#leek number

[starmanzxx]

(°ロ°) !

[coffee-without-anesthetics]

still not normal about this one folks

[falesten-iw]

Bombarded, blockaded, stripped of all lifelines, even UNRWA which is a UN organ unjustly labeled as a terror organization. It's like the world keeps daring Gaza to give up, and Gaza keeps stubbornly refusing, just standing there, bruised and battered but still breathing. And the Gazians? We're experts in endurance, living each day with almost nothing, finding ways to hold on, discovering beauty and strength even when it feels like the world is stacked against us.

And then there's GoFundMe. For some, it's a place to fund a dream project; for Gaza, it's become one of the last threads of hope. Every dollar, every small donation, is like a patch on the wound, a tiny light in the dark. Because for us Gazians, resilience isn't just some inspiring buzzword; it's a necessity. But we can't do it alone. So if you've got $5 or $10 to spare, send it our way. Because right now, support isn't just helpful; it's survival.

Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.

Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link

Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link

Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link

Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link

If, for some reason, you couldn't donate via GoFundMe, you can donate via PayPal instead.

Donate on GoFundMe: Link

Donate on Paypal: Link

Note: There’s even a raffle for a handmade Palestinian thob if you want to participate : Link

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[underthehedge]

These all sound way too plausible, touché

Dydd Gŵyl Dewi hapus i bawb!

That's right! It's WALES' BIRTHDAY*!!! Yaaaaayyyy today you are all Welsh. Enjoy your 24 hours of perfect harmonisation ability and utter disinterest in any celebrities. Watch out for the dragons.

*It is not Wales' birthday

I have decided to revive an old favourite of this blog to mark the occasion - prepare for a classic Pick The Fake Welsh Word Poll! And to super charge the Welshness today we are assessing the glory that is the daffodil - the national flower of Wales (lol not really, our national flower is the leek. And that's why queen Lizzie Two had to get coronated with a leek on her dress because we refused to let them use the daffodil even when the palace designer begged. Iconic.)

(But the daffodil is still a symbol of Wales, so it counts here.)

So! Let's go! Etymology at the end.

Etymology Notes

Croeso'r Gwanwyn - they flower in March! Hence the St David's Day link. One of the first flowers to bloom in spring.

Clych babi - the trumpet bit looks like a bell, I suppose, and has similar (make a noise' connotations. Why a baby? Dunno. Maybe a spring link again.

Gwayw brenin - the leaves are definitely spear-like, and the petals look a bit like a crown

Pibell felen - 'pibell' usually means a pipe in the sense of music, so another trumpet reference. Except we didn't have trumpets in Wales, so pipe it is

Gylfinog - the trumpet again. The word is often used for animals (morfil gylfinog is beaked whale, for example). Cognate with Cornish gelvinek, Irish gulba, etc.

Cenhinen Pedr - Peter is probably the saint. The leek is otherwise a Welsh emblem

Lily pengam - the angle of the flower head, maybe, makes it 'wry-headed'? And then the lily link, which turns up a few times

Melyn Clamai - yellow is obvious. Clamai is a corruption of Calan Mai - May Eve. Another reference to the time of year

Lili Clamai - lily again, Calan Mai again.

Dwndili - a corruption of the English word 'daffodil', and the lili again

Daffidondili - further corruption

Daffitwndili - corruption but with hypercorrection of the d to a t! Can you tell these ones are dialectic?

~~~

Enjoy!

[mommypieck]

grass is getting greener

✯⁠ lawn mower!jean x reader

✯⁠ warnings: cheating (r on husband), rough, almost mind break, creampie, doggy, jean has big ego

"Daddy bought you this house?" Jean - your lawn maintenance asks you. Your first instinct is to roll your eyes, he's been helping you with the grass for a few weeks now, and he always keeps his shitty attitude.

"No, husband," you answer, wrapping yourself into a robe even deeper. It's hot as hell out, but you don't want some guy to see you in your swimming suit.

"I only talk to him on the phone. He's rarely in here?" It's your husband's fault for not being home when the workers are around. Basically, he´s never home. You always have to settle for a glass of wine by yourself or your vibrator, which is starting to break by the number of times you have used it.

"Don't assume he is a bad husband just because he isn't here." The sentence makes him laugh out loud. Do you think he might fuck you? he wanted to be good, but after you said that, he might change his behavior.

"I like your attitude," he says, looking up and down your body. You're seriously very pretty, you might want someone to fuck it out of you."

Your eyes widen at what he said. "Excuse me?" you ask him, standing up from your chair. You can't believe he would say something like that.

"I said you might want someone to fuck it out of you."

"Does he know how to fuck like that, huh?" he smacks your ass, ramming inside of you even harder. Each of his thrusts knocks the wind right out of your lungs. This guy has a talented dick for sure.

He wishes to see you from behind, he's not gonna lie, you have a pretty face, and those tits are amazing. He can see how they swing with each thrust, and Jean wants to see them up closer.

"I fucking love this pussy, look at how much you cream on my cock." he looks down at the white ring at the base of his cock. Of course, you would get this wet for him. he groans when he hears the wet sound your pussy makes now and then. It sucks him in so tightly, he might think you want him to be inside of you forever.

"how long has it been since he fucked you?" he asks you, but you're too overstimulated to answer. Your head falls on the ground, cheek pressed against the cold tiles. He isn't having any of what.

"Answer me." he grabs you by your hair, wrapping his arm around your neck to keep you up.

"8 months." You manage to choke out. He laughs at your response, his lips pressing against your neck. You scream when he bites the side of your neck playfully.

Jean knows you're seconds before cumming and seconds before he breaks you.

"Brace yourself." You are confused about what he means until he slams inside way harder than before. He lets go of your body, which falls on the floor. He presses your head into the floor as he abuses your cunt the best he can. He's chasing his orgasm too but is waiting for you to cum first.

You're so close, you can feel the burning desire rushing through your veins.

"I'm cumming." you squeak, letting all the pleasure out. He slips out of you when your body falls to the ground, shaking. It's the most powerful orgasm you have had in a while. You lay down on the floor, breathing hard as you try to recover from the mind-blowing orgasm.

"I'm not done with you," Jean says before you're yanked by your ass. He slides his cock inside of you one more time. He needs a little more, just a few thrusts. A loud moan escapes him as spurts of his cum fill your insides. Your pussy was the best one he had in a while.

"Was I too rough?" he asks you as he pulls out. You both look at the cum that leeks out of you with a smile.

"It was fine, but you almost broke me," you tell him. you both sit next to each other on the cold floor, thinking about what just happened.

"I'm Jean, you know my name already." he introduces himself, holding out his hand. You chuckle at his dorkiness, of course, you know his name.

"I'm y/n." Your hand shakes his as both of you stare at each other.

"Let's get to know each other better, y/n. Even though I have an idea of what you might like."

that fucker.

[maniculum]

Bread for a Wit-Sick Man

When recording the podcast today, we read a bit from the Old English Leechbook, as we often do. And today we read a remedy for a "wit sick man" that suggested (in addition to other things) feeding him "hallowed bread and cheese and garlic and cropleek". I thought that sounded pretty good, so after recording I decided to pop by the grocery store and give my complete lack of cooking skill a try. (No hallowing involved.)

I will now record my experience.

Step One

Purchase the following with an eye to your budget:

sliced french bread (store brand)

three green onions ("cropleek" is a pretty broad term, and since I could find neither leeks nor shallots, I figured this was close enough; there are three of them because they come in bundles of three.)

one bulb of garlic

wedge of brie (half-price because it expires tomorrow)

Step Two

Slice all three onions and the whole bulb of garlic because you don't cook that much and you don't trust yourself to use this stuff up later if you don't use it all now.

Step Three

Decide this dish would probably be better warm and preheat the oven to 400F because that seems like a reasonable (and round) number. Get a baking sheet. Spread brie on slices of bread until there's no room on the baking sheet for more.

Step Four

Look at the eight slices of bread on your baking sheet, realizing how small your only baking sheet is. Put way too much onion and garlic on each slice in a doomed attempt to use it all.

Step Five

Half-remember something about how restaurant food is supposedly better because they put ridiculous amounts of butter on everything. Maybe this will save you. Consider that you should have added the butter before the leeks & garlic. Shrug and put a slice of butter on top of each bread-slice anyway, balancing it on the leeks.

Step Six

Realize everything is going to fall off of these slices as soon as you pick them up, and cover them in an excessive quantity of shredded cheese in the hopes that the cheese, when melted, will glue everything down like on a pizza.

Step Seven

Vacillate between cooking for 10 minutes and 15 minutes because you have no idea what reasonable cooking times are but it doesn't seem like it should take a hugely long time to warm the bread and melt the cheese. Decide to split the difference with 12 minutes.

Step Eight

Post on Tumblr while your creation cooks and then subsequently cools.

[british-rail]

Hey so fun fact: The North Staffordshire Railway had 4 locos running with the number 1 at once

a New L class 0-6-2T (photo is of surviving sister loco No. 2)

A strange looking railmotor

A 2-6-4T 2 ft 6 in NG loco on the Leek and Manifold Valley Light Railway (also the only named loco on this list, E. R. Calthrop)

And a small 0-4-0 Battery electric loco (only loco on this list that survives today)

[syoddeye]

unsolicited

semi creepy little thing inspired by @pfhwrittes's incredible soap x reader roommate piece and this thought i had once upon a time. ~1k words. unedited, because i'm about to be dragged out to watch sports. gaz x reader. cw: dick pic, stalking, masturbation

“That one’s no good.” A tongue clicks. 

You turn from your close study of the tube of tomato paste in your hand and find a man inches from your side. The aisle was empty save for you a second ago. Either he’s light on his feet or a ghost. A twinned tingling of your belly and spine fires off mixed signals to your brain: Are we scared or horny?

Both. 

He's handsome—he knows it, too, judging by the hook of his smile and the slight crinkle of his nose. He sports a scar on his cheek and the right amount of stubble. He looks down at you, all smug, like he's saved you from an unforgivable culinary mistake. He tears his deep brown eyes off you to reach toward the top shelf and selects a beautifully branded sealed box of paste. It's artisanal, not within your price range, and he sets it in your handbasket like you're shopping for dinner together.

“You’ve got to treat yourself to nice things once in a while.”

Oh, he thinks he’s so quick with it, doesn’t he?

You smile so wide it pushes the apples of your cheeks up like a cartoon chipmunk. It usually does the trick of deterring smarmy little bastards like this one. “Wow, thank you, what a gentleman.” The feigned saccharine lilt of your voice hurts after a long day on the phone, but the look on his face when you swap the pastes is worth it. You leave the fancy one on the shelf and continue down the aisle for pappardelle. 

He finds you in produce. He doesn’t immediately approach, giving you space while you grab an onion and garlic, but he circles.

“So, what’s on our menu tonight?” He asks, inspecting the leek as you place a vine of tomatoes into the basket. He’s too close again. His hand lowers the vegetable to his own haul, purposefully skimming your skirt with the spindly leaves, letting the texture catch the fabric before he drops it in. Nutcase.

“I’m making pasta for my friends.” 

He chuckles.

The dance continues around the store. He’s clearly following you through the store, not trying to hide it at all. He ‘helps’ you at the dairy. Heavy cream’s better than light, don’t you think? The spices. Babe, we can afford name brand. The meat counter. Bacon? No, no, here. Pancetta. You want that meat. Trust me. He’s insistent and inappropriate, yet his voice drips with the weirdest charm. Calls you ‘babe’ and ‘sweetheart’. You let him continue. You should find an employee and tell him to buzz off, but he’s not really doing anything other than raising your grocery budget. Maybe you do deserve nice things, though. You sit on a seesaw, bouncing between sick interest and appropriate unease.

You’d always been a thrill-seeker, but stringing along a beautiful, perverted, and officious stranger? Were your last few dates so terrible? 

By the time you reach checkout, you’re bored of his antics. He must be desperate to seal the deal and get your number, given how his approach escalates to trying to pay for your groceries.

“Is he bothering you?” The cashier asks bluntly, glaring daggers at your shadow. At the end of the counter, the bag boy’s head pops up, eyes wide at the question.

You glance at the hand, reaching past again to place a card on the counter. You catch half a name. Kyle. You look at the older man. “Yes, yes, he is.”

It’s a wonder what a few strategic smiles can do. They’re catnip to men like Gerald, the store manager who walks you out. He’s soft-spoken and apologetic and slips you a gift card. Your groceries are free, and so is next week’s haul if you promise to remain a loyal customer. If being followed by a harmless model of a man pays for your food, you’ve done stranger things for money.

Still, you take the long way to Alyssa’s and look over your shoulder. That night, over pappardelle alla Fiesolana, Grocery Kyle becomes a joke. A morbid fantasy you and your friends giggle over between glasses of wine. He becomes a real fantasy that night when you snake your hands between your legs beneath the duvet and imagine him smirking down at you. Condescending the whole time, he talks you through it. He’s the type that likes the sound of his own voice. Your fingers curl, and you cum at the idea of him scolding you for being so easy.

The following day, somewhat hungover on your couch, you warm your hands with coffee and open Instagram. One new follower. It's not so odd; you have hundreds of followers. Mostly bots at this point, but you're too lazy to weed them out. You don't post as often anymore, either, nor do you share exciting things. Flowers, cats you meet on your walks, and the rare selfie. So when you see that the new follower liked a photo from nine years ago, that sick little twinge sparks something in your belly. A spark that grows when another notification pops up. And another. They're on a liking spree, driving through your memory lane.

When they like your very first post on the account, an awkward self-portrait in front of your first-year dorm eleven years ago, you finally investigate.

‘Sgt141’ has no profile photo. No description. No followers. No posts. Only follows you. It’s another bot spamming your notifications for some unknown reason.

You forget about it until you post a selfie from the gym two weeks later. Nothing scandalous, just showing off your growing biceps. Sgt141 is the first to like it, and minutes later, you receive a DM request. You fully expect a generic chain, formulaic message about being your own boss. The dick is a surprise.

A very pretty and completely unsolicited surprise.

In an instant, you know whose dick you’re looking at. 

You should be scared and report the message instead of screenshotting it. You should be disgusted, alarmed, and probably crying. Not stuffing your hand down your shorts.

Definitely shouldn’t respond.

> someone got a crush?

>> you have no idea.

> following me around the grocery store did it for you?

>> did a lot for me, actually.

> maybe you can follow me around the mall next time.

sgt141 changed the theme to Love.

[vividxpages]

7 and fluff pls!!! Love ur blog <3

a/n: love youu, hope you enjoy :* !

vivid's little autumn writing: If you want, you can now send me a number (or two combined!) from this list of visual prompts and I'll write a little drabble (fluffy and/or smutty, you decide) for it.🧸 you can suggest them until the end of October!

🍂

You watched your boyfriend with a grin as he juggled two full tote bags hanging over his shoulder, one paper bag in his hand and searched for the keys somewhere buried in the back pockets of his jeans.

“Jace, let me at least take one bag, okay?” You laughed as he danced just out of your reach, but not fast enough for you to not fish the keys out of his pocket and victoriously jam them into the lock to your little apartment.

“There’s three bottles of wine in there, I don’t want your shoulder to hurt later.” Jace said self-explanatory and held the door open for you, the leaves of the leek peeking out from the bag tickling his chin.

Ever since you had moved into your own little apartment with Jacaerys, the two of you had become obsessed with the weekly farmer’s market happening just outside of your door. You now frequently went there on the weekends, walking arm in arm past the little booths offering fresh goods and little snacks to buy. In a way, it felt like the two of you already were married and so far, the thought that this was now your life with your love by your side, had not really sunken in yet.

Since the two of you liked to cook together, a hobby now having become particularly cozy in the cold season, you often picked out fresh vegetables for a soup or sauce, creating your own little menu you would later relish together on the couch while a movie played.

But this weekend, it was Jace’s turn to host the weekly family dinner and the two of you were certainly eager – and rather nervous -  to cook for his parents and brothers, for the first time since you had moved together and made a home.

You followed him into the kitchen, casually kissing the back of his neck as he unpacked your groceries and laid them out on the kitchen counter in front of you. There were big and round oxheart tomatoes, a net of golden potatoes and various colorful paprikas, accompanied by a fresh baguette and a few boxes of herbs and spices. Over the food, the bottles of wine towered, making you smile.

“I still think two would’ve been enough.” You said teasingly and leaned your head on his shoulder, Jace’s arm naturally sneaking around your waist and pulling you closer.

“I know, but mom drinks white and dad drinks red, so…” He smiled at you, good-heartedly. “I’m not taking any chances tonight.”

You frowned at him. “And the third one?”

“That’s for us later when everyone is gone.” He mumbled promisingly and pecked your temple, his hand briefly sliding lower and over your bum as a pleasant tingle went through you. You looked at him lovingly, your heart melting at your loving boyfriend as if it was the first day…

“Should we start cutting the vegetables and heat the pot and the pan?” You asked him under your breath, your hand running through his hair as he leaned into your touch.

He hummed in agreement, chasing your lips with his own before you organized your purchases and got to work together. The kitchen, unlike the rest of the apartment, was rather tiny, but you liked being close to Jace like this. You never had trouble navigating where the other was, effortlessly falling into a familiar rhythm with each other as you washed the veggies and cut little pieces for the other one to enjoy in between.

When everything was done for now and you still had a little time before Jace’s family would arrive, he cut a few pieces of the baguette for you and sprinkled a couple of roasted tomatoes and herbs over it as a final touch. You hummed happily as you munched on the fresh bruschetta, sitting on the countertop while Jace stood between your thighs and ate his own.

Later this evening, Jace and you sat side by side at the head of the table, surrounded by his siblings and parents. You could not hide your proud blush as everyone enjoyed the hearty stew you had made, Rhaenyra and Harwin having spoken a toast to their son and his lovely girlfriend and the future you built together in your new home.

You gladly refilled their bowls and nearly suffocated at the happiness you felt rushing through you when Jace pulled you to sit on his knees and wound his arms around you, a content smile on his face as his family chatted with each other around him.

“I think we’re good hosts, wouldn’t you agree?” You whispered underneath your breath, your belly warm from the meal you had cooked together.

Jace kissed your cheek, in love and happy and so, so glad to have you by his side. “The best.”

[wrightingdungeon]

Dear Diary

Evelyn and George, I love them so much.

ANGST! GET YOUR ANGST HERE!

POV Evelyn’s Diary - shes 19/20 RN - WILL HAVE TIME SKIPS - None of this is cannon beside pop pop blowing up - BTW George still blows himself up oop - Imagine getting snips of her Diary not the whole book - Im not sorry for how I end this - fight me

I did make a kinda sequel right here featuring Alex a lot more angst over here "The Past Reborn"

"Happy ends"

Today is Spring, 8, 1965.

While working in the clinic today, a miner came in, but he wasn't like the other miners. He almost dropped his cap taking it off while trying to introduce himself. His name is George, and he came in for an injury on his hand. The rope he was holding had slipped from his grip, causing a severe rope burn across his palm.

He apologized for tracking coal dust into the clinic, which no miner has ever apologized for before. I don't think their mothers explained how hard it is to get coal dust out of the bed sheets, but it's my job, so I shouldn't complain much. I just hope George will be okay. I told him he should inform his foreman that it's doctor's orders he not work until his hand heals completely.

Today is Spring, 12, 1965

The doctor was out of town today, having a call outside of town. The clinic ran as usual, although I had to tell some people to return tomorrow to see the doctor. Despite a few cases, today was a good day. Mr. George came back, and his hand has healed phenomenally. It still has a bit more healing to do, but it doesn't look like it will leave a bad scar.

I must admit, when I was holding his hand and inspecting his burn, I couldn't help but feel light-headed. George is not a bad-looking man, and his smile is so kind, His miner's cap always tosses his brown hair, and his eyes always have a twinkle in them. I’m afraid I’m a horrid nurse, feeling these things for someone in my care.

Today is Spring, 20, 1965.

George came by the clinic today. His hand looked better, but that wasn't the reason he came. He brought me a bundle of tulips, thanking me for all the care I had given him. I'm looking at them in my window right now, and I can't help but smile. He is such a kind man. I can't quite figure out how he knew what flowers I fancy, but does that matter? They are so beautiful.

I am sad, though, because George's hand has healed fully, and now he has no reason to come to the clinic. I should be happy—he's healed, and I did my job—but my heart aches knowing I won't see his smile or his twinkling eyes again. Like I said, I must be a horrid nurse.

Today is Summer, 4, 1965

I saw George again today. I was at the market shopping for dinner when I reached for a leek, and my hand touched his. His laughter is much more boisterous than his voice, which was a pleasant surprise. It's nice discovering things about him—he is like a book I don't want to put down.

He offered to cook me dinner as a proper thank you for helping him. I should have said no, but I said yes. Now, I'm sitting here, terrified to go to his home. I've never had anyone other than my mother cook for me. My heart is fluttering.

Today is Summer, 13, 1965

I have heard the number thirteen is unlucky, but I believe it to be lucky. This evening, I heard a knock at my door. It was George, dressed nicely with his hair neatly fixed. He handed me flowers and asked me out to a gridball game.

What do I wear? I want to impress George. I haven't been on a date before.

The date went so well! George's team won, and he was so happy. We got sorbet afterward to celebrate, and George took my hand in his as we walked. I really do believe the number thirteen is lucky.

Today is Summer, 28, 1965

It has been two weeks of me and George going steady, and it feels like a dream. When George finishes his shift in the mines, he comes to the clinic and walks me home. He is such a gentleman, nothing like the other miners I have met. Tonight was just magical. As George walked me to the door, I could tell something was off. His hands sweat when he is nervous, and I swear they were dripping.

He looked at me, his face as red as a beet, and asked if he could kiss me. His lips are soft and warm. It's embarrassing to admit, but his mouth does taste like cigarettes. Oh, I think I am in love, and I don't know what to do.

Today is Winter, 20, 1965

I can't believe it… George asked me out again today. He took me to the cliff to watch the sunset. He was sweating again and refused to look at me. When I asked him what was wrong, he just caged up further. I thought he was breaking up with me, but then he grabbed me as I got up to leave. His words fumbled over each other, and he almost fell over as he rushed to his knee.

George proposed to me. He told me I was the most beautiful woman he had ever met and that he couldn't stop thinking about me since he burned his hand with that rope. I'm so excited—I'm going to be George's wife soon. I just wish Mother was still with me so she could see this.

Today is Fall, 14, 1970

I can't sleep. George had an accident today at the mines. It was terrible; they had to rush him to the city. The doctor sent me home, saying I was a wreck. I can't stop crying, picturing him covered in blood and bruises on the operating table. Someone said he dropped dynamite.

Please, Yoba, don't take my George. After losing my parents, he's all I have. I can't bear to be alone again. He's my everything—the love of my life. The house feels empty without him. Every corner holds memories of him, and I can't imagine life without him.

Yoba, you've always answered my prayers. Please, I was so alone after Mother and Father passed, please don't take him from me as well.

Today is Spring, 2, 1971

They finally allowed George to come home from the hospital, albeit in a wheelchair. But that doesn't matter to me. What matters is that he's home and on the mend. It's a new chapter for both of us, one filled with challenges and uncertainties. Sometimes, George can be a bit rude, but I can see the fear in his eyes.

I made a promise to stand by him no matter what: for better or worse, in sickness and in health, till death do us part. And I intend to keep that promise. I'll be there for George, caring for him and cherishing our time together, no matter what lies ahead.

Today is Winter, 2, 1976

This is a happy day! Me and George weren't sure I could become pregnant, but I am! We are so excited to see our child. George has been working in the nursery non-stop, making sure he can care for our baby, not allowing that wheelchair to stop him.

I have decided on two names: Clara for a daughter and Coy for a son. I don't care what we have; I know they will be perfect.

Today is Summer, 10, 1977

Clara is perfect. With George's rich brown hair and my green eyes, she's a sight to behold. Despite her small stature, her eyes hold the same glimmer of curiosity as her father's. I know she will cause all kinds of trouble as she grows up just like her father.

As I watch George cradle her with such gentleness, his protective gaze never leaving her, and the tears of love that well up in his eyes as he whispers soothing words to her, I'm reminded once again of how blessed I am to have him by my side. In moments like these, it's crystal clear that I've married the most wonderful man.

Today is Summer, 13, 2000

I knew the number thirteen was lucky. Today, our grandson Alex was born. As I held him in my arms, I couldn't help but notice how much he resembled his mother, right down to the tiny button nose that mirrored hers when she was born. George was worried about Clara, complaining that everyone was here to see just Alex and not his baby girl. He has always been such a good father; he will be the best grandfather as well.

Looking at my family as it has grown, I’ve gone from an empty home after my parents passed, to a husband, a daughter, and now a son-in-law and a beautiful grandson. I love my family dearly and can't wait for the years ahead of us.

Fall, 16, 2004 This page is heavily tear stained

We took Alex for the day taking him to the fair as Clara wanted him to experience it. I can't believe we got lucky enough to have Alex… George's scream echoes in my mind… Did he scream with that pain when he was blown up?

We thought the phone call was Clara telling us that they would be late picking up Alex. The phone call shattered our hopes—it was the Zuzu Highway Patrol delivering the tragic news. Clara and her husband are gone… Victims of a drunk driver on the wrong side of the road. They didn't survive.

But we have Alex…. We have to tell our four-year-old grandson he can't go home anymore… He can't see his Mother or Father ever again

Yoba, why didn't you shield them?

[pokemonshelterstories]

Since Furret has only been found in two regions without human intervention, including Sentret, and even then not being found in many areas, would that classify it as endangered with such a low known population? If not, what does it take for a Pokémon species to be classified as endangered?

Question my friend had when I brought Furret up, I still haven't answered him.

sentret and furret are by no means endangered! they have a very specific set of environments that they live in, but in those environments, they're plentiful. being categorized as endangered requires specific conditions set by the IUCN (ranging from extreme population decrease to a limited number of known adults of the species); the main indicator is that the species needs to maintain a certain level of genetic diversity. keep in mind too that "species" refers to all members of an evolutionary line e.g. burmy, mothim, and wormadam are the same species. although furret themselves aren't particularly common in the wild, sentret can be found in a wide number of regions, and even sometimes have mass outbreaks in regions where they aren't native.

to be honest, very few species of pokemon are actively facing endangerment currently. several species previously considered endangered, such as lapras and eevee, have now seen population booms. of the top of my head, one of the more threatened species right now is farfetch'd. this is partly due to overhunting and partly due to development destroying the land where their primary food source- leeks- grows. corsola numbers are also in decline because of a combination of climate change and the introduction of invasive mareanie in some of their native territories. a few other pokemon who have always had naturally low numbers, like kangaskhan, are monitored closely, but seem to be maintaining a stable population.

by the way, if you're interested in learning more about the conservation status of pokemon in your area, i highly recommend reaching out to your local ranger station! part of our work as rangers is to educate and promote conservation efforts, and your local rangers will be able to direct you to ways you can support your local wildlife.

[annaizscribbling]

In which the farmer is not quite human. Pt 2: Willy

Willy pulled his old wool coat a little closer to his chest. That battered old flannel had seen more years than some of the younger folk in town. They just didn’t make coats like that anymore.  The ocean air was bitingly cold. The fish weren’t really biting today, but he’d stay out until dinner time. He wasn’t the type of man to mix up his routine; even when the fish were being stubborn. The ocean never claimed to be predictable, or even kind. It owed him nothing. Willy simply knew how to withstand the tide.

He doesn’t notice the sound of rhythmic footsteps over the crashing waves. The farmer approaches.

“Ahoy there, Lass,” Willy says gruffly, nodding at her as she walks up.

The farmer smiled at him. She wasn’t much of a talker, that girl. Usually, she just nods or shakes her head, unless she’s really got something to say. Her tanned skin and calloused hands echoed her occupation. Through sheer willpower she managed to jumpstart the local economy through her farming, mining, foraging, and of course her fishing. The farmer was a good fisherman. Well. Fisherwoman, he supposed. She recently got hitched to Robin’s son, the sickly lad. They seemed happy though.

 “It’s late,” Willy says, rebaiting his hook for the umpteenth time, “don’t you farmer have to get up early?”

With another smile, the farmer just shrugged. Young people. Never stop long enough to hear themselves think, Willy supposed. Though perhaps the farmer girl wasn’t quite the same.

Another cold breeze swept over the waters. Willy bit back a shiver.

The farmer did not react to the cold. In fact, she was in a thin knit shirt, not equipped with sleeves, and decorated with a pattern reminiscent of a ribcage. That and a pair of baggy cargo pants. It was hardly winter attire. She didn’t have on so much as a hat or a pair of gloves, yet here she was, fishing beside him.

She threw her line in the water, without even baiting it. She just cast her line. Granted, it was excellent cast, going an impressive number of yards out. But still, it was a plain hook. She wouldn’t catch a damn thing.

“Come on, Lass. No bait?” Willy said with a raised an eyebrow.

The farmer stretched her neck, keeping a careful watch on her line. “Forgot it,” she said simply.

Willy shook his head; he’d taught her better than that. Maybe the cold was getting to her head. She was never going to catch any—

The farmer began to get a sharp pull on her line, carefully, masterfully even, she began reeling in a fish with precision. In less than a minute she held aloft an albacore. A massive one.

Willy stared at her.

“… good catch,” Willy said after a long pause.

She just nodded once, before throwing another baitless hook into the water. Willy just watched her, not exactly paying much attention to his own line anymore. Sure, the farmer was an odd little duck, and he was fond of her, but sometimes …

Sometimes he wasn’t so sure what she was. He can only chalk up so many things to the fact she used to be a city girl. City girls don’t spend six hours digging up clay on the beach for no apparent reason. They don’t fell half a forest in an afternoon, or remain forever untouched by the elements or fatigue. Harvey once told him at Gus’s that occasionally she’ll collapse in the mines, covered in slime and monster blood. She’ll return in the morning more often than not. It’s the only time either of them had ever seen her anything other than wide awake and energized,

Willy snaps out of his thoughts when he sees her rummaging in her bag out of the corner of his eyes. The farmer pulls out an uncovered bowl of soup and a raw leek. She quickly devours both things. Willy doesn’t ask any questions. If there are answers to be given, it isn’t his business.

They fish in silence, with Willy scoring a catch and the farmer catching six more fish of her own.

He’s done asking questions. She’s a great fishing companion. She respects the water. Willy’s leaving it there.

Part one

[kaeyahiya]

Alhaitham NSFW Headcannons

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Pairing: Alhaitham x (GN) Reader

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, use of strong language, mentions of marking, mentions of aftercare

Disclaimer: This is intended for adult viewing and I'm actively discouraging minors from interacting. I have plenty of other SFW content on my master list so please check that out instead

Word count: 587

Authors note: Y'all need to understand Kaeya is Number 1 in my heart but for the moment I saw this man's leeks before he even came out I was in lust. I want this man 🛐 Despite this, this is still pretty vanilla, since I haven't written NSFW in a minute. Anyway Hoyoverse had no right to make this man sexy but I love them for doing so. Please enjoy my self-indulgence. (I also posted this @ work so I apologize if there are any spelling errors)

Reminder that my ask box is open, so that means requests are open! Feel free to drop one ❤️

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Ah Alhaitham, the brains of a scholar, the body of an Archon, and the hands of a scribe.

If only he weren't so oblivious to every advance you try and make on him in the book

Seriously it takes him forever to get the hint that you wanna sleep with him

He's not exactly known for his social cues, but until you directly approach him and say "Hey please have sex with me" he won't cross any boundaries

We love a oblivious but respect king

God the second he gets though, his eyes sharpen and immediately pounces on you

He loves find your weak spots when you guy's fuck

His favorite one is your neck, he has a habit of absolutely making it leaving dark purple hickies wherever you can

He also enjoys watching you try and hide them the next day

Though Alhaitham is described as a workaholic with little to no regards to others, you are pleasantly surprised when he offers to go down on you

He'll definitely take his time making his way there though

Stripping you

Peppering kisses across you chest

Then your stomach

Then he spends a long time leaving hickies on your thighs

He's a huge tease is what I'm trying to say

Once he finally reaches your sex, he'll go down on you like a stranger man though

You, naturally, thread your fingers through his hair and when you do

Holy shit when you do he let's out a soft moan

And makes FUCKING EYE CONTACT WITH YOU

I eat that shit up aaaaa

He'll bring you close to the edge and then rip your high away from you

He will do this several times so do be prepared for that

"I want you to cum, but I want it to be with me inside you"

He's so hot you can't argue as he gives you one more teasing blow to your sex

Finally at long last his sheds his own clothing

I mentioned his body earlier but seeing it bare before you is like a spiritual experience

His abs, his tiny scars, his hands, his toned legs, his dick

You take it all in for a moment

His dick isn't huge it'd say a little above average but it is girthy and for a moment you worry how it's gonna fit

He says there's no need for you to go down on him at this point

You can tell his ready by the precum already leaking from the head

It's hot that going down on you made him this worked up

I will say he does make sure you're properly prepared before finally sliding into you

His favorite positions are missionary, laps thrusting and doggy

He's not very vocal during sex but once he gets close he will let out tiny gasps and whines

Which is both adorable and incredibly attractive getting a man of his demeanor to get that desperate

You'll know he's close when he whines and comes in for a desperate make out

He'll still prioritize your pleasure and make sure you cum before he does

When he comes he sighs and definitely gets this fucked out look on his face

Aftercare happens but it's Alhaitham, so it doesn't really involve cuddling or showering you with praise

It's more like helping clean yourself up and get you some water after sex, making sure your not in any pain

Whether it be a one night stand or a quicky he'll still care about all of that stuff

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Reminder that my request are open; so if you enjoyed please feel free to leave me a request ❤️ and if you really really enjoy feel free to leave me a tip! Totally optional and not obligated to do so at all 🫦

[littleguyzdaily]

Little guy number 127-133: happy birthday mikuu!!

I drew her and cinna 2gether and put them in a photo frame :3c

And then i put that photo in the miku shrine 🤗

While im at it, i might aswell show u some other thingz i made 4 the shrine (instead of consistently posting here. See, my absence waz 4 a gud cause)

We got a box (dont store liquidz in it coz it will leek)

And a message <3

And finally some flowerz that i spent a decade painting (the eyez r a reminder that miku iz alwayz watching ♥️♥️♥️ how kind of her)

[sitp-recs]

I just finished a great romcom and now Im wondering do you have Drarry recs that are romcom-y? It doesnt have to explicitly labeled as such but just a vibe...you know that after a serious of little hick ups and An Airport Run for True Love a pop banger playing in the background vibe :D

Hi anon! Oh that’s such an exciting ask, I’ve had lots of fun thinking about this one. I feel like I haven’t read enough romcom, would love to explore this genre further. I hope you enjoy these!

Mad Blood Stirring by provocative_envy (E, 3k) - Hockey AU

It's not like they've been angrily hooking up on the sly since meeting at a Juniors skills camp in fucking Manitoba four years ago, except that's exactly what they've been doing.

Burning Down the House by @peachpety (M, 4k)

Harry is happy as editor-in-chief of The Quibbler. From planning to printing, design to deadlines, he enjoys being in the hot seat. And after vanquishing Voldemort, managing fires is an easy part of the job. Until his scorching crush on his impeccably dressed fashion editor flares out of control, and he's forced to face actual fires.

Per my last letter (I hope you choke on it) by @fluxweeed and @lastontheboat (T, 10k)

Or: the one where Harry has writer’s block and Malfoy isn’t helping.

Love, Actually, is All Around by @punk-rock-yuppie (T, 10k)

It's Christmastime, and Harry has just started as the new Minister of Magic. It just so happens that Draco works in his office as well, a holdover from Kingsley's tenure. Naturally, love is in the air.

Title of Their Sex Tape by @cibeewastaken (T, 12k)

What are the Wizarding world's most elite law enforcers doing when they aren't catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter's mouth when he's mid-yawn. This story isn't about Draco throwing food at Harry. What it does have is: Undercover! Heists! Draco pining for Harry! Harry being oblivious, but also can't help noticing how good Draco smells! Banters and jokes! That's about it.

Crash (Into Me) by @sweet-s0rr0w (T, 14k)

Harry’s done plenty of ridiculous things for charity over the years, but Robards’ latest scheme really takes the biscuit. Or rather, the teacake. Good job Malfoy’s there to suffer alongside him this time, eh?

Yours Truly by @skeptiquewrites (M, 15k)

Every single one of Harry’s exes has gone on to marry the next person they date, and with the upcoming nuptials of numbers six and seven to each other, Harry’s feeling exhausted by it all. It doesn’t really matter if he lets people assume Draco Malfoy is his boyfriend for a moment of peace. In any case, Draco’s been away for five years and there’s no way he would find out, right?

The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by @cibeewastaken (T, 19k)

Draco could grab Potter and shove him into a stall before proceeding to suck his soul out of his dick, but secretly, deep down, in the part of Draco that he will never admit to anyone, he is (everyone pauses to shudder) a romantic. Potter is not someone Draco wants a one-off with. Potter is — Draco’s beloved!

Jumeaux by VivacissimoVoce (M, 19k)

Draco and Blaise own and operate a luxury spa resort together, and the Ministry's Auror department has scheduled a full service three-day retreat. Guess who's on the guest list?

Little Red Courgette by @blamebrampton (T, 31k)

When this season's purple courgettes are woefully thin, Draco Malfoy thinks it amounts to small beans. Next thing he knows, the Department of Standards is over-run with leeks, Brussels sprouts all sorts of legislative difficulties, and somebody appears to have put a roquette under Harry Potter. Can Draco seize a marrow victory? Or will his plans for peas be squashed?

The Four Ds of Apparition (or: Destination, Determination, Deliberation, and Dicks) by eidheann, firethesound (E, 36k)

After transferring to the Apparition Department, Harry's life becomes one big dick joke. And all his friends are arseholes. So is Malfoy, but what else is new? AKA Harry Potter and the eighteen twenty dicks.

Rookie Moves by peu_a_peu (E, 75k)

Aurors Potter and Malfoy crack the case.

Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats (E, 104k)

Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

[nonagesiiiimus]

eden's tlt reread: GTN, chapter one (pgs. 15-24)

before i really get into it, there's a few things i'm going to try and track throughout this reread (with some color coding, ooh): for right now, i'd like to start with words i had to look up, references to threes or other significant numbers, physical structure of the settings, and foreshadowing. i'll probably add some more things to track as i go.

interlude: on the Ninth House's layout

briefly, i want to talk about the description and structure of the Ninth house. we get some descriptions on pgs 15- 17, and 23 in the first chapter, with more peppered throughout the book. Gideon says that "this late in the equinox no light would make it [to the Ninth] for months", which puts the Ninth on the far reaches of the solar system (pg. 15). based on the rest of the description: no atmosphere of its own, rocky, freezing cold, it's easy to say this is Pluto. there's a quote later in the book when they are on the First and Gideon is confused by the nighttime that confirms this: “Griddle,” she said, “this planet spins much faster than ours.” At Gideon’s continued blank expression: “It’s night, you tool” (pg 86). one day on Pluto is equal to a week on Earth, so it makes sense for her to be confused about this new circadian rhythm.

now, for the structure of the ninth: it's pretty straightforwardly a tunnel down the center of the planet, with offshoots and balconies facing inward of the tunnel: "the Ninth was an enormous hole cracked vertically into the planet's core, and the prison a bubble installation set halfway up into the atmosphere where the living conditions were probably a hell of a lot more clement" (p. 23). clement = mild, merciful. there seems to be a first floor/ main bottom layer, where the "cold white doors of Castle Drearburh" are set (p. 16). we can assume as well that the tomb is also in the Castle Drearburh, along with the church. there seems to be different tiers cut into the tunnel that are living quarters and other rooms, and a splitoff point that leads out towards the landing pad: "Leaving her cell and swinging her pack over one shoulder, she took the time to walk down five flights to her mother's nameless catacomb niche [...] then came the long hike up twenty-two flights the back way [...] heading to the splitoff shaft and the pit where her ride would arrive" (p. 15). they must be pretty significant structures built into the surrounding walls of the drillshaft. this is emphasized by a later quote that says "They hadn't managed to cozen [Giden] inside Drearburh for a good two years", meaning Gideon must have had no reason to go into Drearburh for all that time- her living quarters and spaces are all separate of the castle (p.36). the landing field for the shuttle seems to be up the splitoff shaft really high up, on a terrace above all the living quarters (but not above the snow leek fields, which must be on the highest terrace?)

back to regularly scheduled c1 thoughts

~ chapter one ~

a wee bit of foreshadowing here: "Gideon never ran unless she had to", first appearing on the very first page of GTN, only to reappear later when Dulcinea/Cytherea faints at Canaan House!

the use of would instead of could in this quote: "her mother hadn't been in there since Gideon was little and would never go back in it now" (p.15): idk if this is anything, but to me it emphasizes Wake's willfull spirit.

first mention of frontline titties of the fifth on pg. 18 in talking with Crux!

the interaction with Crux is so sick and twisted and gross but also some of the first we get to see of Gideon's banter and personality. i also personally love the descriptors tamsyn uses for Crux's speech: bubbles, croaks, gurgles. it's gross and perfect

Crux says, "one day we will use your parts for paper" (p.19). this brings up one of my biggest and most longstanding questions: what is flimsy, and what is the deal with organic material in the Dominicus system? tamsyn muir has confirmed that flimsy itself is an oil-based paper akin to a plastic film, but this topic is deserving of its own post later on because i have a lot of thoughts. however, harrow later has a journal that has a cover of "tanned human leather" (pg. 146). yuck. maybe both are used? maybe the oil that flimsy is made of is derivative of humans fat? ew.

"You talk so loudly for chattel, Nav" (p. 18). chattel= n enslaved person held as the legal property of another, a bondsman

"Gideon was home free. Gideon was gone" (p. 20). this made me laugh because of a joke from HTN: when Augustine tells Harrow that if he wants Ortus the First to go, “he’ll be giddy-gone", which i unfortunately don't have the page number for but is funny to me here when reflecting. gideon, giddy-gone!

"[Aiglamene] simply backhanded Gideon the way you might hit a barking animal" (p. 21). this line breaks my heart every single time. gideon is striving so desperately for agency in this moment, and is so discounted even by the one person who she feels might be slightly looking out for her. aiglamene asking "will you disgrace me?" right after this also stings Gideon and stings me- it's an ask for obedience that i just despise on contact.

"sin of perfidy": perfidy = disloyalty, deceitfulness, a deliberate betrayal of trust. the highest sin in Aiglamene's eyes.

another quote that rips my heart out: : "Nobody had ever loved [Gideon] in the house of the Ninth" (p. 22). brb, crying my eyes out.

FIRST COMMANDER WAKE MENTION! pg. 23 tells the story of Wake tumbling down the drillshaft and landing brain dead in a hazmat suit, with one-day old Gideon in a bio-container plugged into the suit. there's a fabulous quote here that says "she was too far gone by the time the exhausted nuns had tethered her by force, as though death had been the catalyst for the woman to hit the ground running, and they only got one word out of her: she had screamed Gideon! Gideon! Gideon! three times, and fled" (p. 23). not only do we see the foreshadowed antics of Commander Wake's spirit here, but we also see one of our first references to the number 3. threes become pretty important and reoccuring in this book, for reasons that i think require their own post.

one other number thing: this is gideon's 87th attempt at escape. 87 could also be a significant number, which may requires its own post on my part. harrow is the 87th reverend mother, there's gideon's 87 attempts. maybe this is a thin thread, but someone posted in this reddit thread that it could be a reference to Judges 8:7:

Then Gideon replied, “Just for that, when the Lord has given Zebah and Zalmunna into my hand, I will tear your flesh with desert thorns and briers.

it makes sense with Gideon's name referencing the demise of someone else, as Tamsyn helpfully addended, but it might be too thin of a theory.

this concludes my thoughts on chapter one! super excited to keep rolling on this deep dive.