#the ways the humidity interacts with the different surfaces?
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
artyandink · 1 month ago
Text
the art of heresy forged 1983
Tumblr media
SUMMARY: Modern day, 2022, and you have no clue what’s going on. You knew what you went through. You knew it was real, but why were there people trying to convince you that everything that happened to you wasn’t real. Hell, you called bullshit. But you get your chance to fight back when you get a call at your door.
TW: psychological torture, trauma, angst, smut, slight fluff, drinking, consumption of drugs, smoking, mentions of sex, blood, gore, Ben (cause he’s an individual warning), derogatory remarks, gunfire, murder, killing, lots of it, it’s The Boys so be careful guys, really creepy shit, literal crack
A/N - divider by @chachachannah
NOW PLAYING: Dynasty by MIIA
Tumblr media
COST A MILLION
Tumblr media
The air in Nicaragua was thick with humidity and tension. You had gotten used to the way it clung to your skin, the oppressive heat wrapping around you like a suffocating blanket each time you stepped outside. But this mission felt different. The atmosphere was charged with something more than the stifling weather—an unspoken heaviness that pressed down on you as if the universe was holding its breath, waiting for the inevitable storm to break.
Payback had been sent in for a routine covert operation—one of many you’d done over the years. The plan was simple: go in, make a scene, and get out before anyone could blink. Routine. Yet from the moment your boots hit the dirt in this godforsaken jungle, a strange tension simmered beneath the surface. You could sense it in the way your teammates interacted, in the fleeting glances exchanged when they thought no one was looking.
Something was off, and the unease gnawed at your stomach like a bad premonition.
Ben—Soldier Boy—was leading the charge, as always. Commanding, arrogant, larger than life, with that cocky grin plastered on his face that made him look every bit the hero the public believed him to be. It was part of what had drawn you to him, despite everything you knew about him—despite how much of a mess he could be. He was reckless, a human hurricane, always looking for a fight, but you had gravitated toward that storm.
Maybe because, in your own way, you were a storm too.
But today, even Ben seemed off. His usual bravado felt... strained, forced. You couldn’t place it exactly, but the way he kept glancing over his shoulder, like he was expecting something to happen, unsettled you. His jaw was tight, his movements sharp, as though he was anticipating an attack that hadn’t come yet.
And the others—the rest of Payback—were acting strange as well. Their easy banter had been replaced with silence, their body language stiff. There were too many sidelong glances exchanged when they thought no one was watching, too many moments where they huddled together in low whispers.
“Hey,” Ben had said to you earlier, his voice breaking through the noise of the camp you had set up for the night. “Stay close tonight, alright? I don’t like how things are looking.”
You had given him a wry smirk, trying to mask the unease that had been crawling its way up your spine all day. “What’s the matter, hero? You worried someone’s finally gonna knock your ass off that pedestal you love standing on?”
He had laughed, the sound deep and rich, vibrating through your bones in a way that always made you feel grounded. “Not a chance, sweetheart,” he’d said, that cocky grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Just stay close.”
You had nodded, but the brief moment of humor didn’t do much to shake the feeling that something was wrong. The unspoken worry lingered in the air between you like smoke from a smoldering fire, just waiting for the right gust of wind to fan it into flames.
As the night wore on, the feeling only grew worse. The jungle around you was alive with the usual cacophony of chirping insects and distant animal calls, but the camp felt unnaturally quiet. The others moved about like shadows, too stiff, too controlled. Even the way they carried their weapons seemed off, like they were holding them too tightly, waiting for something to snap.
You kept your distance, observing them, trying to piece together what was happening, but the answer eluded you. All you knew was that something was about to go very, very wrong.
You had been out scouting, trying to clear your head and focus on the mission, when everything fell apart.
When you returned to camp, the eerie silence hit you first, cutting through the thick air like a knife. The usual sounds of your team preparing for whatever came next were gone. No low murmurs of conversation, no clatter of weapons or boots on the jungle floor. Just... nothing.
Your heart rate picked up, a sharp spike of adrenaline surging through your veins. You moved cautiously, scanning the area as you stepped through the dense underbrush, your powers humming just beneath your skin, ready to be unleashed if necessary.
And then you saw him.
Ben.
Soldier Boy.
Your Ben.
He was lying on the ground, motionless.
“Ben?” you whispered, your voice catching in your throat as you rushed forward, your heart hammering in your chest. He was sprawled out in the dirt, his limbs twisted at unnatural angles, his face pale and still. His chest barely rose and fell with shallow breaths.
Your stomach dropped as you knelt beside him, your hands shaking as they hovered over his face. “Ben!” you called out, louder this time, but there was no response. His skin was cold, far too cold, and his eyes were closed, the usual spark of life that radiated from him completely gone.
Your hands moved frantically over his body, checking for injuries, for any sign of life, your mind racing as panic clawed its way up your throat.
“What the fuck happened?” you whispered, your voice thick with disbelief. This wasn’t possible. Soldier Boy didn’t just go down like this. He was invincible, indestructible. That was the whole point. That was why he led Payback. He wasn’t supposed to be vulnerable—not like this.
You felt a sudden chill creep up your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. Something wasn’t right. The camp was too quiet, too still, like the calm before a storm.
You heard the soft rustling of leaves behind you, the crack of a twig snapping underfoot.
You spun around, your powers flaring instinctively as you rose to your feet, but it wasn’t fast enough.
Crimson Countess stood before you, her expression twisted with something you hadn’t seen before—cold, calculated hatred. Her red eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, her posture relaxed but predatory.
Your pulse quickened, the blood roaring in your ears as your mind raced to make sense of what was happening.
“Countess?” you said, taking a cautious step back, your muscles tensing as you prepared for a fight. “What the hell is going on?”
She didn’t respond. She moved faster than you could track, her hand glowing with a deep crimson light as she lunged at you, her fingers crackling with energy. You barely had time to register the attack before she struck, her hand slamming into your abdomen with a force that knocked the breath from your lungs.
Pain exploded through your body, white-hot and blinding. You doubled over, gasping for air as the energy from her hand surged into you, searing through your skin and muscle. Her hand dug into your stomach, aiming with brutal precision.
Your vision blurred, the world spinning as you collapsed to your knees, clutching your stomach in agony. Panic surged through you, your mind racing not just with fear for yourself, but for the life inside you.
The baby.
The realization hit you again, sharper than before. You were pregnant. And she knew.
“No...” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whisper as you fought to stay conscious, to hold on to the thread of control that was slipping through your fingers. “Why?”
Crimson Countess knelt beside you, her expression cold and unfeeling as she watched you writhe in pain. “Because he’s a threat,” she said, her voice low and filled with venom. “And so are you.”
She pressed her hand against your abdomen again, harder this time, and you screamed, the sound tearing from your throat as fresh waves of pain wracked your body.
You tried to summon your powers, tried to push her away, but the agony was too intense, your focus shattered. All you could do was lie there, gasping for breath as the pain consumed you, as the reality of what was happening set in.
The baby was slipping away.
You could feel it, the fragile life inside you fading, slipping through your fingers like sand. And there was nothing you could do to stop it.
Tears streamed down your face as you clutched your stomach, as the grief and fear overwhelmed you. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to lose everything like this.
Crimson Countess stood, wiping her hands on her pants as if you were nothing more than an inconvenience she had dealt with. You watched her through blurry eyes, rage and helplessness surging through you, but your body was too weak, too broken to fight back.
She didn’t spare you another glance as she turned and walked away, leaving you there in the dirt, curled up in pain, alone.
Time passed in a blur. You weren’t sure how long you lay there, the pain ebbing and flowing in waves, each one leaving you more exhausted than the last.
The sounds of the jungle around you were distant, muffled, as if you were underwater. You could barely hear the rustling of the trees, the chirping of insects, the distant calls of animals. The world felt... distant, as if you were no longer part of it.
But you weren’t dead. Not yet.
Slowly, painfully, you forced yourself to move. Your body screamed in protest, every muscle aching, every breath a struggle, but you had to get up.
You didn’t. You slipped away, your eyes closing just as your feet were grabbed.
Tumblr media
The first thing you noticed when you woke up was the light—blinding, sterile white light, so bright it seared into your brain like a physical force. You winced, squeezing your eyes shut against it, but the pain followed, sharp and pulsing, lodging itself deep inside your skull. Your thoughts were sluggish, slipping through your fingers like sand, and each time you tried to catch hold of them, your head screamed in protest.
Where am I?
You forced your eyes open again, wincing against the brightness, and blinked until the room came into focus. The ceiling was plain white, featureless except for the overhead lights, which buzzed faintly in the otherwise silent room. It wasn’t just the ceiling—everything around you was white. Sterile. Empty.
A hospital? No. This was different, too cold, too controlled. A clinic? No… a cell.
You were lying on a bed—if it could be called that. The mattress was thin, barely a few inches thick, and wrapped in some kind of synthetic material. The walls around you were padded, stark white and seamless, stretching from the floor to the ceiling with no windows, no doors in sight. It wasn’t the comforting sterility of a hospital. It was the suffocating sterility of a prison.
You tried to sit up, but the moment you moved, a wave of nausea slammed into you, hard and fast. Your stomach churned violently, and you had to grip the edges of the bed to keep yourself from collapsing back into the thin mattress.
What the hell is happening?
Your thoughts were scattered, fragments of memories slipping in and out of your consciousness like shards of broken glass. You could almost grasp them—flashes of images, sounds, feelings—but they were distant, blurred. You struggled to hold onto them, but they kept slipping away, leaving only a pounding ache behind.
Then, like lightning, something cut through the haze.
Nicaragua.
You gasped, the memory of it sharp and vivid, forcing its way into your mind all at once. The jungle, the heat, the tension in the air that had clung to you like a second skin. The mission. Ben’s voice, low and warning, telling you to stay close.
You tried to focus on that—on him—but your mind was pulling you in too many directions at once. The camp. The silence. Ben lying on the ground, cold and unmoving.
No. No, no, no. That wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right.
Your breathing quickened, your pulse hammering in your chest as you struggled to piece together what had happened. You could see his face, pale and still, and the way your heart had stopped when you saw him. You’d tried to wake him up. Tried to shake him out of whatever trance he was in. Then…
Crimson Countess.
Her hand had felt like fire when it slammed into your abdomen. The pain had been so intense, so immediate, it had stolen the breath from your lungs. She had attacked you—attacked your baby.
Your baby.
You felt a surge of panic as your hands flew to your stomach, only to find that the familiar curve was gone. Flat. Empty. The sickening realization hit you like a sledgehammer, and a fresh wave of nausea rolled through you, but this time it wasn’t from whatever drugs they’d pumped into your system.
The baby. My baby.
The horror of it clawed at you, rising up from your chest and threatening to choke you. You could still feel the heat from her hand, the burning pain as she ripped your world apart.
A sharp prickling sensation crawled along the back of your neck, and you suddenly became aware of the tightness in your arms and legs. You looked down, blinking rapidly to clear your vision, and saw thick, padded restraints binding you to the bed. They were strapped across your wrists and ankles, holding you in place.
A burst of anger flared inside you, burning through the haze clouding your thoughts. You tugged at the restraints, pulling against them, but they didn’t budge. It was useless, and it only made the pounding in your head worse, but you kept trying anyway, refusing to give in to the panic threatening to drown you.
Footsteps.
You froze, your breath catching in your throat as the sound of approaching footsteps echoed in the sterile room. Two figures appeared, barely visible through the thick fog of your vision. Their white coats blended into the walls, making them seem like ghosts as they moved toward you. You blinked again, hard, trying to clear the haze from your eyes, but it only made your head throb harder.
They weren’t ghosts. They were doctors.
Or something close to that.
“Her vitals are spiking again,” one of them said, his voice low and clinical. “Heart rate’s all over the place.”
“She’s still fighting the sedatives,” the second one replied, his tone exasperated. “We’ve already upped her dose twice. What the hell is she running on?”
They stood at the foot of your bed, their faces obscured by surgical masks, their eyes cold and detached as they studied you like you were some kind of science experiment.
“She’s a supe. That’s what she’s running on,” the first doctor said, stepping closer to your side. He looked down at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he leaned in to inspect something on the monitor beside your bed. “Her system’s rejecting the sedatives faster than we can administer them.”
“Then up the dosage,” the second doctor snapped. “We need her under control.”
You tried to focus on them, tried to make sense of their words, but it was like your brain was wrapped in cotton, everything muffled and distant. They were talking about you like you weren’t even there, as if you were some malfunctioning machine they had to fix. You struggled against the restraints again, pulling harder this time, but it only made the doctors glance at each other in silent disapproval.
“We’ll have to restrain her further if she keeps fighting it,” the first one said, his voice clinical and detached. “She’s not responding to the current protocol. We might need to explore alternatives.”
“Alternatives?” the second doctor echoed, his tone sharp. “You mean the psychotropics?”
The first doctor hesitated, glancing down at you before giving a curt nod. “It’s either that or we keep increasing the dosage and risk damaging her brain function.”
“Fine,” the second doctor said, waving his hand dismissively. “But we need to keep her compliant until then. Get the others on standby.”
The others.
A new surge of panic gripped you, your heart pounding painfully in your chest as you pulled harder at the restraints. You weren’t sure what they meant by “the others,” but you knew it couldn’t be good. You had to get out of here. You had to—
The first doctor’s hand moved toward your arm, and before you could process what was happening, you felt the sharp sting of a needle piercing your skin. You gasped, jerking instinctively away from the contact, but the restraints held you down, and there was nowhere to go.
“No,” you whispered, your voice weak and hoarse. You tried to summon your powers, tried to push them back with the force of your mind, but the drugs were already working their way into your bloodstream, dulling your senses, making it harder to focus.
“She’s still resisting,” the second doctor muttered, stepping back to observe you as you fought to keep your eyes open. “Let’s see how long that lasts.”
The room began to spin, the walls and ceiling blending together in a dizzying swirl of white. Your thoughts scattered again, slipping through your fingers, and the more you tried to grasp them, the harder it became. You could feel yourself being pulled under, dragged down into the blackness, but you fought against it with everything you had.
You couldn’t lose control. You couldn’t let them win.
But your body was betraying you. The drugs were too strong, your mind too clouded, and no matter how hard you fought, the darkness was closing in.
Your last thought before everything went black was of Ben.
You didn’t know how long you had been out when you woke up again. Minutes? Hours? Days? Time felt slippery, impossible to hold onto, and your brain was slow to catch up with your surroundings.
The light was still painfully bright when you opened your eyes, but this time it didn’t feel as sharp, as if your senses were dulled by a thick fog. The pounding in your head had lessened, but the ache was still there, a constant pressure behind your eyes.
You blinked, your vision slowly clearing, and realized you were still in the same room. Still strapped to the same bed. Still alone.
The doctors were gone, but their words lingered in your mind, echoing in the empty space like a distant memory.
“She’s still fighting the sedatives.”
“Get the others on standby.”
You tried to move, but the restraints held you firmly in place, the padded straps digging into your wrists and ankles. Your muscles felt weak, heavy, as if they had been drained of all their strength. The drugs were still in your system, slowing everything down, making it hard to think clearly.
But you had to think. You had to find a way out of this.
You closed your eyes, taking a slow, deep breath, and tried to focus. Tried to push through the fog clouding your mind. You had been trained for this—trained to keep control, to maintain focus even in the worst situations. But this was different. The drugs were messing with your powers, keeping them just out of reach, like they were buried beneath layers of cotton and static.
You couldn’t even feel them anymore.
Tumblr media
You had been in this cell for what felt like an eternity. Time moved in strange ways here, dragging out into long, oppressive stretches of monotony. The walls were still white, still padded, and still held the same sterile stench of disinfectant and despair. You weren’t sure if you were truly awake anymore or trapped in a constant cycle of drugged sleep. The doctors came and went, administering their injections, monitoring your vitals, and talking about you like you were an object, an experiment they were struggling to understand. You couldn’t fight it like you used to. The drugs coursing through your veins made sure of that.
But today was different. You could feel it, the tension in the air, like something was about to snap.
They hadn’t come for your usual dose. No doctors, no needles. That was the first thing that tipped you off. You had counted the minutes after your last injection as best you could—always trying to keep some semblance of control in this place. It helped to have something to focus on, something to keep you tethered to reality. So when they didn’t show up, that creeping sense of dread started to gnaw at the back of your mind.
And then you heard it. The sound of footsteps outside your cell door. Not the soft, professional shoes of the doctors or the heavy boots of security personnel. No, these were heavier, clumsier. You knew that walk.
A door you hadn't noticed before creaked open, the sound grating against the silence like nails on a chalkboard. The room, already claustrophobic, seemed to constrict even more as you turned your head toward the source. And there he was.
Edward.
Your father.
He stood in the doorway, his face half-shadowed by the dim light spilling in from the hall behind him. His eyes, bloodshot and sunken, darted around the room before they finally settled on you. There was a flash of something in his expression—regret? Guilt? No. It was something more pathetic than that. A weak, watery fear. He looked smaller than you remembered. Older. And even now, standing there like some shameful ghost from the past, he reeked of whiskey and failure.
You stared at him, your heart pounding in your chest as memories flooded back unbidden, painful and relentless.
Edward, your father.
He had always been a drunk. Your earliest memories of him were of his staggering frame, his rough voice slurring insults and apologies in equal measure. The smell of alcohol clung to him like a second skin, as did the stench of wasted potential. He had once been a man of promise—at least that’s what people used to say—but that had been long before you were born. By the time you came into the world, he was already spiraling, his life unraveling thread by thread, dragging you down with him.
The debts he owed to Vought had crushed whatever was left of his dignity. And when they came calling, demanding payment, it wasn’t him they came for. It was you. He had offered you up like you were some kind of pawn, a sacrifice to save his own skin. You had been young, desperate, and stupid. So you went along with it. First as a call girl for their executives, working the seedier underbelly of Vought’s influence, and later… well, later as something else entirely. They had seen potential in you, something they could use, mold, and control. And so they did.
But that didn’t erase the truth.
You became a supe because of him. Because of his debts. Because he sold you to them like you were nothing more than a bargaining chip to save his own worthless life.
And now, he had the nerve to show up here.
“What… the fuck are you doing here?” you rasped, your voice hoarse and raw from disuse. Your throat felt tight, constricted, but the words still came out thick with fury.
Edward shuffled forward a step, his eyes still darting around the room as if he couldn’t bear to look at you directly. “I… I came to see you,” he mumbled, his voice slurred and weak. “They told me where you were… I thought—”
“You thought what?” You cut him off, your voice rising in volume and intensity as anger surged through you. It was the first real emotion you’d felt in what seemed like forever, burning hot and fierce, cutting through the haze that had dulled your mind for so long. “You thought you could just waltz in here like nothing happened? After everything you did?”
He flinched at the venom in your voice, but he didn’t back away. “I didn’t know… I didn’t mean for things to get this bad. I just—”
“You didn’t know?” You barked out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and grating in the small, sterile room. “You didn’t know that selling me to Vought would ruin my fucking life? You didn’t mean for things to get this bad? You sold your own daughter, Edward. For what? So you could keep drinking? So you could gamble away whatever little money we had left?”
Edward’s face twisted in a mixture of shame and defiance, but he still couldn’t meet your eyes. “It wasn’t like that,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “I didn’t have a choice…”
“You always had a choice!” you snapped, pulling against the restraints that held you to the bed. The fury building inside you was almost too much to contain, your vision blurring as the blood rushed to your head. The drugs were still in your system, but the anger was cutting through them, sharpening your senses in a way you hadn’t felt in months. “You always fucking had a choice, but you chose yourself. Every goddamn time.”
He looked at you then, his watery, bloodshot eyes finally meeting yours. There was something there—something that might have been remorse, but it was too little, too late. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words falling out of his mouth like they meant nothing.
“Sorry?” You spat the word back at him. “Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it, you piece of shit.”
You could feel your powers stirring beneath the surface, sluggish and dulled by the drugs but still there, simmering just below your skin. It had been so long since you’d felt that familiar hum, the power thrumming through your veins like a second heartbeat. You wanted to lash out, to make him feel even a fraction of the pain he had caused you.
“I never wanted this,” he said, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this…”
You cut him off with a scream, pulling against the restraints with all the strength you had left. The padded straps bit into your skin, but you didn’t care. You wanted to tear him apart, to make him bleed for what he had done.
“Shut the fuck up!” you screamed, your voice breaking as you thrashed against the bed. “You ruined my life! You did this to me! You!”
Edward took a step back, his face pale and frightened as he watched you struggle. “I—I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice shaking.
The fury inside you exploded, and you lashed out with your mind, your powers surging forward in a wave of raw energy. The restraints on your wrists and ankles snapped open, and you shot up from the bed, your body trembling with rage as you advanced on him.
He stumbled backward, his eyes wide with fear. “Wait—”
But you didn’t wait. You lunged at him, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and slamming him against the wall with a force that rattled the room. His head cracked against the padding, and he let out a choked gasp, his hands fumbling at yours as he tried to push you away.
“Do you know what you’ve done?” you hissed, your voice low and dangerous. “Do you have any idea what you’ve fucking done to me?”
“I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…” he wheezed, his hands weakly trying to pry your fingers from his shirt.
“You’re pathetic,” you snarled, tightening your grip and lifting him off the ground. “You sold me to them like I was nothing. And now you come here, acting like you care? Like you’re sorry? You don’t get to be sorry.”
You slammed him against the wall again, harder this time, and he let out a strangled cry. “Please,” he gasped, his voice barely a whisper. “Please… I didn’t know they would… I didn’t know…”
You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You didn’t know? You didn’t care. You never cared.”
He was sobbing now, his body shaking as he clung to your arms, his face twisted in a grotesque display of fear and regret. It was pathetic, watching him like this, begging for forgiveness that you would never give him.
And yet, even as you held him there, your powers flaring and your anger burning white-hot, there was a part of you—a small, quiet part—that hesitated.
He was your father.
No. He was never your father. Not in any way that mattered.
You released him suddenly, letting him fall to the floor in a heap, his sobs echoing in the small room. He curled into himself, clutching his head as if he could block out the pain, as if he could hide from the consequences of his actions.
You stood over him, your chest heaving with the effort of holding back the rage that still simmered inside you. You could kill him right now. It would be easy. A flick
of your wrist, a surge of power, and he would be gone. Out of your life forever.
But somehow, that felt like too easy of an end for him.
“Get out,” you said, your voice cold and flat. “Get the fuck out.”
Edward didn’t need to be told twice. He scrambled to his feet, his legs shaking as he stumbled toward the door. He didn’t look back as he fled, the door slamming shut behind him with a final, hollow thud.
You stood there for a long time after he left, your body trembling with the aftershocks of rage and adrenaline. The room was silent again, but the echoes of his voice, his pathetic apologies, still rang in your ears.
You sank to the floor, your back against the wall, and buried your face in your hands.
Tumblr media
The room was silent. Not the kind of peaceful silence that could lull you into some semblance of comfort, but the oppressive, suffocating quiet that seemed to cling to everything, pressing down like a weight on your chest. The padded walls and the sterile, artificial light made it worse. It was as if the air itself had been drained of all life, leaving you alone in a vacuum with nothing but your thoughts.
And those thoughts were darker than anything else in this room.
You closed your eyes, leaning your head back against the cold wall. You could still feel the residual anger in your bones from your father’s visit—the way your hands had shook with the need to break something, anything, just to release the tension that had built up inside you. But it had passed now, leaving only the hollow echo of rage in its place. That empty feeling, the one that had become so familiar to you over the years, was all you had left.
And then, there was her.
Your mother.
Bethany.
The name felt like a lifeline and a wound at the same time. You hadn’t spoken it out loud in so long. It was too painful, too raw. But now, as you sat here in this sterile, lifeless room, it was the only thing that kept you grounded. She was the only thing that had ever made sense in your world, the one person who had never let you down. And now, she was the one you couldn’t reach. Not physically, not mentally, not in any way that mattered.
You had heard that she was sick. The whispers had reached you even in this place, carried by the few scraps of information you were able to glean from the doctors who passed through the halls. They didn’t tell you much, didn’t need to. You could feel it in your bones, that deep, gnawing fear that had been eating away at you for months.
She was dying, and you weren’t there.
She was slipping away from you, and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
You opened your eyes, staring at the ceiling as you tried to organize your thoughts, tried to find a way to say what you had been avoiding for so long. You couldn’t speak it, not out loud. Not here. But maybe… maybe you could think it. Maybe you could put it into words in your mind, like a letter she’d never read but somehow, in some way, maybe she would know.
So you started, your thoughts coalescing into something that resembled a letter, though the words were rough and jagged, just like the emotions behind them.
Mom,
Where do I even begin?
I’ve thought about writing this letter a thousand times. I’ve thought about how I’d start it, how I’d try to explain what’s happened to me, why I’m not there with you right now. And every time, I’ve stopped myself because the truth is… I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to explain what’s going on in my head, how to make sense of the mess that my life has become. But now, I can’t avoid it anymore. I can’t keep pretending that everything’s fine, that I’ll figure it out eventually.
Because I don’t have time. You don’t have time.
I know you’re sick, Mom. I know that the cancer is eating away at you, bit by bit, and that there’s nothing I can do to stop it. I know that you’re suffering, and that you’re probably lying in a hospital bed somewhere right now, wishing I was there, wondering why I haven’t called or visited. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry that I haven’t been there for you. You deserve so much more than what I’ve given you. You’ve always deserved more.
But I’m trapped here, in this place. This prison. Not just this cell, but in my mind. I don’t know how to escape it. I don’t know how to be the person you need me to be. I’ve made so many mistakes, and I’ve hurt so many people. I’ve hurt you, even though that was the last thing I ever wanted to do.
God, Mom, I don’t even know how to tell you what happened. I don’t know how to explain why I let myself get wrapped up in Vought, why I let them turn me into… into this. Into something that barely resembles the girl you raised. I was so desperate. So fucking desperate to prove that I wasn’t like Dad, that I could be better than him, that I could fix everything he broke.
But in the end, I just ended up breaking myself.
I didn’t want to tell you. I didn’t want you to know that your daughter was caught up in their world, that I was doing things you’d never approve of. I didn’t want you to see what I’d become. I wanted to protect you from it, to shield you from the truth, because I knew that if you found out… you’d be disappointed. And that’s the one thing I couldn’t stand.
I couldn’t bear the thought of you looking at me with that same look you gave Dad when he was too drunk to stand, when he was screaming at you and throwing things. That look of tired, quiet disappointment that broke my heart every time I saw it. I didn’t want to be him. I didn’t want you to look at me like that.
But now, it doesn’t matter, does it? Because I’ve already failed. I’m already like him. I’ve hurt people. I’ve let Vought use me, manipulate me, turn me into their puppet. I let them get inside my head, and now I don’t know how to get them out.
I know you always believed in me. You always told me I could be more, that I could be better. And I wanted to be. For you. But I don’t think I can anymore. I don’t know who I am, Mom. I don’t know if I ever did.
I’m scared. I’m scared that when I get out of here—if I get out of here—it’ll be too late. That you’ll be gone, and I won’t have had the chance to say goodbye. That I won’t get to tell you how much you mean to me, how much I love you. Because I do, Mom. I love you more than anything in this world, and the thought of losing you… it’s killing me. It’s tearing me apart.
But I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to fix myself.
I wish I could talk to you. Really talk to you. I wish I could sit down with you and tell you everything—about Vought, about what they’ve done to me, about what I’ve done. But I can’t. I’m too scared. Too ashamed. I’m afraid that if I tell you the truth, you’ll hate me. And I can’t take that. Not from you.
You were the only one who ever believed in me, even when I didn’t believe in myself. You were the only one who saw something good in me, something worth saving. And now… I’m not sure that’s true anymore. I’m not sure there’s anything left in me worth saving.
I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry that I haven’t been there for you. I’m sorry that I’ve let you down. I’m sorry that I’m not the daughter you deserve.
But I love you. I love you so much, and I hope that, wherever you are, you know that. I hope that you can feel it, even if I can’t be there to tell you in person. Because I can’t lose you. Not yet.
Not before I’ve had the chance to make things right.
I’m going to try, Mom. I’m going to try to get out of here, to fix the mess I’ve made of my life. For you. Because you deserve better than this. You deserve better than me.
But I’ll try. I promise I’ll try.
I love you. I’ll always love you.
Your daughter.
You stopped, your thoughts trailing off into silence as you sat there, your heart pounding in your chest. The tears that had been building behind your eyes finally spilled over, hot and heavy as they slid down your cheeks. You hadn’t cried in so long. Not since you were a kid, hiding in your room while your father’s drunken rages echoed through the house. But now, you couldn’t stop the flood of emotions that came crashing down on you, wave after wave of grief, guilt, and helplessness.
You curled into yourself, wrapping your arms around your knees as you sobbed, the sound echoing off the padded walls. It felt like you were drowning, sinking deeper and deeper into the pit of despair that had been growing inside you for so long. And there was no one there to pull you out. No one there to save you.
You thought of your mother again, her warm smile, her gentle hands, the way she used to sing to you when you were little, soothing you to sleep with soft lullabies. She had always been your anchor, your safe harbor in the storm that was your life. And now she was slipping away, and you couldn’t do anything to stop it.
The thought of her lying in a hospital bed, weak and frail, fighting a battle she couldn’t win… it broke something inside you. The woman who had always been so strong, so resilient, was now vulnerable, fragile. And you weren’t there. You couldn’t hold her hand, couldn’t tell her that everything was going to be okay. Because it wasn’t. Nothing was okay.
And it was your fault.
You stayed like that for a long time, your body shaking with sobs, your heart
aching with the weight of everything you had lost. There was no one to hear you, no one to comfort you. You were alone in this place, just like you had always been.
But as the tears finally slowed, and the silence settled over you once again, you made a decision. You didn’t know how, and you didn’t know when, but you were going to get out of here. You were going to find a way to make things right. For her.
Because your mother deserved better. She had always deserved better.
And you were going to give her that, even if it was the last thing you ever did.
Tumblr media
©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨
𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝
TAGLIST: @goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff
@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510
@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero
@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms
@b3th13
@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii
@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57
@1-800-dean-winchester
@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings
@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington
@gleefulleve @sacrosankta
@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll
@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003
@impyrz
@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof
@zepskies @angelbabyyy99
@autisticgothic
@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester
@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27
@lyarr24 @ximm19
@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester
@cheynovak @manicjk @riah1606 @deadstarkblacksoul @ladysparkles78
@spnfamily-j2
Tumblr media
56 notes · View notes
novlr · 8 months ago
Note
Hi, can you write a paragraph about rain? Can you also give tips on describing nature? Thank you.
Rain can evoke a range of emotions and associations, from the childlike joy of splashing in puddles to the melancholy of grey skies mirroring a character’s mood. But while we’ve all experienced stormy weather, capturing its essence on the page can be surprisingly tricky. Here are some tips to help you write about rain in a way that will make a splash with your readers. (You can also adapt this advice to almost any nature description, but we will try to put out a separate post on more general nature advice at a later date.)
How does it look?
Use vivid adjectives to describe how the rain looks at different times of day and in different conditions.
Mention the angle the rain is falling at. Is it falling straight down? Angled? or even sideways?
Describe the size and shape of the raindrops – are they small and needle-like or large and heavy?
Note if the rain is clear or if it’s tinged grey or yellow from pollution.
Does the rain form puddles, streams, or mini-rivers as it flows?
Describe any ripples, splashes, or concentric circles the rain makes when hitting surfaces.
How does it sound?
Use onomatopoeia like “pitter-patter,” “tapping,” “drumming,” “plinking,” or “hissing” to mimic the sound.
Show the surfaces the rain hits and how that changes the noise — a “clattering” on windows, a “thumping” on the roof, a “plopping” in puddles
Describe the overall volume, from a soft “murmuring” or “whispering” to a loud “pounding” or “roaring”.
Note any variations or patterns in the sound, like a steady drone vs. syncopated rhythms.
How does the sound fill a space? Does it echo? Reverberate? Or is it dampened and muffled?
Describe how the noise of the rain interacts with other ambient sounds in the scene.
How does it feel and smell?
Describe the temperature of the rain and how it feels on the skin. Is it cool and refreshing or shockingly cold?
Describe the tactile sensations, like wetness, dripping, soaking, or chilly dampness.
Note how the rain changes the air, making it humid, misty, or heavy and saturated.
Describe the smell of the rain, which can be clean and fresh, dusty, earthy, or laden with ozone.
Describe how it feels to be out in the rain — are characters getting drenched to the bone or finding shelter?
Use metaphors to compare the feeling to other sensations, like tears on the face or a massage.
What mood and atmosphere does it evoke?
Use the rain to set the overall tone and mood you want to evoke, from gloomy and sad to peaceful and cleansing.
Show how the rain affects the setting, like making colours more vivid or obscuring things with mist.
Describe how the lighting changes, with skies darkening or a glistening sheen over everything.
Describe how the rain makes characters feel emotionally as well as physically.
Use the rain as a symbol or metaphor to mirror the characters’ mental states or the themes of the story.
Show how the rain transforms the world, slowing things down or washing things away, and how characters react to that.
Positive story descriptions
Rain can bring a sense of renewal, growth, and life to the world.
There is a cosy feeling of being inside looking out at the rain, safe and warm.
Rain can make everything glisten and gleam in the light, looking fresh and new.
Show the soothing, hypnotic quality of the rhythmic patter of raindrops.
Rain can be invigorating, energising, and joyful.
Rain can symbolise a fresh start, washing away the old to begin a new chapter.
Negative story descriptions
Rain can create a sense of melancholy, isolation, or loneliness
Rain can be an obstacle or hindrance, slowing characters down or forcing them to change plans.
There is a chilling, bone-deep cold that comes from being soaked in the rain.
Describe the bleak, colourless world that seems to exist when the sky is endlessly grey and stormy.
Show how the rain can feel oppressive, like a heavy weight pushing down on everything.
Describe how the rain can make the world feel dreary, soggy, and depressing, sapping energy and vitality.
Helpful vocabulary
Use words like deluge, downpour, torrent, cloudburst, hammering, lashing, pelting, battering, or thrumming to describe heavy, intense rain.
Try terms like drizzle, mist, sprinkle, shower for lighter rain.
Describe rain-soaked things as drenched, saturated, sodden, waterlogged.
Describe how rain dimples or stipples surfaces.
Gutters may babble, gush, trickle or overflow with rain.
Puddles can slosh, ripple, or reflect like mirrors.
Raindrops may bead up, roll, or slide down windows, leaves and other surfaces.
Adjectives like windswept, blustery, driving, relentless, or unceasing can evoke a storm.
The air may feel close, clammy, sticky, or muggy from humidity.
Petrichor is the earthy scent released when rain falls on dry soil.
Slickers, macs, wellies, brollies, and goloshes are rain gear that can add character details.
After a storm, the world may seem scoured, quenched, drenched, or newly baptised.
128 notes · View notes
gretavanlace · 1 year ago
Text
Tumblr media
Poppins (part 8)
18+ only! Minors do not interact!
Warnings: adult themes, illusions to sex, angst, alcohol consumption, etc
*We’re getting down to it, only two (possibly three) more chapters to go ❤️
It feels like the air has been punched clean out of your lungs, but just as quickly, logic takes over and shakes you straight.
Obviously, you’ve misunderstood…and you tell him as much.
“I guess I’m not following you, Josh.” You attempt a casual laugh and nudge his shoulder with your own, scrambling for normalcy. “But, I suppose it really isn’t any of my business, anyway.”
His stare remains locked on Lily, with that proud, faraway look that so often softens his expression when he watches her. “You’re following me just fine, sweetheart. You’re just a little off kilter because I sort of threw it at you. I’m sorry for that.”
Funny, you’ve never actually had an ‘I must be dreaming’ moment…but you’re certainly having one now. That has to be it, you’ve conjured this jumbled up mess inside your head.
You’re at home, still sleeping off the blunt shared with Jake. Right? No, you can feel the warm humidity of the day building in the air, there is the faint knock of a woodpecker lost somewhere in the trees, there is the sound of him breathing, waiting, existing, beside you.
This is no dream - but it’s every bit as confusing as one.
Afraid she might overhear, you pitch your voice less than a whisper, so quiet you almost don’t hear your own question, but Josh does.
“Yes, she’s Jake’s,” a gently possessive edge nips at his tone. “Biologically. It doesn’t matter, that little girl is mine, and I’m her’s. But yeah, that’s what I meant when I said I could never repay him. Look at her…”
A smile breaks across his face, warm, gorgeous, and absolutely beaming with adoration as he studies her pointing something out in the sand. Her buddy leans in closer to inspect her discovery, as they carry on what seems to be a very serious discussion.
“He gave me my favorite girl. My everything. I would’ve died for him before, now I’d do it with a smile just because he asked. How could I ever level the playing field?”
There’s that playing field making its appearance again, albeit for a very different reason this time around.
“I don’t understand.” And you don’t. You’ve never understood anything less in your life. You can’t get a read on how, or why, or if it really even matters. It’s like someone has taken all the facts you’ve ever known to be true and mixed them all up. Nothing makes sense. Nothing fits. The puzzle is jumbled and missing pieces.
“It’s a lot, I know.” He shrugs, already intimately acquainted with the situation that has ripped the rug out from beneath your unsteady feet. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you, but if I’m being honest…which I guess is exactly what we’re doing here…I didn’t want him to beat me to it. I wanted to be the one to tell you. I really don’t even know why, and it sounds stupid now that I’m saying it out loud.”
“He never said a word.” The moment you speak the words, you remember Jake’s, she looks like her dad.
Josh leans back against the weathered wood bench and crosses his ankle over his knee. You’d like to ask him how he’s so casually fucking with your head, but you know this really isn’t about you at all.
“Of course he never said a word. Our stoic mystery man, whom you can’t seem to quit. Just remember, my love, still waters run deep. There are a great many things that Jacob has never said a word about. He would have, though. Eventually. Something about you seems to just drag things to the surface for us. Sorceress.”
He’s only teasing. Likely trying to lighten the heaviness of the conversation, but you blush all the same. As only Josh can, he both grins at the pink in your cheeks, and pretends not to see it, to spare your pride.
The way they speak - so alike in sound, inflection, turns of phrase, poetically laced and lovely - only serves to confuse you further. At times, it's like being with the same man who just happens to have split personalities.
“A great many things Jacob has never said a word about,” You muse,” Bigger than this?” You’re not sure you want to hear the answer.
A laugh, easy and genuine, trips out of him, louder by far than anything that has been murmured thus far, “Fuck, I hope not!”
Lil’s head snaps up, attention hooked; though her friend is more interested in watching her reaction than what she is reacting to. “Daddy said a bad word!” The accusation in her tone makes him sigh, defeatedly.
“No, I didn’t!” Josh holds his hands up in innocence, clearly enamored by her tiny cross examination. “Daddy said truck. We were playing the rhyming game.”
“Like we play in the car on the way to Gramma’s?” She shouts over, with disappointment now coloring her end of the exchange…she delights in catching grown ups misbehaving.
“That’s the one.” He smiles with an exhale of relief, like a little boy who has just successfully evaded punishment. “Never, ever, tell anyone how coolly I just lied to that angelic face.” He adds through his teeth, smiling with a wave in her direction.
“That angelic face can be brutal.” You giggle at his nonsense. “Last week she caught me eating one of those vegetarian sushi rolls you hog for yourself, and milked me for extra goodies at snack time for days in exchange for silence.”
“Jokes on you,” he rolls his big brown eyes as if he can’t believe your behavior. “I count them, and I knew it all along.”
“Yeah, well, you just admitted to counting your sushi rolls, so who should be ashamed of themselves, here? ‘Cause it isn’t me.” You’re joking, but only a little.
After an absurdly easy stretch of silence, he turns serious and quiet again, “Look, I know that I dumped this on you, and I know you’ve probably got a million questions…you deserve answers to every single one of them. Come to mom’s with me, yeah? She’s making a big lunch. Sammy’s bringing the dog. It’ll be fun. We’ll eat, she’ll eventually insist on keeping Lil for the night and we’ll go home. I’ll make you dinner and we can talk.”
“Talk? Is that what the kids are callin’ it these days?” You grin, how is everything always so easy with him? This shouldn’t be so casual. It shouldn’t feel this normal to joke about sleeping with him while grappling with something so monumental.
Incidentally, why are you joking about sleeping with him? Because you want to put it out there, that you’re still thinking about it, that you still want it…that’s why.
How do they do this? Both of them. It hardly seems fair. Or normal, for that matter. And he has the nerve to talk of sorcery?
The wind is fluttering through the leaves, rustling them like a soothing psalm. It causes your thoughts to wander…which seems odd; how could you be thinking about anything but this nuclear bomb he has just detonated inside your head. But somehow, wander they do, your thoughts - and you find yourself eyeing the trees, trying to hone in on the one lucky enough to have earned Jake’s favor.
Like always, Josh seems to know what you’re thinking. “It’s across the park. Over closer to that little pond where Lil likes to feed the ducks.”
“What?” You adopt a puzzled expression, though you cannot for the life of you fathom why. Josh knows. Just like his brother, Josh always knows.
It is a frustrating, exhausting fact, but a fact all the same.
“Jake’s tree.” He clarifies, proving what you already understood to be true…that he can peer inside your head and heart as easily as he could were you made of windows. “It’s over by the pond. Would you like to see it?”
“No.” You brush your hands over your arms as if you’ve caught a chill, though the air borders on muggy.
“Okay,” He nods, completely at ease with this unusual situation you’ve found yourselves in. “Would you like to see him?”
Awkwardly, you watch those leaves as they wave and dance together, anything to save from meeting his eyes.
“Is okay to say yes, love…” he taps your knee, just an innocent ‘hello’, and so different from the last time he touched you. “I’d like to see him too. He’ll undoubtedly be at our mother’s lounging around like he owns the place. Come with us.”
“Do they know?” You venture tentatively, “Your parents?”
Your eyes are on him now as he shakes his head. Sometimes you forget how truly beautiful he really is and then you wonder how you ever could.
“Contrary to popular belief, Jake and I can keep a secret.”
“Not even your mother?” You find this hard to believe, as much as Jake taunts his twin for being a ‘mama’s boy’, he’s just as bad. They trust her with everything.
Josh nods at Lily, who is now flouncing her way over like a fairy who has misplaced her wand…all swishing ponytail and laughing eyes. “Not even her mother.”
The windows for questions has slammed shut, leaving all of yours to slam against the pane of glass like dazed birds.
~
“Rosie, get down!” Sam’s voice barks across the kitchen, startling you out of your thoughts. Rosie, unfazed and standing on her hind legs, continues to peruse the veggie plates and chip bowls Karen has set out on the counter, sniffing out delicious scents and temptations.
“Rosebud, I swear, if you don’t—“
“Samuel,” Karen scolds, snapping at him with the hand towel she’s been toting around. “Get off your ass and get her. Stop acting like an idiot in my kitchen.”
Sammy lopes over and grabs his faithful companion by the collar, lovingly tugging her away. “I don’t come here to be treated like I’m five, ma.” He complains, sweeping open the back door.
“Shut up, and go help your brothers.” She’s turned away from him and smiling, but judging by his returning smile, he has heard the adoration in her admonishing words.
At the table, bathed in the warmth of Karen’s sunny kitchen, you watch Jake and Josh confer near the enormous lilac bush Kelly has insisted be torn out.
“Too close to the septic system.” He’d informed the room when everyone protested ripping such a beauty from the earth, “The roots are gonna screw it all up and not a damn one of you are gonna want to come help clean up the aftermath.”
Of course, the boys have been tapped to help, as Kelly insists there’s no time like the present, and of course, Sammy has been shirking his duties ever since. True to form, rather than joining the twins, he opts for a chair to toss a tennis ball to Rosie from.
Your heart warms watching his honest and open face laugh gleefully as she chases down her bouncing prey. He is the sweetest gem, and you wish you knew him a little better.
But, as it so often does, your attention wanders back over to Josh, in his casual weekend wear, clean and crisp…and Jake, looking gorgeously rumpled and out of place in the domesticity of it all. You know he smells of ember and the Booker’s he is currently nursing out of a plastic tumbler to ensure Lil doesn’t ask questions.
You miss them both. They feel very far away as you watch on, smiling when they raise their arms to point something out to Kelly in perfect, unplanned, synchronicity.
Karen is suddenly beside you, staring out across the deck as well, chomping on a baby carrot. “It’s fun to watch them, isn’t it?”
She offers you a veggie and you take it, nodding in complete agreement around a bite.
“See how they mirror each other?” She marvels softly, wistful for her babies. “They’ve always done it. Even in the hospital, one would move, and there would go the other. Josh had terrible colic - briefly, thank god - and Jake would tense up even before Josh made a peep, like he could feel it coming. They’re each other's keepers.”
Be it motherly intuition, or perhaps just the nostalgia of having all of her boys home at once, she has chosen an ideal time to share. With the men all outside either tending to chores or shirking them, and Lil napping on the couch, you have her, and her memories, all to yourself.
“Tell me more about what they were like.”
If she senses something more behind the question, she doesn’t let on. “They were terrors. Little monsters, just awful. But, gentle angels at the same time. Always quick with a hug or a thoughtful comment. Even when they were just tiny things, they honed in on people and just sank their little teeth into heart after heart.”
“Some things never change then, I guess.” You shouldn’t have said it and long to take it back. They get their empathetic third eye from their mother, and you know she’ll clock the situation for what it is.
But again, she stays mum on the subject of why you seem just as wistful as she.
“They struggled so hard in school,” she finally confides, eyes on them as they begin wrapping ropes around the root of the bush that, evidently, must go. “It was painful. Mostly because they were just so intelligent, but it was all locked away when it came to brick and mortar schooling. They just froze right up behind those little desks.”
You knew this. Josh has explained their plight a hundred times over, wringing his hands with worry that Lily-bit might struggle to overcome the same mountains. Still, it’s so difficult to imagine them, easily two of the most intellectually enriched, well read and spoken human beings you have ever met, grappling with crippling learning disabilities.
“We worked with them endlessly, and hired tutors, and they tried so damn hard.” Her voice wavers a touch, as if she’s swallowing down tears. “When the pieces started falling in place for them, Josh took to reading faster than Jakey. He had these phonics books he liked, and they would hole up in their room for hours while Josh helped him sound the words out. I used to listen at the door. It was like magic…Josh would utilize all the inner workings of that shared mind they can access, and somehow, he’d make it make sense for his brother. He’d remind him to slow down and really see all those turned around letters so kindly it made you want to crumble. Josh was the only one Jake ever went to for help, you couldn’t have paid him to be that vulnerable with anyone else. And Josh just soaked it up, helping Jake connect those dots. He’d grow so ecstatic and proud with each tiny success.”
You both laugh as Josh shoves at Jake’s shoulder, pointing angrily at the lilac and their task, clearly unhappy with something his twin hasn’t executed to his liking.
“That’s when I knew he’d be a teacher.” Her hand, so warm and maternal, pats your shoulder. “Josh, that is. We knew Jake’s fate the minute he was old enough to crawl towards a guitar.”
“The music man,” you watch him nip at his cup, leisurely and mellow, even as his brother barks orders at him.
“The music man.” She concurs, crunching into another carrot. “Always. Have you ever seen him play a song by ear? He’ll listen to it once and just stare off into space like nobody’s home. But really, he’s plucking all those notes out and locking them away. Next thing you know, he’s got it. Just like that. It’s incredible. Kelly and I used to look at each other and think, where in the hell did he come from?”
“Josh, too,” you offer, though of course she knows. “He sings to Lil all the time. Makes up these dumb little songs to make her laugh, or to help her remember something. And he sings in the shower because he seems to think it’s a magical box where no one can hear him.”
“Ah, yes,” she laughs, sliding her plate closer to you, ever the ‘mom’ wanting to nourish anyone who walks through her hallowed halls. “The shower concerts. He used to steal all the hot water constantly. It was worth it, though, to listen. They had a little band for a while. Did you know that?”
In your mind’s eye, the few pictures you’ve seen, pop up to say hello. “Sort of, but Josh kinda blew it off when I asked. Said he just helped Jake out with a few gigs when they were kids.”
A belly laugh, so much like her sons’, trills out of her. “It was way more than that, that liar. Used to have to drag them to all these shitty bars and parties. Samuel played bass. A friend of theirs, the drums…or sometimes Josh. That was always interesting. They were a mess, all over the place, but they had something special. And that’s not just mom talking, everybody said so.”
“So, what happened?”
“They started gaining a little recognition. Started being invited to play at the nicer places around town, and that was the idea all along, we thought. But, suddenly, Jake wanted nothing to do with it.”
Jake calling it quits would have been the absolute last thing you would have deemed to be the nail in the coffin.
She senses your surprise and nods along with it. “He finally told me why one night. Came in after having one too many at one party out in the woods or another. I sat him down at this very table right here and I know he thought I was about to climb up his ass about tapping a keg with his friends or whatever the hell they did that night, but really, I wanted to drag the truth out of him. The truth that mattered.”
“And?”
She leans back in her chair, shaking her head as if she still can’t believe it. On your end, you watch Josh snatch the cup from Jake’s grasp to steal a sip of his own.
“And, it made sense…his reason. Once he said it out loud it made so much sense I still don’t know how I’d missed it. He said things were falling together too cleanly for the band. That he knew they were headed for something that would be too heavy to easily put down, and that he knew it wasn’t what Josh wanted.”
A sigh sounds sad, but her eyes swim with pride for her youngest twin. “I told him he should let his brother make that call, but he’s always been wiser than the rest of us when it comes to Josh, and he said ‘That’s the thing, ma. He’s always gonna choose what I want. He has to think he’s choosing what I want.’”
Your throat feels tight with tears bitten back, “The way they have carried each other all through life is just…” you fall silent, lost for apt words.
“Yeah, well, they used to beat the hell out of each other on a regular basis, too, but that is for another day..” She nods toward the doorway behind you, and you turn to see Lil, rubbing her eye with one fist, and clutching her blanket with the other, as she stumbles nearer to coherency and her grandmother.
Karen scoops her up and whispers in her ear…Lil nods along and nuzzles her blankie, which is actually an old shirt of her daddy’s cut in half. Maroon and decorated with strange, colorful, geometric shapes, it has been her comforting companion for as long as you’ve known them.
“Okay, then…” Karen stands and deposits her favorite person down on her teensy feet. “Time to get this lunch finished up.”
Lily is sent off with a bribery popsicle to play with Rosie and Sam, as the two of you begin preparing to feed the brood.
~
“Why do I always find you up here, poppins?” He’s leaning against the doorframe, like the casually dapper lead in some movie he would never watch.
You turn away from the desk, where you’ve been gingerly touching relics, as though strolling through a particularly lenient museum.
You love this space, and you make no apologies for it. “I like it in here. Comforting chaos is kind of your brand. Both of you. Why do you always seem to be sneaking up on me in here?”
He grins softly as you lob the question back at him. “I suppose I am always sneaking up on you, aren’t I? Looking for you, searching you out, hunting for my girl.”
Hunting for my girl…jesus.
A gentle hum is your only reply as he slips into the room, kicking the door closed with the heel of his boot. He has showered since the lilac bush incident, and stepped into clean clothes that still somehow look disheveled.
His hair is still slightly damp, and you long to bury into it, to breathe in the perfume of fresh shampoo and him.
“You spoiled me last night, you know, babe.” Down he plops on his bed, the crowned royal head draped across his sovereign throne, just as he had been the last time you found yourself in this room with him. “Why don’t you come over here and allow me to indulge a little more, hmm? Can you be quiet, pretty girl?”
“Jake.”
He kisses the air lazily in your direction, folding his hands behind his head against the pillow, like you haven’t spoken his name at all, “C’mon, baby, I haven’t had my dessert yet.”
You want to go to him. God, how you want to go to him. You want to climb on top of him and fuck his beautiful mouth until you fall apart, and then you want to lie with him in this silent world it seems time has forgotten. You want to be his while her face smiles out of all those curling, yellowing, snapshots. She was so beautiful, a stunning package to hide all the ugliness she had in store for his precious heart.
But, you want truth even more.
“Would you have ever told me?” Your question - accusation? - comes a whisper.
He sits up slowly, eyes locked in and narrowed on yours. He knows what you’re asking, but he’s trying to make certain. You let him watch you for the longest stretch, with his pretty face tilted, studying, observing, until you’re fighting to sit still under his white hot scrutiny.
“Yes.” He nods, at last. “I think I probably would have. It’s interesting, isn’t it? The way you coax the truth out of us. Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?”
There they go again, singing different verses of the very same song.
“She’s what you gave up?” You lean forward, hushed and hungry for answers. “Like we talked about?”
He nods again, barely perceptible in the movement. “Like a kidney, right, poppins? Only so, so much worse.”
Questions gridlock inside your head as he shakes his own. “I told you before, it isn’t my story to tell, babe…and that’s just the way this one has to be.”
He closes up shop with a blink and saunters, calm and cool as ever, over to the door. “C’mon then, Mary Poppins, if you aren’t going to allow me to have my way with you, we really should rejoin the others.”
~
“Would you like something light?” Josh peers into his fridge while you watch from your perch on the counter. “I just picked up some strawberries from that little stand around the corner, I could make us a big salad. Fruit, nuts, romaine, a nice vinaigrette?” He holds up the basket of berries proudly. “Look how fat they are. Fucking beautiful.”
“Whatever you want, Josh,” you smile at his enthusiasm, as well as his eagerness to please.
He turns his attention to the pantry, and your pulse picks at the memory it conjures. “Pasta?” He holds up a box of angel hair, shaking it around invitingly. “I could whip up some butter and herbs, get you drunk on carbs.”
“Seriously, whatever you want is fine. Order a pizza for all I care.”
True to his predictions, Lily remained at the Kiszka homestead, and was half asleep in Jake’s arms by the time the two of you took your leave. And now here you sit, aching to blurt out question after question while he forages in his kitchen to put together a meal you couldn’t care less about.
“Alright,” he nods, and back to the fridge he goes, finally turning to face you bearing an untouched container of his beloved veggie sushi rolls. “Pretties for the thief?”
“It was one damn piece, Joshua.” You laugh, rolling your eyes at his ridiculous name calling.
“Grab a white and a couple glasses,” he nods over at the wine rack.
You do as instructed, and join him where he has settled in the living room, placing the stemware carefully on the coffee table before uncorking the bottle of reisling you selected. It should be chilled, but neither of you have ever cared much to begin with.
On his elegant end, he loudly wrenches open the plastic container and slides it over unceremoniously.
Without cheers, he tips his glass and then shrugs, “Okay, sweetheart, this is the story of myself, my Lily, and my idiot brother…”
Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @jakesgrapejuice @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightjaketastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @gretasmokerising @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelightfandomtastic @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @sarakay-gvf @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sunfl0wer-power @sad1lynn @starcatcher-jake @gretavangroupie
223 notes · View notes
imperialchem · 3 months ago
Text
Choosing the Right Gas Line Corrosion Inhibitor for Your Needs
Corrosion is a significant challenge faced by industries that rely on gas pipelines for transportation and distribution.  Gas pipelines, especially those exposed to harsh environmental conditions, are highly susceptible to corrosion, which can compromise the integrity of the entire system.  This is where gas line corrosion inhibitors play a crucial role.  These specialized chemicals help protect gas lines from corrosion, extending the life of the infrastructure and ensuring safe and efficient operations.
Tumblr media
In this blog, we will explore the factors involved in choosing the right gas line corrosion inhibitor for your needs.  Additionally, we will look at how gas line corrosion inhibitor manufacturers in India, gas line corrosion inhibitor exporters, and chemical manufacturers contribute to this vital sector, ensuring the global supply of high-quality solutions.
Understanding Gas Line Corrosion and Its Impact
Gas pipelines are prone to different types of corrosion, including internal and external corrosion.  Internal corrosion is caused by contaminants like carbon dioxide (CO2), hydrogen sulfide (H2S), oxygen, and water present in the gas.  When these contaminants interact with the pipe's surface, they form corrosive compounds that degrade the metal over time.  External corrosion, on the other hand, occurs due to environmental factors such as soil composition, moisture, and atmospheric conditions.
Corrosion in gas pipelines can result in:
Leaks:  Even minor corrosion can weaken the pipeline walls, causing gas leaks that pose safety risks and result in product loss.
Operational inefficiency:  Corrosion can restrict the flow of gas through the pipeline, reducing the efficiency of the entire transportation system.
Costly repairs:  Pipeline corrosion can lead to frequent maintenance and expensive repairs, increasing operational costs.
Environmental damage:  Corrosion-related pipeline failures can cause gas to leak into the environment, potentially harming ecosystems and contributing to air pollution.
To combat these issues, gas line corrosion inhibitors are commonly used.
What Are Gas Line Corrosion Inhibitors?
Gas line corrosion inhibitors are chemical compounds designed to prevent or minimize the corrosion of metal surfaces in pipelines.  These inhibitors form a protective barrier on the internal and external surfaces of the gas line, preventing corrosive agents from coming into direct contact with the metal.
There are several types of gas line corrosion inhibitors available, each formulated to target specific types of corrosion and environmental conditions.  Understanding the different types and how they work is key to selecting the right inhibitor for your needs.
Types of Gas Line Corrosion Inhibitors
Gas line corrosion inhibitors can be classified into several categories based on their chemical composition and mode of action:
Film-Forming Inhibitors:  These inhibitors create a protective layer on the metal surface, preventing corrosive agents from attacking the metal.  Film-forming inhibitors are particularly effective for internal corrosion caused by acidic gases like CO2 and H2S.  They are widely used in both gas and oil pipelines.
Passivating Inhibitors:  Passivating inhibitors react with the metal surface to form a passive oxide layer, which inhibits further corrosion.  These inhibitors are commonly used in pipelines carrying gases that contain high levels of oxygen.
Cathodic Inhibitors:  These inhibitors work by reducing the rate of the cathodic reaction in the corrosion process.  They are effective in controlling external corrosion in gas pipelines buried underground or exposed to humid environments.
Oxygen Scavengers:  Oxygen scavengers are chemical agents that remove dissolved oxygen from the gas, preventing it from reacting with the metal surface.  Oxygen is a primary cause of internal corrosion in gas pipelines, so using oxygen scavengers is an effective way to mitigate this risk.
Volatile Corrosion Inhibitors (VCIs):  VCIs release vapors that condense on the metal surface, forming a protective film that prevents corrosion.  These inhibitors are often used in gas pipelines exposed to atmospheric corrosion.
Factors to Consider When Choosing a Gas Line Corrosion Inhibitor
Selecting the right gas line corrosion inhibitor for your pipeline depends on various factors, including the type of gas being transported, environmental conditions, and the specific corrosion challenges you face.  Here are some key factors to consider:
Type of Gas:  The composition of the gas being transported plays a significant role in determining the type of corrosion inhibitor required.  For instance, pipelines transporting sour gas (gas containing H2S) will require a different inhibitor than those carrying sweet gas (gas without H2S).
Corrosion Type:  It is important to identify whether the pipeline is at risk of internal or external corrosion.  Internal corrosion requires inhibitors that work inside the pipeline, while external corrosion may require cathodic inhibitors or coatings that protect the outside of the pipeline.
Environmental Conditions:  The location of the gas pipeline is another crucial consideration.  Pipelines in coastal or humid environments are more prone to external corrosion due to the presence of moisture and salt.  In these cases, external corrosion inhibitors or coatings may be necessary.
Temperature and Pressure:  High temperatures and pressures can accelerate the rate of corrosion in gas pipelines.  When choosing a corrosion inhibitor, ensure that it is designed to withstand the specific temperature and pressure conditions of your pipeline.
Inhibitor Compatibility:  It is essential to choose an inhibitor that is compatible with the materials used in the pipeline, as well as with other chemicals that may be present in the gas stream.  Incompatible inhibitors can react with the gas or pipeline materials, leading to unintended consequences.
Regulatory Compliance:  Different regions may have regulations governing the use of certain chemicals in gas pipelines.  When selecting a gas line corrosion inhibitor, ensure that it meets all local and international regulatory requirements.
The Role of Gas Line Corrosion Inhibitor Manufacturers in India
India has emerged as a leading player in the global market for gas line corrosion inhibitors.  Gas line corrosion inhibitor manufacturers in India offer high-quality, cost-effective solutions that cater to the specific needs of the oil and gas industry.  These manufacturers utilize advanced technologies and rigorous quality control measures to produce inhibitors that meet international standards.
One of the key advantages of sourcing from Indian manufacturers is their ability to provide customized solutions.  Indian manufacturers work closely with clients to develop inhibitors tailored to their unique requirements, ensuring maximum protection against corrosion.  Additionally, these manufacturers often offer comprehensive technical support, helping clients choose the right inhibitor and implement it effectively.
Exporting Gas Line Corrosion Inhibitors:  The Indian Advantage
India’s chemical manufacturing industry has a strong presence in global markets, with many companies acting as gas line corrosion inhibitor exporters.  The country’s strategic location, skilled workforce, and competitive pricing make it an attractive source of corrosion inhibitors for international clients.
Gas line corrosion inhibitor exporters from India supply high-performance products to a wide range of industries across the world.  These exporters comply with international standards, ensuring that their products meet the stringent requirements of global clients.  Furthermore, Indian exporters offer logistical expertise, ensuring timely delivery and reliable supply chains for businesses in need of corrosion protection.
Why Choose a Gas Line Corrosion Inhibitor Supplier from India?
Choosing an Indian gas line corrosion inhibitor supplier can provide several benefits for businesses, including:
Cost-Effectiveness:  Indian suppliers offer competitive pricing without compromising on quality, making them a cost-effective choice for businesses looking to protect their pipelines.
Customization:  Indian suppliers have the expertise to customize corrosion inhibitors based on the specific needs of their clients, ensuring that the product is optimized for the environment and pipeline conditions.
Regulatory Compliance:  Indian suppliers ensure that their products meet both local and international regulatory standards, giving businesses peace of mind when using their products.
Conclusion:  Protecting Your Gas Lines with the Right Corrosion Inhibitor
Choosing the right gas line corrosion inhibitor is critical to the longevity and safety of your gas pipeline infrastructure.  By considering factors such as the type of gas being transported, the environmental conditions, and the specific corrosion challenges, you can select an inhibitor that provides effective protection.
India’s chemical manufacturers and gas line corrosion inhibitor manufacturers offer a range of high-quality products that cater to both domestic and international markets.  With their ability to provide cost-effective, customized solutions, Indian manufacturers and exporters are well-positioned to meet the global demand for gas line corrosion inhibitors.
Whether you’re looking for a gas line corrosion inhibitor supplier and exporter to support your operations, India’s industry leaders can help you find the right solution to protect your pipelines and ensure smooth, safe operations.
I have attached a report, city wise.  I have given you all countries’ cities’ report.  It is not possible to give in-depth report of cities from USA.  Kindly check the attached file of city wise where you will find traffic from all cities, all countries.
4 notes · View notes
becoration · 6 months ago
Text
Remedies and products to get rid of roaches from your home forever
Post has been published on becoration
Remedies and products to get rid of roaches from your home forever
Tumblr media
Cockroaches are one of the most annoying and difficult household pests to get rid of. They often inhabit warm and humid places, such as kitchens and bathrooms, and can transmit diseases. To definitively get rid of them, it’s crucial to combine deep cleaning with effective control methods. Here are some remedies and products to eliminate cockroaches from your home once and for all.
1. Adhesive Traps
These traps, available at home goods stores, contain bait that attracts cockroaches and an adhesive surface that traps them. Place them in areas where you suspect they may be active, like behind appliances and in kitchen corners.
2. Insecticidal Gel
Insecticidal gel is an effective and easy-to-use method. Apply it in the cracks and hidden areas where cockroaches tend to hide. The gel attracts the cockroaches, which then carry it back to the nest, eliminating the entire colony.
3. Boric Acid
Mixing boric acid with powdered sugar creates an attractive bait for cockroaches. Place small amounts of this mixture in strategic locations. Boric acid is lethal to cockroaches, but you must keep it out of reach of children and pets.
4. Aerosol Insecticides
Insecticide sprays specifically for cockroaches can be useful for quickly eliminating infestations. Spray areas where you see cockroach activity, and make sure to ventilate the space well after use.
5. Electric Traps
These traps work by electrocuting cockroaches when they come into contact with a charged plate. They are a modern and effective solution, although they can be expensive.
6. Baking Soda and Sugar
Another natural mix involves using baking soda and sugar. The sugar attracts the cockroaches, while the baking soda interacts with the acids in their stomach, proving fatal for them.
7. Maintain Cleanliness
Ensure your home is clean and free from food scraps. Regularly clean appliances, frequently empty the trash can, and securely seal the bags.
8. Seal Cracks and Holes
Cockroaches often enter through tiny cracks and holes in walls or floors. Use caulk or sealant to cover these entry points.
Combining different methods and products can result in an effective strategy for getting rid of cockroaches. Additionally, keeping a clean environment and sealing potential entry ways helps prevent future infestations. If the problem persists, consider consulting a pest control professional for specialized advice.
Source: Decoración 2.0, decoration news in Spanish
0 notes
dorbyofficial · 1 year ago
Text
Exploring the Aesthetics and Practicality of Fluted Laminate
Introduction
In the ever-evolving world of interior design and architecture, materials play a crucial role in shaping the visual appeal and functionality of spaces. One such material that has gained popularity in recent years is fluted laminate. This versatile and innovative material has found its way into homes, offices, and commercial spaces, offering a unique blend of aesthetics and practicality.
Tumblr media
Aesthetic Appeal
Fluted laminate is known for its distinctive appearance, characterized by a series of parallel grooves or channels on its surface. This fluted texture adds depth and visual interest to any surface it adorns. The play of light and shadow along the grooves creates a dynamic and eye-catching effect, making it a favorite among designers seeking to add a touch of contemporary flair to their projects.
The fluted pattern is not only visually appealing but also versatile enough to complement various design styles. Whether used in furniture, wall panels, or cabinetry, fluted laminate can seamlessly integrate into both modern and traditional interiors. Its clean lines and geometric precision make it a popular choice for those looking to achieve a minimalist aesthetic without sacrificing visual interest.
Practicality and Durability
Beyond its aesthetic charm, fluted laminate also boasts practical advantages that contribute to its growing popularity. One of its key features is durability. Laminate, in general, is known for its resilience against scratches, stains, and general wear and tear. The addition of the fluted texture not only enhances its visual appeal but also serves as a functional element, providing a textured surface that can hide minor imperfections and maintain its pristine look over time.
Fluted laminate is also moisture-resistant, making it suitable for various environments, including kitchens and bathrooms. This resistance to moisture ensures that the material remains stable and free from warping or damage, even in spaces prone to high humidity levels.
Versatility in Application
The versatility of fluted laminate extends to its application in different areas of interior design. In furniture design, fluted laminate can be used to create stunning tables, cabinets, and bookshelves that serve as focal points in a room. The textured surface adds a tactile element, inviting touch and interaction.
For wall panels, fluted laminate provides an excellent alternative to traditional wall coverings. The three-dimensional texture not only adds visual interest to walls but also contributes to acoustics, making it a practical choice for spaces where sound management is crucial.
Conclusion
Fluted laminate stands out as a material that effortlessly marries form and function. Its aesthetic appeal, practicality, and versatility make it a go-to choice for designers and architects looking to push the boundaries of creativity in interior spaces. Whether used in residential or commercial settings, fluted laminate continues to make a statement, proving that innovation in materials can lead to both visually stunning and highly functional designs. As the design world continues to evolve, fluted laminate stands as a testament to the endless possibilities that emerge when aesthetics and practicality come together in perfect harmony.
0 notes
structuraremodeling · 1 year ago
Text
HOW TO CHOOSE THE BEST PAINT FOR YOUR BATHROOMS
Tumblr media
Maybe you are not quite ready to remodel the bathroom in your Los Angeles home but are thinking a nice new coat of paint would make all the difference. That sounds like a great weekend DYI project. A new paint color, some updated bathroom accessories, and fresh towels will give you just the pick-me-up you are looking for.
BEFORE YOU GET STARTED, TAKE THE TIME TO DO SOME RESEARCH AND FIND OUT HOW TO CHOOSE THE BEST PAINT FOR YOUR BATHROOMS.
What are the 2021 trends for bathroom colors?
What do you need to do to prepare the walls before starting with a new coat of paint?
How do you prevent mold and peeling paint?
Can you paint on tile walls?
2021 WALL COLOR TRENDS
According to Martha Stuart, the bathroom trends we can expect to see for 2021 are:
Varied shades of pale blues
Deep saturated greens to create some real drama.
Warm neutrals for a spa-like atmosphere
Soft yellow tones accessorized with natural materials
All white bathroom to create that clean and relaxed feel. She recommends lite grey grout if you want a more updated look.
CHOOSE WALL COLORS THAT DON’T AFFECT MIRROR REFLECTIONS.
The one thing to keep in mind when choosing the paint for your bathrooms update is how it will interact with the lighting in the bathroom. If you are painting your powder room, this might not be a concern and you can go for a dramatic effect. If this is the main bathroom where you get ready, do your makeup, and require lighting that reflects how you will look in natural light, it is essential to remember that natural walls may be the right choice, simply because they make you look your look best. A darker color may cast shadows or reflect an unflattering hue on your skin. Whites, grays, and pastels are popular bathroom colors because they flatter your skin and create a relaxing space. Flattering colors are critical for a room that gets so much use.
THE BEST PAINT FOR YOUR BATHROOMS SHOULD OFFER MOLD AND MILDEW RESISTANCE.
Let’s face it; bathrooms are a wet space and ripe for mold and mildew. Often bathrooms do not have sufficient ventilation. Most do not have windows, so our bathrooms are steeped in moisture most of the time. In Los Angeles, California, the state takes mold very seriously. Mold can cause severe health issues, with long-term health effects if not recognized and treaded.
To protect you and your family and the future value of your home, keeping it mold-free is a top priority.
Fortunately, there are many options of paint with anti-microbial additives that resist mold. Check out  Benjamin Moore’s Aura Bath And Spa Matte Finish (Benjamin Moore) and Zinsser’s Perma-White ( Amazon) Once on the wall, these paints will kill existing mold and prevent new mold from growing.
USE A MOISTURE-RESISTANT PRIMER TO PREVENT PEELING.
Peeling paint occurs when moisture seeps between the paint and its surface. The most suspectable areas are the unventilated areas, like the shower or bath, where steam rises and gets trapped. If you have the option of a bathroom window to provide additional ventilation, it can make a big difference in lowering the bathroom’s humidity. Also, if you have an older home, you might want to replace the bathroom fan with a more modern and energy-efficient ventilation system. To prevent peeling, apply a coat of moisture-resistant primer to the ceiling or walls before you add your mildew-resistant paint color. The reduction in moisture will extend the life of your paint job.
ANOTHER OPTION IS TO SELECT A SEMI-GLOSS OR HIGH-GLOSS PAINT.
Using a semi-gloss or high-gloss finish is another way to get the job done. Glossy paints cannot prevent mold, but they’re easier to clean and maintain than paint with flat and eggshell finishes. If you find traces of mold, it will be easier to remediate with a semi-gloss vs. a flat paint. Homeowners who don’t like the sheen of glossy paints can opt for satin instead; it’s slightly less reflective yet still not difficult to clean.
HOW TO PAINT ON TILES OR GLOSSY SURFACES
You can paint over ceramic tile walls in a bathroom. Remember, you will lose some of the textural look because the grout will be the same color as the tiles. For best results, paint tile walls that have limited exposure to water. Skip the shower tiles and stick to the decorative walls.
TO PREPARE TILE FOR PAINTING:
Clean Tile: Clean the tile to remove any dirt, mildew, or soap scum using an abrasive bathroom cleaner. After cleaning, wipe the surface down with a clean, wet sponge to remove any residue, then allow the surface to dry thoroughly.
Sand Tile:  Lightly sand the tile with fine (180-220 grit) synthetic grit sandpaper, such as silicon carbide or aluminum oxide, to take the gloss off the glazed surface. An orbital sander will do a faster and better job than hand sanding.
Remove Dust:  Wipe down the surface with a damp cloth to remove any dust and allow it to dry before painting.
THERE ARE TWO PAINTING OPTIONS FOR TILE:
Latex Paint: Apply one to two coats of a bonding primer made to adhere to surfaces such as tile. Allow the primer to dry for the recommended time, followed by two topcoats of acrylic latex wall paint.
Epoxy Paint: Apply two coats of a two-part epoxy paint made for tile and other hard to paint surfaces, such as Rust-Oleum Tub & Tile. Follow the directions carefully, and allow the recommended drying time before using. The colors available for epoxy paint may be limited.
NOW THAT YOU HAVE CHOSEN THE BEST PAINT FOR YOUR BATHROOMS LET’S GET STARTED
Take care to prep before painting.
Step One – Before applying mold-resistant paint or your primer, clean the bathroom walls thoroughly and remove any mildew with a DIY solution of three parts water to one part bleach.
Step Two- Tape off your corners, doorways, floorboards, and any other spots you want to protect from excess paint using painter tape.
Step Three- Get out your drop cloths or old sheets to cover the sinks, floors, countertops, and toilet.
Step Four- Begin painting in the corners and work your way out and across the walls. Let the paint dry for at least two days or more, if possible, to give the paint time to set before taking a shower. Ventilate the bathroom well while painting and throughout the drying process. Then stand back and admire your work. Wait a few days, then bring in your new accessories and enjoy your refurbished bathroom!!!
Now, if choosing the best paint for your bathrooms, prepping the walls, and painting seems too much to get done, then leave it to the professionals.
0 notes
kaashni-co-in · 2 years ago
Text
The Impact of Nanotechnology on Future Interior Design
Tumblr media
Nanotechnology is a rapidly evolving field that is transforming various industries, including interior design. The use of nanomaterials in interior design offers a wide range of benefits, including enhanced durability, flexibility, and sustainability. Additionally, nanotechnology enables the creation of innovative and futuristic designs that were previously impossible to achieve. As this technology continues to advance, it is expected to have a significant impact on the way we approach interior design, from the materials we use to the functionality and aesthetics of our living spaces. In this article, we will explore the various ways in which nanotechnology is already being used in interior design and the potential it holds for the future.
Nanotechnology can be used to create smart materials that can adapt to changes in temperature, humidity, and lighting conditions.
Nanoparticles can be used to create self-cleaning surfaces that are resistant to stains, dust, and dirt.
Nanotechnology can be used to create energy-efficient windows and lighting systems that can help to reduce energy consumption.
Nanoparticles can be used to create antimicrobial surfaces that can help to reduce the spread of germs and bacteria.
Nanotechnology can be used to create high-performance insulation materials that can help to reduce heat loss and noise pollution.
Nanoparticles can be used to create materials that are stronger and more durable than traditional building materials.
Nanotechnology can be used to create lightweight and flexible materials that can be easily shaped and molded into different forms.
Nanoparticles can be used to create materials with unique optical properties, such as color-changing pigments and transparent conductive coatings.
Nanotechnology can be used to create materials that are more environmentally friendly and sustainable than traditional building materials.
Nanoparticles can be used to create sensors and other electronic components that can be integrated into building materials to create smart buildings.
Nanotechnology can be used to create advanced filtration systems that can help to remove pollutants and allergens from the air.
Nanoparticles can be used to create materials with advanced sound-absorbing properties that can help to reduce noise pollution.
Nanotechnology can be used to create materials with advanced fire-retardant properties that can help to improve safety in buildings.
Nanoparticles can be used to create materials that can absorb and store energy from sources such as sunlight and artificial lighting.
Nanotechnology can be used to create materials that can help to regulate indoor air quality by removing harmful gases and pollutants.
In conclusion, the impact of nanotechnology on future interior design is vast and exciting. With the ability to create new materials, incorporate smart functionalities, and enhance sustainability, nanotechnology has the potential to revolutionize the way we design and interact with our living spaces. However, it is important to consider the potential risks and ethical concerns associated with this technology, as well as the need for ongoing research and development to ensure its safety and effectiveness. As nanotechnology continues to advance, it will be interesting to see how designers and architects incorporate it into their work and how it transforms the way we experience our built environment.
0 notes
foursquare12345-blog · 2 years ago
Text
Rural Wall Painting Advertising For Your Business
Tumblr media
Wall painting is a great way to add character and personality to any business. Not only that, but it can also be an effective marketing tool. If you’re looking for a way to boost your business in rural areas, consider advertising your business on rural wall paintings. These paintings are becoming more popular every day, and they offer a unique way for customers to interact with your business. Plus, they look amazing.
What is Rural Wall Painting Advertising?
There are many benefits to advertising your business through rural wall painting. Rural walls provide a unique canvas for your company logo, which can be seen from miles away. Additionally, rural walls often have a high degree of permanence, making them an excellent choice for advertising campaigns that need to be seen for years to come.
Advantages of Rural Wall Painting Advertising
There are a number of important advantages of Rural Wall Painting Advertising your business in rural areas. 
First, many people living in rural areas have limited access to entertainment and other forms of distraction. This means that they are more likely to pay attention to what you have to say. 
Second, many people living in rural areas appreciate the handmade feel of traditional wall painting. This makes your ad stand out from the competition. 
Finally, advertising your business in rural areas can help you build relationships with potential customers.
How to select a Rural Wall Painting company
When you are looking to have a beautiful, custom mural painted on your rural wall, it is important to find a company that you can trust. Here are a few tips to help you select the right painting company for your needs:
1. Do Your Research
Before choosing any painting company, it is important to do your research. Look into their past work and see if they have a good reputation in the community. You want someone who will be able to deliver on their promises and who has the skills necessary to complete the task at hand.
2. Ask For References
Once you have completed your research, it is time to ask for references. Ask friends, family members, and previous clients who they would recommend for this type of project. This will give you an idea of how professional the painting company is as well as whether or not they have the experience needed for such a complex job.
3. Consider Licensed Contractors
If you are looking for a licensed contractor, make sure that the painting company is one too. Many states require contractors working on public properties to be licensed and insured. This protects both you and the public from any potential accidents or injury while the mural is being painted. 
4. Get A Quote And Make Sure It Includes Start And Finish Dates
Once you have gathered all of your information, it is time to get quotes from several different painting companies. Make sure that each quote includes start and finish dates so that you know
Preparation for Rural Wall Painting
Preparation for rural wall painting begins with making sure the surface you’re painting is clean and free of any oils, sealants, or other coatings. Next, use a non-toxic paint that’s also resistant to fading. For best results, choose a colour that will complement the natural surroundings of your business. Finally, be sure to take into account the weather conditions in your area - high humidity can cause paints to bead up and peel, while extreme cold can cause them to crack.
Tips for successful Rural Wall Painting
When painting a rural wall, the following tips can help you achieve great results:
1. Choose the right colours. Walls in rural areas are typically much whiter and more washed out than walls in urban areas, so it's important to choose a colour that will look good against the surrounding landscape. Reds, yellows, and purples work well in rural settings, while blues and greens are more popular in urban areas.
2. Use appropriate supplies. Rural walls tend to be much drier than walls in urban areas, which means using paints with a higher water content will be necessary. It's also important to have the proper brushes and rollers for applying these paints; brushes that are too large or stiff will cause paint to bead up on the surface instead of spreading evenly.
3. Allow time for drying. Rural walls tend to take longer to dry than walls in urban areas, so it's important to give them enough time to cure before applying any additional coats of paint. This can range from several hours to a day or two, depending on the climate where your business is located.
Conclusion
If you're looking for a creative way to promote your business in rural areas, wall painting may be the perfect solution. You can pick the Four Square Media Services for any type of advertising. Like, Digital Wall Painting, Hoardings Advertising, Road Show Activitiy, etc. This is the best advertising company in india. Our goal is to provide our customers with quality, creative, and reliable advertising services. Our team of experts is dedicated to providing you with the best possible service and products.
0 notes
mnemoiisms · 6 months ago
Text
Ah, thank you. Don't mind him curl a palm under some digits to better inspect the talons, cautiously tapping a finger tip to the point and running through his daily interactions, weighing the pros and cons of claws. He assumed they could type just fine, but there would be a different way so as not to damage either surface. Fascinating!
"What a piece of scrap" You pay for a service, you pay for a service. And you shrug off any and all lip you receive in the process.
But, he doesn't flinch away in disgust or fright at the reveal of the wound, perhaps a wince, however it is hard to tell if that is sympathetic or irritated. It didn't seem like a new wound, given the state of healing at the center points.
"Indeed. We do specialise in cerebrosurgery at my clinic, that is the study and reconstruction of helms at my clinic. Given its state, you are rather partial to it, but we could certainly fill in the bottom so that any important circuitry isn't in danger in the long run. You have a lot of wiring that aids in the function of your senses around there. He might have given you a hole in the head, but there is no reason to give him the satisfaction of going blind, or losing smell and taste cause something shorts out something" Trepan offered. Properly clean, sanitise, and allow a coat of waterproofing within the wound. Would get humid under the mask all day.
"I am afraid my wound is far less pretty, and not something I feel patrons would be able to ignore" He hummed, tapping one of the tubes curling around from his back and feeding up under his spark window.
He let the mech examine the claw tips, not at all bothered as he offered the claw a little closer for inspection.
"He hired me to kill someone. Didn't like the things I had to say when I went to turn in the bounty and put a pickaxe in my face. We've been chasing each other ever since." He lifted his other servo and took off the battlemask portion of his little set up, subspacing it and tilting his helm to show the hole in his face.
"Wonderful gift from our acquaintance, hmm?" Could he have had it patched up at any point? Sure, but Ghost like to remember his scars sometimes. And who was he to deny a gift from Terminus?
59 notes · View notes
xingtia · 2 years ago
Text
What types of corrosion that hot-dip galvanized sheets from China galvanized sheet factory can resist?
China galvanized sheet factory's commonly used anti-corrosion treatment is the hot dip galvanizing process. The reason why hot dip galvanizing is used is that zinc forms a good corrosion-resistant film on the surface in a corrosive environment. It not only protects the zinc layer itself, but also the steel base. Therefore, steel after hot-dip galvanizing greatly extends its service life.
Hot-dip galvanized national standard galvanized sheet requires a galvanized layer of about 85μm, which can effectively isolate water and air and protect the substrate from corrosion and rust. Hot-dip galvanized sheet is made by reacting the molten metal with the iron substrate to produce an alloy layer, thus combining both the substrate and the coating. Before hot-dip galvanizing, the steel sheet is pickled in order to remove the iron oxide on the surface of the sheet, china galvanized sheet factory then cleaned in aqueous ammonium chloride or zinc chloride bath, and then sent to the hot dip plating bath. Hot dip galvanizing has the advantages of uniform coating, strong adhesion, and long service life.
The service life is related to the zinc layer and the environment in which it is placed. This is confirmed by the atmospheric corrosion test conducted on hot-dip galvanized steel sheets, which have different corrosion rates in different environmental atmospheres, and theoretically, this corrosion may proceed in two different ways, namely chemical and electrochemical corrosion.
Tumblr media
So what types of corrosion that galvanized sheets produced by china galvanized sheet factory can resist?
1. Chemical corrosion
Chemical corrosion is a direct chemical interaction between the metal and the surrounding medium.
For example, in dry (moisture) gas and non-conductive liquid medium (non-electrolyte), the chemical effect on zinc is called typical chemical corrosion, chemical corrosion is very harmful to the steel base, if not to do the corresponding protection life will be greatly reduced.
2. Electrochemical corrosion
Electrochemical corrosion refers to the metal in the moist gas and conductive liquid medium (such as electrolytes), due to the flow of electrons caused by the corrosion. For example, the corrosion of zinc in acid, alkali, salt solutions, and seawater and atmospheric corrosion of zinc in humid air is belonging to electrochemical corrosion. An electrolyte is formed when moisture in the air accumulates in pits on the surface of the galvanized sheet and when carbon dioxide, sulfur dioxide, or other corrosive agents in the air dissolve in the water. In this way, a microcell is formed.
Whether it is chemical corrosion or electrochemical corrosion, we can avoid direct contact with the outside world by galvanizing the steel surface, which reduces the risk of corrosion, thus well protecting the steel base and china galvanized sheet factory ultimately extending the service life of galvanized sheet.
0 notes
mayhaps-a-blog · 2 years ago
Text
Ysalamir!
I am loving the ysalamir content I see, but I find it curious that so many people seem to default to giving them cat behavior. Cats are adorable, and I love them, but as someone who also adores reptiles, I’d love to see more ysalamir that are just big, fat lizards!
So what does lizard behavior look like?
I admit, I’ve spent more time with snakes than with lizards. But I’ve dealt with some, so here’s what I’ve got:
(This got... so long. Enjoy!)
Reptiles are stupid. Let’s be honest, folks, there is not much going on up in that little head of theirs. They are primarily driven by food, but many lizards may fail to recognize food if it doesn’t look and behave like what they expect.
However, reptiles are also creatures of routine: lights at night, unfamiliar handlers, unfamiliar surroundings can all be highly stressful!
Reptiles can also be curious, and may dig or escape enclosures, then run and hide.
Reptiles generally do not play the same way mammals do. They may enjoy exploring new objects in their enclosure, new scents, and new structures, but likely won’t chase after toys the way cats do.
Reptiles are cold-blooded, which means they cannot regulate their own temperature – instead, they must move to warmer places to warm up, or colder places to cool down. They’ll often find a nice, warm rock or other sunlit surface to just sit and bask.
Reptiles grow sluggish when too cold (or too hot). They move less, they eat less, they shed less often. Lizards that are too hot may take positions (standing up) to maximize airflow, find a cool place to sit, or look for water (and sit in it).
Reptiles don’t tend to see people as friends. People are either 1) large potential predators; run! Hide! Fight! 2) A Big Moving Thing that may hold food! Or might be food? Yay! Food! 3) A Big Warm Rock that moves sometimes. 
Reptiles don’t generally like to be pet, but if habituated to people, likely don’t mind being pet either. Some individuals may enjoy the warmth or interaction; others may prefer not to be touched.
When lizards are stressed or spooked, they may: hiss, puff up and look big, head-bob or display dewlaps, bite at nearby targets, piss or defecate (on the offender, if possible), freeze and/or attempt to run (very fast and will jump off tall objects), attempt to hide (in small cracks they can squeeze into), etc.
Most lizard species can drop their tail if threatened or stressed. These do grow back eventually!
Lizards shed in patches, which they may rub or tear off over a period of a week or two. Don’t pull on the shed - it can tear the skin, and some animals may not wish to be handled at all. Humidity is important as it helps loosen the shed; if patches remain (a bad shed) they may need to be removed manually.
Before shedding the head, lizards shed their eye scales, which leaves them vulnerable with limited eyesight for a few days. They tend to be very skittish.
Males may be more aggressive during mating season, a few months out of the year. Females may be more passive. Some species don’t eat during this time and change their behavior to find or attract mates.
Sick reptiles generally appear lethargic. They may not eat or respond to stimuli.
Like most animals, lizard behavior is highly individual. One paper describes an iguana that sat by the cage door and raised its head for scratches, while another sat above the door and slapped researchers with its tail!
Notably, most lizards are carnivores, but ysalamir are commonly depicted like iguanas, which are herbivores, and have different behaviors. Since they don’t need to chase prey, they tend to be sluggish and spend a lot of time just sitting around.
42 notes · View notes
hatredcurse · 1 year ago
Text
uchihacollector​ | Orochimaru:
You’re on suicide watch.
“Suffer?” Orochimaru asked. “Goodness, this isn’t the Hidden Leaf Village. No. You left most of your suffering behind when you stepped over the threshold.”
No physical barrier can keep Sasuke-kun inside this base, but there must be a barrier. Orochimaru makes it a mental one. A hurdle laced with the association of pain becomes the threshold. He can’t have his precious Sasuke-kun wander off on his own.
Sasuke-kun is in such a weak state, that heavens-know-what-creeps could do hells-know-what-actions to the last survivor of the Uchiha. They could squash his other arm, for example.
It’s good that they’re hugging, because Orochimaru has a nasty expression on his face. He’s not exactly human in that moment. He needs time to get his emotions under control. And his plans. And his morals. The chakra-sensitive Karin is lucky to be in another base.
“This is our base, Sasuke-kun,” He surprises himself. There’s kindness in his voice, a warmth that he only reserves for people when they’re at the lowest point in their lives. That’s the point when he collects them. And now –even though he’s wearing such dark expression and he feels like violence– he still managed to summon kindness to the surface of their interaction.
Perhaps, he reasons, it’s because I so dearly want to keep Sasuke-kun near me. I want him. I want him so much.
“The only person who will make you suffer is me,” he hushes. He runs a white hand over Sasuke’s back hair. His bony fingers look look too long, and his nails look like claws, but the gesture is gentle and soothing. Even a devil knows when to be comforting–it’s his trade. He promises near Sasuke’s ear: “I’ll not give up that prerogative easily. I will force you into a routine. You will eat three meals a day, sleep with the circadian rhythm, exercise, spar with me, have regular check-ups, shower, preferably soon, and you will read up on the homework I give you so your brain can chew on something other than the dogma of the Fire country’s idiocracy.”
He let go of Sasuke, but didn’t step away. He patted his bicep as a sign this was done. “Enough hugging. Raise yourself up. I didn’t raise a slouch. The next step is a shower, so let’s go. You know the way to the communal showers. Don’t worry about people. It’s just me and you. Don’t worry about undressing. You can leave that to me.”
It would be so easy. This fragility in his arms. The tender softness of a well-tended body— he could grab all of Orochimaru and crush him into a jagged sack of wet meat. It would be all over in a second; no remorse to be had, just the pleasure of extending his suffering to one who knows it best.  His teeth pressed to the back of his lips, threatening a snarl into the soft belly exposed to him. A beaten dog has no trust. Hands may extend out to feed it, and it will seldom know the difference between fresh meat and the flesh that carries it, as it would taste all the same: delectable.
“Tch,” he huffed, like a cough, and smug laughter trailing behind it. “Our base, ha- you’ve gone soft on me.” 
A heinous feeling stirred within the Uchiha. The air sizzled, crackling under the change of pressure, similar to warm humidity carrying the pretense of lightning weaving through dark storm clouds. Sasuke smiled.
Not in good nature did he express joy. A smile like this only cracked through the skin before the break of Mangekyou. Though, the Mangekyou has already been mastered, conquered by the God’s eye to his left and his hubris in his right. His eyes lidded, near drunk on something different ( see: “something wrong” ) than the pain surging through his body.
“Make me suffer then. Impose your will on me. Do as you please,” he graciously proffered himself. But, heed caution, it was a threat; a challenge, if Orochimaru was so daring.
He’s wretched his steel and Kirin through this snake once, and he’d gladly do it again. Over and over until he was nothing but a stain, and cruelly pray over what remained out of self-satisfaction.
Sasuke bowed his head and excused himself from the other, putting as much distance as he can between him and that man as he travelled down familiar halls. Left arm hanging limp against his hip with his remaining hand squeezing at the elbow, squishing the veins until they struggled a painful, yet meaty thrum of his heartbeat. A final reminder of his mortality and what he is about to lose due to his poor choices. 
“Sasuke, what have you done?” he said aloud to no one. Though, it was not his voice that repeated back to him, but the dulcet tones of Uchiha Itachi. His imagined disappointment. The cruel Genjutsu image Sasuke lived with for several years before unmasking the truth. Itachi, in all his good heart, gone, but what wasn’t forgotten was the fake fear-mongering image he imparted to young Sasuke. The only living memory left to scold him and keep him behaved.
Keeping his sword taut to his person and everything else secured to his image, he waited for the other. Despite his delusions, his kept himself aware. Mentally signing his fate away to an endless, unsure abyss, he could only entrust whatever will become of him to any higher power willing to spare him the mercy for his stupidity. 
36 notes · View notes
sad-sweet-cowboah · 4 years ago
Text
Tricksters
Summary: On a hot day, you decide to take a dip at a local secluded lake. When Arthur comes to join you, the two of you begin to have an interesting conversation before an untimely interruption.
Warnings: Swearing. nudity, and smut. Ya know, the norm.
Word Count: 7411
A/N: This is the first place prize from my 2k followers giveway! As requested by @lindleyjo​, she wanted a creative way of how reader interacts with a younger Arthur.
Support your local content creators and reblog!
Tumblr media
Heat.
A sweltering, heavy blanket of humidity settled upon the land after a powerful thunderstorm raged through the previous night. Everyone within camp had slept uncomfortably, tossing and turning in a desperate attempt to shake the crushing atmosphere. If you weren’t out in the open, you yourself would have stripped naked just to have a few hours of peaceful slumber.
With the morning sun peeking over the horizon, the camp’s sleepy members arose and began with the morning chores and duties. After getting dressed you wandered out into the open, observing your surroundings. Some of the women were already working on chores, scrubbing shirts or washing dishes from the night before with Susan Grimshaw at the helm. You paused once you saw her, knowing full well she’d put you to work the moment she realized you had nothing better to do.
You turned heel in the wet grass, hurrying toward the opposite side of camp in hopes to look busy. Toward the edge of camp were a few bags of feed strewn about, and a perfect way to keep yourself from Susan’s radar. You bent over to pick one up, nearly buckling as its awkward weight shifted upon you. Still, you’d managed to place it over your shoulder.
Just as you began to step forward, you heard someone call your name.
The feed sack blocked your view, though you recognized that voice instantly. Arthur Morgan. A young and otherwise cocky gang member and a favorite among Dutch and Hosea. Shuffling your feet to face him, he appeared in your view quicker than you’d expected.
“You, uh, need help with that?” he asked with a somewhat sheepish tone.
You smiled at him. He was always offering to help you with heftier tasks, even though you’ve told him multiple times you could handle it quite well. As boisterous as he was, he was always polite with you and the other women of the camp. Sometimes it seemed as if he gave you a little more attention, unless it was just your imagination. “I’ve got it, Arthur,” you assured him, shifting yet again as the feed inside began to weigh down uncomfortably. “Thank you.”
“Thought you’d say that,” he responded with a soft chuckle, bending down to grab another. “Thought I’d offer anyway.”
“I know,” you giggled, walking around the edge of camp to where the horses rested. “Truth is, I’m just avoiding being a wash maid today. Too hot for that.”
“So you opted for heavy liftin’,” Arthur remarked, stepping by you to place his bag upon a hay bale. The horses nickered excitedly at their arrival. “Don’t seem like it’d be any cooler.”
“As long as I look busy, then Susan won’t put me to work.” You pointed out, dumping your feed bag alongside his.
Arthur dusted his hands and snickered. “’S'pose that’s fair.”
You straightened up, catching his eye briefly. The summer sun reflected in his bright blue eyes, layering a golden hue amongst the oceanic orbs. He averted his gaze once it lasted a second too long. “Er, need anything else?”
You opened your mouth, only to be interrupted by someone calling Arthur’s name. It was Dutch Van der Linde himself. The two of you turned toward his gruff voice, noting the gang leader standing by his tent, standing casually with a lit cigar resting between his lips. Hosea stood next to him, looking on expectantly.
Arthur turned to look at you again. “Never mind, duty calls. See you later?”
Giving him a short nod, you bid him goodbye while he stalked off to join the two men. They were too far away for you to listen to their conversation properly, yet you caught wind Dutch had some grand scheme planned that required Arthur’s hand. A bank or stage coach robbery perhaps. You considered volunteering yourself to come along, the thought of big money was enough of an incentive to take your mind off the heat.
“Hey! Can I come along?” a new voice tore through your thoughts. High-pitched and gritty with the transition to manhood. You watched as John Marston came galloping up to the three men.
Dutch gave a hearty chuckle and reached out to ruffle John’s mop of hair. “Sorry son, just us three.”
“You’ll come along for the next one,” Hosea promised as John opened his mouth to protest. “It’s a small job, we don’t need an extra bodyguard.”
Arthur’s lips moved, most likely mumbling to himself. Whatever he said however, John’s face turned indignant. His body tensed like a predator about to spring on its prey. Hosea stepped in between the two immediately.
“Easy now,” he said with amusement, although gave Arthur a stern glare. “Don’t tease him, Arthur.”
Arthur only rolled his eyes and folded his arms. Since John had been brought in by Dutch and Hosea a few years ago, he and Arthur have almost always been at odds. Both headstrong in their own ways, they acted more like brothers; even when Arthur adamantly denied it. John was still young and immature, thus he’d stay in camp more often than not. He huffed and stormed off, grumbling to himself while Arthur just watched with a smirk on his face.
The three of them took their leave shortly after, saddling and mounting their horses before galloping away. You watched as they disappeared from view, sighing and turning to face camp once again. It was tempting to jump onto your own horse and follow; a wishful thought.
“Y/N!” Susan’s sharp voice pierced the air. “Get your butt over here and pick up a dish rag!”
You stifled a groan, knowing you were standing idle for just a little too long from your own volition. Before Susan could come over and ream your ass, you headed over and picked up an unused rag to help the others.
Tumblr media
After a good hour of washing dishes and mending holes in jeans, you were free. You straightened up, stretching out your aching back and cracking your stiffened hands. Sweat pooled in uncomfortable places, soaking through awkward parts of your garments. Wiping a layer of sweat from your brow, you needed relief.
Stepping into the shade of the tree line, you breathed out a sigh. Though still humid, being away from direct sunlight certainly helped. Getting away also prevented Grimshaw from finding even more work for you to do. You leaned against a trunk and fanned yourself, wishing nothing more than to dip yourself in some cold water right now.
You paused, remembering there was a lake not too far away. You’d ridden by it a handful of times, saw a fisherman once or twice. Perhaps the heat was enough to drive away any unwanted eyes. With a plan in mind, you headed back to get your horse.
The woods provided some relief to your otherwise overheated state. Thick leaves and multiple branches allowed some cover from the sun. As you trotted along a small path, a slight breeze carried through, rustling the dense green shrubbery and provided a cooling sensation to your exposed skin. The lake wasn’t too far now, and you urged your horse into a lope in impatience. Up ahead, the canopy broke away to reveal a sheet of water gently disturbed by another breeze. Glimmering beautifully under the bright sun, the surface appeared inviting. The hard packed soil and bushes soon turned into a sandy beach. Gently pulling your mare to a halt, you dismounted and stepped onto the softly shifting terrain. Your gaze scanned the circumference of the lake, only stopping to find you were alone.
Perfect.
You tied your steed to a nearby tree before eagerly shedding your clothes. You made a home for them on the rocks to dry out the sweat before you padded toward the shore. Gentle waves lapped up toward you, kissing your toes with a near frosty sensation. One foot in front of another with a slow step, you were soon embraced from the waist up. The dramatic temperature difference was almost shocking at first, fine hairs raising along your skin. It only took a moment for your body to adjust, and you sunk in further. Wrapped in the soothing cold, you reached your arms out and began to swim.
A few minutes passed by of you lazily floating through the calm waters, relaxed and uncaring of the rest of the world. You were perfectly content in that moment, free of gritty chores and the judgmental or curious eyes of others. You could spend the entire day out here, as long as no one else would ruin your peace.
Time soon became lost to you amongst the calm surface, though you couldn’t care less. Being out here was much better than drowning in your own sweat back at camp.
A thought crossed your mind. You wondered if Arthur, Dutch, and Hosea returned from their heist, and if it went successfully. Your curiosity almost had you swimming to shore to find out.
Yet with the sun still high and the sky and the air still stifling, you didn’t want to move. You’d find out later anyway.
Amongst the distant sounds of nature, you caught the shrill whinny of your mare. You immediately turned your attention to her, the horse’s head high and ears pricked forward, facing the forest. She nickered into the trees. Something had caught her attention.
Seconds later, you could hear a responding whinny, further away and still out of sight. Your heart lurched and you ducked low, keeping your eyes an inch above the water to watch. With your gun and knife still on shore, you had no way to defend yourself.
Movement in the trees formed itself into a horse and its rider, stepping from the shady canopy into the open. It were as if the Gods heard your thoughts. The beautiful coat shimmering in the sunlight belonged to Boadicea, and Arthur’s prominent face hidden under the brim of his hat. The two mares nickered to each other in greeting.
Relief flooded through you as you watched Arthur look at your horse, then glance left and right in confusion. You had to make yourself known now, lest he thought you were in trouble or worse. He hadn’t spotted your clothes yet. Despite your nudity, it didn’t bother you to be this way in his presence. With how long you’ve been a part of the gang, you’ve been around him in your undergarments multiple times. You were comfortable enough around him to know he wouldn’t attempt anything crass.
Pulling yourself up to just above chest level, you called out, “Arthur!”
His head shot up to the sound of your voice. “Y/N? Whatchoo doin’ out here?”
“Cooling off,” you responded, swimming closer to him. “What about you?”
The closer you got, you began to realize he was splattered in blood. Though the majority of it painted his vest and pants, you noticed patterns streaking across his exposed forearms, neck, and face. It wasn’t an unusual sight to see, knowing how dangerous this lifestyle was.
This tugged at your mind. Had he gotten injured in any way? “Are you hurt?” you ask.
“Er,” his gaze swept across the shore, and finally landed on the rock which your clothes lay upon.  Eyes growing wide, you could see the rosy tint in his cheeks as he looked away. Clearing his throat, he answered, “Blood ain’t mine. Actually, I was gonna come wash up out here, since I can’t exactly go back to town n’ do it… Guess this lake’s already occupied.” He tucked his head down sheepishly.
His answer allowed you to smile in relief. Though you understood his reasoning to come out here, he was one of the few you wouldn’t mind sharing this space with. No reason to force him to go elsewhere. “No it ain’t,” you responded. “There’s plenty of room for the both of us.”
“N-no, you ain’t even decent,” he stammered, biting his lip from underneath the brim of his hat. “I’ll just go –”
“Arthur,” you interjected. “It’s fine, I promise. It’s a big lake, not like we’ll be on top of one another. I don’t care.”
He refused to look at you directly, instead cast his attention across the lake in deep thought. A full moment passed before he sighed and dismounted Boadicea. “Guess I can’t really argue that…” he murmured. “Can you jus’…turn ‘round please?”
You nodded, smiling a little at his modesty. Turning yourself around and swimming further out, you waited until you heard him stepping into the water before facing him again.
He stood in waist deep water, arms held to the front of his body. The somewhat clear water was dark enough for you not to see below his navel. You’d only seen Arthur shirtless a handful of times, and each moment of stolen subtle glances you appreciated more than the last. He was certainly built nicely, his frame decorated with just the right amount of muscle.
“Don’t stare please,” he mumbled.
You abided to his wish, instead swimming a little further out with only your head above the surface. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him beginning to bathe himself, albeit awkwardly. You had to wonder how often he would have a bath girl do the work for him. Or perhaps it was your presence skewing him? Arthur was usually arrogant and carried himself with confidence, without a care in the world of who thought what of him. It was only in the presence of those close to him did he show a different side, and you were no exception.
After a few moments of silence, the questions from earlier arose in your mind. Maybe it would be less awkward for him if you were to initiate some casual conversation. Shifting to cast a glance his way, you called out. “So how’d the job go?”
He avoided your eyes, keeping his fixated on his forearms, running his hands along to remove the stains. The water soon tinged crimson with blood pooling around him. He hesitated for a moment. “Pretty good, actually. We made out with two thousand dollars.”
Two thousand? That certainly was much more than you were expecting to hear. Out of every heist you’ve done, you’d never made it out with more than a couple hundred. “You must be pretty happy with yourself then.”
His eyes flickered to you for a brief second. “Yeah,” he agreed with a slight chuckle. “Was much more too, only had a short time to gather what we could ‘fore the law came down on us.”
“That’s a shame,” you commented. “Sounds like you needed an extra hand after all.” You remembered that little conversation John had with them.
He turned his full attention to you now, however still avoided looking at your face. “John’s too young n’ headstrong for bigger jobs right now.” He said pointedly.
“I meant me. I was gonna volunteer myself until I saw Dutch deny John.”
Arthur blinked in surprise. “Oh, uh…why didn’t ya anyway?”
You shrugged, leaning back a little to stare at the sky. “I figured he’d say no anyway. And I know you three are perfectly capable without an extra hand.”
He hummed softly in response. There was a moment of silence before he spoke again. “I don’t think he’d say no. I woulda vouched for ya anyway.”
You smiled at his comment, lifting your head to look at him again. “Thanks, but I’m sure John would have been pissed if he heard that.”
He let out a soft chuckle. “Ah, he’s still a kid. He’d get over it.”
“True,” you agreed with a giggle of your own. “Think we would have gotten away with more if I’d come along?”
Arthur gave you a crooked smile. “I think we’d get away with everything they had if you’d come along.”
You couldn’t deny that. Almost every job you’d attended ended in a successful plunder, thus earning praise from everyone in camp. You took pride in your skill even though you didn’t boast it. Dutch and Hosea saw you as one of the most productive members of the gang, of course they would have been happy for you to come along. You reminded yourself to volunteer next time despite what little Johnny Marston thought. “Guess I’ll volunteer next time, since you boys obviously need my help.” You smirked.
Arthur scoffed in response. “Hey now, that was uncalled for.” He laughed, sinking further to almost shoulder height.
You smiled at him, daring to swim a little closer.  “It’s true, ya know. Pretty sure any of those other heists wouldn’t have gone as smooth if I hadn’t been there.” You commented jokingly.
“You sayin’ we ain’t as good?” Arthur asked with a quirked eyebrow, although he couldn’t hide the amusement plain on his face.
“I’m saying that some things need a woman’s touch, even robbing.” You teased, grinning widely at him.
He rolled his eyes, stretching his arms out to propel himself slowly through the water. “Think I changed my mind, with talk like that.”
It was your turn to scoff. You knew he was only fooling with you, though while he was distracted, you took a chance to raise your arm up and splash a bit of water in his direction. Splattering across his face and head, he yelped in surprise and flinched away, raising his arms in defense.
“Damnit, Y/N!” he huffed, wiping his face of the droplets. “The hell was that for?”
You chortled in response, swinging your arms behind you to swim further away. “Don’t be angry, you’re already wet!”
Despite a prick of annoyance shadowing his features, the way his lips curled into a smile told you he certainly wasn’t completely irritated. The furrow in his brow relaxed before he spoke, “You better be careful, next time I won’t be so forgivin’.”
You paused to look at him. “Oh, that’s some big talk, Arthur Morgan!” you exclaimed, changing your direction to swim toward him once again. You stopped just a few feet away, the closest you’ve gotten so far. Shooting him a smirk, you continued, “What would the scary outlaw do to me?”
“Somethin’ not nice,” he answered, the smile never leaving his face. “Don’t think you wanna find out.”
Those words posed a challenge. As childish as this was, you weren’t going to deny yourself a little bit of fun for the time being. The two of you were still shoulder height above the water. With his wide frame and thick torso, he could have easily outmatched you on solid ground.
You launched yourself forward, throwing your hands out to slap them onto his shoulders. With a swift kick to propel your body further, it provided you with enough strength to shove him completely beneath the surface. His eyes widened in surprise and terror before his face was engulfed by the somewhat turbid lake. Immediately you yanked your hands away, spinning around as fast as the weight of the water would allow. Paddling quickly away from him, the sound of splashing and spluttering filling your ears. It would only be a matter of time before he caught up to you.
Hurrying toward the shore, his nearly beastly roar soon carried across the lake. He called out your name, and you didn’t dare to look back. He was growing closer, faster than you could reach the shallows. In a few short seconds, he was on you. Thick arms wrapping around your torso and stopping you in your tracks. You squealed out in surprise, automatically wanting to break free of his embrace. Though your struggle proved useless as he was far too strong.
“Arthur!” you cried out, voice shuddering with laughter. “C’mon, lemme go!”
“Ya pushed me, woman,” he growled in your ear. “Think I’d let ya get away with that?”
You still tried to wriggle from his grasp, only further proving it as a fruitless effort. “Was worth a shot!” you said proudly, smiling widely.
Expecting him to serve the same fate, you shut your eyes and waited for the inevitable cold grip of the water to engulf you completely. His hands grazed across your abdomen, halting at the curves of your waistline. He paused there, prompting your curiosity.
“Arthur?”
A mere second passed and the warmth of him disappeared. Waves shifted around you in the absence of him, and you turned in confusion. He had his back facing you.
“Arthur? What’s wrong?” You inquired.
“Weren’t right for me to do that,” he answered quietly. “‘M sorry.”
You frowned in confusion. Just moments ago the two of you were playing like two kids uncaring of the world. “You didn’t scare me if that’s what you meant.”
“No,” he said flatly. “The way I grabbed ya. You’re naked, weren’t proper. Stupid o’ me…”
That hadn’t even crossed your mind. The awareness had flung out the instant you began your tomfoolery, and even now you didn’t even care. “So what?” You scoff. “Nothing happened.”
“Still ain’t right,” he grumbled, moving closer to the shore. “I shouldn’ta –“
“Arthur,” your tone sharp. “We were playing around. I don’t care if I’m clothed or not, it didn’t bother me.”
He mumbled something you couldn’t hear. There was something else on his mind. In shallower waters, more of his torso was visible, streams of water cascading down his strong back, shining beautifully in the sunlight. Your breath nearly caught at the sight, but the minor distraction hadn’t removed your original intention.
“Arthur!” You called out. “Don’t leave yet!”
He froze in place.
“Talk to me, please. What’s really wrong?”
He hadn’t uttered a single word for a full minute. He breathed in again. “Don’t matter, Y/N. Sorry for bein’ handsy with you, I shoulda known better.”
He was lying. You knew him well enough by now. You sighed heavily and stood up completely, allowing your upper torso exposed to the air. Moving a little closer, you said softly, “look at me.”
You half expected him to be stubborn and walk away. Instead, he slowly turned, his eyes fixed away from your figure. Your heart began to hammer wildly in your chest. It hadn’t been too long since your state had been graced by a man’s presence. You were confident enough to not feel shy about yourself.
Especially not around Arthur.
His eyes slowly raked up your body, finally meeting your patient gaze.
Taking another deep breath, you murmured to him, “Talk to me.”
He swallowed audibly. “It ain’t important –”
“Don’t give me that. Tell me what’s wrong please,” you interjected. “Whatever it is, I won’t be mad.”
He appeared conflicted, chewing on his bottom lip in hesitation and tearing his eyes away. “It’s, uh…” he gritted his teeth and swore to himself. “Damn it, Morgan!” He ran his hand through his damp hair in what seemed to be frustration. “It’s you.” He finally uttered.
“Me?” You repeated in confusion. “What’s wrong with me?”
“No, nothin’ ain’t wrong with you, it’s…” he trailed off, becoming more flustered with each passing second. “I…I like you, Y/N.”
Out of everything in the world, it was a confession you hadn’t expected to hear. Blood roared in your ears as your heart did somersaults beneath your ribs. Arthur Morgan, liking you? Words couldn’t formulate in your mind as everything you wanted to say disappeared just as quickly as they appeared. You wanted to say something, anything, a simple response to accommodate for your lack of reaction.
He must’ve taken your silence negatively. A deep frown appeared on his face and his head hung in defeat. As he began to turn away, your hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. He stopped at an instant, slowly lifting his head to stare into your eyes once again.
His eyes. A beautiful blue-green hue twinkling brilliantly from the sunny reflection of the lake. You observed every feature of his face, from his thick sandy colored hair, down to his chiseled, stubbled jaw. Truly such a stubborn, ruthless beast who would land a bullet between a man’s eyes only to turn around and offer you help, and dance with you on cheerful occasions. Too many days you spent admiring him from afar. Too many nights spent in crowded saloons, picking up some random cowboy to swoon and come back not completely satisfied and wishing someone else would share that hotel bed with you. Too much time wasted attempting to deny your ever growing feelings for this man.
You would never admit it out loud that Arthur Morgan had your heart, long before he even knew it.
Your lips curved into a soft smile. Sliding your hand to capture his, you sensed his hesitation when you entwined his fingers with yours. “I don’t see that as a problem.” You whispered to him.
A slew of emotion flitted through his eyes in a long-lasting moment. His lips parted in attempts to speak, only to hear him release a disjointed breath. “It is,” he said sadly.
“Why?” you pressed.
“Mary.”
Mary. That one name that plagued your dreams for far too long. Arthur had been head over heels for this high society woman who frowned upon his lifestyle. She was polite every time you’d come across her, yet you saw clearly through her façade. How difficult it was to keep your mouth shut every time she peered at you with thinly veiled judgment. “Fuck Mary,” You spat it as if reciting the vilest of curses. He stared at you in surprise. “How long has it been, Arthur? Since she left you?”
“Uh, a few months…” he mumbled.
“A few months,” you repeated. “You hold no obligation over her anymore, Arthur. She’s gone. And I’m here now.”
“I know, I know,” he sighed heavily, dipping his head yet again. “It’s stupid o’ me to even keep thinkin’ ‘bout her. Every time I’ve tried tellin’ ya, I get stuck on her. It’s jus’ hard… I don’t wanna have her on my mind no more.”
The conflict hung heavy in his voice. You couldn’t be angry with him over this; he loved Mary for reasons you could never fathom. She left him to be wed and bound to live the life she dreamed, a decision that wounded Arthur deeper than any gunshot or stab of a knife.
With your free hand, you reached up to caress his jaw, prompting him to look at you. “Then let me help you forget,” you uttered.
He blinked in silence, his eyes never leaving yours. Seconds ticked by as you watched every inner thought of his displayed plain on his face. You were worried he’d refuse, until he gave a small, simple nod.
That was all you needed. Trapping his face gently between your palms, you tilted your head up, pulling yourself closer to lay a tender kiss upon his lips. A brief moment of tension felt soon released when he melted to you, kissing you with equally returned tenderness.
He relaxed completely to your touch. Large hands made their presence upon your hips, so loosely held against your bare skin. You encouraged him by taking one step closer. The heat radiating from his body negated the cool waters surrounding you. He moved to rest his palms upon your lower back, ever so hesitant to further progress. Releasing his face to favor his neck, your arms latched to him to pull your body flush with his.
Arthur’s breath hitched, his grip tightening in reaction. He parted his lips from yours, peering into your eyes. A sweet softness reflected in his, though below the seafoam surface lurked a deeper musing.
“Been wantin’ to do that,” he murmured to you. “Guess I’m too foolish to make myself wait for so long. I’m sorry.”
You shook your head in disagreement. “I don’t think you’re foolish, you’re just too stubborn to realize your own feelings.”
He gave a singular laugh, a short and deep chortle that pulsed against your chest. “I s’pose you’re right, guess I got some catchin’ up to do.”
With a hum of response, you carded your fingers through his hair. “You’ve got all the time in the world with me, Arthur Morgan. And we’re here now, just the two of us.”
A half smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. One hand released your waistline to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your lips. Wordlessly he drew you in for a second kiss. Moving his hand to the back of your head, his fingers tangled within your locks.
Despite his large frame, he held a certain tenderness unlike any other man you’d been with. A lack of urgency and force to indulge in a lustful night. Every blissful moment here you wanted to last forever, remaining in this lake and far from any civilization.
The kiss soon deepened, easing your tongue to invade him. He allowed you to, following your lead without a moment of hesitation. His arm encircled your waist completely, pinning you to him without excessive strength. Every subtle movement allowed you to appreciate him more and more, handling you like precious cargo rather than a sack of feed.
Fingertips thickened with callouses traced patterns along your back, a touch so feather soft your skin tingled in his wake. Trailing toward your butt beneath the surface, ghosting ever so slightly across the crest. You hadn’t been surprised by this at all. Sensing a small tinge of hesitation, you offered subtle encouragement with your own touch. Smoothing your palm along his muscular shoulder, trailing your fingers down his arm, pausing to gently grip his wrist.
He pulled his head back to look at you, a look of shame crossing his face and his mouth agape in the beginnings of what you assumed was an apology.
You however just smiled, moving his hand to rest against the curve of your butt. You watched as his eyes widened in surprise, sputtering out incomprehensible noise while his face began to show a hue of fuchsia.
Hushing him gently with a finger to his lips, you rubbed his arm soothingly. He was after all still a man, and why deny those thoughts lurking below his otherwise respectful nature? “Touch where you’d like.” You whispered to him.
An audible gulp emanated from his throat, his gaze sweeping over your face as if searching for any notion of disapproval or repulsion. When finding none, he uttered, “You sure?”
Giving a small nod, your other hand rested against his chest, running a single digit across the ridge of his collarbone. “I trust you.”
Reluctance still hinted in his face as he considered your words. His lips twitched as if to say something, though not a single sound came out. You waited quietly to see what his next move would be.
And then you felt it. The beginnings of a light caress as his palm rubbed your smooth skin. Nails scraped along the surface in a small, experimental squeeze. You giggled softly and smiled even wider, running your own hand down the midline of his chest. Admiring him from afar paled in comparison to right now, appreciating every hardened muscle you once only dreamed of holding.
The soft grip on your head disappeared entirely as the rough skin of his other hand moved slowly down your back and rested at the dip of your waist. His eyes flickered downward for a fraction of a second, taking in the plain sight of your naked breasts before looking back to you. Giving him a small nod, he moved from your waist, trailing his fingertips along the front of your torso. Carefully, he fondled one, his eyes never leaving your face. With slow progression his confidence began to grow, and you moaned encouragingly for him to continue. A delicate massage accompanied by his thumb teasing your nipple, he smiled.
“You feel so soft…” he murmured to you.
You hummed in response, thoroughly enjoying this moment. You weren’t sure how far this would go, though his touch was prompting you to explore further. From his chest down to his abdomen, enjoying every swell and plane decorating his frame, you dipped your hand beneath the surface. He tensed once you reached below his navel, although did not offer any notion of backing away. Your eyes met his, unblinking and waiting.
And so you continued further. The heat of his arousal was a stark contrast to the cool liquid surrounding him. Your fingers traced along the soft skin, observing every inch with growing interest. From the tip to the root, your hand turned to rest your palm on his hardened length. Wrapping your entire hand around it you found him to be blessed with girth.
One pump, and another, as smooth as the water would allow. Arthur’s hold on you loosened as a low moan slid from his lips. A simple sign for you to continue, thus you did. Watching his eyelids flutter and his head tilt back, a small smirk tweaked the corner of your mouth. He was soon malleable in your capable hands, his entire figure relaxing for you.
Leaning in to him, you cupped his neck and pressed your lips to his damp skin, leaving light kisses along the junction of his shoulder. His breathing heightened accompanied by a disjointed sound of surprise and pleasure. He spoke your name in a soft, low groan.
“Yes?” you answered him.
“I –” he paused, his hands returning to your body, running his fingers tantalizingly along your curves. “I wanna have you.”
Those words, the sincerity laced within them threw your heart into an erratic rhythm. Surely this was your imagination, your mind baked from being in the heat and sun for far too long. “Really? Here?” you asked quietly.
He nodded. “Like you said, we’re here now,” He replied with what you’d said to him earlier. “Might as well make the most of it, ‘less you don’t want to.”
The mere thought stoked the already smoldering embers within you, curling into a small fire. You bit your lip, weighing your considerations. Your body yearned for him; the pressure deep in your belly too incessant to ignore. Would it be worth it to wait until the two of you found a hotel to stay in, or an abandoned cabin to avoid any unwanted eyes?
However, the lakeside had been quiet for as long as you both had been out here. As unorthodox as it was, the thought of giving to your primal desires within the arms of nature’s embrace seemed invigorating. Staring deep into his awaiting eyes, you finally murmured, “Yes.”
As soon as the word passed your lips, he drew you in for another kiss. Deep and urgent, his tongue hadn’t hesitated to dance with yours. His touch grew fervent, sweeping across every curve and swell your body had to offer. One hand gravitated to your breasts, toying with each and drawing out a few muffled moans from you, while the other snaked further down. Like your own endeavor, he didn’t have trouble finding his target. Warm pads searched your folds briefly until resting upon that little bundle of nerves, creating small circles amongst your sensitive flesh. In turn, the grip you had on his cock hastened. Short and heavy breaths pierced the air as he pulled back, muttering out a swear.
Arthur’s movements soon became erratic, his fingers dancing feverishly against your nub. It didn’t take long for the fire to erupt into a blazing inferno, coiling stronger and tighter with each passing second. You panted out his name, gripping his shoulder for support as pleasure rolled through your body. Eagerly he moved to your entrance, testing it briefly before sinking two digits in. You weren’t sure if you were truly that wet or if the water aided his entry, but the thought quickly swept from your mind the moment he pumped his fingers in and out. You could have melted then and there if he wasn’t supporting you.
Closing your eyes, your mind soon became too addled to focus. The pressure within your core bubbled and threatened to burst. Your head tilted back and moaned your pleasure to the heavens, the fleeting arrival of your climax exploding through every inch of your body. Nails melded into flesh as he coaxed the final waves from you, your lips gasping out his name.
“Arthur…” you groaned, your heart racing. “My God, you know your way with a woman.”
“That surprise you?” he asked with a proud smirk.
Your prickling curiosity as to how far he went with Mary was not something you wanted to delve further into, yet Arthur was a young and handsome man. You’d witnessed him catch the eye of willful saloon women more than once. His handle on you lacked the clumsy and blunt nature of a virgin. “How about you show me further?” you prompted, your hand still resting against his length. Trailing your fingernails along the underside, you watched as his entire body shuddered.
“Mm, gladly…” he growled to you, moving his hands to grip your thighs. Without hesitation you wrapped your legs around his waist, your arms following suit to his neck. He seemingly had no issue supporting your weight, wading through the water until your back rested against a warm, gritty surface. He’d placed you on a rock, and soon released you to straighten up, peering at you with a gleam in his eye. “Turn ‘round.”
You listened without hesitation, immediately understanding what he wanted. Sinking partly back into the water, you turned away from him and bent over, swaying your hips at him. A growl of satisfaction rumbled from him, his rough hands taking place on your hips. The heat of his arousal pressed against the divide of your ass, rubbing it along your soft skin.
Soon he honed in for your lower lips, prodding your entrance once before pushing his way in. You gasped; the pressure surprising at first. His girth stood true,  expanding your inner walls further than you anticipated. Hips flush with your butt, he pulled back and drove into you, erasing any prior thoughts from your mind. The pressure was soon replaced with pleasure provided by his unrelenting thrusts.
Swearing out loud, your fingers scrambled on the rock to ground yourself. He was not offering any leeway, using you to his advantage. His grip was tight, deep enough to definitely leave bruises. He groaned and growled, whispering how well you were taking him.
Such talk wasn’t foreign to you, yet hearing it from Arthur created a new thrill. You arched your back for him, allowing nature to hear your song. The subtle change of angle brought a greater difference, allowing the tip of his cock to drag along that spot.
You gasped out his name, your eyes rolling as another coil of fire burned with fury within you. It wouldn’t be much longer until he ripped a second climax from you. Still you clung to that rock as if for dear life while he took every inch. His speed and precision were pushing you closer and closer to the edge with each passing second.
“Shit,” he grunted, voice wavering from his movement. His fingers made their presence known between your legs, rubbing you with vigor. “C’mon, girl,” he coaxed in that lovely baritone voice. “Give it to me.”
Oh Lord, how could you not give to him? That last command was all you needed to bend to his whim. Much more explosive than the first, your legs trembled and your back arched even more as it overtook every part of your body. Every being within the immediate area knew his name, you calling it out like a prayer.
With a noise of satisfaction he gripped your hips again, driving himself even faster, milking your orgasm of every last drop. A string of expletives fell from your mouth. “Arthur – fuck!” you huffed, attempting to halt the trembling overtaking your muscles. You stiffened against the rock, your skin catching somewhat uncomfortably though you didn’t care at that moment. Your eyes rolled from the sky to the trees to the shore, though focusing on nothing.
Until something caught your eye. Something along the sandy terrain that wasn’t there before. You blinked, ripping yourself back to clarity. Searching for it again, your gaze landed on it directly. A person standing just yards away, fixated on the two of you. It only took half a second to realize it was John Marston.
Your heart dropped into your stomach. Where the hell did he come from? “Arthur –” you grunted, mustering up as much breath as you could despite him pounding into you. “Arthur, stop!”
He halted immediately. “Wh-what’s wrong?” he breathlessly asked.
“Someone’s watching.” You hissed, your head twitching toward the shore.
Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his face twist in confusion. He followed your line of sight and the bewilderment was quickly swept away with surprise. “Marston?” he pulled out of you immediately. “What the hell –”
You hid yourself better behind the rock. Turning your head, you looked just in time to see a conniving grin spread across John’s face. He turned and grabbed a pile of clothes – Arthur’s – off the ground. “Payback, Morgan!”
As the teen darted towards the trees, Arthur’s growl of anger sounded over you, followed by the splashing of water. You watched as Arthur stormed toward the shore, attempting to go as fast as he could. “Get back here, damnit!” he roared, finally reaching solid ground. Butt naked and his wet skin shining in the sun, he briefly stopped to yank his boots on before sprinting after John, who had disappeared amongst the shrubs already.
Arthur soon also disappeared into the woods, his shouts soon becoming muffled by the thick canopy above. John’s laughter grew further away. You waited, listening to their voices growing more distant. You pondered whether or not to try and help, but two naked people running through the woods certainly wouldn’t remedy the situation, and getting dressed would just waste time.
John hadn’t touched your clothes, only Arthur’s. Perhaps the young teenager was putting revenge over whatever Arthur said to him earlier. Typical sibling behavior as it were, you thought with a small smirk to yourself.
A few more minutes ticked by while you were wrapped in silence. You hadn’t heard either of them, and wondered how far John got, or if Arthur managed to catch up to him. Your unasked question was answered when the rustling of leaves and branches caught your attention. The sharp crunch of boots snapping twigs soon revealed Arthur, disgruntled and still very nude, though his body was peppered with forest debris.
You had to admit, as good as he looked, the sight of his defeated face and in nothing but his boots was quite amusing.
“What’re you smilin’ at?” He grumbled as he made his way to the water, kicking his boots off with unneeded force.
You started to giggle, standing straight to gesture to him as a whole. “Never thought I’d see Arthur Morgan running after a kid, stark naked!”
The scowl he gave you was heated, though didn’t faze your ever growing laughter. “Yeah well, don’t get used to it.” He huffed, breaking the surface to slide back in.
“Couldn’t catch him huh?” You chuckled.
He sighed heavily. “Lil’ shit got to the road. I had to stop chasin’ him or else give an unwanted show to some passin’ stagecoaches.”
That only prompted a harder laugh. “What, I’m sure someone aboard them would’ve appreciated it!”
With a scoff, Arthur sank further into the water, attempting to wash the debris from his body. “Now I’m stuck here without clothes. How am I gonna get back to camp without people seein’ me like this?”
The mere thought of it brought even more amusement to you. Arthur trying to sneak into camp, probably holding his hat over himself in attempts to cling to a shred of his dignity. No one in camp would let him live that down.
“Well, John didn’t steal my clothes,” you pointed out, gesturing toward the rock where your garments still lay out. “I can run back and grab yours, if you want.”
“Like I got a choice,” he mumbled dejectedly. “Jus’ hurry, will ya?”
“Sure,” you say, making your way to land and stepping out into the hot air once again. “Can’t let anyone see big bad Arthur Morgan stuck out here in his natural state!” you cackled.
Tumblr media
451 notes · View notes
stingslikeabee · 2 years ago
Text
headcanon: lore referring to Bhujerba for the FFXII verse
I have been writing quite frequently in my FFXII verse, where Melissa is Bhujerban and someone who embodies a lot of the local traditions and customs in how she interacts with other characters (particularly in the main arc of her verse, where she is an undercover agent of the Resistance sent to the Archadian Empire and posing as a dancer/performer). I have always been fascinated by FFXII and for the purposes of my interactions, I have expanded a bit on Bhujerba below.
Bhujerba is heavily inspired by medieval India given the accent used in the English dub and the apparent Sanskrit used (as well as some architecture choices for the city); I have ran with this and established further associations: Melissa’s dance/performance is very inspired by current-day Bollywood dance sequences; the climate is warmer/more humid than the one in Archades, for instance; food is very savory and spices are used frequently; clothing is colorful and vibrant and jewelry are used by both men and women alike in different fashion (the way people dress in Bhujerba is distinctive and usually able to set them apart from other countries).
Bhujerbans do have their own native tongue and speak in Bhujerban with each other - however, given the role of the city as a docking port and the importance of the country in terms of magicite export, most of the locals (if not all) speak the common tongue of Ivalice with their characteristic accent (i.e. see Ondore and other locals speaking English with an Indian accent).
People born in Bhujerba tend to have better physical balance than regular people from Ivalice, and little to no motion sickness in relation to air travel. This makes them very good candidates for airline pilots/stewards, sky pirates, military personnel in charge of airships etc. They are also more used to rarefied air and altitude - in fact, Bhujerbans have adapted to the heights and they feel at home among the skies or very high places; they will seek these spots when in Ivalice, on the ground.
On the other hand - they are more subject to claustrophobia and hesitant to go below the surface of Ivalice proper (exploring caverns, diving into the ocean etc). For someone born and raised in the Sky City, not seeing the skies and the sun/moon is typically anxiety-inducing and they must either be slowly exposed to the idea or this could trigger a panic state.
The madhu (the alcoholic drink made famous all over Ivalice) has strong sense-altering properties, and it’s rumored to unlock hidden personality traits or to have people act in the opposite way they do when sober. It does not seem to suggest a lot needs to be ingested to achieve such effects - however, a resistance can be built with exposure and time. Bhujerbans are typically able to withstand the effects better because it’s a cultural thing to drink and indulge in madhu - therefore, they will usually bear witness to interesting behavior of other people from Ivalice.
In line with the above - there is actually an old law, from the time of Ondore I, restricting madhu ingestion to indoors - it famously brought inebriated people too close to the city’s edge and some falls happened, prompting an attempt at regulating the activities in a safer manner.
On the topic of falling from Bhujerba - legend says that it’s never fatal and the few examples to date prove this, however it is unclear if only Bhujerbans can survive a fall or if anyone who happens to have moved/is visiting the Sky City is awarded the same fortune. As a consequence, non-natives are extremely cautious of the city limits and will often refuse to test this theory.
The item above is precisely why mining magicite from the Lhusu Mines is, interestingly enough, very skilled labor. A wrong move could open a hole directly to the continent below and people could fall - not to mention that the work itself is conducted at the impressive altitude that Bhujerba customarily boasts. As a result, it is very uncommon for non-Bhujerbans to be brave enough to become miners in the sky city with the added risks that the job brings to them. This is also one of the reasons I headcanon Archadia never fully seizes control of the mines: they lack the experience to replace the workers with their own personnel and they do not have the expertise of the Ondore family in terms of closing/opening mines to allow magicite to recover, which could endanger the supply to all of Ivalice.
Bhujerba is also traditionally neutral in terms of any conflict (think modern day Switzerland). It’s a country that has blessed Ivalice with some formidable diplomats and mediators - mostly because Bhujerba is often not involved in territory disputes given the fact it is in the sky, however it is a country that becomes extremely vulnerable in the recent age of heavily armored and impressive airborne armadas. In this sense, Bhujerba (led by House Ondore since the Galtean Alliance) works hard to collaborate and help prevent wars to the extent possible.
Finally - in terms of people relationships, Bhujerbans are closer/less informal with each other and there is a great sense of community that is not frequently found in other countries. Despite the presence of nobility in Bhujerba, there is not a huge difference between high-born and common folk - struggles are frequently shared, and families are traditionally numerous. House Ondore is well-liked by most of the population and given the reduced territory of Bhujerba, the needs and desires of the majority are acknowledged and typically provided for under the Ondore administration.
5 notes · View notes
ask-purpled-and-blued · 4 years ago
Text
Crimsoned
Honestly? This could’ve turned out a whole lot worse.
Really, it all started with the invitation. He knew Dream decently well and they had mutual respect. Why would Purpled not check out his server? Especially when people were making content and making connections there.
Personal and some business. Win-win.
He accepted the invite to the SMP and intended to make an impact. Built a super cool base, got decently stacked, tamed some dogs. He even got to make some friends.
So what if he was a bit out of the loop sometimes. He’d show up to back up his friends when they needed it. He’d stand up to anyone trying to trick him or make him the butt of their joke. He’d be a good samaritan and help people out from time to time. He didn’t need much more than a thank you and some iron.
It’s also just easier to “borrow” things if he doesn’t come to mind easily.
Sure, missing huge events sucks.
He leaves the server for one (1) day to have lunch with some friends and his communicator is blowing up with the SMP’s open chat and VCs.
By the time he makes it back, the fighting’s being settled with a duel before anyone even tells him what the stakes are. It’s frustrating to have his dms and voice call attempts ignored in the aftermath, but he gets it. It’s fine.
It’s also fine when he finds out about the new country and they don’t let him join. Being neutral’s suited him so far and even if the thought was nice, he’s only on speaking terms with like three people there. It’d be awkward and he’d rather not insist on that.
So he flies solo for a bit. Just his dogs, sometimes Ponk, and his bedwars squad.
He builds, he mines, he breaks beds. Life goes on.
Then he gets another invitation. Hand-written by Tubbo.
There’s a festival. And honestly he wasn’t expecting to even be invited. Things were sort of tense between everyone else at the moment, he wasn’t sure if he should even show up to a large event in unfamiliar territory.
...
Fuck it, he has pearls. Tubbo’s giving a speech and it’s been forever since they’ve talked. Maybe they’ll have some time to catch up before spats inevitably break out and emotions boil over. Then he can pearl out and check off his monthly human interaction quota.
A safe plan that goes not at all to plan.
Tubbo walls off to talk to someone away from everyone else. Schlatt pulls the twist of a lifetime. Technoblade was apparently on this server and killed Tubbo in front of everyone.
At least the speech was nice. He’d tell Tubbo that if he hadn’t just gone into auto pilot and killed Tommy because someone yelled to.
He, he should probably get home. Dogchamp was still waiting for him.
Yeah, he’ll do that.
It’s odd.
After this long doing mindless busy work on the server and grinding bedwars, he’s almost in shock when someone turns up on his cabin doorstep.
Karl, apparently. He’s asking if Purpled would like to help Dream and Schlatt defend Manberg. Offers up a shield.
And Purpled’s indecisive about it.
He takes the shield, accepts and promises he’ll be ready. But then turns around and starts wondering who he should be loyal to.
He’s been neutral this whole time. It would’ve been so easy to just turn Karl down and bite back if they tried to force him to help them.
But he hasn’t seen anyone on this server in ages. Hasn’t sat down and had a chat for even longer. What did Manberg stand for? Why was it being attacked? Who did he just ally with? Who would he be fighting?
He has no details and Karl and Schlatt have offered him none. Dream’s dm to stay away from Manberg is pretty pointless now, considering he’s already signed up for whatever this is.
It takes him until after the first shots are fired, but he’s made his choice.
He sides with L’Manberg’s people and hopes it doesn’t bite him.
It’s a win until it isn’t. He’s glad his pearl reflexes are still up to snuff, otherwise he would’ve been done for for sure.
He witnesses a murder and says nothing about it. Kills a wither and pockets its star. Watched Technoblade threaten some children.
Maybe it’d be best to stay away from anything government-related for the time being.
New era, new home!
He’s got a really cool base idea in mind and he’s tested out the basics of the redstone on a pocket single-player world.
He terraforms, builds, and adjusts things until the sun goes down. And even then he keeps busy.
Farming, building, bedwars. He hasn’t seen anyone in a while-
There’s a dirt platform.
There’s an ugly fucking dirt platform that’s right over his cove. And apparently it’s a whole other country right over his home.
He wonders if it’d be worth calling up those anarchists in the woods about it.
He decides to just leave and hope it goes away.
He spends a lot of time away after that. Recharges in the company of friends and even takes a break from the grind too. It’s just him in Hypixel Housing with his dogs having a little vacation.
He comes back to the server with a lot of energy and a need to use it.
Calls up Ponk about a new business venture.
Real estate.
During his time away he had plenty of time to think about the server and distance himself from it to do so.
People value their stuff so much.
Their pets, their disks, their builds. They well and truly care about them all.
One thing they don’t really care about is the land.
It gets blown up by creepers and burnt out ex-politicians. It’s fought over, sure, but so was a goddamn cow. People will take any excuse for violence on this server.
But the point is that land claims are very valuable and very subjective. No one’s writing up deeds by the coordinate, and he and Ponk will take advantage of that.
It could’ve gone worse.
They technically won that duel. Antfrost owes them iron now. Scam successful.
But it raised a lot of issues.
How are they going to handle people who they can’t overpower? Can they use the law angle without getting targeted by Technoblade? How big do they want this scheme to get? How are they going to sustain it?
There are so many complications he didn’t think about before going into it. He doesn’t regret any of it, but damn he wishes he’d planned for contingencies.
Like what to do when Ant’s ally, BadBoyHalo, comes walking up to him and asks if he’d like to see something cool.
He wants to say no. He is probably going to be lured into a room and spawn trapped by the Badlands until he agrees that Ant doesn’t owe anything.
Or maybe he watches too many movies.
Regardless, Bad is over a foot taller than him and hunts Dream down on the side for fun and the content. Purpled is not in a position to resist, PvP experience means jack shit right now.
So he follows Bad to the spawner and down some more stairs.
Alright, he’d take the spawn trapping over whatever this situation is. This is actual horror movie shit.
There’s an egg and apparently it’s the source of all the shit that’s growing on the surface right now and Purpled does not want to be this close to it. He’s seen the alien horror movies he knows that thing has bad vibes and it’s totally gonna-
...
It’s gonna make a terrifying amount of sense.
No, no no no no. No!
He is not about to get mentally and emotionally and morally dissected by a fucking egg. He wants no part in this. He doesn’t wanna be here. This is all crazy and this egg can’t do any of those things!
He doesn’t care that Badboyhalo would probably yeet him across the room. He’s struggling and trying not to hyperventilate because the air in here is fucking disgusting and he doesn’t want that shit in his lungs.
He tells Bad he hates this and that he’s weird and crazy and that the egg’s going to ruin everything and leave nothing behind.
...
Yeah, fat fucking chance of that. The egg just wants to take over everything and spread all over the place, it doesn’t actually care about any of them. Bad is being played like a fool and whatever it offered him it won’t give him.
...
It can’t give it to him. It is a fucking egg.
That’s not even what Purpled wants! No amount of wealth is gonna make him ever tolerate this mess.
...
No.
If Bad or any of the egg’s other puppets even look at Dogchamp, Purpled will TNT Machine every chunk on this goddamn server to bedrock.
L’Manberg will look like a creeper hole in comparison.
...
Bet. Think it’s a bluff, Purpled has a surplus of sand already. He just needs to cut a deal with someone for the gunpowder and he’ll be set.
...
This is getting no one anywhere. Purpled refuses to be a part of this fucking cult and the egg can’t make him.
Why not just let him go and try again elsewhere?
...
That wasn’t a challenge. It was a statement. A fact, if you would.
...
He’s not trembling, it’s just hot in here. He has no reason to be scared of an egg.
This is a waste of time and they should just all pretend it didn’t happen.
...
He’s not scared- he just-
It’s hard to breathe, how can Bad stand it? It’s so hot and humid and miserable.
It’s not hyperventilating, it’s Purpled trying to regulate his breathing.
The egg’s seeing things. This isn’t working. It’s a waste of time. They might as well just let him go.
He’s never going to bend to the will of an egg.
...
How is it not bending to it’s will if it demands obedience and compliance? Is the egg stupid? Is that why it still insists on keeping him here?
Purpled’s not going to help an egg cover the server in its gross ass vines. Not now, not ever.
...
Obsidian walls won’t make this work any better.
...
It really won’t.
...
It’s not- Are they even still there?
The egg can’t move, but Bad is definitely not here. He’d be all loud and annoying about it.
...
Purpled does not miss Bad. Not when he’s being a creepy cult member.
He’s hardly better at conversation than the egg itself. It makes no difference whether he’s left or not.
...
That’s just fucking rude. Purpled’s not even gonna humor that one.
“Does it matter if you’re gone?” What a fucking joke.
...
This is just his life now, isn’t it? Stuck in this hole because an egg’s being a stubborn loser about having a shitty pitch.
...
That pitch was absolutely shitty.
Not in any way persuasive. Purpled’s honestly surprised the egg even has Bad with how terrible its tactics are.
...
Oh haha. Asking the captive for tips on how to better indoctrinate captives. Yeah, sure!
...
That’s not even his area of expertise. All he knows is math, bedwars, and now a bunch of loopholes.
...
It wants to talk real estate? Why on God’s green earth should Purpled open himself to conversation with this thing?
...
It did work. It totally worked.
...
The egg’s approach was worse! And no Purpled will not explain why!
...
Why does the egg even want this SMP? The land’s all gone to shit anyways and it’s constantly getting wrecked.
...
It’s serious? It is 100% serious about this right now?
...
Fuck. That’s-
...
Purpled still doesn’t want a part in this. He just wants hang out with his friends and not deal with this server’s bullshit anymore.
...
That’s fair but also the egg makes people lamer. Having egg friends is worse than not having friends.
...
That’s. Well, he could do that. Have the egg and also not have friends. Have a part in taking all that land and be able to make the most of it. Be able to-
Nope, pump the breaks. Nuh uh.
...
Shouldn’t have given it that much shit about its approach then. Purpled has to concede that much at this point.
...
Even if it seems inevitable at this point, the egg shouldn’t get ahead of itself.
There’s always the chance that someone busts in right now and pulls Purpled out before he loses the rest of his sanity down here choking on humid, tainted air. That someone will notice he’s missing without having left the server and they’ll go looking.
...
Yeah, it was a weak hope.
It could’ve been so much worse.
But there’s still time to make it even worse.
He’s got a base no one ever checks that has sewer access. It’d be the most use he ever got out of Area 51 and it’d be hella ironic.
They can plant more vines in there or even move the egg itself in there to keep it safe. It doesn’t seem like a very good idea to have it where people with ill intent can fuck with it.
There are places on the server where no one goes or walks by. They can plant more there and let it run as wild as it pleases.
If they’re strategic about their placement, they can take over so much of the land. The people in it can be converted after.
He didn’t want to be here and on some level he probably still doesn’t.
But he’s not one to half ass things.
He didn’t want to be here and neither will anyone else they’re going to convert.
He can’t bring himself to care anymore.
The egg’s easier. As much as he hates giving up, why was he even really trying? What was worth resisting for?
He remembers, but it doesn’t seem all that worth it anymore.
Maybe it never was.
48 notes · View notes