desperate for more pressure. 

"Feelin' alright there sweetheart?" The question punctuated with another plume of smoke. 

You don't bother to look up, yet the words to express your need are fleeting, swirling around in your mind, your tongue dumb. All you muster is another whimper. He tilts your head up and you greet him with a lidded dopey smile, taking some pleasure and pride in feeling his cock harden under you. 

"Now darlin', I need you to use your words." One evil, teasing finger trails the damp cloth of your pants, lingering on your clit in small circles. “If there’s somethin’ you’re wantin’ you just gotta ask.” The Ghoul’s voice is low and warm. He watches you writhe under his touch, soft pants leaving your lips as he continues to torture your needy cunt. 

Wordless, you take his hand and guide it under the waistband of your pants, cursing the barrier your underwear still posed. You could feel how hot his hand was even through the leather of his gloves as he cupped your soaked mound. His heartbeat picked up in your ear from your bold request, and much to your disappointment he removes his hand. Your eyes shoot up to glare at him and you watch as he sets the pipe aside before taking the tip of his glove between his teeth, pulling it off with ease to reveal his scarred hand which quickly returns to its place in your pants. The waistband of your underwear tightens as he wraps the fabric tightly around his fingers, threads popped in time with the crackle of the fire as the time worn fabric gave way. Dutiful fingers now at your bare wet slit worked their way up and down, teasing at the entrance to your needy hole. Marled lips find their way to your neck, peppering your sensitive skin with featherlight kisses pulling whisper like moans from you. Your hands slither around his neck creeping under the collar of his duster, nails digging into thick, pitted skin pulling him closer, swimming in the intoxicating scent of Mary Jane, tobacco, and leather. The kisses move up your neck, tracing your soft jawline up to your ear his breath warm against you.

“You smell like a bitch in heat.” The Ghoul growls in your ear, a rough finger dips into your entrance slowly drilling away at your sensitive spot. “Best keep quiet darlin’. Don’t want somethin’ findin’ us in such a compromisin’ position don’t we?” He nips your ear as a second finger joins the first, stretching you and pulling a loud moan from you. His fingers work at the soft spongey spot, your core twisting and flipping from every coax of his digits. Your legs are unable to still themselves as each motion brings you closer and closer to the long needed release your hips writhe in his lap unintentionally grinding on the cowboy’s achingly hard member. You don’t even notice his low groans of pleasure, enraptured in the intense euphoria he’s working you towards, your needy cunt tightening around him, as your pleasure reaches a crescendo, crying out in wanton ecstasy from the gunslinger’s skilled fingers. He moves his roughened hand to your clit, rubbing tight circles as you ride out your orgasm, head fuzzy from the chems you shared and drunk on orgasmic bliss. Your head falls into the rad-warm crook of the Ghoul’s neck, eyelids heavy and breathing shallow. 

‘Th-thank you, Sir.” You murmur nuzzling into him. 

“Call me Coop darlin’.” He says, planting a soft kiss on your head. He pulls his hand away from your pants inspecting the glistening mess on his fingers in the firelight. “Only makes sense, considerin’ our proper introduction.” Coop mutters to himself, licking your slick off his fingers, tasting his hard work. 

[venomwrites]

Can I ask for a Caitvi fic where Caitlyn apologizes to Vi for what she did to her at the end of act 1, and Vi accepts her apologies and forgive her?

The air is too clean. 

Irrationally it pisses Vi off. It feels squeaky in her lungs. It makes it damn hard to breathe properly. It makes her think of her gas mask. It’s the same air that’s outside, just pulled through an endless series of gears and filters and spat out in a way that is hard to inhale. It’s the same air, just dressed up so it looks clean and untouched. 

Just like everyone in this fucking room. 

“Bring out the Guilty!”

She digs her fists into her thighs as everyone turns. Enforcers snap to the side as they lead Caitlyn in. The whole trial they’ve put her back in that Enforcer dress Vi first saw her in. Parade dress, Caitlyn explained once. She is on display, they don’t let her have the dignity of her usual uniform. They make a spectacle out of her. 

Caitlyn wears it differently now. There’s a hardness in her shoulders and a coldness in her eyes that wasn’t there before. It’s been weeks of her sitting silently looking ahead for hours on end. She doesn’t move. She doesn’t even ask for water as she listens to testimony and agrees to charges. Aside from the words, the only sound in the courtroom is the occasional sob. 

Even the chains around her wrists don’t make a sound. 

They do now as she walks forward. She’s still the most dignified person in the room. Today they seem intent on changing that. The chains are now around her ankles too. They clink as she moves forward, still managing to look dignified. Even though they put the hat on her. 

Even though they’ve fitted a muzzle around her mouth. 

Mel has assured her that Caitlyn’s not going to be sentenced to death. When the battle came, she fought on the winning side. That seems to count for a lot more than Vi thought it did. Or maybe Vi’s just used to being on the losing one. The people still need a pound of flesh. It’s a litany that has followed her every time Jinx comes up. 

“For your crimes against these peoples, we pass the following,” the voice continues, “House Kiramman will be stripped of its Council seat and its holdings. You will be stripped of you rank,” Vi grits her teeth, maybe that will be all, “you are sentenced to thirty lashes.”

The court erupts into shouts and chaos. But Vi can barely move. Her eyes find Mel who shoots her a look full of sympathy before her face goes blank again. Vi feels sick. Thirty is the best Mel could get them to. Vi doesn’t even want to think about what that must have taken. Caitlyn lowers her head but doesn’t otherwise react. Or maybe she does and the muzzle just hides it. 

There is a bang from the high bench and the courtroom goes quiet. 

Caitlyn is led out first. She looks straight ahead as they leave, never once do her eyes stray from the back of the room. Immediately people start scrambling and Vi realizes that they are doing this now. And everyone wants to get a good view. She scrambles along with the crowd. They’re shouting for justice but all Vi can do is bob through, trying to keep her eyes on the cart that pulls Caitlyn to the clearing. 

The crowd swallows her up. By the time Vi makes it anywhere near the barricade, her chains are being wrapped to a frame in the center. They’ve already removed her muzzle but her lips are pressed together so tightly they may as well have left it on. Of course they wouldn’t. They want her to scream. Vi looks around for anyone who seems like they might be willing to do something. But she can find no allies here. 

No-one is coming to stop this. 

Vi wants to scream. She thought someone, anyone would put a stop to this. Caitlyn’s eyes are tightly shut as she tries to brace herself for what is to come. The Enforcer behind them continues to coil the whip for the crowd, building them into even more of a frenzy. It’s just a sea of cheering, moving bodies. Vi thought it was good cover. Now it’s just an obstacle to shove to the front of. 

“Cait!” 

She cups her hands around her mouth to try and make her voice travel. But it’s too loud. Someone behind her revs something. That sound is unique enough to make Caitlyn’s eyes fly open. 

They find her, even in the crowd. Tears fill them, which only makes the crowd scream louder. The cold metal of the barrier digs into her palms as she stares back at Caitlyn. The helplessness makes her sick but when she goes to push herself over the barrier, Caitlyn shakes her head. Vi is ready to ignore her and do it anyway but Caitlyn turns away. 

Vi jumps with her when the whip falls. 

Vi can’t hear the crowd roaring over the blood pounding her ears. Caitlyn’s going to do this. Vi feels sick. Her facade doesn’t go fully up in the pause between strikes. Her eyes drag back to Vi’s and she is just smoothing her face back out when the whip falls again. Her eyes open and find Vi’s faster this time. All Vi can do is stare back and give her something to look at. 

The fifth strike gets the first cry from her. 

It shouldn’t be audible over the sound of the crowd’s roar,  but Vi can feel it in her bones. Everything in her screams to get to Caitlyn. She can’t be right, this can’t be justice. In her worst moments Vi’s imagined decking Caitlyn herself. She told herself it would feel good. Now it just feels sickening. This isn’t justice. She doesn’t know what the hell this is but it’s not that. 

The tenth lash makes her knees buckle. Vi’s sure she’s going to have imprints of the barrier permanently in her hands. 

Fifteen. 

Twenty. 

Caitlyn looks at her desperately, questioningly. Vi pries her fingers away to tell her how many remain. Caitlyn drags herself up, as much as she can. Sweat and tears paint her skin, but she refuses to surrender the last bit of dignity she has. Vi holds up five fingers and Caitlyn manages to raise her chin. 

Vi’s aware of two of Mel’s guards approaching but she can’t look away from Caitlyn. 

It’s three more. 

Red blossoms over Cailtyn’s shoulder when she stumbles forward. One of the lashes went high. 

Two.

One.

“Keep them back!” Vi yells at them and shoves herself over the barricade. 

Other Enforcers swarm forward. She’s ready to kill all of them to get to Caitlyn, but they rush for the crowd. Not for her. She’s free to tear across the clearing as fast as her legs will let her. It feels like moving through water to get there. It’s been weeks of only being able to see Caitlyn’s profile. Vi’s lied to herself that she’s fine with it. Now every second is torture. 

Caitlyn is shuddering against the frame, face pressed into her own arm. She doesn’t lift her head until Vi is right in front of her, pushing back all the blue hair that sticks to her forehead. Caitlyn jerks her head up, eyes focusing in on her again. Whatever’s left of her facade breaks under Vi’s hands. 

“Vi.”

“Hold on,” Vi says. Her eyes focus on one of the other Enforcers, “She did it, get her out of these!” 

The Enforcer comes closer and Vi can’t stand it a second longer. She smacks the keys out of his hands. The second one of Caitlyn’s arms is free she drags it over her shoulder, ignoring the half sob that escapes Caitlyn’s lips as she jostles her back. 

“Just hold on,” she repeats, getting the other cuff free. Caitlyn’s head tips against her throat, her hot breath panting across Vi’s skin, “I got you.” 

Everything in her just wants to carry Caitlyn out of here. But Caitlyn has clung to her dignity every step of this. And Vi can’t bring herself to be the one to rob her of it. Caitlyn shuffles forward and Vi matches her pace. Step by halting step as the crowd descends into an actual riot.  Vi has no idea how they are going to get away, but anywhere is better than here. 

“Vi! Over here!” 

Caitlyn shudders at the sound of Mel’s voice. Vi hesitates for a moment but Caitlyn sags in her arms. They don’t have any fucking time. Mel tried. She did more than Vi managed. So Vi takes more of Caitlyn’s weight and shuffles them to Mel and her waiting car. The sound of a gunshot rings out and she takes all of Caitlyn’s weight to close the distance faster. Mel is already in the car and helps ease Caitlyn inside. Vi throws herself in after. 

The moment the doors close Caitlyn collapses against her. Vi barely manages to turn them so she doesn’t touch her back. Just the movement of collapsing is enough to make Caitlyn try to curl up. Vi touches the back of her neck and her shoulder, anywhere that’s not bloody and raw. She gets Caitlyn’s forehead on her thigh so she can breathe and lay on her stomach. 

“Try to lay still,” she says. 

“I’m trying,” Caitlyn chokes out around a sob. 

“You’re doing good,” Vi says, the comfort tasting like copper in her mouth. She tries to smooth the baby hairs at Caitlyn’s nape away from the tallest of the lashes. One of Caitlyn’s hands claws up and she grabs it, locking their fingers together, “just hold on—“ she looks over “are we almost there?”

“Almost there, Caitlyn, just keep breathing,” she says, shaking her head to Vi. 

A shiver runs the length of Caitlyn’s body. She’s going into shock. Vi looks around for anything with red on it. Red means heat. She cranks the knob as far as it will go. It’s not like they can put a fucking blanket on Caitlyn with her back like that. But maybe the heat will help. Something has to help. Vi can’t just sit there and hold her hand. 

“Vi,” Caitlyn’s voice breaks around her name. 

“I’m right here,” Vi says, tightening her grip on Caitlyn’s hand, “

“Vi I’m sorry,” she chokes out, “I’m so sorry. I was such a fool.”

The desperation in her tone makes Vi’s chest ache. Caitlyn’s bleeding everywhere but all she’s doing is apologizing to her. Vi tries to shove aside the burning in her eyes and throat. She looks around for anything she can do, anything but just sit here and hold Cait’s hand while she bleeds and squirms. 

“We’re good, Cupcake,” she says, scrambling for anything that will help. Caitlyn just lets out another sob, “Cait, we’re good,” Vi says, surprising herself with how much she means it. They go over a bump and Vi feels Caitlyn cry out against her thigh, “can you be careful?!” 

Mel shoots her a sharp look that Vi is happy to return. Logically Vi knows they are driving through a riot but there has to be something to make this easier on Caitlyn. The breathing against her thigh is getting shallower. Vi knows shit about medicine but she knows that’s not good. 

“Cait, you gotta take a deep breath,” she says. Caitlyn makes a noise but doesn’t change, “come on, breath for me sweetheart.” 

Caitlyn inhales properly and some of the tightness in her chest eases. She looks up to see Mel staring at them both intently. Before she can ask why, the car seems to break through whatever is making them move so slowly. Vi tries to hold Caitlyn steady as the car tips them back. Mel jumps forward and uses her hands to hold Caitlyn’s legs. Caitlyn’s fingers tighten on Vi’s knuckles and her other hand grips her knee. 

“Just hold on,” Vi says, wishing she could figure out something better to say.

“I’m trying,” Caitlyn says but it comes out so desperate Vi wishes she would just go unconscious. 

“I know, you’re doing so good,” Vi says, “we’re almost there.”

“Hold her!” Mel orders as the car takes a turn and then stops. One of the doors flies open, flooding the car with light and air, “Vi we need to step back and let them help her.” 

When she tries to separate, Caitlyn grips her hand tighter. There’s going to be pain either way, Vi can’t bear to pull away again. 

“I can’t,” she says. 

There’s a hushed exchange and then a medic appears near her with a needle. Vi wants to swat him away but she knows this is for the best. It’s going to take away Caitlyn’s pain. At the moment that’s all that matters. Caitlyn stiffens at the contact. 

“Hey, it’s ok,” Vi tells her, “he’s here to help,” she watches the needle push something through Caitlyn’s veins.

“But—“ Caitlyn starts to protest but Vi can already feel her relaxing, “Vi.”

“I’m going to be there,” Vi swears, “soon as you wake up.” 

Caitlyn’s fingers try to squeeze hers but they go limp. Suddenly it’s just Vi clutching her hand. Mel touches he shoulder. Sympathy is painted on her face. Vi feels her fingers slip in between their hands, taking her death grip as Caitlyn’s fingers fall by her side. Medics pull Caitlyn free and onto a stretcher. Everything in Vi screams to follow them but Mel holds her in the car. 

“We need to let them work,” she says. Vi opens her mouth, “Vi, this is how you help her.”

“I promised I’d be there,” Vi says, “I wasn’t—“

“You were. You got her through this,” Mel looks over he shoulder and she grasps Vi’s other hand. Vi can hear a commotion starting, “you will be there when she wakes up.”

“No,” Vi twists. She can hear a buzzing and the doctors shouting, “no—“

There’s a fiery feeling in her elbow and she realizes Mel stuck her with something. Mel moves forward and eases her down. Vi wants to be angry but the stuff is rushing though her. Still she has to hold on. Mel cranes her neck and then focuses back on her. 

“They got her back,” she says, “you’re both going to be fine.”

“I promised,” Vi gets out, though it comes out as a mumble instead of how she intended. There’s a hand in her hair as the world tugs away. 

There’s a hand on her cheek as it comes back. 

She would know that hand anywhere, even before she opens her eyes to meet Caitlyn’s intent gaze. 

Caitlyn’s covered in bandages. Her fingers and face might be the only thing not wrapped in bandages. But they’re both so pale it hardly makes a difference. There’s tubes and monitors everywhere Vi can see. But she’s alive and her fingers are skimming Vi’s face like she can’t believe she’s real. When their eyes meet, Vi can see they’ve got her drugged up. Vi catches her hand and laces their fingers back together. 

“Hey,” is the only thing she can think to say. Caitlyn offers a miserable smile through pale lips, “I promised I’d be here didn’t I?”

“Mel had them put you here,” Caitlyn rasps. 

“Yeah,” Vi says, “but I’m still here.” 

That seems to be Caitlyn’s undoing. Vi has no idea where she can touch her that isn’t going to hurt. But Caitlyn doesn’t seem to care as she grips Vi tighter. It’s like three weeks of hell is all crashing down. Any last vestiges of the person on trial are flowing down Vi’s shirt. All Vi can do it hold her tighter. For the past few weeks she’s just watched Caitlyn and told herself it’s enough. Now with her back in her arms, Vi doesn’t know how she managed to bullshit herself like that. 

“I’m still here,” she repeats and just hopes it’s enough for both of them. 

[saganlife]

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[littlest-w01f]

Chapter Four

Series Masterlist

Cw: None

The day he had started to dread was upon him, the day he and his family would visit the Court of Nightmares, he had no idea what he was to expect in Hewn City, the home to the horrible folks who loved being there.

Nyx sat up in his bed, removing his covers and looking out to the darkness of the Night Court, his room in the Riverhouse was gigantic, beautiful and every inch of it held a homey warmth. It was a massive expanse filled with rich hues of purple and blue, glittery shimmer on the room's roof, mimicking the night sky outside, painted by her mother when he was just a babe, preserved in his ceiling forever.

He slipped off from his bed, a large window overlooks the city below, casting a soft glow of moonlight onto the plush carpet beneath his feet, he groaned as he stretched his wings behind his back, letting them flex, he curled his wings around himself to shield the expansion of his chest from the cold air in his room.

His bedroom had its walls adorned with paintings depicting different landscapes and mythical creatures from various cultures. There was also a grand canopy bed draped in luxurious silk sheets that matched perfectly with the room, royal blues and purples with silver accents. On one side stood a full-length mirror framed elegantly in gold leaf while opposite to this stood another door leading further into the house.

In front of the window was a sitting area furnished comfortably with couches covered in velvet fabric and scattered throw pillows embroidered intricately in black threadwork patterns reminiscent of stars against night skies. Atop an ornate mahogany table sat several books about astronomy and mythology and sketches depicting various celestial bodies and creatures from folklore.

Nyx gazed out at the shadowed expanse of the Night Court beyond his window as he walked into the balcony, faerie lights lighting up The Rainbow and the streets leading to it, the Sidra rippling gently under the moonlight filtering through the beautiful city. He felt a shiver run down his spine as he contemplated the unsettling encounter that awaited him and his family later that morning. He had heard nothing but the worst of Kier and the people like him who resided there.

As Nyx stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air enveloped him, carrying with it the faint scent of blooming jasmine and the distant aroma of the Sidra river. The faerie lights lining the streets cast an ethereal glow over the city, making it seem almost magical despite the ominous tales surrounding the Night Court. The gentle lapping of the water against the riverbank created a soothing melody that contrasted sharply with the unease churning in Nyx's stomach.

His skin glowed with a natural luminescence, highlighting the intricate tattoos that snaked across his shoulders and arms, telling tales quite similar to what his father and uncles had experienced. Each line and curve of the markings added depth to his already imposing physique.

His wings, folded neatly against his back, shimmered subtly under the faerie lights illuminating the balcony. They were large and powerful, the leathery texture of them not hard to see with how polished they were.

As he pondered the unknown terrors of Hewn City, Nyx's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his mother's soft voice calling up from downstairs, making him lean over the balcony to see her. "Nyx, dear! We have a big day ahead of us, come have something to eat."

"Coming, Ma!" With a heavy sigh, Nyx reluctantly pulled himself away from watching the sun rise in the Night Court over the Illyrian mountains and threw on a shirt.

Diving from the balcony, wings spread completely to land headfirst in the dining room. "Mornin'."

"Cauldron, Nyx!" Mor yelped as Nyx appeared in front of his aunt, his uncle Azriel's shadows hiding him well, the male in question was watching in amusement, taking a finger-full from a bowl of melted chocolate she would be adding to some pastries. "Get back here you horrible child!"

"But I'm such an innocent babe," Nyx pouted and made a run for it around the room as he licked his fingers clean, his mother and father laughing at Mor throwing her apron at his face then glaring at the couple, while Cassian carried Nesta bridal style to another of the little chaoses Nyx had been causing since before he was born.

After breakfast, the sun had risen up, and Nyx stood outside his giant wardrobe, thinking about what to wear, he certainly didn't want to be too comfortable.

Nyx opened the massive wardrobe doors, revealing rows upon rows of clothing tailored specifically for his physique. Leathers of armour designed to accommodate his wings, tunics suited for nothing less than the Heir of Night, and trousers reinforced with magic to withstand the flexibility he needed to move and fight.

He scanned the options, and finally, after much deliberation, he settled on a set of dark grey leather breeches that hugged his muscular legs tightly. Over this, he donned a snug vest of Illyrian leathers that did little to hide the toned muscles of his chest and abdomen through the fabric.

A belt adorned with an intricate pattern encircled his waist, holding up both his trousers and a pair of knee-high boots crafted from supple black leather, on the leathers of the back of his hands sat two twin black Siphons. They were symbols of his lineage and his heritage, the power of distruction.

He heard a knock on his door and made his way to open it, seeing his father outside, "Da?"

"No." Rhysand said instantly seeing Nyx's attire, the Illyrian leathers, the Siphon, "You're not wearing that."

Nyx crossed his arms over his chest defensively. "It’s appropriate for the place, is it not?"

"I know that look," Rhysand muttered under his breath, stepping past his son and into the room. His gaze swept over Nyx's outfit critically before landing on the siphons etched into the leather at the back of his hand. Rhysand sighed heavily, running a hand through his onxy hair. "But you're my heir, not my warrior."

"You’re going to be meeting some very important people today, Nyx. You need to make a good impression," He explained patiently.

Rhysand went through Nyx's clothes and pulled out a fitted black tunic with intricate silver embroidery at the collar and hem. The ensemble struck a balance between practicality and elegance, suitable for the formal yet unpredictable nature of the occasion ahead.

Nyx watched his father's actions silently, though inwardly he was bristling at being treated like a child. Still, he knew better than to argue further, especially when it came to matters of etiquette and presentation. He let out a sigh of resignation as he allowed his father to give him a change to a more appropriate attire.

He selected a pair of knee-high black leather boots with silver buckles and fastened them securely to his legs. He then donned a wide belt adorned with a silver buckle in the shape of a crescent moon.

The fitted black tunic felt strange against his skin at first, the silver embroidery at the collar and hem added an elegant touch without detracting from the overall simplicity of the outfit. His wings melting into himself, not suited for the tunic he wore before slipping his feet into the knee-high boots with silver buckles.

Rhysand watched his son, dressed in clothes appropriate for an Heir, and gave him a smile, "Now you look like the Heir, remember, the people in the Court of Nightmares will be expecting you, you can not show them any weakness."

Nyx nodded, with a deep breath, his features sharpened, his eyes void of emotion as Rhysand motioned to his door, just as cold, "Come now, your mother is waiting."

The moment Nyx stepped foot into the Court of Nightmares, he was immediately struck by the biting cold that seeped into his bones. It was as if the very essence of the realm itself was designed to chill one to the marrow. The air was heavy with an eerie silence, broken only by the occasional creak of ancient stone beneath their feet as they navigated the twisting corridors.

Glowing orbs of an unearthly blue hue, suspended mid-air by magic, provided the only illumination, casting an otherworldly pallor across the scene. The walls, constructed from a labyrinthine network of obsidian and jet-black marble, seemed to absorb what little light managed to penetrate, leaving everything shrouded in an impenetrable darkness that pressed in from all sides.

As Nyx followed his family deeper into the Court of Nightmares, they approached the imposing gates that marked the entrance to the castle. Carved from a single block of black stone, the massive doors depicted a scene of primordial chaos, great, scaled beasts coiled together in a nest of claws and fangs, locked in a perpetual cycle of combat. The creatures appeared to be devouring each other even as they slept, their forms blurring together in a macabre dance of death.

Yet, amidst this tableau of darkness and destruction, there was an unexpected beauty. Vines of jasmine and moonflowers wound their way through the coils of the beasts, their delicate petals glowing softly in the dim light.

His aunt Morrigan entered first, the throne room falling silent, his uncles and aunt Nesta, all of them had a coldness that he could feel in his bones, he'd be with his parents, with a deep breath he walked by his father's side, both of his parents had a crown made of starts on their heads, his father's features were distant, like he was a different person, like his mother was too.

Nyx's heart pounded in his chest as he followed his parents into the grand throne room. His gaze darted around, taking in every detail of the courtiers gathered there. Despite the palpable tension hanging in the air, he noticed a certain kind of reverence in their demeanour towards his parents, a respect born out of fear.

Morrigan, clad in a gown of deepest red, strode in first, her presence commanding the immediate attention of everyone present. Her eyes met Nyx's briefly, and he felt a chill run down his spine. All of them had a regal bearing about them, exuding an aura of authority that was almost tangible.

Nyx zoned out as his parents sat on their throne and he stood beside them, the people of the Hewn City kneeling to them, his eyes landed on a young female among the crown, porcelain skin that seemed almost translucent in its paleness, too pale to be healthy, with black hair down her back, the dress she wore was the same raven black as her hair, the dress was nothing fancy, at least not compared to the silver he wore, but he couldn't help keep his eyes off her.

As the kneeling courtiers rose, there was something hauntingly captivating about her, something that drew Nyx in despite himself. Her eyes met his, and he felt a jolt of recognition. It was as if he knew her somehow, despite never having laid eyes on her before. A curious sensation stirred within him, a feeling he couldn't quite place. But amid the sea of faces, hers was the only one that held his interest.

As his father ordered them to relax and mingle, he turned to his parents, mostly his mother, "May I go too?" He asked, his uncaring look not wavering.

His mother gave him a soft smile, "Of course you may, Nyx," she nodded, people were drinking, dancing, talking, and his uncle Azriel had disappeared into the room, Cassian and Nesta dancing to themselves, Mor talking with Kier with a look of boredom clear on her face as they walked to his parents with another male beside them.

He knocked into someone far smaller than him while he was distracted by the males around his parents and aunt, his hands shot out instinctively, "Oh, apologies, I didn't know where I was..." His gaze met the dark blackhole-like eyes of the female he had been looking at, her hand gripping onto his, slightly tilted from tripping half way. "Hello." He smiled.

"Hi..." The female watched his face, probably gauging his reaction Nyx thought.

"I'm Nyx," He offered a smile hoping it would make him come off as friendly.

"I know who you are, my lord," The female put some distance between them, giving him a little courtesy.

Nyx's eyes went as she saw her bow for him, "Oh, none of that please," He couldn't hide his cringe and looked away. "You don't need to do... That."

"It's just a smile courtesy," She laughed and he was sure he had heard it before somewhere, "I'm no fool to not show respect to the Heir of Night."

"Well, then, would you like a dance?" Nyx asked, turning to face her. "Just to one song." He offered her his hand and gave her a cheeky grin, "To respect me, of course."

The female paused to think for a moment, and then her eyeliner went by him, probably to the diaz where a conversation Nyx couldn't find in himself to care about was going.

"Of course," She rested her hand on his, the corner of her lip tilted up just slightly and Nyx counted that as a smile.

{General - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

{Meeting in Grey - @sleepylunarwolf @achaotichuman @sarawritestories @bakananya @sheblogs @anuttellaa}

[thoughtportal]

A group of bacteria has proved adept at destroying the ultratough carbon-fluorine bonds that give “forever chemicals” their name. This finding boosts hopes that microbes might someday help remove these notoriously pervasive pollutants from the environment.

Nearly 15,000 chemicals commonly found in everyday consumer products such as pizza boxes, rain jackets and sunscreens are recognized as perfluoroalkyl and polyfluoroalkyl substances, or PFASs. These chemicals can enter the body via drinking water or sludge-fertilized crops, and they have already infiltrated the blood of almost every person in the U.S. Scientists have linked even low levels of chronic PFAS exposure to myriad health effects such as kidney cancer, thyroid disease and ulcerative colitis.

Current methods to destroy PFASs require extreme heat or pressure, and they work safely only on filtered-out waste. Researchers have long wondered whether bacteria could break down the chemicals in natural environments, providing a cheaper and more scalable approach. But carbon-­fluorine bonds occur mainly in humanmade materials, and PFASs have not existed long enough for bacteria to have specifically evolved the ability to digest them. The new study—though not the first to identify a microbe that destroys carbon-fluorine bonds—provides a step forward, says William Dichtel, a chemist at Northwestern University who studies energy-efficient ways to chemically degrade PFASs.

To identify a promising set of bacteria, the study’s authors screened several microbe communities living in wastewater. Four strains from the Acetobacterium genus stood out, the team reported in Science Advances. Each strain produced an enzyme that can digest caffeate—a naturally occurring plant compound that roughly resembles some PFASs. This enzyme replaced certain fluorine atoms in the PFASs with hydrogen atoms; then a “transporter protein” ferried the fluoride ion by-products out of the single-celled microbes, protecting them from damage. Over three weeks most of the strains split the targeted PFAS molecules into smaller fragments that could be degraded more easily via traditional chemical means.

By directly targeting carbon-fluorine bonds, the Acetobacterium bacteria partially digested perfluoroalkyls, a type of PFAS that very few microbes can break down. Even so, these Acetobacterium strains could work only on perfluoroalkyl molecules that contain carbon-carbon double bonds adjacent to the car­bon-fluorine ones. These “unsaturated” perfluoroalkyl compounds serve as building blocks for most larger PFASs; they are produced by chemical manufacturers and also emerge when PFASs are destroyed via incineration.

Scientists had previously demonstrated that a microbe called Acidimicrobium sp. strain A6 could break down carbon-fluorine bonds and completely degrade two of the most ubiquitous perfluoroalkyls. This microbe grows slowly, however, and requires finicky environmental conditions to function. And researchers do not yet fully understand how this bacterial strain does the job.

The Acetobacterium lines target a separate group of PFASs, and the team hopes to engineer the microbes to either improve their efficiency or expand their reach—potentially to more perfluoroalkyls. Lead study author Yujie Men of the University of California, Riverside, imagines the microbes would perform best in combination with other approaches to degrade PFASs. The range of chemical structures in these compounds means “a single lab cannot solve this problem.”

Any future commercial use of the microbes would face numerous hurdles, including breakdown speed and replicability outside of the lab, but Men looks forward to seeing how far her team can push the technique. “We’re paving the road as we go,” she says with a laugh.

[bumblebeerror]

Genuinely baffled to learn that there are people who think fluoride in water is poison.

I grew up on well water with no fluoride and lemme tell ya. It didn’t poison me but I had three whole teeth rot out of my head by age 5 and my favorite sweet treat was raw corn directly off the cob.

Like I didn’t eat candy outside of whatever I got on Halloween, mom took me and my brother to the dentist every 6 months, I brushed my teeth more then than I do now. I had every last one of my first set of molars drilled out and filled and the same thing happened to my adult molars TWICE. Only the second time it took 7 years of not having dental insurance while living in a house with city water instead of 2-4 years of just not having fluoride in my water.

I can’t express enough how wild it is to look at fluoride, commonly literally applied to your teeth at the dentist every six months, and assume that it is so dangerous in tap water levels that it should be removed. I don’t trust the government very much either but like. It’s legitimately more dangerous to swallow your toothpaste instead of spitting it out than it is to drink the minuscule amount found in tap water

Did. Did you know you can get it out at home. You can just literally let your water sit for 24 hours. It evaporates out just like the chlorine does. You can get it out with activated charcoal water filters. Like I don’t like the taste of chlorine so I make up cups of water with some electrolyte solution ahead of time, and then wait a day for them to get cold in the fridge and for the chlorine to evaporate. It’s so easy if you really wanted that

Like. I’m absolutely baffled. I feel like these are the same people who think Flint Michigan is being fucking dramatic about the lead in their water

[milk5]

THE MILK5 COFFEE GUIDE VOL. 1

REMOVE #BADBEANS FROM YOUR LIFE FOREVER

If you are a #TrueBlueCoffeeHead and subsisting on supermarket beans and/or frequent visits to big chains like Starbucks, PLEASE help yourself (and your local community, the environment, coffee workers, etc) and buy a pour over filter and freshly roasted, quality beans from a local roaster. Explicitly seek out Fairtrade Organic/Smithsonian Bird Friendly certified beans if possible. The taste of shade-grown coffee is incredibly flavorful AND you can be certain that your beans aren't the product of yucky pesticides, actual slave labor, and the annihilation of millions of acres of rainforest.

To start with what you need, a goose-neck kettle and pour over carafe are good purchases, but a suitably sized mason jar and regular kettle still work on a budget. Learning how to make a great pour over will raise your home coffee game to professional standards without needing to spend literal thousands of dollars on a real grinder/steamer/espresso machine setup -- if you're able to buy all of these items new for less than a thousand dollars, you're going to be down a few hundos in exchange for some pretty shitty machines. Regardless, a pour over setup with good beans will pay for itself VERY rapidly, assuming it replaces frequent Starbucks visits or whatever other chain you were going to. If you frequent a LOCALLY OWNED coffee shop that you like, keep going! You're an important part of the ecosystem.

What about grinding the beans? Should I get pre-ground beans? Would a cheapo blender-like blade grinder work?

NEVER touch a blade grinder again. It doesn't matter as much if you have #BadBeans, but if you have good beans, ALWAYS use a grinder with a burr; blade grinders just chop up your beans randomly into particles of massively varying sizes, leading to simultaneous over-extraction and under-extraction, generally leading to wildly inconsistent flavors and low repeatability. Burrs will always grind the beans into uniform particles and ensure that you're always (more or less, every cup is different to an extent) getting a consistent flavor. Don't buy a burr grinder -- just bring your beans to a local coffee shop, buy a drink, tip well, and ask the barista if they could grind the beans for you when you can clearly tell that they aren't busy. I have NEVER been refused, just go to a place with less sour employees if they won't help you out. Specify the coarseness that you'd like; smaller grounds have a greater surface area, so they're extracted to a greater extent, resulting in a more intense flavor; coarse grounds are the inverse. Lots of people recommend medium-coarse for pour overs (about 80% coarse 20% fine), but I prefer the stronger flavor of medium/drip (dead middle, 50% coarse 50% fine). It's also better to grind your beans periodically, as freshly-ground beans will taste better, but it's fine to have it pre-ground or ground all at once if you aren't able to easily make coffee shop trips every week or two. As far as roasts go, there's an entire gradient for you to explore -- not just the few that I list here; light roasts have a more sour, fruitier flavor, medium roasts are well rounded, and dark roasts are rich and smokey. Medium-dark is my personal favorite.

Experiment!!! It's all about your own taste, after all.

How do I make a good pour over?

Again, it depends on your taste. My go-to is a vigorous fourth-cup of grounds to 300ml of water; this is easily on the stronger end, but it's what works for me. More common ratios are usually weighed out on a kitchen scale, so consider picking one up if you don't already have one. Document your process until you get to your favorite! I always stop the kettle a little before it gets to its terminal temperature, then pour just enough water onto the grounds to let it bloom -- wait for one minute, and then start pouring a small-ish portion of the water onto the grounds every 20 seconds (this is where my own technique varies the most, it usually takes between 3-4 minutes to finish since I'm not pouring standard amounts; some people DO measure their pours for even greater consistency). Use the stopwatch on your phone, it's much better than keeping track in your head. Make sure to distribute the water evenly over the grounds, particularly making sure to wash the grounds off the sides every pour. When I'm finished, I like to immediately take a sip to see if a splash of milk or half-and-half would help or hurt the cup -- I think a very good cup of coffee can easily stand on its own without anything else, but additives can absolutely help depending on your personal preferences. Just be sure to taste the black coffee before you add anything.

What if I like the syrupy sweet drinks? What about iced coffee?

From my experience working at/visiting coffee shops, Monin is the most common syrup brand I see at local places. As far as iced coffee goes, coldbrew would be probably be the superior option -- it's also pretty easy to make at your home. I'm not going to be writing a guide for coldbrew any time soon, so you're out of luck there. I also never steam my milk if I'm doing a pour over, so I can't really point you to an inexpensive way to do that. Just know that the cheap handheld stick-frothers do not do the same thing as an actual steamer.

What was that about certifications?

Fairtrade is a pretty notable certification for food items produced in areas that have a history for being exploited (so pretty much the bulk of the global south), it can get very complex -- read more about it here. The goal is to ensure that the workers and communities involved in the production of the product receive fair, livable wages, that labor conditions are safe and reasonable, and that the decisions around the production of the product are made by those directly involved in the labor. FTO refers to Fairtrade Organic, which just means that it meets the standards of both Fairtrade AND organic production -- I'm not exactly sure if the organic standards are based on where the coffee is sold, produced, or both, but regardless, it's still a bonus; organic coffee will almost ALWAYS be shade-grown, which is the way that coffee grows naturally. Since coffee is an understory tree in nature, shade-grown coffee is produced more slowly and under a canopy and thus does not require the forest to be damaged or destroyed to grow; however, not all organic coffee will necessarily take place in a completely natural, untouched rain forest setting. Industrial non-organic coffee is most often produced under direct sun in gigantic clear-cut monocrop rows and usually with massive usage of potentially harmful inputs like, such as various pesticides and fertilizers. Direct sun coffee grows faster, but it has a distinctly different taste and is easily the most damaging method of coffee production to both the environment and the local communities. Smithsonian Bird-Friendly is the most rigorous certification for coffee in particular; FTO is more or less a pre-requisite to achieve SBF. Coffee likes to grow in tropical, equatorial environments -- these environments are also the areas of the greatest bird diversity in the world (and, really, biodiversity in general) and the destination for most migratory birds during the winter. The coffee industry has destroyed literal millions of acres of rain forest across the world, which has resulted in the death of billions of birds worldwide over the past 50 years. SBF guarantees the FTO criteria PLUS the additional criteria that the coffee must be produced in forests that are more-or-less in their natural state with thriving diversity of endemic species of flora and fauna. It's harder to find SBF-certified coffee than FT(O)-certified coffee, but the Smithsonian website has a handy vendor locator here. I'm not confident that it works beyond U.S. vendors, so I apologize to anyone interested abroad. Note that some of these certifications may be exclusive to particular continents; I need to do more research on the subject, but the tropical forests around the world vary wildly -- this adds a level of complexity to the goals and criteria of a particular certification. I am confident that all of the certifications that I have mentioned apply to South and Central America (and most likely the Caribbean), so keep that in mind. Also, watch out for phony certifications; big corporations frequently buy out existing certification organizations and/or create new green-sounding organizations to fool well-meaning consumers.

Where should my brand new beans come from?

Like wine, the exact qualities of a bean depend on its terroir, or the specific methods and geographic factors involved in its growth. However, some countries have trends in how the coffee is generally grown; some counties will practice shade-growing more than others and some countries will practice direct-sun industrial methods more than others. As a rule of thumb, Arabica beans are mostly grown in shade or partial shade, while Robusta is generally grown in direct sun. Defer to certifications if applicable.

The following areas primarily practice shade-growing:

Mexico

El Salvador

Peru

Panama

Nicaragua

Guatemala

Cuba

Timor

New Guinea

Ethiopia

Burundi

Rwanda

Tanzania

Zambia (*)

Zimbabwe (*)

Papua New Guinea

Sulawesi

Timor + East Timor

India

The following areas primarily practice direct-sun growing:

Colombia

Brazil

Costa Rica

Hawaii

Yemen

Kenya

Angola

Benin

Central African Republic

Congo

Gabon

Ghana

Guinea

Equatorial Guinea

Ivory Coast

Liberia

Nigeria

Sierra Leone

Togo

Cameroon

Madagascar

Malawi (**)

Democratic Republic of the Congo

Sumatra (***)

Java

Vietnam

China

Jamaica

Again, this is just a rule of thumb; there are exceptions to both and I'm sure that I've left out several production areas. Most of this information comes from the blog Coffee and Conservation, written by ornithologist Julie Craves. I've only tried a very small percentage of these origins; so far, my favorites are Sumatran (Arabica, of course) and Peruvian.

*The source that I got this information from mentioned that some avoid Zambian and Zimbabwean coffee due to concerns of it helping fund violent conflict in the area; this particular article, however, is from 2006 and may be wildly out of date. I couldn't find much more info on this topic when I searched elsewhere.

**They primarily produce Arabica with organic methods, despite the sunny conditions.

***Sumatra is likely the most notable coffee-growing island in Asia; while the majority is Robusta grown on plantations that have deforested a horrifyingly large percentage of the island, the Arabica grown in the north is well-known for its far healthier growing conditions (shade + organic, usually) and extremely distinct flavor.

Volume 2?

I may eventually add on to this post, most likely with a Turkish coffee guide coming next. I used to make Turkish coffee quite frequently, but I would need to dig up my old favorite recipe and cezve first. French press and coldbrew stuff will be in the more distant future if at all.

If any of this info looks wrong, let me know and I'll edit the post :-)

Enjoy your cup!!!!