#tagging outside of my natural habitat is like -_-

[inkskinned]

most writing advice is good as long as you know why it is good, at which point it is also bad. the hardest thing (and most precious thing) about being an artist is that you gotta learn how to take critique. i don't mean "just shut up and accept that people hate your work," i mean you need to learn what the critique is saying and then figure out if it actually helps.

i usually tell people reading my work: "i'm collecting data, so everything is useful." i ask them where they put the book down, even though it's too long for most people to read in 1 sitting. i ask them what they thought of certain characters. i let them tell me it was really good but i like it more when they look a little stunned and say i forgot i was reading your book, which means they forgot i exist, which is very good news.

sometimes people i didn't ask will read my work and tell me i don't like it. and that is okay, you don't have to like it. but i look at the thing that they don't like and try to figure out if i care. i don't like that you don't capitalize. this one is common, and i have already thought about it. i do not care, it's because of chronic pain and frankly i like the little shape of small letters. you use teeth and ribs in all your work. actually that is very true. i don't know what's up with that. next time i will work to figure out a different word, thank you. you're whiny, go outside. someone said that to me recently and it made me laugh. i am on the whine-about-it website as an internet poet. you are in my native habitat, watching me perform a natural enrichment behavior. but i like the dip of whiny, how the word itself does "whine" (up/down, the sound out your nose on the y), but i don't know if i want to feel whiny. maybe next time i will work on it being melancholy, like what you would call a male writer's poetry.

repeated "good" advice clangs in a bell and doesn't hold a real shape, dilutes in the water. like sometimes you will hear "don't use said." you turn that around in your head and it bounces off the edges of your brain like it is a dvd screensaver. it isn't bad advice, but it feels wrong somehow, like saying easy choices are illegal! sometimes i will only use "said." sometimes i will just kick dialogue tags out to the trash. sometimes i make little love poems where the fact that i do not say "said" is very bad, and makes you feel bad in your body, because someone didn't say something. i am a contrary little shitbird, i guess.

but it is also good advice, actually. it is trying to say that "said" sometimes is clutter. it makes new writers think about the very-small words and very-small choices, because actually your work matters and wordchoice matters. "i know," you said. "i know," you sighed. "i know." we both know but neither of us use a dialogue tag, because we are in a contemporary lit piece.

it is too-small to say don't use said. but it is a big command, so it gets your attention. what are you relying on? what easy choices do you make? when you edit, do you choose the same thing? can you make a different choice? sometimes we need the blankness of said, how it slides into the background. sometimes we don't.

i usually say best advice is to read, but i also mean read books you don't like, because that will make you angry enough to write your own book. i also mean read good books, which will break your heart and remind you that you are a very small person and your voice is a seashell. i also mean you need to eat books because reading a book is a writer's version of studying.

my creative writing teacher in the 7th grade had a big red list of no! words and on it was SUNSET. RAZORS. LOVE. GALAXY. DEATH. BLOOD. PAIN. I liked that razor and love were tucked next to each other like birds, and found it funny that he believed we were too young to know the weight of razor in the context of pain. i hated him and his Grateful Dead belt, where the colored teddy bears held up his appraisal of us. i hated his no list. it is very good/bad advice. i wasn't old enough yet to know that when you are writing about death you are also writing about sunsets and when you write about love you are tucking yourself into a napkin that never stops folding.

back then my poetry was all bloody, dripped with agony when you picked it up. i didn't know there is nothing beautiful about a razor, nothing exciting about pain. i just understood sharpness, which he took to mean i understood nothing. i wrote the razor down and it wasn't easy, but it was necessary. that's what i'm saying - sometimes it's good advice, because it's not always necessary. and sometimes it is very bad advice, because writing about it is lifesaving.

hang on my dog was just having a nightmare. i heard that it is a rule not to write about dogs - in my creative writing mfa, my teacher rolled her eyes and said everyone writes a dead dog. the literature streets are littered in canine bodies. i watched the rise and fall of his ribs (there is that word again) and had to reach out and stop the bad dream. when he woke up he didn't recognize me, and he was afraid.

it is good/bad advice to say that poems and writing have to mean something. it is bad/good advice to say they're big feelings in small packages. it is better advice to say that when my dog saw where he was, he relaxed immediately, rubbed his face against me. someone on instagram would make fun of that moment by writing their "internet poetry" as a sentence that tumbles across a white page: outside it is sunset and my dog is still in a gutter, bleeding a galaxy out of his left paw. or maybe it would be: i woke the dog up/the dog forgot i loved him/and i saw the shape of a senseless/and impossible pain.

the dog is alive in this one, and he is happy. when i tell you i love you, i know what i said. write what you need to write, be gentle to yourself about it. the advice is only as good as far as it helps. the rest is just fencing. take stock of the boundaries, and then break them. there's always somewhere else you could be growing.

i love you, keep going.

[kabr0ztrousers]

Let me start off by saying that everything I've read from you so far has been amazing! Ok so I used to be terrified of clowns but now I adore them. Fem reader who is scared of clowns and super timid gets dragged to a fair by a friend. One of the clowns notices and tries to cheer her up maybe tripping over himself and just being goofy. He takes her to a tent and fucks her with his other clown friends showing her there's no reasons to fear clowns. Super fluffy please!

Kabr0z Writes Episode 37: Coulrophilia

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: Clowns; intox; group sex; enthusiastic consent;

A/N: Clowns aren't a thing I naturally find sexy, so we'll see how this one goes. Thanks for the request either way!

There's 4 or 5 stories to get through before the ask box empties out, so please if you have a request or an idea, send an ask or a DM and it'll get added to the pile!

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If there's one thing that's always made your skin crawl, it's clowns. Not that there weren't things that didn't scare you otherwise, you've never quite had a head for heights and spiders can just generally do one, but clowns always made you uneasy. That said, here you were at the circus. Primary habitat of your natural enemy. Your friends had convinced you to tag along, placating you that it'd be fun and you wouldn't even see a clown unless you went into the big top.

They lied, of course. The place was crawling with clowns, seemingly everywhere you looked there were at least two or three. That along with your friends having disappeared almost as soon as you passed the ticket booth, you weren't having the best of times.

Something honked behind you. You tried to ignore it, but it honked again. One of those pale-faced freaks trying to get your attention. You turned to tell them to kindly sod off or point you to the exit.

The clown wasn't there, then another honk came from behind you. You turned again, still no clown. Another honk-honk. You quarter-turned, then shot back in time to see a young man with a greasepaint grin pratfall on front of you. You stifled a chuckle as the man feigned trying to get up a couple of times, each time comically failing in more audacious ways until with an impressive backflip, he landed on his feet, swaying dramatically.

"Well hel-lo there ma'am" His over-pronounced southern drawl was a bit much, but fit the vibe "Are ya havin' a good time?"

You smiled at him, "I'm not much for circuses, and I've lost my friends"

The clown mock-cried when you told him your predicament, pulling hanky after hanky out of his sleeves and dabbing at his eyes "Well, can't have that, can we? Would a balloon pal make it better?" Before you could respond he was already halfway through making a poodle from a long balloon, what could you do but accept it?

"What ya' gonna name him?"

"Squeak!" The name popped into your head. You noticed you're smiling now, the clown noticed it too

"That's a good name" he gave an exaggerated nod "Tell you what, I'll put out some feelers to find your pals, 'til then, would ya like to meet mine?"

You smiled and nodded. The clown produced a hobby horse from the baggy silks of his outfit and 'mounted' it "Well, just follow me, the Clown Ranger!" He galloped off, but not so fast you couldn't stay on his tails as he guided you through the throngs of people, pausing every so often to pull an attendant's ear or dazzle someone with a quick card trick.

Deeper and deeper into the circus you went, the music of the calliope organ getting louder as you drew towards the tents in the middle. The clown lifted a tent flap and motioned inside"After you, Mon Ami"

You stepped in, and blanched. If you thought outside was bad, this was clown central. Literally. A man on stilts was holding a clipboard, calling out commands to the garishly painted mob below, who was needed where, what tent needed a moment to set something up, whose act had gone awry and clowns had to pick up the slack. Your clown cowboy was behind you, fastening the flap back up and motioned to the stilted one.

The chief clown bent down to listen, perfectly balanced even though the stilts were as long as you were tall. He was dressed in black and white with a perfectly even white face besides a pair of exaggerated red lips and gleaming red nose. The lead clown nodded and leant down to you, he spoke with a faint French accent "So, you have lost your fellows, yes? Please tell me what they look like, we will let them know where you are"

You gave a description to the clown, who reared up and called it to the arrayed fools, buffoons and jesters before coming back to you "You are welcome to wait in here, Ranger Rick will keep you company. Enjoy!"

Your newfound clown friend took your hand and swept you to a quiet part of the tent "This is the green room," the accent was gone now, "a bit quieter for you. Wanna see some magic?"

You nodded and the clown grabbed a deck of cards, dazzling you with his sleight of hand, occasionally seeming to screw up a trick to make you laugh before pulling your card or a coin from somewhere seemingly impossible

A couple more clowns stepped into the room and joined in the fun, before long you were in tears of laughter as they riffed off one another.

The night dragged on, and your friends weren't found, the clowns reckoned they'd probably left the circus already. You couldn't help but feel bummed out at that, seeing as they dragged you there to begin with. It was only you, your cowboy and two others in the room, the cacophony from outside dying down.

You and the clowns were sat on some benches, passing around a hip flask, enjoying your own private after-party. The men in front of you were still cracking jokes, though the more they drank the bawdier they got. After recovering from a particularly vile gag about a priest, a nun, and a donkey, you felt butterflies in your stomach. Whatever was in the flask was strong. You'd always had a weakness for a man who could make you laugh, and you were always a bit too easy when you'd had a few drinks.

You budged up to the Clown Ranger, putting your arm behind him and giving an experimental pat on his ass. It was a lot firmer than those oversized trousers gave him credit for. You saw him blush a little despite his makeup as he looked bashfully away from you.

The other clowns noticed "Oi, oi! The cowboy's pulled!" The one on your left called out, thumbs in his suspenders, bowler hat perched on his head. The other just gave a deep belly laugh "He gets all the ladies, never any for us Bozos!"

You cocked an eyebrow at the one in the hat, then the other "You know, I've never had a four-way before..." You spoke as sweetly as you could, the liquor wasn't making it easy to mask your desire for the men around you.

The clowns looked at one another, speechless for the first time in the night. You blushed hard and hunched your shoulders, certain you'd killed the mood. You stood up to leave before you made a bigger fool of yourself.

You stopped when you saw the looks in their eyes. They were all trying to figure out if you were serious, or if you were just joking. You paused to make sure, and certain enough you could feel the desire in the looks they gave you.

Sod it.

You kissed the cowboy. Dragging him to his feet by his comedic lapels. He kissed back, one hand on your back, unfastening your bra through your shirt, the other gripping your ass.

The other two were standing too now, stroking your body as they gently undressed you. Button by button they unfastened your blouse, letting it fall to the sawdust floor before sliding off your bra, leaving you topless as you enjoyed the attention of the three men worshipping your body. You unbuttoned the cowboy's waistband and his pants fell, revealing white boxers patterned with love hearts, which you opened to pull out his cock. It was already rock hard in your hand, thick and uncircumcised. You started with the balls, licking and sucking them before licking all the way to the tip of his cock, savoring the scent of it as you went. The other two followed suit and exposed themselves to you. A cock in each hand and one in your mouth, you sucked and jerked them. All three men were panting over you as you went, feeling your wetness dripping from you and soaking into your underwear. You're glad you wore a skirt, your jeans would be ruined by now.

You pulled off your soaked panties and stood back up, still facing your cowboy as you pushed him back down onto the bench behind him before mounting him. His cock was throbbing against you as you rubbed it against your clit, coating it with your wetness before lining it up and sitting down on it.

He whimpered as it went in, the look of bliss on his face clashing with the painted rictus grin. The one in the hat held his cock beside you. You turned your head to suck it as you rode your cowboy, presenting your asshole to the final clown behind you.

You're not sure where he got a bottle of lube from, but you're glad he had it. The clown in your rear was the biggest of the three, gently pushing it in, stretching you out as you felt the two cocks frotting against one another inside you.

Hands were on every inch of you, your tits, your waist, the sides of your head, your own were busy on your clit and teasing the balls of the one in your mouth.

Your orgasm came easily, quickly followed by another and another, groans muffled by the cock you were sucking on as you buried the cock below you in your pussy. The cowboy must've felt it, you could feel him start to pulse and paint your cunt with his cum. You took the cock out of your mouth to pull his head to yours and kiss him as he dumped his load, pushing your tongue into his mouth. Next was the one in your ass, pushing himself deep into you before releasing into your guts, gripping your tits and squeezing as the last few humps exhausted him.

Finally the one in the hat brought himself off over your face. You opened your mouth to catch as much as you could, but you couldn't help loving the feeling of his cum spattering across your face in hot ropes.

You stayed for a moment, panting and sweating. Feeling the men going soft in you as their juices gently leaked out of you.

Then the one in the hat gave you a handkerchief. Then another. Then another.

"Sorry, they're all tied together"

##############################

Pleasant clown gangbang. More plot that I expected, less than I could've done.

Once again, if you have a request, an idea, a fetish, whatever, drop an ask. As long as it's within the very minimal boundaries in my pinned, it'll probably get written, completely free of charge! It's literally a free commission!

One last note: I did a surprising amount of research on clown makeup for this, it's a fascinating world as it turns out, but cut most of it to avoid writing a treatise on clowning. Ah, well, maybe one day

[keyboardsmashess]

The Siren, or The Heart of the Matter

Chapter Fifteen: The Name, or A Return to My Natural Habitat

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings: language, eventual smut, fluff, angst, canon-typical violence MINORS DNI. A/N: This chapter is a shortie, but I made up for it by drawing the Siren Suit (which some of you may have already seen released as bonus content earlier today). Cleo's first fight scene is coming soon!

Summary: Cleo gets called off the bench.

Chapter Directory

I’m waiting by the door for Steve, dressed and ready for our run. Thanks to Barnes and the fucking spider, I didn’t end up sleeping a wink, so I did some stress shopping and had JARVIS deliver me a new pair of running shoes. My old pair were definitely not built for anything more than occasional jogs, so I decided it was time to splurge on something that could withstand my new, much higher speeds.

Strangely, I’m actually starting to look forward to the time with Steve and the freedom I feel when my body hits a certain point in the run. I’d always thought endorphins were a myth, but I guess I was wrong. If teen Cleo could see me now, she’d probably vomit.

Finally I hear a knock, and I’m talking before I even have the door open.

“Stevie, I got new shoes and think I might actually outrun you in these babie- oh.” I cut myself off with a shocked huff of air.

Barnes stands in the hallway alone, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear he looks nervous. ��Hey.”

I stay in the doorway. “Hey?”

He scratches at his neck. “Steve had a mission this morning with Nat and Clint, so he asked me to tag in for him.”

“Oh, okay,” I say lamely, stepping into the hallway and letting my door close behind me. “I can go alone, though, if you have better things to do.”

He looks up at the ceiling, hands stuffed in the pockets of his joggers and not meeting my eyes. “Well, I actually thought we could go to the park? I figured you might want to get outside. But if you don’t want to, that’s fine - I can just - ”

I interrupt. “Gods, yes, the park sounds amazing. Thank you.”

Barnes nods decisively and, without another word, turns and heads for the stairs. I shake my head and follow him, wondering what exactly I’m getting myself into.

He stops when we get to the lobby of the Tower, holding out a black baseball hat, and I look up at him. “Do you really think this is going to be effective? They already have my fucking student ID photo.”

He puts his own on. “I’m telling you, it works. My run, my rules.”

I roll my eyes, but I put on the damn hat and we make our way to Central Park side by side at a light jog. Barnes picks up the pace once we enter the park, and we run in amicable silence for a bit. It’s honestly really nice, just being outside with him like this. When he isn’t absolutely infuriating me, Barnes has a stillness to him that’s almost soothing, and I find myself relaxing in his presence.

After a while, I feel the weight of his gaze. I meet his eyes and smirk. “See something you like, Grumpy Smurf?”

His expression morphs into a scowl, but he says nothing. I hum, examining him for a moment as we run. 

“What?” he snaps, but there’s no real bite.

I put my finger to my lips like I’m studying a painting, almost missing the way he tracks the movement. His throat bobs, but I move past it. “You said something about my ‘snide nicknames’ for you last night, so I’m trying to come up with a new one.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh, not this again. I told you to call me whatever the hell you want.”

“Well, I don’t like the way calling you Barnes makes me feel like we’re colleagues at a Fortune 500 company, so that’s out. You’ve never liked Man Bun, either…” I think for a moment, drawing out the process. “What about Ferdinand? You look like you could be a Ferdinand.”

He narrows his eyes at me, mouth agape. “What - where did that even come from?”

I shrug. “Where does anything come from?” He shakes his head, looking forward at the path, and picks up the pace of our run. I don’t let it deter me. “We could go formal - maybe that’s more your style? I’m vetoing The Winter Soldier because it’s a fucking mouthful.” I look up at him. “What about Sergeant Barnes?”

He makes a strangled sound at the back of his throat, and he stumbles a bit before picking up the pace yet again. “No. No way, not that one.”

I throw my hands up. “I’m getting all negativity and no help, here, dude. I’m running out of ideas!”

Barnes runs a hand over his face before finally meeting my eyes. “For fuck’s sake, Cleo, why does it matter so much?” I study him for a full minute, thinking, and he forces his gaze back to the path ahead. “What?” he snips when the silence apparently becomes too loud.

“I’m just deciding if I want to be honest or snarky.” My voice comes out quieter, more sincere, and with none of the humor or bravado I intended. I clear my throat and decide I may as well go with it. “My dad,” I start, noting the way his eyebrows furrow - he wasn’t expecting this. “He used to say that names have power - that they’re like spells we cast into the world to introduce our own particular magic. I…” I trail off and look away, but I’m already in for a penny at this point so I may as well throw the whole pound after it. “I just thought that with everything in your - your history, you’d want to be the one who decides what spell you cast.”

Time seems to stand still as he takes this in, and his face softens millimeters at a time, moving through surprise to contemplation and landing on something I swear looks a little like fondness. He slows just a bit, and I match him. His voice is rough when he finally speaks. “In that case,” he murmurs, “Bucky’s fine.” I smile, nodding in satisfaction, but he surprises me by continuing. “Or if you want, you… you could call me James, sometimes, too.”

I look down at the pavement, hoping he won’t notice the way my cheeks are burning. “Okay,” I all but whisper.

We run a few more paces in silence, before I speak up. “Hey, James?” He freezes, and the look on his face pools like liquid gold in my belly. “Thanks.” He nods once, and we keep running.

******

We’re maybe three blocks from the Tower when my phone rings.

“Tony? We’re almost back, if you can just - ”

“Are you with Barnes? Put me on speaker.”

I look sidelong at him and do as Tony says. “Okay, you’ve got us both.”

There’s a loud crash in the background. “Shit. Alright, we’ve got a little bit of a situation and - Banner, how many times do I have to tell you it’s the other fucking button - listen, I need you to haul ass back here. Get ready for some action.”

We both pick up speed as Bucky takes the phone. “What kind of action, Stark?”

A small explosion comes through the speaker. “Turn it - TURN IT OFF! Sorry, multitasking. I don’t know, grandpa - the bad kind? Some nut job is holding people hostage, and apparently he’s our type of crazy. Just get back as quickly as you can. I’m about to head out; you can meet me there.”

Bucky’s face is a mask of hard determination. “We’ll be there in two minutes.”

“Great,” Stark says. “We’re keeping the Big Guy on reserve, so the Doc will be on coms if you need anything.” Bucky hums an affirmative, and Tony continues. “Lite Brite? You still there?”

“I’m here, but don’t worry about me - you guys just focus on the mission. Maybe I can help Bruce out on coms.”

I hear the sound of a few switches being flipped, and then Tony laughs - a manic, triumphant sound. “I actually had a different idea. I’ve been working on a secret project that I finished about… oh, four seconds ago, and I thought you might like to take it out for a field test.”

I meet Bucky’s eyes, his look of confusion mirroring my own. “What are you talking about, Tony?”

I can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice through the phone. “I think it’s time for the world to meet The Siren.”

******

I don’t exactly have much time to admire my suit, but even in my haste, I can tell it is a work of art. Damn it if Tony Stark isn’t the best at what he does. Bruce meets us in the lobby of the Tower with our gear, and Bucky runs into an empty office to change. Instead of doing the same, I shock Bruce by slipping on the simple black spandex base layer under my dress right there in the lobby before removing it and handing it to him with my cardigan.

I turn to the suit. The pants look loose, almost like sweats, but Bruce grins. “Just put them on, trust me.”

The second I pull them on, the interlocking dark teal scales start to ripple like waves. In a few short moments, the thick, flexible chainmail-like material knits together until it’s molded to my body, and the bronze metal side panels click into place.

I look to Bruce, wide-eyed. “Trust you. Right. Remind me to do that more often.”

I grab the shirt next. The bottom layer is sea-green and made of the same material as the pants, with hard golden bracers on each forearm. A toga-like top layer flows down from shell-shaped gold fasteners at the shoulders, and the silky material is gathered to the side with a gold button. My crystal is framed by the v-shaped neckline, and I smile when I remember Tony telling me that I looked ‘becoming’ with it exposed. The top also tightens itself into a skintight layer as soon as I slip it on, leaving me covered in thick, flexible, near-indestructible material in a matter of seconds.

Bruce nods to the top layer. “That’s a new material Tony and I have been working on. It’s designed to gather and store kinetic energy from your movements. Theoretically, you should be able to pull that energy and channel it into your powers, making you stronger and more precise.” I grin at him and rotate my torso, testing out the feel of it. “We’re calling it Sirensilk,” he smiles.

 Last, I slip on the brown boots.

“Click your heels together,” Bruce tells me. 

“What am I, going home from Oz?”

He taps his wrist impatiently. “Just do it, Dorothy.”

I roll my eyes, but click my heels together as instructed. The laces of the boots tighten on their own, and hard bronze greaves click up and into place over my shins, stopping just beneath my knees. 

There obviously isn’t a lot of time to talk fashion, but as I examine myself in the reflection of the floor-to-ceiling windows, it’s clear that the design was heavily influenced by one of my favorite paintings of a siren from Greek mythology. I’d shown Clint after he’d expressed an interest in Greek myths in the debriefing, and he must have passed it along to Tony at some point. The scaled armor pants resemble the siren’s fishtails, and the shell-shaped fasteners are a nod to the sea. The outer layer of the top looks like the tunic she wears, and the bracers and greaves remind me of some drawings of Greek battle armor. The only thing missing is a nod to her wings. I make a mental note to thank Clint profusely for helping, because Tony Stark - the man who designed a gaudy red and gold robot suit - did not come up with this on his own.

Bucky exits the empty office in his all-black tactical gear, doing a double-take when he spots me in my suit. His mouth is slightly agape, and I grin at his surprise. “I look pretty cool, don’t I?”

His eyes flick up to meet mine and he snaps his mouth shut. “Y-yeah, you do. Yes. Look pretty. Pretty cool! The suit is cool, I mean. Tony did good.”

Bruce chuckles and my eyebrows furrow, but Bucky just squeezes his eyes shut for a moment and then heads for the exit, giving me no choice but to follow.

Bruce hands me a com and taps his own ear with a small smile. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

Bucky and I make our way down to the parking garage, and I follow him over to a motorcycle. He gets on and looks at me, waiting.

“You sure I can’t just take a cab or something?��

He smirks. “Come on, you can control people with your mind, and you’re afraid of a little motorcycle ride?”

I shake my head. “Not afraid, per se, just reasonably cautious. Did you know that motorcycle crashes account for -”

He cuts me off with a rev of the engine. 

I roll my eyes, quickly securing my com in place before tying my hair back in a ponytail to keep it from whipping in the wind. I don’t know how Bucky handles it. Reluctantly, I climb on behind him.

He turns to look at me from the corner of his eye. “You may wanna hold on.”

I loosely grip his waist, definitely not thinking about the photo I’d seen floating around Twitter a few weeks ago, and he chuckles. Bucky takes off like a rocket, forcing me to scoot closer and wrap my arms fully around his middle to avoid falling off the back of the motorcycle. I feel him shift slightly at the contact, and I’m suddenly acutely aware of just how muscular this man is.

I shake my head and test my com. “Tony?”

“Welcome to the team, Siren,” he says, and I can hear the grin in his voice.

“So where exactly are we headed?” I ask.

Bruce speaks up now. “Not that far - 476 Fifth Avenue.”

I feel the blood drain from my face. “Hold on - is this guy holding people hostage inside the fucking flagship building of the New York Public Library?”

“How could I have forgotten you’re such a nerd, Lite Brite,” Tony chuckles. “Just remember - we’re here to help the people, not the books, alright?”

“I can do two things,” I mutter.

Bruce pipes back in. “I’m not sure how familiar you are with the layout, but he’s got them trapped up on the third floor, off the main reading room.”

“Off the Rose? Rare books?” I ask.

“I guess you’re very familiar. Follow The Siren, then.”

I hear sounds of a struggle coming from Tony. “That, or follow the sounds of me kicking this guy’s ass.”

“What makes this guy our cup of tea?” I adjust my glasses, trying to keep the wind out of my eyes.

Tony grunts and I can hear him land a hit before he speaks again. “He’s got some kind of red electrical power that’s already done some real damage. And he may be able to fly.”

“He sounds like a gem,” I say as we approach the library. 

Bucky drives the motorcycle onto the sidewalk, cutting through the already growing crowd and coming to a stop in front of Patience and Fortitude, the lions that guard the 5th Avenue entrance of the flagship branch.

I dismount the bike and ignore the clamoring crowd, instead heading up the marble steps with Bucky close at my heels. We enter Astor Hall, footsteps echoing eerily in the empty building, and Bucky smiles grimly at me.

“You ready for this?”

I cast my eyes around the building I’ve spent so much time in - the first building I ever visited when I came to the city as an undergrad all those years ago. I shove my glasses up the bridge of my nose. “For this?” I gesture to the walls of the library. “I was literally born ready.”

[brickcentral]

🤩 ARTIST SPOTLIGHT: SKABRAM.builds Hello everyone! It's time to direct the spotlight toward our community members, and today we will get to know better SKABRAM.builds!

"Hi everyone, I’m Bram and I live in the Netherlands.

I rediscovered LEGO when my oldest son got his first set about 2,5 years ago. Soon I found out about digital building LEGO and got hooked building MOC’s of one of my favorite things: birds. I created some of my favorite birds to display in our house and published the building instructions for others to build. That was all I did until LEGO announced the Icons Kingfisher set. It got me thinking about sharing my own bird builds too.

This idea got kickstarted when I got tagged in a photo where someone used my instructions for a bird build. Apparently there was a little search for brick built birds in nature photos. I got in touch and was encouraged to participate. Since I already have some years experience with wildlife photography this seemed fun. I emptied my camera bag, filled it with my bird models and went to a local park. And here we are…

I see my photography as the final touch of my MOC. I spend a good amount of time designing and building the model, getting it out in it’s natural habitat feels like a logic last step. I try to get as close to the real bird and it’s environment as possible and aim to create realistic photos. My approach is the same as in my wildlife photography: I want to show the bird and some of its surroundings. These surroundings are important since they tell a lot about a bird and it’s behavior and habitat. Since I’m shooting a LEGO model this is a lot easier than with real birds, so I got plenty of time to focus on composition. I often try to get on eye level with my subject and to find interesting colors or lines that complement the composition. Most of my images are composed using the rule of thirds.

I prepare my photos not extensively. I think about the posing and what I might need for it (string, stand or extra LEGO parts) and throw everything in my bag when I go outside.

I don’t take a model of a coastal bird to the forest, but besides that it’s just looking for the right opportunity. Working with natural light and shooting without a tripod makes everything very flexible.

My 50-400mm lens is very versatile, so I can shoot real birds and LEGO ones during the same walk. The higher aperture (4.5-6.3) of this lens is no deal breaker since I often shoot with higher aperture to include more of the surroundings.

The hardest part might be getting the model posed right. It’s not always easy to find the right branch to clip the feet on (not all branches are in system…) and wind should not be underestimated when shooting around water (yes, I had to fish). Sometimes someone is holding a loose branch with a bird model up so I can get the right image. To compensate for the inevitable movement here I increase my shutter speed (which is already high because I shoot handheld).

Combining my love for wildlife photography and LEGO has been a bliss thus far. Working with static models and a lighter lens has it’s advantages! The gear i use is a Sony A6700 Tamron 28-75mm 2.8 Tamron 50-400mm 4.5-6.3 Tamron 150-500mm 5.0-6.7 (used for wildlife only) I do have a simple Rollei tripod, but only use it inside."

Thank you for accepting our invitation and let the community knows you better!

If you want some insights on the exclusive picture and for a better view of the others, head to our blog at https://brickentral.net/.

- @theaphol, Community Outreach Manager

[bijouxcarys]

𝑻𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑩𝒊𝒏𝒅 (𝑹𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒏𝒔 𝒙 𝑶𝑪) - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒘𝒐

Masterlist

Character Profiles/Face Claims

Playlist

A/N: I can't say I'm overly happy with this chapter, but I rewrote it a gazillion times. I hope it's okay, and it's a good healthy dose of The Bloodline in their natural habitats lol. Also, I would just like to thank everyone for the support on the first chapter. Makes me feel all mushy inside gah. <3

Tags: @trippinsorrows @empressdede @thetribalqueen @heauxvibez @bigsimperika

@cyberdejos2 @keyaho @headoftheetable @jstarr86 @southerngirl41

@tshepisho @cry1nwhileimcumm1n @maeb99 @thedesireds @dzdndcnfsd

@expert-texpert @niknakbucks92 @sillyteecup

(let me know if you want to be tagged in future Roman fics)

Some may call it a mansion. To Roman, it was simply home. He never understood why having a large house, albeit accommodating necessary facilities, constituted being pompous. When he first bought the house, he knew his family would be joining him, so why not go all out? A gym, a shooting range, a pool… it had everything he needed to continue being the Head of the Table.

He pushed open the heavy mahogany doors, the familiar creak announcing their arrival. The grandeur was unmistakable—high ceilings, oak chandeliers, adorned walls with art he’d brought with him from the family’s storage unit back in Florida.

The twins flanked Roman, their almost identical features set in pure fatigue, as their younger brother brought up the rear. Jimmy dropped his tie and jacket onto the marble-tiled floor. “Man, I thought that shit would never end.”

Jey followed suit, collapsing onto a plush leather couch once the group entered the living space. “Tell me about it. These events are always the same, just a bunch of wannabes tryna impress.”

Roman loosened his tie, heading straight for the bar that lined the back of the room. “Yeah, but it’s necessary. We gotta show face, let ‘em know we still run things.”

Jey glanced at Jimmy with a raised eyebrow, before turning his head to look back at his cousin. “We ain’t run shit tonight. You see the Russians were there? They run this shit, Uce.”

“For now,” Solo added, wandering over to one of the windows that overlooked the sprawling greenery of the estate’s garden.

“Whatchu talkin’ ‘bout “for now”, man, they shady as fuck,” Jey insisted with a small “pshh,” throwing his hands up. “I don’t trust ‘em, never have, never will.”

“Nah, Solo’s right,” Roman pointed out, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. “They can’t be in charge forever. Besides…” he took a sip, the amber liquid burning his throat in a familiar, comforting way, “Their family ain’t as big as it used to be. If anythin’, we got numbers. But right now, we ain’t got a problem with ‘em.”

“And that means they ain’t got a problem with us? C’mon, man–”

“Jey,” Roman interrupted, lowering his glass and veering over to where his cousins lounged. “There’s no problem between us and the Volkovs right now. And I intend to keep it that way.” His words were carefully emphasised, dropping the lax cadence for one of assertion. “So if you don’t mind,” he loosened the tension in his shoulders, rolling them once, “I’m gonna go call my babygirl.”

“Ah, tell her I said hi,” Jimmy quickly got in before Roman could leave for the staircase.

“And me!” Jey leaned over the back of the couch.

Roman sighed lightly, turning on his heel to look at the twins, and then over at Solo, who still has his gaze fixated outside.

“Him too,” Jey spoke for Solo, the latter sending him a sideways glance and eventually looking at Roman with a small nod of confirmation.

“It’s like livin’ with a bunch of kids, seriously…” Roman muttered as he turned and headed upstairs to his office, all whilst hearing the usual discourse from Jey about being hungry and neglecting to ask if anyone else wanted something as he strolled off into the kitchen.

Once the door to his office was shut, Roman took a moment to take a deep breath, closing his eyes, and letting it all back out, feeling every ounce of strain leave his body in the process. Hey, he needed it to make room for the other strain in his life to take its place.

He pulled out his phone and checked the time��just early enough to risk a call without Maria causing a fuss.

So, he dialled the number he so wished didn’t have such an important place in his seemingly endless list of contacts, hoping the only person he wanted to talk to was still awake. And that he didn’t need to have a ridiculous back and forth with the owner of said number.

Thankfully, Maria must have known the reason for Roman’s call, so when the FaceTime ringtone cut out, it was replaced with a small, sleepy voice. “Daddy?”

Roman’s face softened instantly, a rare smile spreading across his lips. “Hey, Princess. You still up?”

Ava nodded, her eyes heavy and on the verge of unintentionally closing. “I wanted to wait for you to come home.”

“I’m here now, baby… How was your day?” Roman asked, settling into an armchair.

“It was okay. Mommy let me watch a movie, but I missed you…”

“I missed you too, sweetheart.” Roman felt his heart aching with the guilt he possessed for not always being there to see his daughter enjoy her childhood. “I’ll see you soon, I promise.”

Ava’s face brightened the best it could in her sleepiness, yawning as she spoke the words Roman could never get enough of. “I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you more, Ava. And so does your Uncle Jimmy. And Jey. And Solo. You are loved so much, Princess, and don’t you ever forget it.”

It was impossible to miss Ava’s subtle glance to the side, signalling that she wasn’t alone.

“Mommy wants me to go to bed now, Daddy.”

“She’s right, baby. Can’t be havin’ you all tired at school tomorrow, can we?”

“No,” Ava replied with a small, but sad smile.

“You get some sleep now… And pass the phone to Mommy for me, baby.”

“Okay… Goodnight, Daddy.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

There was a lot of shuffling on the other end, and for a moment a black screen as Ava passed the phone back to Maria. Roman’s features were already hardening again, knowing what was coming next. It was almost instantly that his stomach twisted in disdain once the face of his ex-wife appeared on the screen. She was retreating from Ava’s bedroom to find a place that didn’t disturb the 6-year-old.

“Roman,” Maria’s voice was cool and clipped.

“Maria,” Roman replied, trying to keep his tone neutral. “We need to talk about Ava.”

“Oh, now you wanna talk about her? Convenient.”

Roman rubbed at his temples, already feeling the headache coming on. “Maria, this isn’t about us. It’s about our daughter.”

“Is it? Because it feels like you’re trying to undermine my parenting every chance you get.”

“I’m not undermining shit, I just want to be more involved.”

“Well, flying off to meetings and dealing with your ‘business’ isn’t exactly father of the year material.”

“Don’t start this crap, Maria, you know I’m doin’ my best.”

“Your best? Your best would be staying out of trouble and being there for her.”

Roman’s jaw tightened. “I am there for her. You’re the one makin’ it difficult.”

“Oh, please, spare me the victim routine, Reigns. You’ve never been there when it counted.”

“That’s not fair,” Roman snapped, his patience wearing thin. “I’ve always done what I could.”

“What you could? Roman, what you could was never enough. You’re too wrapped up in your own world to see what’s right in front of you!”

He closed his eyes, trying to rein in his temper. “And I’m trying to change that. I want to be better for my babygirl.”

“Then let’s start by respecting the fact that she needs stability. Not the chaos that follows you everywhere.”

“I am stable, Maria. My life, my work—it’s all under control.”

“Is it? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, it looks like a fucking mess.”

Roman gripped the arm of the chair, his knuckles whitening. “You don’t know what the fuck you’re talkin’ ‘bout.”

“Aw, don’t I? I lived that life with you, stronzo, I know exactly what’s going on.”

Hell, here come the Italian insults…

“Then you should already know that I’m doin’ everythin’ I can to keep that little girl safe! Damn.”

“Actions speak louder than words. And your actions? They’re not convincing anyone. Least of all me. So,” her voice switched to a sickly, patronising sweetness, “If you want to continue seeing your “babygirl,” you’ll get your head outta your ass and do something about it. We could start by respecting the mother of your child, how ‘bout that one?”

“Respecting the mother of my child?” Roman repeated sarcastically. “I do respect you, but respect goes both ways. You gotta respect that I’m her father and I want to be in her life.”

“Oh, really? Is that what you call it?” Maria snapped back, her eyes narrowing on the screen. “All you do is throw money at her and expect that to make up for your absence. She needs a father, not a fucking ATM.”

“I’m more than that, and you know it. I’m tryin’, Maria. But you make it impossible. You twist everything I do into something negative.”

Maria let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You think this is about me twisting things? Nah, this is about you being a shitty father. You’re never there. You’re too busy playing the big shot, running your little empire, while Ava is left wondering why her daddy doesn’t care enough to be there.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Roman’s voice rose. “I love Ava more than anything. I’m doin’ all this for her. To make sure she has everything she needs!”

“Love? You call this love?” Maria shot back, her voice icy. “Love is being there, showing up, and not just when it’s convenient for you. You think you can just waltz in and out of her life as you please, and everything will be fine?”

“I fuckin’ balancing shit! Work, responsibilities, bein’ a father—this shit ain’t a fuckin’ walk in the park!”

“Oh, poor you,” Maria sneered in contempt. “Must be so hard, being the big boss. But guess what, Roman? Ava doesn’t care about your business. She cares about her daddy. The daddy that keeps letting her down. You think a few phone calls and visits are enough to make up for all the times you weren’t there? Buying her love? Doesn’t work.”

“I know that,” he replied, softly and with a tinge of desperation. “And I told you I’m doin’ everything I can to make it work.”

“No, you’re doing everything you can to make yourself feel better. To ease your guilt. But it’s not about you, it’s about Ava. Until you realise that, you’re never going to be the father she needs.”

“I ain’t givin’ up on that girl, Maria, you can believe that. You can’t keep using her to punish me.”

Maria’s eyes flashed with anger. “Punish you? This isn’t about punishing you, you narcissistic asshole. I’m protecting my daughter from her father and his dangerous life. I’m giving her stability, which is something you will never be able to provide.”

Roman was tempted to just end the call and carry on with his night. His ex-wife’s voice ran straight through him like an airhorn. There was a reason he couldn’t stand the woman to begin with, and that was it. He just didn’t realise how fucking psychotic she’d end up being, and that the voice was just the tip of the iceberg.

“You think I’m dangerous?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the one filling her head with lies, turning her against me every chance you get.”

“Lies?! The only lies here are the ones you tell yourself. That you’re a good father, that you’ll be there for her, that she’s the only thing that matters… You’re pathetic, Roman…”

Rolling his eyes, he had no choice but to take in insult after insult. Who knew what she’d do if he did just hang up on her? It would just add ammunition to her already extensive list of why he was no good as a dad. Or a man, for that matter.

“You either need to cut the crap, or stay out of her life for good so I can find someone who’s more of a man, more of a father, than you.”

“You ain’t bringin’ no man around my little girl, tu puttana,” Roman growled, jaw tight and nose flared as he sat forward, bringing his face closer to the screen. 

“Or what?” Maria smirked. “You gonna send Dumb and Dumber to take him out? You gonna send some other poor, sad subject to take a little girl’s daddy away? Better yet, you gonna come up here yourself? Is that what it’s gonna take, Roman? You’d rather show up to kill someone than to see your child.” She scoffed. “Don’t think for a second I won’t reverse that shared custody bullshit that we don’t use anyway. And don’t think for a second… that I can’t keep her from you. One word from me to CPS, and she’s mine.”

Okay, this bitch had stooped low before. But this? This was a whole other level of fucked up that even she hadn’t reached in the years he’d known her. She’d attacked his character, his business, his past, his present, his family—fuck, she even went as far as criticising him in bed. When she fully knew a single night with him made any bitch wobbly for the next few days.

This? A threat born of pure, unbridled hatred and malice, to legally stop him from seeing his own flesh and blood? Nothing cut him deeper.

But what was he to do? Return the threat? Give her a valid reason to complain to CPS, or the fucking authorities? She fucking wished.

Well, at least he had the authorities in New York right in the palm of his hand. He could handle that. Florida was a whole other ball game.

“This conversation isn’t going anywhere, Maria, I think you should hang up now, don’t you?” Roman forced himself to calmly request, his knee bouncing up and down from the agitation. And the smile on this woman’s face did nothing to help; the smile that indicated her arrogance. The sheer knowledge that she was in charge of this dynamic. She held the power over him when it came to Ava, and it would take a miracle to have that change.

“I’m inclined to agree. Sort your shit out. Goodbye, Roman.”

The call ended abruptly, leaving Roman staring at the blank screen. He lowered his head into his hand, rubbing at his temples once again. He knew Maria was right, to some extent. Of course, his line of work meant he wasn’t around as much as he would have liked to be, or should have been. But it was never as simple as she made it out to be.

It seemed the longer he stayed in his office, the more the conversation replayed in his mind, every word cutting deeper each time. He needed to figure this out. He needed some kind of balance. Or risk losing Ava. 

He needed to vent, to get all this pent-up anger out before it completely consumed him to the point of no return. With a deep sigh, he stood up, stretching out his back and rolling his head both ways to release some of the tension.

Figuring some shit-talking and mild relaxation would distract him enough, he made his way back downstairs and to the living room, where Jimmy and Solo were still lounging around, looking up as he entered.

“You good, Uce?” Jimmy asked, a wary look in his eyes.

“Just had a call with the she-devil,” Roman bitterly replied, snarling slightly. “Doin’ her usual routine. Tryna make me feel like shit for not bein’ there enough.”

Jimmy shook his head, leaning back on the couch. “She’s always got somethin’ to say, huh? You’re doin’ your best, man, don’t let her get to you.”

“Yeah, well, it’s hard not to when she’s constantly using an innocent 6-year-old to get what she wants,” Roman huffed, grabbing a glass to pour himself another drink. “Actin’ like I’m the worst father in the world.”

“Ay, man, that ain’t true,” Solo chimed in, looking over his shoulder. “You know Ava loves you.”

“I just hate that she knows exactly how to push my buttons.” He swigged back the entirety of his amber liquid at once.

“Of course she does,” Jimmy said with a smirk. “She’s your ex for a reason. Knows all your weak spots.”

Roman couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Yeah, and she ain’t afraid to use ‘em, either.”

The three of them fell into a comfortable silence for a moment, the weight of the conversation still hanging in the air. Roman took another sip of his drink, letting the alcohol soothe his frayed nerves.

“So, we got the drop-off with The Judgement Day tomorrow,” Jimmy said, shifting the conversation. “We need to be on our A-game.”

“Yeah, we can’t afford any mistakes,” Roman agreed, settling himself into one of the chairs, reclining back and staring up at the ceiling. “It’s a big score for us. We need to be rested and alert.”

“We got this,” Solo affirmed with a nod. “We’ve handled worse.”

The Head of the Table nodded, feeling a sense of camaraderie with his cousins. They had been through a lot together, and he trusted them with his life.

Just then, Jey entered, his usual swagger in place. “Whassup, fellas? What’d I miss?”

“Just talkin’ about the drop-off tomorrow,” Jimmy replied, motioning for Jey to join them. “And Roman’s usual bullshit with Maria.”

Jey rolled his eyes with a loud groan as he plopped down on the couch next to Jimmy. “Man, she’s always gotta be causing trouble, huh?”

“Tell me about it,” Roman muttered, shaking his head. “Anyway…” he trailed off, trying to come up with something to talk about that wasn’t overly depressing as fuck. “That event, huh? That was some, uh…”

“White people shit,” Jey finished his sentence.

“Ay, I’m not sure you’d class the Russians as white, Uce, they’re Asian,” Jimmy leaned back, sending his brother a pointed look.

Roman raised an eyebrow, pulling his head up to look at Jimmy. But Jey took the words right out of his mouth before he could think about uttering them.

“Nah, they ain’t Asian, man, what the fuck?”

“They ain’t Asian?”

“European, right?” Solo joined in.

“Imma squash this right now,” Jimmy straightened his posture, looking straight ahead of him. “Russia borders with Asia, so they Asian!” He emphasised each point with exaggerated hand movements.

“Bitch, they also border fuckin’ Europe. What’s the matter witchu, man?” Jey swatted the back of Jey’s head.

“Oh, okay then, let’s ask our Tribal Chief over here,” Jimmy clapped, gesturing over at Roman.

“What do I look like, your fuckin’ geography teacher or somethin’? The fuck outta here, man…” Roman shook his head, scrunching up his eyebrows.

“You got a phone, use it, and shut up,” Jimmy pointed to the phone sitting in Jey’s lap. “Find out where fuckin’ Russia is.”

Roman snickered, running his hands over his face. “Either way, tone down the shit-talkin’ on the Russians, ‘kay? I told your ass we ain’t got a problem with ‘em. They could be fuckin’ blue for all I care, we good with ‘em right now.”

“Uh, I have been meaning to ask you, Uce,” Jey started as he typed away into Google. “That blonde you were with tonight. That tan was fake, right?”

“Very.” Roman didn’t even hesitate the response. He’d hit the nail on the head.

“She was somethin’ else, though, fake tan or not.”

Roman laughed, the tension finally starting to ease within. “She was a piece of work, just a way to kill time. Nothin’ serious about her.”

“She didn’t seem like the nicest person, not gonna lie,” Solo commented, watching Jey’s phone as he did.

“She’s not,” Roman admitted, stretching his legs out and resting his hands in his lap. “Clingy as hell and fake as they come. But she was free tonight, so I figured why not?”

Jimmy chuckled, shaking his head. “Man, you always attract the crazies.”

“It’s a gift,” Roman replied with a smirk. “But seriously, she’s just a distraction. Nothin’ more.”

“Ay, as long as you can handle ‘em in bed, am I right, Uce?” Jey peered up from his phone.

“Damn straight,” his smirk turned into a full grin. “It’s about knowin’ what they want and how to give it to ‘em… You make ‘em feel real good, they be runnin’ back for more.”

Jimmy cackled. “Oh, we goin’ there tonight?”

“It’s both!” Jey shouted, lifting up his phone as if everyone could read what the hell was on the screen.

“The fuck you talking bout, man?” Roman asked in exasperation.

“Russia is technically in both Europe and Asia…” Jey trailed off. The other three just sat there staring at him, waiting for him to say something else. “Anyway, tell us how you nail a bitch, Chief,” he casually continued, tossing his phone onto the coffee table.

“I swear, you gotta get checked out, Uce, somethin’ ain’t right up there,” Jimmy mumbled.

“Now that we’ve established where everything is in the world, do you wanna hear what I have to say or not?” Roman asked, a knowing smirk on his face. Yeah, his cousins were fully grown men, but man… when it came to experience, nobody could even touch the Head of the Table.

Jimmy leaned forward, clearly more interested in this topic than the topic of where the hell Russia is. “Alright, hit us wit’ it.”

Looking down at his lap, Roman teased the moment, reigning in all the knowledge he’d gathered over the years. He loved the silent tension. Loved making people wait. Which led him to step one.

“You gotta be confident,” he started. “Women can smell insecurity a mile away. When you with her, make sure she knows you in control. Lead, don’t follow.”

Jey nodded, clearly taking mental notes.

“Pay attention to her reactions,” Roman continued. “When you’re kissin’ her, touchin’ her, whatever… Watch how she responds. If she likes somethin’, then you keep on doin’ it. If she doesn’t, switch it up.” He breathed in, momentarily remembering the night he shared with Ms Fake Tan the other week. Running a hand over his beard. “It’s all about readin’ her body.”

Up until now, Solo had been quietly listening, as he did with most things. “What about the actual thing? You got a go-to move, Uce?”

Chuckling, Roman leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “It ain’t about havin’ a go-to move, Solo. It’s about variety. You can’t keep doin’ the same thing every night, over and over again. Keep it fresh, keep it exciting. Surprise her.”

Jimmy grinned ear to ear like a schoolboy, enjoying the conversation. “Man, I remember the first time I switched things up with Trin—she was all about that shit.”

“Exactly,” Roman drawled, fist-bumping his cousin. “Keep ‘em on their toes. Make ‘em want more… That’s how you keep ‘em hooked.”

Jey leaned back, a satisfied look on his face. “Man, I need to find me a girl who appreciates that. Most of the ones I’ve been with just want the flashy stuff.”

“They’re out there,” Solo added. “You just gotta look in the right places.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jey waved him off. “Easier said than done.”

As the night wore on, they eventually started to wind down, the weight of tomorrow’s task looming over them

“We should get some sleep,” Roman declared, standing up with a small grunt and stretching. “We need to be sharp for tomorrow.”

“Yeah, you right,” Jimmy agreed, following suit. “We’ll handle it, Uce. Don’t worry.”

“I know we will,” he clapped Jimmy on the shoulder. “G’night, guys. Get some rest.”

“Night, Chief,” Jey bid him a goodbye, exchanging fist bumps. “We got this shit.”

[probspinelyume]

Call me Ena. im 18 and i go by he/him or it/its. this is my side blog dedictated to my relationship with Spinel.

i find other Spinel yume's annoying. i enjoy most Spinel x canon ship though (just not friedexspinel. i just mute the tags like a normal person)

i dont have a dni list, all i ask is that you make sure i am not on yours.

im a proselfshipper and i post about fictional dynamics what would be illegal or harmful in real life. if that makes you uncomfortable block me.

learn about my self insert here

tags:

💢my beloved - reblogs of spinel fanart

💢my art included - as tag implies, my art

💢outside photos - me being a yume in my natural habitat (wandering in towns and cities)

💢SpiEna rambling - talking about my relationship with spinel (mostly in thrid person)

💢- discource - as name implies. replies to discource

💢- rb games - my reply to rb games

psst. you can use any dividers i use on this acc no credit needed. i have a huge fucking folder with bunch of dividers and other graphics in it.

[brooklynislandgirl]

Role Play Comfort Zone!

A valuable meme for any roleplayer! Come display your comfort levels so your roleplay partners are aware of what they can do, and of what they should avoid! A healthy relationship between role-play partners is the key to a good time! While this meme shows the basics, please remember to communicate with your roleplay partners! REPOST DON’T REBLOG!

Key: BOLD = Yes. Normal = Okay/Ask me about it. Strike = No.

tagged by: stolen from @reevezs

tagging: *leaves it unattended on the porch with a ring camera.*

ROLEPLAY BASICS

LOCATIONS I am comfortable doing:

tumblr

email

kik, im, discord

google docs

skype

forum

other

PARTICIPANTS I am comfortable with:

One on one roleplays. 

Up to three people.

Up to four people.

Five or more people!

As big as possible!

POST LENGTH I usually write about:

One or two sentences.

One or two paragraphs.

Two to five paragraphs.

More than five paragraphs. 

A few pages worth. {{I do enjoy novella, but this is totally one of those ask me things}}

I AM COMFORTABLE ROLE-PLAYING WITH PEOPLE WHO WRITE:

One or two sentences.

One or two paragraphs. {I mean as long as there's enough for me to interact with, I don't mind}

Two to five paragraphs.

More than five paragraphs.

A few pages worth. 

Write me a book.

ROLE-PLAY REQUESTS I like getting requests from:

Anyone and everyone at any time! 

When I ask for roleplays.

From friends and acquaintances.

From friends only.

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS ** IMPORTANT: Communication is the key to a real life relationship, it shouldn’t be abandoned for a fictional one either! Be sure to talk to your partners when considering romance

SHIPPING I am comfortable shipping my characters:

Never.

If our characters know each other deeply. 

If our characters know each other deeply, and I know I can trust the role-player.

At the first sign of flirting! 

Only if the role-player and I plan it.

It’s situational to each character.

If you want to ship with my characters:

Talk to me about it from the start.

Talk to me about it once our characters know each other.

Talk to me about it once they both have some feelings for each other.

Talk to me about it when they finally decide that want to go beyond hugging.

Talk to me anytime - there’s no requirement.

SPEED When shipping my characters, I like the romance to happen:

Swift as lightning!

Fast, but not super fast.

Happens in about three months.

Slow and steady wins the race.

Slugs know what’s up!

My relationships know no speed. They happen if they happen.

SMUT When my characters get intimate, I prefer:

To skip the act entirely.

To write the build up, but skip the act.

To write the act only if it is very special, but otherwise, skip it.

To write the act all the way through. {{I don't mind, but I can/will write it elsewhere if you prefer, I can ftb pretty well and pick up after the fact, my concern is everyone's comfort}}

ROMANTIC ARTWORK When it comes to artwork depicting our relationship please:

Do not post it at all without talking to me.

Post it if it is cuddles and hugs.

Post it if it is kisses.

Post it if it is N.SFW.

Only post it if it depicts N.SFW privately between us.

Do not post it at all if it depicts sexual acts!

Do not post it where I can see it, but draw what you like!

DRAMATICS ** Important: Always be sure to communicate with your partner individually if you think you are about to go outside their comfort zones even just the slightest bit!

VIOLENCE When it comes to violent situations, I am comfortable with:

No violence at all!

I’m fine with verbal arguments!

Some violence, like a paper cut, or an accidental elbow to the face.

Mild violence, such as punching, kicking, hair pulling.

Violence, such as stabbings.

Beyond violence, such as torture and more. {{Uhm, Beth has, in her natural habitat, a great capacity for doing and being on the receiving end of some really wild stuff}}

If you are going to do something violent, please:

Don’t do it at all.

Talk to me about it first.

Surprise me!

DRAMATIC ARTWORK:

Do not post any dramatic scenes that happened between our characters.

Talk to me about it before posting!

Post what you like!

[aether-wolfstar]

1:Otherkin

2: I’m a Werewolf

3:Yes, mental and phantom are my most common;but one time in math class it was a foggy day and there was a pine forest outside(my natural habitat) and I got a mental shift, and a really strong urge to hunt and bite

4:I get shifts and strong urges to ex: hunt,bite, and run on all fours like my Kintype

5: the community is great, but the TikTok side could use some work;plus I have found nice and kind ppl since I started using this app more :)

6: definitely going out to the woods(around we’re i live it’s all pine forest and it makes me very shifty) also my the smells outside and View of the woods and moon

7: Yes I experience it on a almost daily basis, but somedays it’s worse then others

8: 1.DONT buy a tail from Amazon! I made that mistake multiple times before I knew about the fur farms! 2. You don’t have to have gear do quads or vocals to be “a real Alterhuman ” what maters is YOUR identity(this is coming from a Otherkin of 6 years)

9: I’m making a Werewolf mask currently

10: I believe I was a werewolf in my past life, and that I will be in the next, and that I am human In this life to learn about humans and to help make a difference to our earth and climate.

11: I don’t have anyone to tag that I know of :(

If you are a alterhuman, reblog and answer these questions!

(don't be afraid to write a lot, do what you want ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯)

1/ Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?

2/ What/who is/are your type(s)? (if you have any)

3/ Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?

4/ How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?

5/ What do you think of the community?

6/ What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?

7/ Are you experiencing species dysphoria?

8/ What advice would you like to say to a young alterhuman who has just awakened?

9/ Do you have/want to have gears?

10/ Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)

11/ Tag someone/a creature to answer these questions!ㅤᵕ̈

[macchiatosdumptruck]

Terry/Daniel and Kreese/Johnny are super complimentary to each other and I don’t care anyone says. Besides, Terry and Daniel share similarities to each other, as do Kreese and Johnny. Good shit to dig through there. Lots of parallels. I want to see them on the world’s most awkward double date.

And speaking of crack ships, since I ship Danny-boy with everyone, I actually really like LaKreese. In the right universe, something about Daniel being sweet but not soft, male but so pretty, kind but can kick ass would Do Things to Kreese. Also the fact that Daniel is so friendly and a chatterbox whereas Kreese is not talkative and rather brooding sends me.

Also: Terry/Johnny crackship for shits and giggles.

Terry and Daniel both have tempers. Terry and Daniel are both extremely loyal. Terry and Daniel are both spontaneous and appreciate the finer things in life. Both Terry and Daniel seem to pick one person to devote themselves to.

For Terry, it was Kreese. But that changes sometime between tkk3 and CK.

For Daniel it was Miyagi.

Kreese and Johnny both have tempers. Both have very traditional views on masculinity. Both put force above finesse.

How much of that was instilled by Kreese though? He had been teaching him since he was. Pre-teen. He molded his life and belief system even up to the end of s3.

(going back to watch how Kreese skillfully manipulates Johnny in s2 really drives it home for me)

Terry taught Daniel to both be submissive, and also, to let his inner fire out (ie.dummy scene.) Oddly enough.

Terry, to me seems sometimes like a character made out of opposites, and I think that fits for Daniel as well.

He's soft but he's strong. He's small but he's feisty. He doesn't want to fight but he will. He's not popular but he's got self esteem. He's angry but he's forgiving.

Both Terry and Kreese need to feel in control. Both Daniel and Johnny need to feel wanted.

The pairings are also are opposites in a few interesting ways.

Terry and Johnny both struggle with substance abuse. Came from money. (Even if Johnny came into it by marriage) they both let other people's memory control the way they live their lives.

Kreese and Daniel are both sons of single mothers. Both come from working class families. Both seem to have issues trusting men oddly enough. Or making friends.

Obviously the teacher/student thing.

Re: Daniel being a chatterbox and Kreese being quiet. I hadn't even thought of that actually but it makes a lot of sense now. In canon it can be a fascinating ship to look at all sorts of internalized shit. And Big Problems.

In au's I think they could make a very fun odd couple. Thinking about that ask the other day about a Lakreese romcom, I'm pretty sure I'm not good enough to make it work, but now the image compels me ngl.

I ship every variation of all four of these messes, with a preference towards the toxic romance tropes that are inherent to silverusso. ( Tig and Ralph are also just very aesthetically pleasing)

Lawrusso is a good stand by. Two people whose lives will forever be entwined. Angt. Enemies to lovers. Found family. Etc

Kreese and Johnny just has so many interesting things going on. A very dark ship but that's not bad! I'm still chewing on them tbh, getting into into it only somewhat recently.

I ship Terry and Johnny mostly by proxy tbh. They both have their lives to Kreese only to be betrayed. They have similar self destructive tendencies. These two would be a garbage fire. (Affectionate)

There's SO MUCH here to play with with The Big Four. truly.

A ship I think maybe two other people have floated: Terry and Chozen. It just really looked like Terry wanted a friend and was upset when Chozen was a double agent.

Where's the deep cover au fic? Where's the angry sex? Tig and Yuji make out challenge.

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Aren't you?

February Filth Fest : Day Thirteen

Jung Wooyoung x fem reader

a/n:i saw this photo and my brain said "oooh pretty" and then it said "mermaid wooyoung brrrr"

"Sing for me."

✫彡wordcount: 2.5k (whoopsie)

(>ᴗ•)(✯◡✯)genre: smut, fantasy/historical

ಠ_ಠwarning/contents: not edited, technically not mirror sex but something very similar (😉), unprotected(no good), best friends to lovers, fingering, very slight pred&prey, praise, drool&spit, pet names(woo&baby, pretty girl), cream pie

FFF tags: @cherryxsang @k-drizzle

SMUT UNDER CUT MDNI

You were always warned of sirens and their dangerous nature. Your parents told you that a siren would lure you in and eat you whole. Your village believed that their songs would make you sell your soul to the devil for another listen. Everyone made you think that these creature were the worst of the worst in a world full of monsters.

And then you boarded the Starlight and met a shining man named Wooyoung.

He was the first one to jump up and greet you when your brother brought you aboard. You were taken aback, holding the hilt of you knife cautiously as you inspected him. He was the nightmares come to life. Sparkles lining his skin that was meant to catch the waters reflection and blind prey. Short, pointy canines used to sink into whatever he pleased. Bright, shining eyes that followed your every move with slit irises.

And, by the Gods he was the most beautiful man he you ever saw.

Then he opened his mouth to greet you and held out his hand even though you brandished a knife and hid behind your brother.

After it was explained that he, and a few others on the Starlight were outcasted from their clans because they refused their traditions- you had at least a tolerance for him.

He was nothing like the creatures that you had been taught about. He never even used his voice or powers. He only felt the sea and reported back on what it spoke to him. He made jokes that made you laugh after rough missions and taught you how to swim, he even showed you his tail after you became so close.

He quickly became your best friend and your favorite crew member.

So, naturally, when he left the tavern of the latest city you docked at with the excuse of feeling unwell: you decided to follow after him. It took you a few minutes to decide, and by the time you made it outside, he was nowhere to be found in the street.

You make your way slowly, loosing yourself in thoughts as the cool wind whipped around you. You don't even have time to snap out of your own mind before it reaches you. A low, deep harmony.

You blink confusedly, continuing on your path to the dock despite the fact that your mind pieces together the situation. You can't stop yourself. It's so sweet and comforting, laced in something addicting as he sings out various 'la's and 'da's. As you walk up the wooden dock, your mind seems to go completely blank.

"A round of hazel and thunder. A round of whispering closer."He leans over the edge and drags his fingers in the cool water.Its still mid-day, and the sun shines in a way that makes the blue water reflective. As you get closer, you can see why he strays away from the edges of the boat and hurries away when you dock.

The suns reflection off the water makes his sparkles glow. Usually, they shine. But now, in his natural habitat... he looks like a sun kissed God.

"Okay for us. A round of closer, a round of hazel and thunder."

"Wooyoung?" It comes out without your own knowledge, slipping past your lips as you tip toe closer.

He pulls his hand away from the water and flips around on his back, scooting away to the very edge. "You didn't... I didn't realize you followed me, I didn't mean to." He notices the glaze in your eyes, one he promised himself never to give someone. "S...stay there, okay?" You crouch down, kneeling infront of his cowering figure.

"Your voice is so beautiful." Again, your mouth doesn't have permission from your brain before the words come barreling out. "So sexy." He can only stay completely still as you inch forward, unless he want to fall into the water. And that can not be an option when he was just utilizing his voice. He doesn't know if he has that much self control.

"Stop," he places his boot on your chest and holds you at a legs length, avoiding your gaze.

That small gesture seems to knock you out of your daze. You back away with a hand to your mouth and fall back on the deck. He almost entranced you, you almost let him. "I'm so sorry, Wooyoung. I didn't, I didn't mean to- really! I didn't know you would be singing. You nev- you never sing! I mean, you said that you didn't feel well, so I came to take care of you and I really didn't notice I- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to listen to you!"

You ramble on and on and don't even notice that you're crying until he becomes blurry. "I didn't mean to listen." You sob, scooting away and struggling to stand.

"It's okay, it's okay!" He stands in a hurry and grabs ahold of your shoulders before he can stop himself. It makes a rush of adrenaline puss through him. He can't help himself. He hates himself for the way he really, really, loved the way your eyes glazed over. And he really, really, loves the way you shiver in his hold. "I shouldn't be singing, but... it hurts me not to. It's still part of who I am. I cant help myself, I need to."

"W-will you sing for me? I'll let you."

"What?" He still holds onto your arms as his eyes widen in shock.

"Oh, please," you chuckle, "don't you want to? You're looking at me like I'm a piece of meat, Wooyoung. You always do when we're on the water." His irises are shifting shapes faster than you can process, from predator like to completely human in a matter of milliseconds, back and forth between the two. "I want you to. I said I wanna take care of you. I mean it."

He pulls you down to the dock and presses you down on your stomach as he cages you under him. "You mean it? You really mean it? I can... I can-"

"Yes."

His grips loosens ever so slightly, hand wrapping up in your hair and pushing your head down to the dock. "Sing for me, Woo."

"You know what you're getting into, Baby?" Your pussy thinks for you, clenching around nothing. You whine as he pushes up your shirt and caresses your back.

"I know. I'm okay. Want you to." He groans behind you and rolls his neck out, nails gently scratching your skin. "I want you to."

A silence settles over the two of you for a good moment as you both just breath heavily and wrap your heads around your situation.

He settles his hips just under yours, and you can already feel the bulge growing through his pants. His hands find yours and hold them at either side of your head, fingers intertwined with yours.

"Sweet for us," his voice rings around you, and it already has you wrapped around his finger and bending to his will. "A round of hazel and ether. A round of whispering closer. Hazel and thunder. Whispering closer. Closer. Closer. Sweet. For us, sweet." His words begin to lose all meaning before they reach you, you're completely gone by the time he finishes his song.

You don't even realize that he's pulled your skirt up and your panties to the side. You don't even realize that his fingers are deep inside of you until he curls them against your g-spot.

You groan out and grab at the edge of the the wooden planks, his hand still heavy ontop of yours. "Gods!" You bite down on your lip and let your head slump down as he spreads his fingers inside of you. "Oh, Wooyoung," you hum lowly, "songs so pretty. Voice is so nice."

"Yeah? You like it? My voice got you this wet?" His palm slaps against your slick and makes a lewd sound to prove his point, "tell me it did."

"It did! It did! Want more, please, Woo!"

He groans, leaning over your back and stilling his fingers as his teeth drag against your hot neck. "Dumb girl," he coos sweetly. "Fell right for me. Right into my arms. I can take you whole right now if I wanted to. And you'd like it, wouldn't you?" He chuckles as he feels your fingers clench around his digits.

"Yes," as his song starts to fade from your mind, you're starting to come to your senses. And you don't find yourself minding. In fact, you want him even more. "Yes," you moan louder.

"You with me?"He asks as you blink up at the sky, neck cranked up.

"With you."

"You still want it?"

"Fuck, yeah, I want it."

He lifts up your hips and spreads your knees with his as he frees himself. He pulls his fingers away and grabs onto your skirt, soiling the fabric with your arousal as he pulls your hips up. You push yourself up and come face to face with your reflection in the water from how close to the edge you are.

He really could just push you into his element and take whatever he wanted from you. But this is still your Wooyoung. He wouldn't do that if his own life was on the line. He wouldn't take advantage of someone to save the entire crew. So he makes sure once again, leaning over you and whispering as he makes eye contact with you in the water.

"You want me to fuck you?"

"Yes, please. Want you to fuck me." He inches his cock into you at a detrimentally slow pace, watching your lips press together and your eyes flutter shut. He stills inside of you, smirking as he sees your mouth fall open. He uses on of his hands to catch you as your elbows give out, wrapping it around your chest and between your breast. "You like it, Baby?"

You whine out at the nickname, grabbing his hand with one of yours and reaching around with the other planting the other on his thigh as he pulls your back flush with his chest. "Open your eyes," he hums, smiling softly as you do. You look over the edge and find his face pressed against your shoulder, peeking over it to watch you in the reflection. "Aren't you so cute? Already so fucked out and I haven't even moved yet."

His hips draw back slowly and then he slams into you, send you back down and grabbing at the edge like it will save you from his brutal rhythm. "Look," he demands as he leans over you. You snap your eyes open and blink away a few stray tears of pleasure. He pushes you both closer to the water, just inches away now. "Look so pretty on my cock."

Your eyes flick form you to him, and back again until he hits a spot inside of you that makes your eyes roll. "Wooyoung!" He hums into your shoulder, opening his mouth and grazing his teeth over your skin.

"Keep looking," he moans as he licks a strip up to your ear and takes the lobe between his teeth. You moan loudly, one of your hands flying back and searching him out. He grabs onto it and holds your hand against the small of your back. "Want you to watch me while you cum."

You breath catches in your throat as he groans into your ear. "Can you?"

"Fuck," is all you can manage as he settles his face over your shoulder, chin resting gently over it as he pounds you like there's no tomorrow. "So pretty, Woo."

You catch a glimpse of him blushing, leaning his head into the side of yours in bliss.

"You feel so good."His praise makes your brain misfire, jaw dropping open and eyebrows knitted in concentration as you fight to keep your eyes on him. A string of drool starts to fall from the corner of your lips, and he watches it intensely as it forms into a drop and falls into the sea, creating a small ripple. He can feel it as it mixes into the sea, and he all but goes crazy.

"Woo, please!" You cry out as he pulls you up again and stills his hips. He turns your face and takes your lips for the very first time. And it feels like magic. Like the Gods made his lips to devour yours. Like the universe intended for you to fall into his trap. You moan against him as he slips his tongue into your mouth and swirls it around. He touches every single part of you he can reach with it, licking the roof of your mouth with a groan as your spit covers him. He pulls away and grinds into your heat as he speaks lowly."Spit in my mouth."

You have to take a few seconds to register his request, and then you're bringing up your hand to open his jaw. You spit directly into his mouth and his whines. It a sound you could get addicted to, even more than his songs. He groans as your tighten around him, hand grabbing at the side of your face. "Make me cum, Woo. Please?"

He almost slams you back down, chest pressed against the hard wood as he hammers into you, staring into your soul through the water. You hands fall into the water, fingertips dragging through it as his thrusts make you bounce. He whines again, feeling your connection with the water in his mind. You close your eyes briefly, and then remember his words as one of his hands grabs the back of your neck,blunt nails digging in. You find his gaze quickly and almost fly away from your body.

The sparkles that litter his cheek bones are so much brighter than they've ever been, even on the night when he showed you his tail. His slit iris are blown wide. His fluffy hair sticks down on his forehead as he fucks into you unbelievable power.

"So fucking beautiful. You gonna cum on my cock, pretty girl? You are, aren't you?"

"Yes! Yes, please, Woo! Don't stop, don't- fuck! I wan- I want to cum!"

"Hey, look at me," he orders, hand slipping between your legs and onto your neglected clit. You cry out, slamming your hand down on the dock as he circles it. "Fucking look at me when I'm making you cum."

You force yourself to keep your eyes open and trained on his reflection over your own. You let go, gushing around his cock and whining as you see his face twist up in pleasure as he cums in response to your leaking cunt around him.

You don't take your eyes off one another until both of you are fucked out beyond belief and he slip out of you, tugging up his pants and covering you up before pulling you ontop of him as he lays flat.

"Fuck," you murmur. "Holy fuck." "Was I too rough?" He whispers as he pushes away your sweaty hair.

"No, no. Was so good."

"Good." He laughs a bit, stroking his hand up and down your spine. " 'Cause I could go again."

[daemoninfluff]

cause I once again had to see someone say it, this is your friendly reminder that not all cats are

domesticated animals(TM)

there are european wildcats and they can look just like your regular domestic cat, only that they’re actually w i l d c a t s. They’re still shot down today cause people believe them to be some feral gone domestic cats. They only now make their way back into the middle and north of germany cause they were hunted down, same as wolves and foxes. In many countries they mix with “feral domestic cats” and produce hybids which is a threat to their distinctiveness and could make their kind non existent someday.

They ain’t even the only kind of wildcat out there, but some of y'all act as if they don’t exist at all and srsly I hate that

[sunlightmurdock]

bumps ‘nd bruises | jake x apollo

this is a blurb based on this request, written for my fic operation apollo

full fic masterlist | drabbles / blurbs masterlist

In which Apollo falls down and Jake just does his job. Set around chapter 0.9.

warnings: blood, mentions of vomit but nothing graphic and we don’t see it happen at all, extremely minor injuries, comfort and band-aids — idiots who don’t know how to be nice to each other just yet. wc: 0.8k

…

“Pretty scary, though — what happened.” Jake’s mother frets, shaking her head as she watches out of the kitchen window. Her two granddaughters, playing out in the yard with the president’s daughter. Who would have thought.

“Yeah, well, it’s also classified, so don’t go telling your book club.” Jake answers, leaning up against the kitchen counter and flipping through an old case file on the president.

Eleanor shrugs her shoulders calmly. Hasn’t ever seemed fair that she’s always the one with the juiciest gossip and doesn’t ever get to share it, but Jake’s a hothead when it comes to his work. Always so rigid with the rules. She opens her mouth to ask how he and you are getting along now, knowing that the two of you had gotten off to a rocky start.

A surprised sound slips her lips and Jake’s head perks up instantly. Without bothering to ask, he crosses the kitchen to and swings open the screen door to peer out.

You’re on your knees, recovering from an awkward spill. Peyton, the younger of Jake’s nieces and an avid tag champion, had darted out from the bushes right in front of you. Not wanting to kick or trip her, you had skidded to a stop, and now you’re here.

You wince as you turn and plant yourself down on your butt, brushing the dirt off of your knees — hissing as you make contact with the tender and grazed skin.

“Don’t touch.” Jake frowns from his spot by the door. He smooths a hand through his disheveled hair and disappears back inside. “Stay there.”

“Sorry.” Peyton says softly, wincing as she glanced down at your bloodied knee. You smile and shake your head quickly.

“It wasn’t your fault. I’m fine anyway.” You soothe, clapping your hands to brush the dirt off of your palms. Brooklyn, the older of Jake’s nieces, pales at your side. “Are you okay?”

“Blood makes me si—“ She gags and slaps a hand over her mouth, making your eyes widen. You open your mouth quickly to deescalate, cringing as she sprints off inside. She almost bumps into Jake as he steps back outside with a small first aid tin in his hand.

“What’s up with her?” He frowns as he kneels into the ground in front of you. You curl your knees up a little closer to your chest. Blue skies for miles and dirt on your knees — this is a first for you.

“She’s sick.” Peyton answers as she peers curiously over your injuries. Jake nudges her back.

“Go check on your sister for me.” He instructs calmly, curling his hand around your ankle. You glance down at his fingers curled around it and then quickly back up at his face. He doesn’t seem half as bothered about the gesture as you do. Begrudgingly, Peyton stomps off into the house.

Having slept in his bed the night before, it feels strange that he hasn’t brought it up at all this morning. It feels strange to be here, playing with his family.

Unshaven and dressed casually, wearing shorts and a plain black t-shirt, Jake looks more handsome in his natural habitat. Not uptight, not yelling at you. Up close and smelling like pine and cinnamon.

Jake tugs at your ankle and straightens your leg, popping open the first aid kit with his free hand. “You’re not going to puke too, are you?”

“No.”

“Quiet this morning.” Jake notes as he tenderly dabs at the grazed skin with an antiseptic wipe. He doesn’t look at you to say it. You’re not expected to agree or disagree. “So, how d’you like it here?”

You swallow softly and quickly turn your attention away from him. It’s pretty here, but he already knows that. You give him a small nod. “It’s nice. Think I like it better than LA.”

He hums and sets the wipe down. “Me too.”

“Your family are really nice.” You decide, leaning back on your palms as he examines the cut now that it’s not oozing with blood. His lips quirk slightly, knowing that a snarky comment is coming next. “Kind of baffles me about where you came from.”

Jake squeezes his hand around your calf and finally looks up to meet your gaze. “I can be like them. I guess you just don’t bring out that side of me. Now, would you like the cows or the kitties?” He holds up two different band-aids.

You’re torn between scowling and smiling. He raises his eyebrows expectantly at you. You shrug your shoulders. “Cows.”

He peels the backing off of it and places it gently onto your knee. You watch as he sits forwards slowly and presses his lips over the top of the band-aid. “All better.”

Immediately, he pulls back and stands, then reaches out to help you up. Planting both of your hands in his, you let him tug you to your feet. “Thanks…” It’s quiet and sheepish, you might as well be kicking your feet. Jake gets it.

He nods at you. “Probably in my job description somewhere, just doing what I’m supposed to.”

You tuck your hands behind your back and watch him turn away from you. Glancing down at the pink and blue cow printed band-aid on your knee, you swear you can almost feel the effect of hks kiss on your skin.

You bite the inside of your cheek and turn your attention to the sky, feeling the corners of your lips trying to tug the rest of your face into a small smile.

…

@alanadetigy @thedroneranger @momc95 @basicchelsea @perpetuelledaydreaming @cherrycola27 @eviesaurusrex @xoxabs88xox @desert-fern @fuckyeahhangman @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @khaylin27 @cowboybarbie @the-mouse27 @someinsanefangirl @marchingicenotes7 @marantha @lgg5989 @herladyshipxx @chaoticweirdogeek @mak-32 @obiwankenobis-lap @diamond-3 @wolvesofthewinter @shawnsblue @itsmytimetoodream

[just-my-fandom]

Rocky Road P1 (JJ Maybank x Routeledge! Reader)

This is a test chapter. If it gets the attention I want it to, we’ll continue. If not, this will be the only chapter, mainly because of the time each chapter takes since each episode ranges between 40 to 50 minutes.

Chapter 1

Word count: 3,538

Summary; After a hurricane, John B, Y/N, JJ, Pope, and Kiara plunge headlong into danger and adventure when they find a mysterious sunken wreck.

Pairing(s); John B Routledge x Twin Sister! Reader, JJ Maybank x Girlfriend! Reader, Pope and Kiara x Best Friend! Reader

Tag list; Currently None.

“We’re the Pogues, and our misson this summer is to have a good time, all the time,”

“That’s what, a three-story fall to the deck?” The dark male at the bottom of the house, Pope Heyward, looks up at the brunette boy balancing on the roof before him, “I give you a one-in-three chance of survival,”

John B hums in thought, licking his finger before raising it to the sky, allowing the wind to hit said finger, “Should I do it?”

“Yeah,” A girl with (hair/color) locks and warm, (skin/tone) skin dangles her legs from the roof next to her twin brother, body leant up against the blonde male beside her, “You should definitely jump,”

“I’ll shoot you on the way down,” Pope promises, raising the staple gun in his hand so John B raised his eyebrows, pointing two fingers in a gun motion,

“They’re gonna have Japanese toilets with towe warmers,” A female with dark hair and dark skin climbs out of the unfinished home, looking up at her group of friends, “This used to be a turtle habitat, but, who cares about the turtles, I guess?”

“I care about the turtles, Kiara,” You fake a small pout to your best friend, reaching a hand over the railing to grab her fingers and squeeze,

“Can you please not kill yourself?” Kiara looks up and squints at your brother,

“Don’t spill that beer!” JJ calls up, one arm draped at your shoulders as the other raises his can to his lips, “I’m not giving you another one,”

On cue, John B lets out a curse as the beer can slips from his fingers, dropping and clashing onto the porch of the unfinished home beneath him,

“Smooth,” Kiara mumbles, looking over at a distant shout,

“Hey, uh, security’s here,” Pope states, and you clap your hands, sliding beneath the railing to jump down next to Kiara, JJs hand tapping your back thigh in a motion for you to start running,

“Boys are early today,” John B hops down, feet taking off into a sprint,

Your lips pull into a grin as you follow after your twin brother, pushing past shelves and jumping over paint cans through the constructed house,

“Hey, Gary!” You call, skidding past the older, bigger man, “No hugs for you today!”

You giggle as JJs hands lift your hips to raise you above the gate, his body dropping next to you before his hand takes yours and squeezes, allowing you to hop into the van before he follows after you, laughing,

“Hey, there’s Gary!” Pope calls, JJ leaning out the vans door to hold out a beer can to Gary’s running figure,

“You’re so close! You can do it, there you go!” With a toss, JJ watches the can hit Gary upside the head, “They don’t pay you enough, bro,”

“Okay, that’s enough,” You snort, tugging JJ into the van so the door shut, JJs body dropping next to yours with an excited breath of rushed adrenaline.

“The Outer Banks, Paradise on Earth. It’s the sort of place you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island,”

“Alright, this is Figure Eight, the rich side of the island. Home of the Kooks. So guess where we don’t live. And then this is the South Side, or the Cut. Home of the working class who make a living busing tables, natural habit of, drumroll please,”

“The Pogues,”

You lift up the hook to the HMS Pogue, turning to shield the sun from your eyes with your hand. Moving across the boat, you move into where the steering wheel took place, JJ looking at you past his sunglasses and sliding a hand to your bare back,

“That’s Y/N,” John B introduces, “My twin sister and my pain in the ass. Or, blue bird as our father used to call her. Y/N is our mom of the group, somehow keeps us stable and in check from getting arrested three or four times a day,”

“And that’s JJ. My best friend since the third grade. He’s about as local as they come. Latest in a long line of fishing, drinking, smuggling, vendetta-holding salt-lifers who made their living off the water. Best surfer I know. Just, don’t tell him I said that,”

You yelp as your body drops into the water, awaiting for the wave above you to settle before rising above the surface. You snort, JJ stepping off his board playfully so he landed beside you with a hard splash,

“Together they’re known as Outer Banks’ OTP, as Kiara puts it. Been together since seventh grade and still going strong. Of course even with JJ as my best friend, I still gotta hand his ass to himself sometimes,”

“Don’t even get me started on micro plastic,” Sitting at the bonfire, Kiara is quick to shove John B away from the choke hold he puts her in,

“And that’s Kiara, or Kie, as we call her. When she’s not saving turtles or getting a dolphin tattoo with Y/N, she hangs out with us. I’m not really sure why, though. Pope thinks she’s secretly madly in love with my sister and uses us to get to her, but, I can’t see Y/N leaving JJ for even Chris Hemsworth, and that’s saying something,”

“And that’s Pope, the brains of the operation, finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship, and the smartest person I know. His fathers this legendary character, Heyward. Anything you wanted on the island, Heyward could get for you,”

“So, that’s my crew,”

“John, Y/N, it’s come to our attention that you both are unemancipated minors living on your own,” The social worker in front of you at her desk sighs,

“No,” You and John B instantly respond, sharing glances before you grimace, “No,”

“I need honesty to help you,” The woman responds, eyebrow raised, “That’s what we want, right?”

“Yeah,” You nod, shrugging, “But we’re being honest,”

“Okay,” The woman leans back, “When was the last time either of you spoke to your uncle,”

You look at your wrist- with no watch- glancing at John B who shifts in his seat, “Uh, thirty-four minutes ago,”

“When was the last time you saw him?”

John B looks at you this time. “Two hours and,” You pause, “Fourty-three minutes ago?”

“Kids, we’re gonna come out there tomorrow to talk to your uncle,” The worker sighs, again, “If he’s not there, we’re gonna move forward with foster care,”

You exhale a sharp breath, hand running down your face.

“Keep an eye for Hurricane Agatha. She’s coming hard and heavy tonight,”

“No phone service?” John B groans as he raises to his feet, body heavy with sleep. His finger flicks the light switch. Nothing. “No power?”

John B exits his bedroom to depart to the living area. On the pull out couch, laid his sister and best friend. While you laid on your back, breaths even, JJ laid on his stomach, arm draped across your tank-top covered chest with his head beside yours,

“Yo, JJ,” John B calls, hand smacking JJs upper back so JJs head snapped up, his movement startling you to lift your own head, “You been outside?”

“I have polio, bro,” JJ mumbles, lips pressed to your shoulder, “I can’t walk,”

You heave a laugh, turning to curl into JJ so his arm slid around your hip and pulled you closer. You finally heave a breath, pulling away from JJ so he moaned in protest, your grin tired as you grab his hand and pull him up with you,

“Agatha did some work, huh?” JJ calls out to John B in the front yard, leaning against the open screen door with a found beer in his hand, and looking at the time, you choose not to scold him for his choice of drink as soon as he woke up,

“Yeah she did,” John B hums, tossing a branch off the boat that was brought out to shore.

“C’mon,” You call, pulling your tank top off so you were left in the bikini you fell asleep in, “Gods telling us to fish,”

“What do we have here?” You lift a hand to shield your eyes, watching Pope turn to look at you from his deck,

“We have a safety meeting,” John B calls, hand at his shoulder in a fake walkie-talkie, “Attendance mandatory,”

“Cant, Pops got me on lockdown,” Pope frowns, JJ scoffing,

“Your dads a pussy, over,”

“Oh I heard that, you little bastard,” Heyward snaps, and you raise your chin with a smile,

“We need your son,”

“And hurricane days a free day,” JJ reminds,

“Who the hell made that up?” Heyward questions, and you furrow your brows in pretend thought,

“Pentagon, I think,” You grin, “We have security clearance,”

“You think I’m stupid?” Heyward questions, stepping forward when Pope drops the hose in his hand and lunges off the porch, landing on the HMS boat with a stumble so your arm wrapped around his shoulders, laughing,

“When you get back, you gonna clean your dirty ass room!” Heyward demands, as you wave, “And I don’t like your friends!”

“Hello, princess,” You lean on the edge of the boat, smiling dreamily at Kiara as she moves to the edge of her boat deck. You extend a hand, helping her step down before turning to look at JJ,

“One day, she’s going to take you from me, I know it,” JJ pouts, and you smirk, leaning sideways so your lips pecked his,

“Nah, I like blondes more,” You grin against his mouth, JJs hand coming up to cup the back of your neck,

“Take your beer before I barf,” Kiara cuts, shoving two beer bottles between you so you leaned back and took one, narrowing your eyes,

“Okay, okay,” JJ stands up, popping the top to his bottle and moving to stand on the edge, “I got this,”

“No, you tried this six thousand times and you failed every time,” You remind, leaning back so the beer that missed his mouth flew past you, John B groaning in disgust.

You reach up to tug at JJs shorts in an attempt to pull him back down, the sudden jerk of the boat forcing JJ off the ledge, your body lurching forward so you hit the edge of the boat- hard- groaning at the pain in your muscles,

“Pope, what the hell?” John B calls, as you lift you head, watching JJ resurface from the water,

“J, you okay?”

“I think my heels touched the back of my head,”

Pope snorts, stepping up, face dropping as he looks down into the water, “Guys,”

“What?” You finally sit up, following your gaze so you cursed, “Holy shit, there’s a boat,”

“No way,” Kiara moves next to you, “Holy shit,” She repeats, “There is,”

John B tugs off his shirt, your legs leading you off the edge so you dropped into the water beside JJ, hand over your nose.

Sure as shit, a boat. An expensive one, that is. Rising for air, you watch your friends talk all at once in hysterics for your finding,

“Did you see that?” JJ calls to everyone, Kiara nodding with a short, “Yeah, I did,”

“That’s a Grady White,” JJ swims up to the HMS boat, heaving himself up before twisting and taking your hand, “A new one of those is like five hundred Gs, easy,”

“That’s the boat I saw when I surfed the surge,” John B states, as you twist the water out of your hair, “Maybe it hit the jetty or something,”

“You surfed the surge?” Kiara asks, roughly, and you squint your eyes with a grin

“You didn’t?”

“Do we know whose boat that is?” Pope asks, heaving a breath of air from how long he held it underwater,

“No, but we’re about to find out,” John B picks up the anchor, saluting you before he jumps back off the boat, allowing the weight of the anchor to pull him down.

He comes back up in short time, hand raising to show you the yellow key in his hand, “I found this motel key,”

“A key,” Your smile drops into irritation, pushing away from the edge to sit down, the adrenaline quick to leave your system,

“Yes, a key, Y/N,” John B lifts himself up,

“Guys, we should report the wreck to the coast guard,” Kiara states, as the boat begins to speed off, “Maybe we’ll get a finders fee,”

“Yeah and not work all summer,” You hum, letting the wind blow dry your hair, “Maybe we should just go find out ourselves. Go to this motel, does it have a name?”

You reach out, taking the key from John B and reading the name before handing it back, “Let’s go lady and gents,”

A sharp whistle, and you look up at the damaged motel, “I thought the Chateau looked bad,” You raise to stand up, waiting for the boat to stop on the edge of the grass before hopping off, “Kie, Pope, keep a lookout,”

“Shouldn’t you stay here?” Kiara asks, eyes glancing to JJ jumping beside you,

“Are you kidding?” You grin, JJs arm sliding around your shoulders before he points up to the motel,

“Let me take you on a tour, sweetheart,” He teases, pulling you towards the steps with John B quick behind you,

“Just be so careful, John B,” JJ turns to grab John Bs jaw, mocking Kiaras demand to your twin brother,

“God, you’re so weird,” John B shoved him away, JJ scoffing as he looks at you,

“What was that about?” He asks your brother,

“I don’t know, maybe she wants us to be careful,” John B protests, and you roll your eyes,

“Or maybe Kiara loves you,” You tease, sliding your own arm around JJs torso as you walked in sync, “Come on, big brother, Kiara totally likes you,”

“If Kiara likes anyone it’s you, babe,” JJ states, “C’mon, we all know she’s secretly gay for you,”

“Maybe,” You hum, grinning as he removes his arm to send a light knock to the door on the key,

“Housekeeping,” He speaks in a high-pitch voice, receiving no answer,

John B unlocks the door, and you pear over JJs shoulder, body slumping in disappointment at the empty, boring hotel room,

“Check the bag,” John B orders, JJ unzipping it, “See if there’s a name on there somewhere,”

“Nope,” You lift the jacket on the stool, “No name,”

John B kneels down, your eyes watching as he pressed random buttons on the safe, “John, try this,” You hold out the sticky note with numbers, and he hums in thanks,

The safe opens with a short hiss, John B cheering out a small “yay” as he pulls it wide,

“Whoa,” You mutter, watching John B pull out a wad of cash and a small hand gun, “Holy shit,”

“What?” JJ steps up, instantly taking the gun and grinning,

“Put the gun back,” John B hisses, raising to his feet, “JJ, seriously!”

“This is a fucking spend gatt, man. Just... bam! Bam!” JJ pretends to shoot, your eyes snapping to the door upon hearing keys,

“Guys- cops!” You hiss, JJ looking at you before following John B to the window,

“Get it open,” John B presses, and the window opens wide, “Go,” You move out and onto the small roof under the window. JJ is quick to follow after, body pressing you against the side of the motel beside the window,

“Can they see us?” You whisper yell, JJs head barely shaking as he turns his head, silently staring at John B on the other side of the window,

A moments pause, JJs hand suddenly dropping the gun in his grip so it clattered off the roof and into the grass. Your jaw clenched as JJ presses himself harder against you, arms tight around your waist so you were nearly invisible to the window,

“You should have forgotten the stupid gun,” You hiss, lowly, JJ shushing you as his eyes flick between yours, then tilts his head to look at John B again. Your head leans forward into JJs chest, eyes watching in terror as Chief Shoupe peered out the window, then leaned away back into the motel room,

Your eyes flutter shut in relief, JJs hands loosening at your hips as your head leans back against the wall, looking back up to meet his gaze, “You’re an idiot,”

“Well that was fun,” JJ comments fifteen minutes later, your body laid across the front of the HMS Pogue, “Could have warned us sooner though,”

“We would have, except Pope was on the math team,” Kiara comments, showing Pope had failed to throw a rock at the window to alarm you,

“You were on the math team?” You glance at Pope, who rolls his eyes,

“The cops took everything like it was a crime scene,” John B speaks up,

“Did you guys find anything?” Pope questions, JJ raising his head before his hands, showing off the gun and the wad of cash,

“Dude, why take that from a crime scene?” Kiara hisses, and your eyes squint as Pope begins to panic about losing his scholarship,

“So it turns out, Scooter is the Grady White owner,” Pope shows up at the Chateau an hour later, pacing in front of you curled in the corner chair, JJ in the recline beside you, “We need to have total and complete amnesia,”

“For once, Popes right,” JJ speaks up, hand leaving your thigh to stand up, “See, I agree with you sometimes, deny, deny, deny,”

“Guys, we can’t keep that money,” Kiara speaks, and you lift your head off your hand,

“I agree with Kiara,” You nod, “We have to pass that off to Lana Grubbs,”

“I agree,” John B echoes, and you raise your eyebrows at your twin brother, “This dude has never had more than forty bucks in his pocket, and all of a sudden he has a Grady White?” John B raises his hands, stepping into the house, “Just sayin’,”

Keggers. A party that brings Tourons, Pogues, and Kooks all together, somehow. They always seem to end with a fight, though. The one thing you looked forward to.

Except when it’s your own idiots who start the fight.

“Did I offer this to you?” JJ raises his eyebrows along with the red solo cup, blue eyes harsh on Topper, the Kook princess’ boyfriend, “Didn’t think so, run along,”

In swift motions, Topper has smacked the beer into JJs face, JJ has lunged at Topper, and within seconds, Topper is drowning John B in the ocean and JJ is shooting a gun into the air.

“That’s enough!” Your shout silences the group. Huh. Okay. “Kooks, onto your side, Pogues!” You jab a finger towards Pope pulling John B up, “Let’s fucking go,”

“Youre not still mad at me, are you?”

Your eyes shift over to the blonde next to you. Hair blowing in the wind, your mind runs over last night events. Today’s event- John B searching the Grady White using stolen scuba gear,

“You brought out a gun, at a party,” You remind, head tilted to look at him,

“Okay, I was saving your brothers ass, just so you know,” JJ leans back, and your eyes run over his face, wide,

“My brother wouldn’t have almost been drowned if you weren’t arguing with Topper,” You protest, voice snipping, “So don’t bring this around on him,”

“Guys,” Kiara cuts, your eyes narrowing in irritation as you look at her, “Someone’s following us,”

“There’s two of them,” Pope squints, staring at the two figures on the boat behind, “And one of thems got a gun- holy shit!”

JJ is quick to grab your arm and tug you into him, free hand grabbing the edge of the boat as you drop onto the floor of said boat, your eyes wide in alert,

“Holy shit guys!” Kiara panics, your eyes pinching shut as JJs hand slid up to your head, his own lifting to look over at the two men shooting constant bullets,

“Damn it, move,” Kiara steps over Pope, picking up the fishing next piled at your feet,

“Kiara, get down!” You squeak, eyes tearing as she threw the net, cutting the second boats engine so John B is able to steer away,

“Oh my god,” You panic, sitting up as JJ follows, his hand sliding from your shoulder to your hip to check for any injuries,

“Okay okay okay. Can you please open the bag? We almost died over this shit,”

You kneel down in front of John B opening the bag, pulling out a container that held a compass,

“Great,” Pope steps back, shaking his head, “We found a compass,”

Your brows furrow as you take the compass, flicking it open so your eyes widened and looked up at John B,

“Dude, what?” JJ asks, “It’s not worth anything,”

“This was dads,” You exhale, throat suddenly tight as JJs face fell and his eyes searched your face, “This- this is dads compass, John B,”

John Bs eyes raise to yours, then up to the group behind you.

Could Big John still be alive?

[carnegiemuseumnaturalhistory]

What Do Botanists Do On Saturday?

by Sarah C. Williams

Here in the section of Botany we’ve adapted in some strange ways, just like plants do, to the changes of the past year and a half. Let’s learn about the off days of some of our Super Scientists in the Section of Botany!

Mason Heberling, Assistant Curator of Botany

Collecting specimens has become a focus as more time was able to be spent in the field when we weren’t allowed to be at the museum. As our new Botany Hall entrance video shows, Assistant Curator of Botany, Mason Heberling and Collections Manager Bonnie Isaac collect plant specimens on a pretty regular basis. They also snag iNaturalist observations for these plants, taking photos that show what the plant and habitat looked before being picked and pressed.

Mason studies forest understory plants, in particular, introduced species and wildflowers in our changing environment. Mason has a bunch of fun projects going on this summer, ranging from coordinating seed collections of an uncommon native grass to send to Germany for a large greenhouse study to working with a team of students to study the effects of climate change and introduced shrubs on our forest wildflowers.

In addition to work in the field, the herbarium has been a busy place this summer too! Mason has been working with Alyssa McCormick, an undergraduate research intern from Chatham University, to examine stomata (the pores on leaves for air exchange for plants to “breathe”) and leaf nutrients in everyone’s favorite plant – poison ivy!  Poison ivy has been previously shown to grow bigger and cause nastier skin rashes with increasing carbon dioxide in our air due to fossil fuel emissions. Alyssa is using specimens collected as long ago as the 1800s to examine long term changes in poison ivy.

Mason, where can we find you on a Saturday?

“This summer has been a lot of going to various places around western PA like Presque Isle or Idlewild to get out and enjoy the fresh air with my family. I can also be found most Saturdays around the house doing chores!”

Bonnie Isaac, Collection Manager

Bonnie, one of CMNH’s TikTok celebrities, and All-Star in the Mid-Atlantic plant world, has spent a lot of the past year doing fieldwork. Her PA Wild Resource Grant involved looking at most of the populations for 10 Pennsylvania rare species. She and husband Joe Isaac spent many days on the road and a few in the bog! You can see some of her videos about these unique Pennsylvania finds on Carnegie Museum of Natural History’s Tiktok account: @carnegiemnh.

She diligently keeps track of various data points from latitude and longitude and elevation, to flower color, size, and associated species within a habitat. In addition to trying to make sure the plant names in our database are correct, she has also been busy georeferencing some of our specimens so that we can see on a map where each one was collected.

Bonnie, where can we find you on a Saturday?

“On most Saturdays I am either home taking care of my many chickens or getting some exercise in one of my kayaks with my spousal unit, Joe. I sometime even take a fishing pole for a ride or see how many different kinds of plants I can find on a hike. As long as I can get outside with Joe, I’m happy.”

Cynthia Pagesh, Herbarium Assistant

Specimens make their way home to the museum, where we assure they’re bone dry, flat as a pancake, and have been frozen twice to get rid of any pests. They then find their way into the nimble hands of Cynthia Pagesh, our resident plant mounter. Cynthia has luckily been able to do some mounting both onsite and at home over this past year, really honing her craft. She uses Elmer’s glue, dental and sculpture tools, linen tape, and a paintbrush akin to a magic wand: transforming roots, stems, flowers, and fruits into scientific and artistic renderings on an 11.5x16.5” archival herbarium sheet.

Mounting can be very detailed and challenging: wrangling a dry and brittle rare plant you want to salvage every detail from, or an oversized leaf ‘how-will-this-all-fit?’ ordeal, or finessing a delicate petal that glue is especially heavy on. Bulky bits, crumbly bits, spiky no nos: Cyn handles them all. Her work is just as much an art as it is a science. When she’s not making masterpieces, she’s probably doing something with plants.

Cyn, where can we find you on a Saturday?

“You can find me on Saturdays helping prune young trees in my community, collecting wildflower seeds or in my kitchen making preserves or homemade pasta noodles.  I volunteer in vegetable, herb and flower gardens.  I have a pollinator garden at home and raise Monarch caterpillars.  I tag and release them to migrate south.

There are lots of Community Science projects for people of all ages: ask someone to help you find one related to a subject you have an interest in.  I have an interest in pollinators including bees.  I participate in a Community Science Project every Summer that counts types of bees on certain plants when they bloom.”

Iliana DiNicola

After another stint in the freezer for bugs-be-gone, it’s everyone’s favorite day: Picture Day! Each plant: sturdy and mounted, all data logged and super official, makes their way to the imaging station to spend some time under the bright lights. Since 2018, students, interns, and volunteers have lovingly held these plants’ hands as they get their close ups. We take high definition photos using a specially made lightbox and special software.

While this is part of a limited project, called the Mid-Atlantic Megalopolis, we are still hard at work going into our last year of the time we were given. This past schoolyear and summer, former Pitt student, Iliana DiNicola was taking pictures for us on the regular while also interning with the Pittsburgh Parks Conservancy. She just graduated and I’m excited to hear what she does on her Saturdays in the future.

Iliana, where can we find you on a Saturday?

“I just graduated from the University of Pittsburgh with a degree in Environmental Studies, and I am now on the lookout for any jobs related to the environment back in my hometown of Phoenix, Arizona. I am interested in working with anything from sustainability, to policy or political work, or maybe even something more related to ecology and outdoor work.

On a Saturday, I am definitely helping clean my house since I am a semi-clean freak, I love to go hiking if the weather isn't too hot, enjoy drawing and working on any art projects, or work on my future hydroponics garden.

As somebody who interned for Pittsburgh Parks Conservancy, I highly recommend participating in any camps or activities the conservancy has to offer. It was super fun learning more about Pittsburgh's history and ecology and getting to teach kids about these topics, alongside participating in fun outdoor activities.”

Sarah Williams, Curatorial Assistant

Next up, Sarah Williams, the Curatorial Assistant in the Section of Botany, is overseeing the digitization project, morphing the photos from raw camera files into smaller files for sharing and detailed files for archival storing using Adobe Lightroom. She takes the images from the newly photographed specimens and makes sure they get uploaded onto the Mid-Atlantic Herbaria Consortium’s website to be shared far and wide across the world.

There is also a lot she does in sorting, filing, and taking care of the specimens as well. She does a bunch of scheduling, hiring, and training of work study students, interns, and volunteers. We consider her a jack of all trades.

Sarah, where can we find you on a Saturday?

“Most weekends I work with a local catering company called Black Radish Kitchen. I usually end up serving delicious vegetable and farm focused meals at least one day a week, commonly Saturdays because they’re prime for celebrations. The re-start up since the pandemic has been cautious, and I’m excited to be amongst people and help them to make mouthwatering memories again. I’ve worked in the restaurant industry for over a decade and the skills I’ve learned doing it as well as the friends I’ve made are matchless. It has a big piece of my heart.

I also moved into a new house this year about five minutes from my mom, so if I’m not running to say hi to her and ‘borrow’ some groceries, I’m doing laundry, dusting and yardwork… but only after I sleep in, eat some delicious breakfast with my partner, and hang out with our two cats, Santi and Gil.”

We hope you enjoyed getting to know us here in the Section of Botany, look forward to updates and more introductions in the future as we continue to host volunteers, federal work-study students, and interns on their journeys to learn even more about the plant kingdom.

Sarah Williams is Curatorial Assistant in the Section of Botany at Carnegie Museum of Natural History. Museum employees are encouraged to blog about their unique experiences and knowledge gained from working at the museum.

[potionsprefect]

Right Place, Right Moment

Pairings: Ethan Ramsey x Victoria Clarke

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: There’s something on Ethan’s mind...

Rating: General Audiences

Category: fluff

Ethan could hear the thrashing of rain and the loud clapping of thunder outside. But that wasn’t what woke him up.

Instead, it was the feeling of a warm body on top of his, the feeling of gentle kisses against his jaw making him hum in delight. Ethan opened his eyes to see Victoria peering down at him, eyes shining bright and with a big smile on her face.

“Well this is a pleasant surprise.” Ethan said as he pulled Victoria closer so she was laying next to him.

“I think it’s the best way to wake up.” Victoria smiled.

“I won’t disagree with you there.” Ethan replied leaning down to press a soft kiss against Victoria’s lips.

“So what do you want to do today? I’m thinking we just stay in our pyjamas and do nothing.”

“I agree. It’s been a long week and all I want is to just spend my time with you.” Ethan replied wrapping an arm around Victoria’s shoulders.

“Ditto.” Victoria snuggled into Ethan’s chest.

“We should get some breakfast.” Ethan said.

“Shower first. Then I can put on clean pyjamas.” Victoria said climbing out of bed. “Well? Aren’t you going to join me?”

Ethan didn’t need telling twice. He jumped out of bed and hurried to Victoria’s side, closing the en-suite bathroom door in an instant.

— — — — —

One very long shower later, (that didn’t involve much washing) Ethan and Victoria were washing up their breakfast things in the kitchen.

Well, Ethan was.

“I wonder if there is anything good on TV today.” Victoria said, flicking idly through a magazine.

“It’s Sunday sweetheart. Which means it’s race day.”

“Are we gonna have to watch it all day?” Victoria whined.

“Nothing comes between me and the motor racing.” Ethan shrugged.

“Do I actually come second to formula one? That’s actually kind of hilarious.” Victoria laughed a little.

“Only every other Sunday. The rest of the time I’m yours completely.” Ethan chuckled bringing Victoria into his embrace.

He took her by the hand and led them to the couch, sitting down first so Victoria could lean back into his embrace, Ethan wrapped his arms around her as Victoria snuggled against his chest.

“How long have you been a fan of formula one?” Victoria asked.

“Since I was a kid. I’ve always loved cars and the excitement is always great to watch.” Ethan replied.

“Dad and Will like it as well. I’ve never been particularly bothered.” Victoria shrugged. “So who are we routing for today?”

Ethan grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, finding the correct channel where the race was. As he found it, the cars were lining up on the track.

“See the bright red cars? The ones in 4th and 5th? That’s who we want.” Ethan gestured to the TV.

“Okay. And who are they?”

“Sebastian Vettel and Charles Leclerc.”

“Are they the best?”

“Vettel is. But the one who will probably win is the one right at the front Lewis Hamilton. He’s currently leading the championship.”

The cars started to move off their positions, all swarming round the track. Victoria had a hard time keeping up with them. She could feel Ethan tensing up against her.

“Who knew a sport could work you up to much.” Victoria teased looking up at him.

“It’s exciting Rookie.”

“Even the interns don’t frustrate you as much.” Victoria laughed.

“That’s a different kind of frustration.” Ethan replied.

“Talk to me. What’s happening here?” Victoria looked at the screen.

“Well to no surprise, Hamilton is leading, he does have the best car, then his teammate is behind him, then the two Ferrari’s.” Ethan explained.

“Who’s the car behind them?”

“That’s Max Verstappen and Red Bull.”

“Oh I’ve heard that name before. I think Bryce likes them. I overheard him talking about him once.”

“They’ve never won a championship. Max has a bit of a hot temper.” Ethan said.

Suddenly on the screen, two of the cars collided and they were sent spinning. Debris scattered the track as the tyres rolled in all directions.

“Oh my god!” Victoria covered her eyes as the crash was replayed in slow motion.

“It’s okay Vic, they’re okay. Look, they’re climbing out of their cars.” Ethan chuckled rubbing Victoria’s arm gently.

Victoria looked through fingertips and saw the two drivers involved in the crash getting out of their cars and walking away from the scene.

“How did they escape from that?” Victoria asked.

“F1 cars are built to be as safe as possible.” Ethan replied.

Victoria watched the drivers walk off the track, recognising one of them.

“Wait! That’s...”

“Vettel. Yep. And Verstappen. It was the latter’s fault.” Ethan shrugged.

“Looks like your favourite team aren’t gonna win today.”

“Leclerc is still there. Although Hamilton looks unstoppable today.”

“I like Hamilton. Not the musical, the driver. He has a nice car.” Victoria said.

Ethan laughed tightening his arms around her. “God I love you.”

Both froze. Victoria’s eyes widened. Did she hear him correctly? Did he just say that he loved her?

Ethan could feel his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to say those words for a long time, but his plan was something along the lines of the opera and then dinner.

“Did I hear that right?” Victoria sat up to look at him.

“I may have had a better plan than to say it like that.” Ethan replied.

“Oh yeah? And what did that involve?” Victoria smirked as she straddled him.

“Something to do with the opera and then dinner. Maybe over dessert?” Ethan chuckled.

“That sounds lush. But I preferred how you said it now. And I should say it back. I love you too.” Victoria smiled.

Ethan felt as if he was on cloud nine. Knowing actions spoke louder than words, he leaned forward to press his lips to Victoria’s, his hands finding their way into her messy blonde locks as hers wrapped around his neck.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that.” Ethan broke apart, resting his forehead against Victoria’s.

“Believe me, I’ve wanted to say it for a long time. I just didn’t want to pressure you. It took you forever for you to act on your feelings, I didn’t want to make you feel like I was rushing you.”

Ethan answered with another kiss, a softer and more gentler one.

“Falling in love with you was the best thing to have ever happened to me.” Ethan smiled.

“Really?” Victoria said, eyes glistening with emotion.

“Really Vic. I couldn’t think of a better person to have by my side for the rest of my life.”

Victoria snuggled back against Ethan’s chest, feeling safe and secure as his ran his hand through her blonde hair.

“Oh look, Hamilton is 5 seconds ahead.”

Ethan laughed. “He is the best driver after all.”

“Maybe we should go to a Grand Prix one day. Then I can see you in your natural habitat.” Victoria said.

“I thought my natural habitat was at the hospital?” Ethan replied.

“After this, I’m retracting that statement. Seeing Ethan Ramsey getting excited over cars is definitely much more exciting. Then again it does play to the whole boys and their toys stereotypes.” Victoria laughed.

“I’ll take that over shouting at interns. Natural habitats are supposed to be fun.”

“And here’s me thinking you did find shouting at interns fun. Guess I didn’t know you as well as I thought I did.” Victoria laughed pressing a kiss to his cheek.

The couple laid on the sofa as they continued to watch the race, completely content and safe with each other. It seemed like the race went on for hours before finally, the first car passed the checkered flag.

“Hamilton won!” Victoria smiled.

“Told you he would. Completely uneventful.” Ethan rolled his eyes with a small smile.

“I still find it all confusing. It’s so technical. You’ll have to explain it again to me in the future.” Victoria said.

“It could take a while.” Ethan chuckled.

“I’m a great listener and you have a nice voice so it’s very unlikely I’ll fall asleep.”

Ethan laughed as he leant down to kiss Victoria.

“I’m glad you like my voice Rookie.”

“One of the many things I love about you.”

Ethan tightened his arms around the woman he loved as she snuggled up to him. If he spent the rest of his life explaining one of his passions, he was glad Victoria would be the one listening.

I can’t find the anon who sent the ask but I realised I haven’t written a proper ‘ily’ fic so I thought I’d give it a go!

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@choicesficwriterscreations

[misslilli]

Welcome to Miss Scully's classroom 🤓

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | AO3

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11

Chapter 12 - A Rainbow In It's Natural Habitat

[ FM ]

The weekend passes quickly in a blur of household chores, runs along the beach and unpacking the last of the boxes in our basement. Before long, I find myself back at the school to drop off Felix and hoping against hope for seeing a certain someone I can’t stop thinking about.

I check my phone for new messages when a classroom door opens and there she is, stepping outside, on the phone and with a frown on her face. I can only see her profile from where I’m standing and would it be totally ridiculous if I started to write poetry about the way her nose curves inward just the tiniest bit before the tip? ‘Yes, you need to be checked for head injuries, man, this is beyond ridiculous!’

“No, it’s totally fine, I understand. Tell him to feel better, okay? I’ll figure something out, don’t worry!” She sighs after she hangs up, rubbing her forehead exasperatedly. As if she senses my eyes on her, she turns to look at me. “Hi! Mr. Mulder right? Um… I’m in a bit of a situation here and I was wondering if you could help me out… please?” I’d give her the moon in a basket with a bow on it, if she asked – hell, I’d give her the whole damn milky way! Stars, planets andworm holes! But she doesn’t know that.

I see the hand with her phone in it shake slightly and her intake of breath is just a bit louder than normal when I step up to her. Could it be because of me? No, don’t flatter yourself. Maybe? No. Shit, you still haven’t answered her question.

“Yeah sure, what can I do?” Relief washes over her face.

“I asked a parent to help out this morning with our reading-centers but her kid is sick with the flu, so she won’t be able to make it. Do you think you have time to help? It’ll only take an hour, 90 minutes tops, I promise!” If she had been nervous before, it had quickly dissipated, her professional side taking over.

“Of course I can, I still owe you for being the knightess in shining armor for Felix last week, remember?” At that, her lips curve into a smile. ‘Yes! Took you long enough.’

“You’re absolutely right, I almost forgot my selfless good deed as Knightess of the Injured Children. Remind me to let you fill out an IOU next time! Come on in.” You both chuckle while she walks into the classroom in front of me and my hand itches to land on the small of her back to guide her inside. ‘Don’t touch her, don’t touch her, donttouchherdonttouchherdonttouchher! Send help.’

24 curious pairs of eyes stare at me when I’m inside and Miss Scully is bombarded with questions about who I am and what I’m doing here. She just shakes her head and points me to a small table in a corner with two chairs, instructing me to sit in one while the kids come to me one after another to read to me. I’m immensely relieved I don’t have to stand up in front of the classroom and actually teachthem stuff, because that would scare me shitless.

I look down at my hands as she moves to stand in front of the classroom because I don’t trust myself not to stare at her ass in that black pencil skirt. Also, and more importantly, I don’t trust the kids not to notice and ask her why that strange man is staring at it. And I’m sure they will. Notice. And ask. So until she’s in front, I stare intently at my hands. Then I look around at the kids.

I notice that most of them quiet down when their teacher takes her stance in front of them, safe for a boy in the back (it’s always the ones in the back), who’s still talking to his neighbor. I expect her to call him out on his behavior, maybe to raise her voice just a little and I feel a bit sorry for him already. Teachers in my school always raised their voice at the smallest misbehavior.

Instead, I find her just looking straight at him with a calm look on her face. Huh? Then I notice subtle changes in her body language. First, she shifts her weight onto one leg, her eyes never leaving the talkative boy. Then, she purses her lips ever so slightly. Some of the other kids are starting to catch on, turning their attention to the boy.

Next, her eyebrow goes up, just one, and I find myself hoping that I’ll never be on the receiving end of that look.

I send a silent prayer to the God I don’t believe in to make the kid shut up already.

When he still doesn’t and all the other kids are looking at him, she crosses her arms in front of her chest. Finally, the boy he’s talking to catches on as well and puts a finger to his mouth, pointing to the front of the classroom. The culprit looks in the direction in which his neighbor points and immediately shuts up.

‘Okay, here it comes. Oh no. Bet you’ll wish you would’ve been quiet right away, now buddy.’

“Thank you, Charlie. Alright, now that we’re all ready to get started, good morning kids!” ‘What? That’s it?’

“Good morning, Miss Scully!,” they reply in unison. I’m just sitting here like an idiot, awestruck. How in the world did this work? What a magic trick!

“Alright, as you’ve all noticed, we have a guest here today. This is Mr. Mulder and you’ll get to read to him when we’re doing reading centers this morning.” I feel a little uncomfortable under the stares of the children, but they all greet me with a smattering of Hi’s and Hello, Mr.Mulder. “Who can tell me what our expectations are when we have guests in our classroom?” A little girl raises her hand.

“Respect and best behavior. Oh and no running in the classroom” Miss Scully nods and proceeds to giving them instructions on the other centers. Soon, she sends a girl to my desk and the lesson is on its way.

While I listen to the fourth graders read, I see her walking around the classroom in my peripheral vision, helping out kids whenever they need her assistance and I’m reminded again how different it is to my own days in school.

After the lesson, the kids return to their desks and eat their snacks and I make my way over to Miss Scully’s desk. She stands and smiles at me gratefully – Yes! “Thank you so much, Mr. Mulder, you’ve been a great help and the kids loved you!” ‘Can YOU love me? Please?’

“Aah it was fun, no problem. That was awesome, by the way, the thing you did before the lesson? How did you do that? When I was in school and behaved this way, I really had it coming!”

She just smiles enigmatically and shrugs her shoulders. “A magician never reveals his tricks, Mr. Mulder. But I can tell you a secret: Yelling at kids to get them to listen is a rookie mistake. Don’t tell the Magician’s Guild I said that, though.” I laugh and shake her hand goodbye, kind of disappointed that I have to get going.

“Well, as a fellow magician I can appreciate that. Goodbye, Miss Scully.”

“Bye Mr. Mulder. Kids?”

I walk out the door to their Goodbyes and smile to myself. Off to a good start.