#there's a lot of problems with this in practice
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So it's national Recreational Explosives, Hand Loss and Wildfire day, and unlike 2023, there is nary a drop of rain in sight.
Despite being slapped upside the head by God, my put technically inclined neighbor has acquired TWO pallets of fireworks this year.
The state is of no help: my city police department has made it pretty clear they don't intend to respond to any fireworks calls this weekend. I've sent the pictures I took to the county tipline and received and automated email reply saying that it will take several weeks to process my case. Perhaps he will get jail time later, but this does not actually you know. Stop him from setting the neighborhood ablaze. Going up to his door the week prior and very politely asking him to move- not cancel, just relocate - his celebrations was met with calling me a "nosy bitch" and "I'll set one off in your ass!".
Sometimes God needs us to make our own miracles.
My miracle comes with several layers, and plenty of opportunities to back down without losing face. We'll see how many are needed.
The first wave has already been deployed: a psyop directed at the Visiting Mother In Law of the miscreant.
I got up at 8:30 AM this morning to make sure I'd be in the front yard of my house, casually doing yardwork with Herschel. His participation was essential.
For those of you who are new here, Herschel is the world's most charming Cardigan Welsh Crime Tube, who thinks everyone in the world is his best friend and that people come to the house to see him specifically. So at 9:04 AM when the visiting mother-in-law appeared around the corner on her daily power-walk around the block, Herschel employed his natural Corgi instinct to make friends with everyone and cheerfully tossed himself on the sidewalk in front of her, belly up for expected tummy rubs.
"OH AREN'T YOU DARLING!!" My target coos, kneeling down to pat him while he makes him like snuffling noises of glee. She is at least 70. I think her bright pink leg warmers and terrycloth headband might be original from her jazzercise days.
"I'm so sorry! Herschel you're going to trip people doing that!" I apologize, going up to greet the woman. "I'm [REDACTED], I don't think we've met..?"
"No, I'm just visiting my daughter and her family- my name is Barbara. And who is this?" She asks Herschel, whose whole back end is waggling with glee.
"This is my service dog Herschel." I explain while he rolls around on the pavement. "I just wanted him to get some time outside before the pyrotechnics start."
"Oh. Yes." Barbra grumbles and I know I've got her. "My son-in-law is planning something extravagant." She says with such disdain it practically comes out of her nose. This is a woman who loves her daughter and dearly wishes she married someone, anyone else.
"Yeah, he got rained out and sick the last two years, so I think he's compensating." I agree.
"Oh he's definitely overcompensating!" Barbra spits, then shakes her whole body like a dog. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't complain. You said he's a service dog?"
I go for it.
"Yeah! I have... Neurological problems." I say and that is technically true. "I've um. Lost a lot of things, like a sense of time, or appetite, and his job is to remind me to eat or take my meds or alerts that I'm having an episode. My personal dog-tor!" I say, patting his adorable little head, and he leans on me, equally adoring.
"Oh, is that why-?" Barbra starts to ask, gesturing at the top of her head, but stops herself.
I hadn't planned this, but yesterday I'd shaved my head to deal with the heat and now only have a quarter inch of hair, which doesn't really hide the scars from when I got run over by a minivan. They're bright red with the heat and exertion of yard work.
I decide I'm okay with lying to a stranger to prevent my house from being set ablaze.
I sort of... Crumple to the ground and drop the rake I was holding, and Herschel immediately climbs into my lap to comfort me as I start to cry.
"Oh my God." Says Barbra.
"I'm sorry!" I gasp, tears streaming down my face. I've been stressed and this is honestly very cathartic. "I'm sorry to dump on you, I'm just so scared-!"
"Oh my God. It's bad." Barbra realizes.
"D- do you know what-" a pause as Herschel tries to manually clear my nostrils like a good service dog. "-oh, Herschel... It's - do you know what an astrocytoma* is?"
*An astrocytoma is a type of brain tumor.
Barbra turns white and sits down next to me. "I'm so sorry... I- one of my friends from church had one, it was agony but she's alright now!" She tries to reassure me.
"It hurts! Everything hurts all the time!" I sob. "And- and I'm scared, so he's scared and I feel bad for hi which just makes it worse and then there's the-" I gesture at the sky. "I have surgery in a month to remove as much of it as they can and do biopsies to see if I need radiation too but..."
"-but all that noise must be Hell on you and your doggy." Barbra nods.
"It'd be fine if he went down to the lake of something but, that house's driveway is like, a hundred feet from my bedroom, I can't sleep and it TERRIFIES Herschel..." I whimper pathetically.
"Well. I may be able to do something about that." Barbra decides.
"Oh no, I don't want to intrude!" I mock-protest.
"No, we're the ones intruding dear. I'll have words with him." She growls. I get the impression she's been waiting for an excuse To Have Words With Him.
"Th-thank you. Um. It's getting hot and I'm a mess, we should probably go inside..." I mutter and Barbra very kindly helps me and Herschel to the front door and tells me she'll be by later with watermelon as we wave goodbye.
From the porch, I watch her furiously power-walk back to her daughter's house, wrench open the front door, and issue a battle cry of "HEN-RY!!!" before it slams behind her.
Now I realize that this may not have been the most honest or ethical thing to do, but I figured it's more polite and ethical than the next step, which is chemical warfare, courtesy of Bath & Body Works :)
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There's plenty in the notes already about how utterly batshit and indeed downright evil this flavour of theology is, so imma just add something I think is an amusing titbit instead:
so, as many folks on tumblr will know,
The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman - a novel by Laurence Sterne, published in nine volumes from 1759 to 1767 -
discourses in humorous vein about a hell of a lot of things (while reputedly being, famously, the first example of stream-of-consciousness writing in the English language).
Now among those many things there is a scene featuring the discussion amongst some very learned men - while a difficult birth is going on in the room next door, if I remember rightly - about how dreadful it is that complications and mishaps at birth might lead to a soul going to hell because baptism didn't happen in time. So these men learnedly and seriously propose that this could be remedied by baptising the foetus while still in the womb, "by means of a little squirt" (describing a device a bit like an oil-can with a long nozzle). (what this does in practice to the woman is completely absent from their thoughts and discussion, obviously) (this is a notion actually in existance that Sterne is putting into the novel here, though I have no idea how widespread it was)
But these learned men also know very well, of course that - as was absolutely seriously believed - a baby grows from a homunculus: a tiny complete human (this is prior to the invention of the microscope) and women are mere incubators; the whole of the baby's being comes solely from the father ...
So Sterne, 100% poker-faced, earnest and Very Serious about it, proposes that really, the logical solution to all these problems is to baptise all the homunculi. Before intercourse. "By means of a little squirt" (which would of course have to be inserted well up the appropriate channel ...)
the weirdly vengeful and petty tones aborted babies take in pro-life propaganda images are so funny like this passive aggressive "was it worth it mommy?" and "it's a shame you can't join me in heaven mommy 😔" like do you ever wonder if you were aborted for a reason you little bitch ass baby
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I was going to write stuff in response to your tags, but my love language is offering solutions and that's not always what ppl want (I am also a stranger on the internet so prob not my place to just weigh on in 😅)
Instead I just want you to know your characters are amazing. Every last one of them I've come across. And yes they're all beautifully drawn, but it's how they've been fleshed out by you that makes them so 'good'. You could draw them as stick figures and they'd still be gorgeous. Machete and Vasco blobs would be beloved art. Thank you for sharing so many and so much of them with us.
Hope your headspace gives you a break soon.
(And your imposter syndrome can go jump. As if it knows anything about creativity or art? Please tell it I said it needed its eyes checked [and its lips sewn shut]).
You don't need to waste spoons responding to this, I just wanted to join the chorus singing your praises
;-; 🧡🧡🧡
Thank you for taking the time to say that! I've been feeling so out of sorts and discouraged about everything related to art, it's moving to hear that there's people who still believe in you even at your weaker moments.
#for the record I'm also “offer solutions” kind of person#I'm still trying to learn to read people better when it comes to estimating whether someone wants help solving a problem#or if they just need someone to listen to them so don't feel so alone with the problem#I tend to really appreciate advice and practical solutions#so if you had something in your mind but chose to leave it out I really wouldn't mind hearing it#a lot of the time it's stuff I wouldn't have thought of myself#when you get lost in your own head a second opinion can be very effective in yanking you out of the mental funk#answered#dsabian
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aika's flowershop order #3
Fake dating with... Suna Rintarou !
‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡
order by... @sinsxo (cherry) !!
‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡
"Act Natural"
You should have said no.
That was the logical thing to do. That’s what any rational human would’ve done when their very stoic, emotionally unreadable, eternally bored-looking friend said:
“You should pretend to be my girlfriend.”
Because that’s not normal. That’s not how friendships go.
But you—bless your embarrassingly Suna-Rintarou-crushing heart—said:
“Okay.”
So now here you are.
Sitting beside him at a café with intertwined fingers, a stupidly pretty boy sipping his iced coffee beside you like it’s just another Thursday, and his fangirls from school at the corner table practically short-circuiting from jealousy.
---
It started like this:
“Oi.”
You blinked up from your lunchbox. Suna stood above you, hand in his hoodie pocket, chewing gum with his usual lazy gaze.
“What’s up?” you asked, mouth full of rice.
“I need a fake girlfriend,” he said. “You’ll do.”
“Excuse me—?”
“I’ll buy you food for a week.”
You stopped chewing.
“…Why?”
“Because my kouhai confessed to me in front of a crowd and everyone thinks we’re dating now. I turned her down. She’s still following me around.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“Free lunch. For seven days.”
“…Can I pick the place?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m your girlfriend.”
---
Honestly, it should have been weird. Holding hands between classes. Sitting beside him during volleyball practice. Sharing drinks.
But Suna was unbothered. Always.
When you asked him, “Aren’t you embarrassed?”
He simply blinked and replied, “Why would I be?”
As if you didn’t just fake kiss him behind the gym building to keep up appearances. (It was a forehead kiss. Your soul still left your body.)
He’d lean in close and whisper things like,
“Wanna make it more convincing?”
and your brain would enter emergency shutdown mode because Suna Rintarou smelled like clean soap and mint and talked like he could see through your very not fake feelings.
---
But the thing is:
Suna wasn’t cruel.
He didn’t make fun of your blushing. He didn’t tease when you stuttered. He just watched you—quietly, calmly—with those sleepy green eyes, and you could never tell what he was thinking.
Until one night.
---
You were walking home from a convenience store. You had a popsicle. He had potato chips. The moon was bright. He was wearing grey sweats and you were wearing his jacket. (Long story. It started raining. He tossed it at you without a word.)
“Hey,” he said. “Can I ask something?”
You nodded.
“What would it take for you to date someone for real?”
You blinked. “Huh?”
He kept walking. Cool, unbothered. Like he hadn’t just thrown a wrench into your entire life.
“I’m just curious,” he said. “You’re cute. Nice. Smart. Popular. Thought you’d have someone by now.”
You nearly choked on your popsicle. “Wh—wha—!?”
He gave you a look. “Relax. I’m not judging you.”
You kicked a pebble. “I guess… if someone really liked me, and made me feel safe. Like they actually wanted me—not just ‘liked’ me because it was convenient or I looked good in pictures or something…”
Suna was quiet. You thought the conversation was over until—
“I think I’d date someone like you.”
You froze.
He looked at you again. “If it were real.”
You stood there, blinking under the moonlight, your popsicle melting.
“…Wha—”
“I said what I said,” he said. “Anyway. You got something on your face.”
And he wiped the ice cream from the corner of your mouth with his thumb like a damn drama lead.
Then walked off, hands in his pocket.
Leaving you short-circuiting behind him.
---
After that night, things changed.
He started touching you more—lightly, casually. Fixing your hair. Nudging your chin to look at him when you were distracted.
His hand always found yours.
Even when no one was around.
That’s what made you spiral.
Because if this was all an act—
Then why was your heart racing when he leaned close to whisper:
“You looked good today.”
or
“You smiled a lot when that guy talked to you. You like him?”
or
“You should look at me like that.”
You thought it was just your imagination.
You told yourself he was just playing the part.
Until…
---
The day the lie came crashing down.
He pulled you aside after practice. Your name sounded different when he said it. His voice quieter. Serious.
“Let’s stop.”
Your heart dropped. “Stop?”
“This fake dating thing. It’s not fair to you.”
You stared at him. “Why now?”
He looked down. “Because I’m starting to wish it wasn’t fake.”
Silence.
You thought you misheard.
“I liked the way you laughed with me. I liked holding your hand. I liked watching you get flustered when I complimented you.”
You swallowed. “Then… why stop?”
“Because if I keep pretending, I’ll ruin it,” he said. “And if you don’t feel the same, I’d rather just… go back to being your friend than keep lying to myself.”
Your chest ached.
Not just because he liked you.
But because you’d been hiding the same truth.
“…Rin.”
He looked up.
“I didn’t want it to be fake either.”
His eyes widened. For the first time, Suna Rintarou looked surprised.
And then his hand reached out. Softly. Cautiously. His palm warm against your cheek as he whispered:
“Can I kiss you?”
You nodded.
And when he leaned in—slowly, gently—it wasn’t fake at all.
It was everything.
---
The next day at school, people gawked when you held hands.
Because it wasn’t “pretend” anymore.
It was real.
You were Suna Rintarou’s girlfriend.
And he wasn’t shy about it.
He pulled you close at lunch.
Took your favorite drink without asking.
Kissed your cheek when you pouted.
“Rintarou!” you hissed, cheeks burning.
He smirked. “Gotta play the part, right?”
You elbowed him. “We’re not faking anymore!”
“I’m not faking,” he murmured. “I just really wanna kiss you again.”
---
And this time, when he did—
You kissed him back.
Like it was the easiest thing in the world.
Because loving Suna Rintarou never felt fake.
Not even once.
‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡
a/n: AAAA I love suna sm, thank you sm for your purchase, cherry!! I always love writing fake dating fics, thank you sm for the order & thank you sm for reading !
‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡
back to aika's flowershop !!
orders that have been received !!
#suna rintarou#suna x reader#suna rintaro x reader#suna rintaro haikyuu#suna rintarō#suna rintaro x you#suna x you#suna x y/n#suna rintaro x y/n#suna rintarou x reader#suna rintarou x you#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu#haikyu x reader#haikyu fluff#haikyuu x you#haikyuu x y/n#haikyuu x gender neutral reader#haikyu x you#hq x reader#hq fluff#hq x you#hq x y/n#hq x gender neutral reader#hq#writers on tumblr#anime and manga#anime x reader#anime
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HOW TO OVERCOME YOUR TROUBLES?




Hello ! This is a general pick a spider web reading that will give u some hints and insights on what you could do to potentially free yourself from your current burdens. Practical or emotional. This reading is for entertainment purposes(!!!!!!!) PLEASE SEEK REAL MEDICAL/LEGAL/WHATEVER NECESSARY HELP IRL IF NEEDED
1.
You are trying to take the wrong road to your success, which is why nothing is happening as you want or planned. That, or you're so afraid of not reaching the goal or finding resolutions, that you're stunned into doing nothing. The cards here are simple and direct-> change your approach. Pinpoint what's not working and why, then silence your fears and frustrations, and little by little, start implementing change. It could be in your attitude or world view as much as real practical situations. There's a set of skills you're lacking, perhaps that's what you need to focus on first. To heal and be abundant is a slow path that needs careful crafting and it won't happen in a day or two. Use your desire as motivation to pull you forward
CARDS : Death; ace if swords reversed, world reversed + 8 of pentacles reversed, Queen of pentacles, 3 of swords reversed
~☆ To thank me, you can check out and interact with my ETSY shop ☆~
2.
Seems like you are creating most of your issues. You like to push yourself for the sake of others, you want to see the best in them or the best in life but whatever you were dealing with has turned around and bit you. Sometimes, it's better to give up and let go. It doesn't have to be the person or the situation itself, it could also be your expectations. Make sure you're true to yourself and honest about what you desire and whether the situation you're in is aligning with it. I see you as a beautiful soul, someone who is caring and loving but there's a lot of mental fog and self sabotage. Know your worth and that your first priority should always be yourself.
CARDS: 6 of cups reversed, chariot reversed, 7 of wands reversed + 5 of swords reversed + the empress, 7 of swords reversed
~☆ To thank me, you can check out and interact with my ETSY shop ♡ ☆~
3.
Overthinking and fears are the first words that pop up for me. I see you're tired of feeling this way, and you want to break free, you want people who you can trust and to see things moving in a more positive direction. Your biggest enemy is being tired and feeling like the world has betrayed you. You need to learn to let go of this paranoia and negative thinking. If you're scared people will harm you, set boundaries and be loud and clear about them, get rid of people who have deliberately hurt you. There's a lot that can be done, however, once you've done these things, you need to let life run it's course and not obsess over all details. The best way to be in control and feel content is to take things as they are and for what they are instead of trying to predict every future problem. There are good things in life and they will find you if you open your doors to them.
CARDS: Justice reversed, 2 of cups, 9 of swords, the sun reversed, king of cups reversed, 8 of swords reversed
~☆ To thank me, you can check out and interact with my ETSY shop ☆~
4.
This might be a bit frustrating to hear but for now the best you can do is keep yourself together and be patient. Seems like there's no clear action to be taken except planning and trying to keep a positive mind. This situation won't last forever, it's just difficult right now, but you know you will figure it out and one day it will be forgotten in the past. Make sure you're not adding self sabotage into the combo and that your mind and emotions are in check. Think about what you would like to do as a treat once you're out of this situation. What little things could you do now to keep your mind focused on the end result? Whatever activities help you relieve stress and don't add any extra stress or problems, now is the time to partake in them.
CARDS: The Star reversed, 10 of wands reversed, 4 of cups + 2 of wands, the world, 7 of swords + strength
~☆ To thank me, you can check out and interact with my ETSY shop ☆~
#free tarot reading#free readings#free tarot readings#tarot exchange#divination#reading exchange#tarot reading exchange#tarot game#pick a card reading#pick a pile
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Adding onto this, I feel that it's important to recognize suicide as a symptom of a larger problem *instead* of as The Problem itself. I remember a few years ago when I determined for myself that a "right to life" should mean a right to control over your own life, and therefore the right to choose to end it if you genuinely determine that that would be the best decision for yourself. Why is this kind of right discouraged so heavily? I'm sure a large part of it is that people don't like it when the people around them die (though I'd argue that convincing someone to continue suffering for your own sake is incredibly cruel and greedy), but I expect that another large part is that there are people who benefit from having more people to work for them and buy things from them. The upper classes want people to have more kids, it makes sense that they would try to stop people from trying to escape their system too, regardless of what method that escape takes.
I've seen people organize and get things done, and I know enough about history to expect that things will get better--even if it takes time to get to that point, and even if things get a lot worse for a while first. But as we work towards improvement, it's important that the focus is on these overlying problems (severe and widespread poverty, exploitative business practices, fearmongering against scapegoats, etc.) rather than just trying to cure their symptoms (suicide).
It’s so crazy that suicide prevention is just people going awwww don’t!! Awwww come on noooooooooo stopppppp
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A question I have always had about Snape's Classes is why they seem to be so hard. Because it seems to be that if you are following the instructions that Snape writes on the board (as I'm pretty sure he does but I could be wrong?) then you shouldn't have too much trouble.
Like I kinda have to assume it is Snape himself making his class harder for kids with his attitude. His constant targeting of Harry just distracts him and makes him not want to pay attention, and he's only able to excel when he doesn't realize he's following Snape's instructions. And his constant bullying of Neville seems to keep him from being able to do anything in his class correctly.
But I might be underestimating how hard this class is.
My Teacher!Snape breakdown ended up mostly focusing on how he treats his students in the context of his job, and I think you've nailed down the main problems of the instruction part of it.
Snape is a very hands-off teacher. He writes the ingredient list + instructions on the board, and then only steps in when someone is making a mistake (or ~occasionally~ when he wants to point what a super duper good job Draco is doing, like he does during the first potion class in Book 1.) In Book 5, which goes into his actual instruction style the *most,* he'll occasionally call out what your potion should look like / what you should be doing to your potion now in terms of timing.
“A light silver vapor should now be rising from your potion,” called Snape, with ten minutes left to go."
He basically runs his classes like the Great British Bake Off, is what I'm saying.
So why is Potions a "hard" class?
1. Snape gives a LOT of homework
Snape had given them so much homework, Harry thought he was likely to be in the sixth year before he finished it - CoS
His teachers at Hogwarts had given him a lot of holiday work. One of the essays, a particularly nasty one about shrinking potions, was for Harry’s least favorite teacher, Professor Snape - PoA
Harry sat finishing a nasty essay on Undetectable Poisons for Snape - PoA
This includes EXTRA homework if you don't do well in class:
“You will write me an essay on the correct composition of this potion, indicating how and why you went wrong, to be handed in next lesson, do you understand?” “Yes,” said Harry furiously. Snape had already given them homework, and he had Quidditch practice this evening - OotP
Snape also seems like a pretty mean grader who is looking for a VERY specific answer.
Ron was now struggling to finish a viciously difficult essay for Snape that Harry and Hermione had already completed. Harry fully expected to receive low marks on his, because he had disagreed with Snape on the best way to tackle dementors - HBP
He also absolutely seems the type to throw some really mean pop-quizzes at you:
They had got as far as agreeing that [the assignment]was likely to be something extremely difficult, just to catch them off guard after a two-month holiday - OotP
2. Snape is a very stressful person to be around
Harry (and Neville) do a MUCH better job at potions when Snape is just not physically there.
Compared to what [Harry] usually had to endure from Snape in the way of taunts and snide remarks, he found the new [silent treatment] approach something of an improvement and was pleased to find that when left well alone, he was able to concoct an Invigoration Draught quite easily. - HBP
With Snape absent from the [OWL testing] proceedings he found that he was much more relaxed than he usually was while making potions. Neville, who was sitting very near Harry, also looked happier than Harry had ever seen him during a Potions class. - OotP
(and Harry does indeed score an E on his Potion OWL, although he does attribute this partly to the long answer portion being ~specifically~ about the effects of Polyjuice)
[Harry] was still having difficulty with nonverbal spells, something Snape had been quick to comment on in every D.A.D.A. class. On the other hand, the Prince had proved a much more effective teacher than Snape so far.
oh the irony. Snape is a MUCH better textbook writer than he is a teacher.
Once Snape gets out of his way, Harry's pretty GOOD at potions. Snape's theory that Harry lacks "subtlety" and doesn't understand "fine distinctions" just - doesn't seem to be true.
3. Teaching Method
Snape's focus on exactness, "fiddly" instructions, cutting roots to exactly uniform sizes, perfectly timing heat fluctuations and stirring pattens - is probably not a good fit for Harry specifically. He very much does read as ADHD to me, and he's already got a large chunk of his working memory taken up with just - dealing with Snape the human being (and also Malfoy.) He forgets steps, and that makes sense. Harry has a few "difficulty concentrating" beats and one "difficulty seeing the board" beat.
According to Slughorn, having a more "intuitive" approach to Potions is indeed a thing, and probably a better match for Harry specifically. It also seems to be more how SNAPE (or at least the Half-Blood Prince) thinks about potions during his free time. It's the difference between one cook being incredibly exact about ingredients, and another talking about "a pinch" "seasoning to taste" "until it looks ready."
The person who seems to ACTUALLY gel with Snape's teaching style the most is... Hermione.
“All we’d need would be some Polyjuice Potion.” “What’s that?” said Ron and Harry together. “Snape mentioned it in class a few weeks ago —” “D’you think we’ve got nothing better to do in Potions than listen to Snape?” muttered Ron. - CoS
Harry basically has to charm his way into a good grade during Slughorn's antidote lesson - because even though Snape spent the entire fall semester of Fourth Year covering antidotes - Harry has ZERO idea how to backwards-engineer a poison and synthesize one. But Hermione knows exactly what to do.
She was now decanting the mysteriously separated ingredients of her poison into ten different crystal phials. More to avoid watching this irritating sight than anything else, Harry bent over the Half-Blood Prince’s book and turned a few pages with unnecessary force. - HBP
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ITS GOING DOWN
warnings: smut, going down on that kitty kat, MDNI, Danny Ramirez characters which is a warning in itself
Mickey Garcia: The Sweet, Overwhelming Rush
It was in his room, the one with the skateboard decks leaning against the wall and the posters of old punk bands. We’d been tangled up on his bed for hours, just talking, laughing, the air getting thicker and thicker with all the things we weren’t saying. Mickey, bless his heart, was all nervous energy and earnest eyes. He kept touching my hand, then pulling back, then touching it again.
The shift happened when his gaze dropped from my eyes to my lips. His breath hitched, and a wave of heat went through me. He was so visible in that moment, all his vulnerability and sweet, desperate wanting laid bare.
“Can I?” he whispered, his voice a little hoarse, leaning in.
I just nodded, barely able to breathe. His lips were soft, hesitant at first, like he was testing the water. But then, when I kissed him back with everything I had, something in him just broke open. It wasn't rough, not at all, but it became consuming. His hands, which had been so careful, tangled in my hair, pulling me closer. His mouth devoured mine with a hunger I hadn't expected from him, a raw, almost desperate need that mirrored my own.
It was fumbling, yes, a little awkward in the best way, but it was also overwhelmingly tender. Every touch felt like a discovery, every gasp a revelation. He was so focused, so present, his eyes wide and shining in the dim light, watching my reactions, making sure I was okay even as his body trembled with need. There was a moment when he paused, just holding my face, breathing me in, and I could feel his heart hammering against mine.
“This… this is a lot,” he mumbled against my neck, burying his face there, his hands gripping my hips.
"Yeah," I whispered back, my voice shaking. "It is."
It was less about knowing what to do, and more about feeling everything. The weight of his body pressing down, the soft hair against my skin, the way he moved carefully, almost reverently, until the dam just broke and we were moving together, a symphony of gasps and soft cries. It wasn't perfect, but it was perfectly us. And when it was over, and we were tangled up, sweaty and breathless, his arms squeezed me so tight I thought I might crack. He kissed my forehead, my nose, my lips, again and again, like he was trying to commit every inch of me to memory.
"Wow," he breathed, a soft, amazed sound. "Just... wow."
His wonder was contagious. It wasn't just physical; it was soul-deep, a promise of something pure and profound. And I knew, right then, that it was only the beginning of something truly beautiful.
Joaquin Torres: The Unspoken, Electric Connection
The air between us had been crackling for weeks, maybe months. It wasn't the flirtatious kind of tension; it was the kind that built in shared glances across mission debriefs, in late-night texts about existential threats and what we were fighting for. Joaquin, with his sharp mind and underlying earnestness, wasn't one for casual. So, when he finally showed up at my door, not with new intel or a technical problem, but with that intense, focused look in his eyes, I knew.
He didn't say anything at first. Just stood there, hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze sweeping over my face like he was downloading every detail. The silence stretched, thick with unspoken questions and answers. Then, he took a step forward, closing the distance, and the air around us practically hummed.
“I… I think we need a break from saving the world,” he said, his voice lower than usual, a rumble in his chest.
My heart was doing acrobatics. “Yeah,” I managed, my voice a little breathless. “I think we do.”
He reached out, his hand incredibly warm as it cupped my cheek. His thumb stroked my skin, sending shivers down my spine. His eyes held mine, unwavering, searching. There was no fumbling, no hesitation in his touch now, only a deliberate, almost scientific precision that was paradoxically incredibly sensual. He wasn't just touching me; he was feeling me, registering every tremor, every accelerated heartbeat.
When he finally leaned in, the kiss was a slow burn. It wasn't a question, but a statement, an affirmation of everything we’d felt but hadn’t dared voice. His lips were firm, unyielding, but the pressure was exquisite, building and building until I was dizzy with it. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me flush against him, and I could feel the solid strength of his body, the steady beat of his heart.
We stumbled back into the apartment, shedding clothes almost without thought, each movement deliberate, a shared unspoken language. He didn’t rush. He watched me, every inch of me, his gaze hot and assessing, like a scientist observing a magnificent, complex phenomenon. When his hands finally settled on my hips, guiding me, the touch was grounding, anchoring me in the swirling intensity.
It was raw, physical, yes, but it was also profoundly intellectual, a deepening of the bond that already held us. Every movement was a conversation without words, a release of all the pressure and responsibility we carried. His breath hitched as he moved into me, a soft groan escaping his lips, and I knew then that this wasn't just about pleasure; it was about communion, about finding a safe harbor in the chaos of life.
Afterwards, he pulled me onto his chest, his arms wrapped around me tight. His breathing was still a little ragged, but his hold was possessive, comforting. He didn’t say much, just pressed a kiss to my hair. But the quiet hum of his presence, the steady beat of his heart beneath my ear, spoke volumes. It was a silent promise, a new foundation laid in the bedrock of a shared understanding that ran deeper than words.
Manny "Payback" Alvarez: The Smoldering, Explosive Release
Payback wasn’t a man of soft touches or hesitant whispers. Everything about him, from his pilots’ swagger to the way he held himself, screamed controlled power. We’d had too many near-misses, too many intense glances across the bar after a post-mission celebration, too much unspoken fire. Tonight, there was no more pretending.
We were back at his apartment, the city lights a distant blur outside. The easy banter had died on the walk over, replaced by a charged silence. He poured us a drink, but his eyes never left mine, a smoldering intensity that promised something dangerous and exhilarating.
“So,” he said, his voice a low rumble, the glass clinking against the counter a little too loud. “This has been a long time coming, hasn’t it?”
My breath hitched. “Yeah, Payback. It has.”
He put the glasses down, slowly, deliberately. Then he was in front of me, his height casting a shadow. He didn’t gently cup my face or lightly stroke my arm. His hands went straight to my hips, his grip firm, pulling me flush against his hard body. The heat from him was instant, all-consuming. He smelled of salt, sweat, and something uniquely masculine that made my head spin.
His eyes, usually full of bravado, were raw, vulnerable, almost begging. And then he lowered his head and took my mouth with a demanding hunger that left me breathless. It was a clash of wills, a desperate dance of possession and surrender. His tongue plunged, his body pressed, and I met his intensity with my own, fingers digging into his shoulders, pulling him even closer.
There was nothing hesitant about him. He moved with a practiced confidence that belied the desperation in his eyes. He lifted me, without breaking the kiss, carrying me to his bedroom, his mouth never leaving mine. Clothes were shed in a furious, almost violent hurry, each garment tossed aside as if it were a barrier to be destroyed.
When he finally laid me on the cool sheets, his body hot and heavy over mine, his eyes locked on me. "You want this?" he growled, his voice thick with unspent desire, a vein throbbing in his neck.
"More than anything," I gasped, arching into him, demanding his touch.
And he gave it. He wasn't gentle, not entirely, but he wasn't rough either. There was a primal, consuming energy in his movements, like he was trying to brand me, to claim every inch. Each thrust was powerful, deliberate, a guttural sound escaping his throat as he pushed deeper, harder. It wasn't about fumbling; it was about release, a breaking of floodgates that had been holding back a torrent for too long. He pushed me to the edge, then pulled back, then pushed again, tormenting and exhilarating, until I could feel the scream building in my chest.
When he finally let go, his body shaking, roaring my name, it was an explosive release that shook the very foundations of the room. We lay there, tangled and gasping, sweat slicking our bodies. He rolled to his side, pulling me into his chest, his arms like steel bands around me.
His breathing slowly evened out, and he pressed a kiss to my hair. “Jesus,” he murmured, the word rough, heartfelt. “I thought I was going to crack.”
I just held him tighter, feeling the lingering tremors in his body. Payback, the pilot who flew jets at incomprehensible speeds, had been brought to his knees by something far more powerful. And in that raw, vulnerable admission, I knew I had seen a side of him few ever would. It was heavy, yes, and terrifyingly intense, but it was also the most profoundly real connection I had ever felt. We had survived the test, and in doing so, had created something new and unbreakable.
HERE YA GO HORNY FUCKS😘 @saintbusan
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I Think I'll Picture Us, You with the Waves
Nanami had absolutely no clue how they'd ended up at Emerald Beach, Okinawa. That morning, Gojo had pulled up at his house with Shoko and his minions aka the first and second years in his car, giving him an approximate of fifteen minutes to get ready for a beach picnic, and with a hasty 'no buts, it's calm anyways for now, no missions', he refused Nanami's protests and sent in Yuji and Nobara to help him get packed.
And by afternoon, they were at the beach, eyes squinting against the sun's rays while the kids went berserk (with exception of the Zen'in kids) getting everything ready before diving in the cool water, enticing them with their waves.
Good, some moments of peace, he thought, walking back to the little place he'd assigned for himself with his books that awaited him for too long.
"Nanamin!"
"No." even before Gojo ended his statement, the word had escaped him, aware of the fact that the special grade, now dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, was calling him for a dive. He didn't have a problem with diving - beaches were his favorite place, after a bookstore and home - but water and Gojo is not a good combo. Especially with students onlooking.
"Nanaminnnnn," Gojo drawled out his name, the students following him like ducklings, "we don't get to come on a vacation like this every day!"
"That's why I'm going to read my books."
"You always do!"
"I haven't brought swimwear." He tried to deflect.
"Liar. Nobara packed it herself."
He dragged a tired hand down his face, and finally turned back. "I'll join you later. Let me rest a bit first." Shrugging, the cavalry finally made its way to the water. Just as he was about to sit down-
"Nanamin!"
There, running up the sand, more carefree than he'd been in the past few months, Yuji called his name, and Nanami could see the other fellows who sent him up in the hopes he might respond.
"Itadori-kun, you go enjoy."
"Not without you, Nanamin." His breathing was rapid, and Nanami could tell his speech was practiced. "You said you will join us soon. Gojo-sensei said you were really good with a water-gun and we have lots, our team is one man short."
The hope on the pink-haired kid's face was too much to ignore. Just as he tried one last time, really not wanting to say no, that's when Yuji said, "Please, Nanamin? One splash?"
And that's when a memory slid into his brain.
Him standing on a beach, his feet buried in the sand and long blonde hair blowing in the wind, eyes narrowed against the sun, having just said no to Gojo and Geto running off to the splashing waves, when Haibara, the seniors' last hope, came up to him, trying to get him to play in the water.
"Didn't you say you wanted to come to the beach?"
"To read and just enjoy the view."
"Don't you want to play in the water?"
"No, thank you, I didn't bring anything else."
Finally sighing, Haibara gave in, but before going in, he said, "alright, I get it, you don't want to play or fight in the water. But for me? Just one splash, please, Nanami?"
And at that time, he had been too stubborn to agree and let himself get drenched in salty water, and instead he said 'next time'. There hadn't been a next time. And right now, seeing Yuji stand there, eyes round and full of the light he hadn't seen in months, he felt as if Haibara had come to remind him of the 'next time' he promised.
Standing up, he sighed, and just as Yuji braced himself for a lecture, he walked ahead, giving Yuji a gentle push towards the water. "Which team am I joining?"
Ten minutes later, even as he stood there with a water-gun, his hair and shirt dripping with water and laughs erupting around him, this was something he hadn't known for a long time, but if this is joy, if this is what Haibara wanted for him...
For old times sake, then.
This is for day 4's prompt, Beach Day!
#naomi writes#jjk#jjk x reader#kento nanami#nanami kento#nanami jjk#nanami x reader#jjk au#haibara mention#i miss their duo sm#nanamiweek2025#nanamiweek#nnweek25sfw
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… deputize the national guard as deportation judges…
You know, I can never figure out how much of whatever torment nexus fiction these people have consumed and misunderstood.
Like did they see Judge Dred (2 d’s? The actual word? However you spell it) and misread it as an instruction manual for how to make a better society OR did they actually get how dystopian that society was but still see Dred as an actual hero to be imitated?
Or did they just say fuck yeah, I wanna be a super nazi uber fascist. I’m gonna shove so many people in the oven, it’s gonna be awesome!
Just… what mindset says, hey, we should give one person the power to enforce, adjudicate, and execute the law. And it should be the person with the most firepower and least direct oversight?
And, while I’m bitching about their mental capacity anyway, I have to ask. If they look at a concentration camp surrounded by alligators and swamp that was built barely to health code and start bitching about how the government was holding them back AND that we need to expand permission for our armed forces to perform all the duties of both the executive and the legal branch on an individual level…
Just what part of America is it that they swear up and down that they love?
They say love it or leave it. What part of any of this is NOT leaving it?
Yeah, the geolocation is the same. But it’s not the aspirations, principles, law, or stated ethics (I know it’s unfortunately in perfect keeping with a lot of our worst traditions in practice).
Like, is the only reason these people “love” the US because it’s where they and their loved ones happen to live??
Does it really count as patriotism if you would feel exactly the same way about another nation if you were born there? Does it really count as meaningful commitment to a thing if you’re committed to it only because you perceive it as something you have ownership in?
I’m not dissing ownership or pride or wanting the best for yourself and your loved ones.
I AM dissing that as the only factor in consideration.
I don’t see how “loving” the shiny city on the hill, a place that struggles to improve itself, or the torment nexus equally means that you actually love any of them.
It’s the same as “loving” a sexy lamp instead of a person. If all you “love” is the nice looking body on that thing, we have a different word for that.
Maybe that is it.
They don’t love their country, they lust for it.
It’s just a fetishized object for them to possess and act out their fantasy desires upon. And they’ve mistaken that lust for love. They’ve taken that fantasy as an actual ideal course of action. It’s not them but reality’s failure to actually be their fantasy that’s the problem. So they’re going to force the fantasy. They’re going to make it real. Write that fantasy over the actual reality in blood, misery, and fear until it fucking conforms and says thank you.
I think I am so sickened by this that I simply can’t understand how they don’t feel like they’re going to throw up from this feeling that I am having. How can they love the torment nexus and not, at least, loathe themselves for it? Maybe I just don’t want to understand :/

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👁️👁️
Hi hii, Aiden (pookie) so uhm... How're you... How're you finding the place and the people there? Are they treating you right? Any members you get along with? (Aside from Luck of course) :}}
"Ah ! How are you? Very nice of you to ask about it!"
"And yes! They're all super fun and interesting! About the last question… Hm I don't know I think everyone?"
"There's just one problem, the difference in culture… Not that I'm complaining, after all I can't blame them, each one was born in a different place! But everything will be fine, I'll just talk to people about why it's uncomfortable for them to bite me."
Bp, to your happiness I can say, Aiden is super happy. But not because they're treating him well or anything, it's just that he literally has a weird sense of friendship because of his family-
Dear pansexual
What questionable taste, scary to see this XD I know that practically everyone is in a romance color, but it's because everyone has a chance to have a romance route with Aiden, he only sees them as friends and best friends strangely.
(And I literally just randomly painted the colors of "friendly", being like, best friend and romance, on the arrows)
Trickster -
He loves Trickster!! He talks to her a lot and it's like she brought him here (although… never mind). They get along really well, after all she treats him informally as a friend (like, since the last time they saw each other).
"Wait!? So he really had no gender? I suspected it when I met him… He didn't look human or from a species I know. Well I don't mind, they were super nice, I hope they come back soon so I can go home! I'll definitely send them letters even if we get separated!"
Rosemary -
He likes her too! She seems very reserved and focused, she seems so cool! Watch her fight against Casimir and see how fun it is to watch.
"She reminds me of my younger sister, Ragatha, so diligent and bossy hahaha! She took care of all my brothers, covering them up from assassination attempts, hahaha!"
Chaoxiang -
He thinks Chao is beautiful, as well as fun, he always shows up to say hello, if possible, play a game, although Aiden doesn't seem to pay much attention to the game, he's always pulling the trigger, if possible about games, he only shuts up when it's Chao's turn, and he doesn't want to distract him.
"His skills are amazing! He always looks reserved and so cool, you have to see how amazing he looks when he plays, he even reminds me of my brother Morgan who is just as elegant as him."
Hayden -
He likes Hayden, always talking to him, in this case, just a "Good morning! Are you okay today?" and making him want to leave, but he makes a point of greeting him every time they meet.
"Ah, I'm used to dealing with this kind of person, he reminds me of my little brother, Rowan, so I don't force him to talk."
Willow -
He loves her kindness, whenever he meets her, he starts to talk to her about anything, like an anti-stress pill (as if he had that..), just seeing her makes his day better.
"She's adorable! Reminds me of my sister, Jules, she's the one who gave me this lovely necklace! She was so kind and optimistic! I remember when she comforted my brother, Joel, because the poisons he created had no effect on me! Hahaha!"
Heaven and Nevaeh -
He likes them (too), he sees them more as a form of older brother, he doesn't seem to care at all about dodging their traps, on the contrary, he goes in head first and, somehow, comes out intact and suddenly, he runs after her with the same kind of tricks they used (in the case that Heaven used).
"Hahaha they are so funny! They remind me of my younger brothers, Zion and Qinn, they used the same tricks, they make the same face when I go chasing them."
Penelope -
What a lovely girl! He's always teasing her, being a silly big brother even when she's chasing him with an axe! He seems to adore Penelope.
"Hahaha! She really has monstrous energy! She gets a little sulky because she can't hit me, her movements are still a little imprecise, but they grow so fast, I bet you'll be like my brother, Alaric, one day!"
Casimir -
Casimir is funny, he always enjoys observing his interactions with people, an interesting point is that Aiden actually follows orders perfectly after Cas tells him about them. He talks normally (his normal self in this case) with him, always smiling and cheerful, but there is one thing, when they bump into each other without realizing it, he gives Cas a dark look and gets all alarmed, before returning to normal.
"IDRIS- Ah! It's you Cas, sorry, I mistook you for my brother again hahaha! How is your day going?"
He is someone who really likes everyone...-
If anyone else wants to know what Aiden thinks of his ocs, feel free to ask him!
Tag: @googlyeyes-blogs @justafriendly-stranger
#uwu#my art#oc's#oc#my ocs#milkshake house#milkshake mansion#aiden mm#ask#thanks for the ask!#my friends#friends#friends oc's#boiling potato#bp
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My crazy idea born from lack of sleep and need of Soft!Crosshair: Reader is a new addition to the team and doesn't really get along with Crosshair. After a rain-soaked mission, Reader discovers he smuggled a tooka kitten he found planetside onto the Maurader. Reader and Cross bond over trying to keep the feline secret. Bonus if the rest of the Batch play along :)
“Classified Feline: Operation Purrfect Secret”
Crosshair x Reader
The mission had been drenched in disaster.
Quite literally.
Rain pelted down the moment you landed, soaking your gear and morale alike. Everything felt heavier—your pack, your boots, your mood. And somehow, Crosshair managed to make it worse with every eye roll and passive-aggressive sigh he threw your way.
You two did not get along. You weren’t sure what you’d done—maybe just exist—but he seemed to have it out for you since day one.
So when you trudged up the ramp of the Marauder, dripping water onto the floor, the last person you wanted to share confined space with was him.
Naturally, he was the only one aboard.
The ship was dim, quiet—Hunter and the others were still securing the perimeter, leaving just the two of you. You peeled off your wet outer layer and tossed it over a crate, teeth chattering slightly.
Crosshair barely spared you a glance from where he leaned against the galley counter, cleaning his rifle with practiced ease. “Try not to flood the whole ship, would you?”
You glared at him. “Wouldn’t be a problem if someone had rigged a proper tarp over the outpost.”
He scoffed. “Not my fault you didn’t pack waterproof gear.”
You bit your tongue. Not worth the argument.
You turned away toward your bunk when you heard it.
A tiny, inquisitive mrrrp.
You froze.
Then another. Mrrroww.
You whipped around. Crosshair had gone very still.
“What was that?” you asked.
“Nothing.”
You took a cautious step toward the storage crates stacked near the side panel. Crosshair moved in front of you.
“Don’t.”
Your brow furrowed. “You’re hiding something.”
“No, I’m not.”
Another plaintive mewl betrayed him.
You sidestepped quickly before he could block you again and yanked open the crate lid—and gasped.
Curled up inside a slightly worn blanket was a tiny, rain-speckled tooka kitten. Its big eyes blinked up at you, and it let out a soft, hopeful purr.
“…No kriffing way,” you whispered. “You smuggled a kitten?”
Crosshair’s scowl deepened. “It was abandoned. Would’ve died.”
Your brain short-circuited.
Crosshair. The grumpiest, most sarcastic member of the team. Adopted a tooka.
You blinked at the sight of him awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, looking everywhere but at you.
“I haven’t told the others,” he muttered. “And I don’t need you ruining this.”
You crouched next to the crate, letting the kitten sniff your fingers. It rubbed against your hand with a loud purr.
“…You kept her dry in that storm?” you asked softly.
He shrugged, looking almost… bashful. “Used my cloak.”
You stared at him, stunned. “You do have a heart.”
“Don’t get sentimental.”
You smiled before you could stop yourself. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”
A long pause. “Really?”
You looked up at him. “Yeah. But only if I get to help take care of her.”
“…Fine.” His voice was gruff, but there was no bite to it.
⸻
You were doing your best.
Really.
But there were only so many coincidences you could explain away before Clone Force 99 started to get suspicious.
It started with Hunter.
He stood in front of the rations locker with his arms crossed, brow furrowed. “We’re missing another protein bar.”
You tried to sound casual. “You sure Wrecker didn’t just… eat it and forget?”
From the front of the ship, Wrecker called out, “I heard that! And no, I counted mine!”
Hunter squinted at you, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve been spending a lot of time in the back.”
You shrugged, clutching your datapad just a bit too tightly. “I like the… ambience?”
There was a long, silent pause.
“…Right,” Hunter muttered, before walking off.
Disaster narrowly avoided. For now.
But then there was Tech.
He stood in front of Crosshair’s bunk one morning with a puzzled look, scanning his datapad.
“I am registering a 2.6 kilogram mass increase localized to this area of the ship,” Tech said aloud. “It’s not equipment. Possibly organic. That is… odd.”
You froze mid-step.
Crosshair, brushing past you with his usual scowl, drawled, “Maybe someone left a datapad in their bunk.”
Tech blinked at him. “A datapad does not purr, Crosshair.”
Crosshair shot you a look like, say anything and I’ll stun you.
You cleared your throat. “Maybe Tech’s sensors are malfunctioning! I mean, organic interference? Could be you,” you added, pointing at Wrecker.
Wrecker blinked. “Wait, what did I do?”
“Exactly,” you said quickly. “No one ever knows.”
Somehow… that worked.
Tech muttered something about recalibrating the sensors and walked away, still frowning.
But nothing—and you mean nothing—was as bad as the moment Echo accidentally walked into the supply closet.
You were already there, kneeling on the floor, brushing out the tooka kitten’s fur with an old toothbrush you’d repurposed. Crosshair sat beside you, chin on his hand, watching with an almost fond expression on his face.
And then—
“Hey, have you guys seen—”
Echo froze in the doorway.
You froze.
Crosshair definitely froze.
The tooka let out a very smug prrrrp.
Echo blinked. “…Is that a cat?”
You opened your mouth, panicked. “It’s—It’s a thermal sensor! Prototype. Classified.”
Crosshair deadpanned, “You walked in on a hallucination. Go sleep it off.”
But Echo was staring. Not at you. Not even at the kitten.
At Crosshair.
Who was still holding a tiny toy you’d found planetside—a little tooka-shaped plush the kitten had become obsessed with—and softly murmuring, “You’re a menace, you know that? Little terror. Bite me again and I’ll feed you to Wrecker.”
Echo blinked.
Then snorted.
Then lost it.
He had to grip the doorway as he laughed so hard he nearly slid down the frame. “Oh—oh my stars, I have to tell Hunter—”
“No,” you and Crosshair snapped in unison.
“Echo,” you added, eyes wide, “we’re keeping her until she’s big enough to survive being rehomed.”
“She’s… very small,” Crosshair muttered. “And loud. And annoying. And mine.”
Echo looked between the two of you—and the purring, clearly adored kitten now batting at Crosshair’s long fingers—and then smirked.
“I’ll keep your secret.”
You both exhaled in relief.
“…For a price.”
You groaned. “Of course.”
He grinned, wicked. “I want a holopic of Crosshair kissing the tooka. Frame it. Hang it in the cockpit.”
Crosshair’s glare could’ve melted durasteel.
“Deal,” you said, before he could object. “Now get out before she claws your face.”
Echo left, still chuckling.
Crosshair looked at you like you’d just offered up his soul. “You’re enjoying this.”
You offered the tooka back to him, who immediately curled into his chest like it was her throne.
“…Maybe a little.”
⸻
That night, you returned to your bunk to find a protein bar sitting neatly on your pillow, and a note—scrawled in Crosshair’s sharp handwriting:
Thanks for not ratting me out. And for brushing her. She likes you. (Don’t let it go to your head.)
—C
P.S. She peed on your blanket.
#clone trooper x reader#star wars#star wars fanfic#clone wars#star wars the clone wars#clone x reader#the clone wars headcanons#clone trooper preferences#clone force 99#the bad batch x reader#crosshair tbb x reader#crosshair tbb#tbb crosshair#the bad batch crosshair#clone trooper crosshair#crosshair x reader#crosshair#star wars crosshair#echo tbb#hunter tbb#tbb wrecker#tbb tech
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Introducing... Storm Young
for consideration at @simsbyyelhsa's Love Island
NAME: Storm Young AGE: 20 LIFE STATE: Human ORIENTATION: Pansexual. EA has a way of resetting my defaults so mebbe doublecheck when you download her. Jealousy settings should be for woohoo only. HOME WORLD: Chestnut Ridge, currently based in SanMy TRAITS: Cheerful, Goofball, Perfectionist, Lazy, Outgoing ASPIRATION: Lady of the Knits CAREER: Fashion Model, unofficially a disability advocate (she's hard of hearing in her left ear) SIGNIFICANT SKILLS: Wellness and knitting are her two highest but nothing is above a Level 6. I don't have Lovestruck so if most of the other contestants have the Romance skill, please be kind and cheat her a little (I don't know how much it impacts success in love or not).
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what she is looking for in a partner
"Someone with a sense of fun but still a decent set of ethics! Models have a bad rep but really that's because our hours are long and our jobs high pressure - and with most of us being young and still developing our life skills, sometimes the stress just gets to us. In reality you gotta be professional and easy to work with to succeed in the industry, aaaand with travel I'm usually rooming with other models and have to juggle a lot of different personalities. So a good attitude is a must."
"I work hard but when I'm off-the-clock, I flop and have pretty low-energy hobbies. So I'm cool with someone who's more active and athletic than me but just don't expect me to match your pace, yanno? With my job I also travel a lot, so you gotta have a life of your own and not be dependent on me to recharge your social battery."
"Also as some smart women once said, "if you wanna be my lover, you gotta get with my friends." I may be young but I've been working since I was 15 and living away from home since I was 16, so I'm kinda the unofficial den mother of the younger girls. I have my own social circle and I'm a richer person for it, so don't cramp my style and I won't cramp yours."
misc facts
Second youngest of four children.
In this Watcher's universe, real world discrimination against sims (apart from rich versus poor, which is present in gameplay anyway) doesn't exist. So Storm realising that she was pansexual was merely met with "happy coming out or whatever, now go muck out the stables" by her dad 😅
She good-naturedly describes her style as "a little Y2K, a lot confused."
Being a model she can walk in heels, but generally limits them to her formal and party looks. She similar only wears make-up for those looks and prefers to let her skin "breathe" between gigs.
Along with her knitting set, she carries a large nail file in her bag to scuff up the soles of new shoes and make them easier to walk in for shows (old model trick).
Was scouted at a rodeo.
Took up knitting to keep herself occupied while on casting couches. While she has some practical skills due to growing up on a ranch, she dislikes exercise and prefers to maintain her shape through yoga.
lookbook
cc is: genetics (non default eyes, mouth preset, hair, eyelashes + nose shine in "skin details" and cleavage overlay in "face paint"), fingernails and some makeup, yellow sneakers in second everyday outfit, suit and shoes in formal look (shoes are also the same as in her party look) and hoodie in her cold weather look.
her cc lashes clash with rings so just be aware of that. also her hearing aid conflicts with earrings.
the only defaults i have are feet, but i'll remove them before i send you her zip, so there should be none. below is an unedited close up of her in cas so you can more easily match her eye colour.
TOU: I'm cool with outfit changes according to theme and her maybe borrowing some clothes from other contestants (she is young and still experimenting after all 😊), but please don't alter her hair, ethnicity, skin colour, body type nor any other type of genetics, unless it's to replace with your defaults. If there's a problem with anything, please contact me ❤️
Let me know if Storm needs to pack her suitcase, @simsbyyelhsa!
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"you shouldn't have to have experienced similar to be kind/an ally" is a common retort, but IMO practical politics does not care what should be. It works as a tool to gain allies, because people often need to empathise and/or sympathise to fully understand. It takes a lot of education and personal suffering anyway for most people to grasp that they should be listening and learning. Most right-wing propoganda consists of accusing underprivileged people of lying about their problems and pain- if you haven't experienced enough yourself to know otherwise, why would you question it? Some people do for other reasons, but it's just not human nature to question what you were raised with without SOME sort of disruption to that worldview.
"I know you're telling the truth because I was also called a liar" is an extended hand. We don't live in a perfect world where we magically know better. I will always prefer any kind of ally, whether confused or imperfect, over an enemy.
Personally I don't really understand why we are so anti-solidarity these days, but I don't like it.
"I relate to your struggle because it sounds similar to my struggle, therefore I want to help you with this the way I would have wanted to be helped myself" is pretty much the baseline of allyship. For whatever reason, though, it's almost become a matter of stolen valor and stealing the spotlight, and frequently I see it rejected outright.
I just don't get it. Personally I am thrilled when someone who Isn't Like Me reaches out to share help or even just an encouragement. I don't really see it as an out group "making it about themselves" if they're just trying to say they've experienced similar and sympathize.
#this is probably not relevant but like#people get mad at autistic people for sharing relevant/similar experiences as an answer to anecdotes#and look it CAN be “centering yourself” but 9 times out of 10 its just “look! were similar!” as a way of wanting to get closer to someone#you are closer to people when you establish something in common with them.#thats kinda basic socialisation.
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later than i meant cus i kept getting distracted but here’s some rambling about swank and arisbeth’s relationship/more stuff on arisbeth as character, particularly pre-fnv.
i think one of the most foundational pieces of their relationship that you gotta understand is that they met about a year after house revitalized the strip, so by the time fnv takes place they’ve been dating for about six years. it’s also important to keep in mind that they were both in their early 20s when the strip started up again (so mid-to-late 20s by the time fnv takes place), and i think knowing that really contextualizes a lot of what this meant to them. they were young and in love and had the whole world ahead of them.
arisbeth was the only child of a trading caravan run by her single father (her mother left soon after she was born) and her aunt and uncle, and she entertained herself by learning to sing and dance, mimicking what was on the radio and what she learned from old holotapes. when she was older and she saw new vegas all lit up for the very first time, it was an immediate “that’s where i need to be” moment for her. she got a job at gomorrah* and was sending some of her money back to the family caravan as a sort of compromise for leaving (and they needed the money at the time).
*her family had some loose connections to the omertas so it was kinda expected she’d go there
anyway. it was love at first sight for arisbeth. swank looked just like all those old world heartthrobs she saw on old records and magazines, and despite loving being onstage, arisbeth was a painfully shy girl when it came to more personal social interactions. during her free time and on her breaks, she’d literally just stand outside the tops and pine through the window. eventually tommy torini notices her and makes note of the times she’s usually out there, and soon enough begins talking to her, quickly building up a rapport. he becomes her first real friend on the strip, and he’s the one to finally introduces her to swank, setting them up on their first date.
as an aside, i wanna talk about who she is atp. young arisbeth is someone i’d characterize as starry-eyed. i think she had a hard time becoming close with the other dancers at gomorrah bc she viewed what she did as a dream, as an art, while a lot of the other workers viewed it as a job, as something better than being stuck out in the desert or worse. she was young and she romanticized new vegas from the start. and while she absolutely does mature over time and begins to view it in a more practical and critical way, she never becomes jaded. recognizes the problems, dislikes the omertas, but is still grateful she gets to dance and isn’t stuck being a trader the rest of her life. it’s her plan to let this contract w gomorrah run out then get work at the tops. but i say all this cus i think it deeply influences how and why she becomes so close to tommy and swank, and gravitates towards the tops in general. she accepts new vegas and the way it runs. she and tommy in particular really fit in well with this new life and embrace it, and while swank definitely had issues (and continues to even into modern day) i think arisbeth, at the very least, is someone who helps him find something he can enjoy? back when they were the boot-riders, it was all about survival, but now suddenly he has free time and doesn’t have to worry about food or water or finding a place to sleep. being with arisbeth means he has a chance to live and not just survive. suddenly the strip doesn’t seem so bad if it means he gets to spend time with her. not only that, but arisbeth loves learning about ppl’s pasts, so she’s just about the only person here who will listen to any old boot-riders stories he has to tell. she can tell it’s important to him, and it’s important to her. it’s her favorite part of the evening when they can just go to his room and drink and listen to him talk about how it used to be.
i think they work bc they fit into each other well. i think there’s a certain “one has her head in the clouds and the other is back on earth” sort of charm to their dynamic. help each other mature over the years in the sense that swank’s practicality helps arisbeth become a lot more practical herself, while her—for lack of a better word—whimsy helps him relax and learn to accept things. not that arisbeth doesn’t have any sense about her, far from it; she can handle herself very well and can be practical when she needs to. she grew up a trader. she chooses to approach new vegas itself with a lot more excitement, a “life is for the living, for pleasure” attitude.
they play into each other’s strengths and weaknesses in a way that creates a really solid relationship. there’s no one else they’d rather spend the rest of their life in new vegas with. swank is nothing if not loyal and he’d do anything for his girl.
#trust i have plenty more to say this is just some basics pls feel free to ask me abt them#my art tag#arisbeth (oc tag)#swank fnv
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As my local scientist who also likes transmigration if you were transported to a semi medieval setting how would you make penicillin as quickly as possible I always read these si-oc fics and the first thing they try to do is make penicillin and it always seems a bit too easy but I’m not a scientist so that’s why I’m asking you.
so "make penicillin" is indeed my usual go-to answer for what i would do because on paper it seems easy and most people understand that would be a game changer, but lbr what intervention is easiest and most effective depends on where you are, what the problems are, and what you have access to. john snow (the english epidemiologist, not the game of thrones character) was able to track a cholera outbreak back to a drinking pump just by mapping out where cases were and where those family's water was coming from, and then he was able to intervene in it by taking the handle of the pump. edward jenner, the so-called "father of immunology," invented the smallpox vaccine after observations from others that being infected with cowpox prevented subsequent infections by smallpox. so TBH depending on your circumstances, the best/fastest thing to do might not be to make penicillin at all!
however i did do i deep dive into how to make penicillin years ago, so here's a game plan (i guess some minor plasticity spoilers):
your first barrier is to find fungi in the wild that make penicillin. the fungus that makes penicillin, those in the genus Penicillium, is quite common BUT not every strain makes penicillin. i actually started my deep dive in attempt to figure out how common penicillin-producing fungi are, and I couldn't find anything trying to quantify how common they are in nature. i DID find a bunch of papers that test if penicillin is ever present in foods made with Penicillium fungi (some cheese and sausages), which is a concern for people with penicillin allergies. This is why in Plasticity, Tori asks Deidara to screen for cultures that have given people allergies.
the GOOD NEWS there ^ is that you might get lucky and end up in a society where growing fungi for food is a normal practice. the wikipedia page for roquefort cheese says people used to leave bread loaves in caves to cultivate Penicillium fungi, and then use that to make their cheese. so you might be able to draw on people's own fungus-growing practices, OR such a society might be more supportive of you collecting fungus.
the other piece of good news is that penicillium fungi have a hallmark blue-green color and are therefore easy to identify. they also really readily grow on old food (bread, fruit, whatever), so finding sample shouldn't be hard, especially if you can convince other people to help you.
your second barrier is to grow large amounts of your fungus while you screen for penicillium production. there's a popular naruto SI-OC where the OC stresses a lot about making agar in petri dishes, but TBH this shouldn't be a problem for growing fungi. it grows pretty easily and, in all honesty, for just the growing part, you could probably get away with something like wiping orange peels down with strong alcohol (to kill contaminants as best you can) and then growing fungi on those, ideally keeping the collected fungi separate so you don't mix up your strains. industry also grew the penicillium in liquid culture, which is why I had Orochimaru suggest this in Plasticity -- liquid culture means you can have a smaller opening for air the get in (and decrease contamination risk), AND the fungi will secrete whatever compounds into the liquid medium, which is easier to then extract.
further note on this: you WILL have to provide some sort of nutrient to feed your fungus. the popular one for lab fungi is PDA (potato dextrose agarose), which you can make at home using potatoes and agar (or gelatin). you can also skip the agar and make a liquid medium. but i also want to point out that whatever you're doing to culture fungi, it's got to be something you will continue to have easy access to, so if you're in pre-potato europe, you need to just figure out something else. i would personally try those weird bread broth recipes.
the third barrier is establishing that your fungus makes penicillin. this is the trickiest step so far. for this one, you're going to want to intentionally culture bacteria AND fungi in the same environment, AND you have the complication of: not all bacteria will be susceptible to penicillin, and unless your character is a well-trained microbiologist, you might not be able to tell the difference. this is also the part where an scientist is going to want a petri dish, but again, with creativity and determination, you don't really need one.
so, barrier 3a: get some appropriate bacteria to test out against your fungi. the good news here is that bacteria are also easy to isolate and grow on various substrates. unless you're said trained microbiologist (which I am not, I'm just a bitch who grows a lot of bacteria), you'll probably need to isolate and culture multiple strains because, again, you don't know what's going to be susceptible to penicillin or not! oh, also, you need the bacteria to easily grow across your medium of choice because penicillin disrupts cell proliferation and you might not see an effect on a bacteria lawn that's not actively growing.
barrier 3b: figure out how your assays for penicillin will work. this is the part where I meant you might need/want a petri dish. what i usually see in fiction is basically mimicking what flemming accidentally did, which is culture both a fungus AND bacteria on a dish and see if there's a little bacteria-free zone around the fungus. such a zone of impaired bacterial growth would imply antimicrobial compounds, such as penicillin. HOWEVER, there's other ways to do this! you can, for example, just take a sample of your liquid medium and add it to whatever you're growing bacteria on.
all of these steps will require you having various types of containers for your samples and places to store them that don't get especially hot/cold or a lot of direct sunlight, as well as at least the ability to easily sanitize your container/space. working next to an open flame should help with airborne stuff, and so should boiling/baking tools and items. you might also have access to cleaning chemicals like lye and alcohol, and tools made from metals with antimicrobial properties. i don't think you'll get much in the way of single-use plastic, lmao. a microscope (invented in the 1590s!) will be helpful but not necessary.
OH, also, if you're targeting a specific disease (or diseases) -- ideally you'd be able to assay your penicillium against that. but getting a sample and not infecting yourself is likely to cause all sorts of problems. ;)
okay, so. you go through all that and you find a fungal strain that kills bacteria. now what will you do? if it's too weak, you might just turn patients into human petri dishes that grow resistant infections. so that brings us to barrier 4: establishing if your penicillin is good enough as-is (and if it's not, doing something to fix it).
TBH unless you're growing your fungi in harmful substances or have other reasons to think some of the compounds (or a contaminant) might be worse for your patient's health than dying of a bacterial infection, i would only be hyper concerned about isolating the penicillin if you thought of some way to concentrate it. i'm not a biochemist though, so i can't give feedback on how someone might do that, or otherwise do things to control dose size.
ideally at this point you'd move on to animal testing. however i'm not sure you'd be able to do that, so you might end up going "hello your child is dying, do you want to try my highly experimental medicine?" i'm not a doctor, so i'm not sure how you'd go about assessing if/when your patient has cleared an infection.
what do you do if your fungal strain's penicillin isn't producing a strong enough compound? you can screen more strains, but MY preferred approach would be to artificially select for your strain that's ALREADY making penicillin to just make more. to do this you'd need genetic variation in penicillin production/strength. your isolated strain might already contain multiple genotypes (the definition of an "individual" for fungi is... controversial?), and your character could maybe play around with various mutagenic compounds/techniques, depending on what's available. then it would just be breaking your sample into small pieces (to get closer to "individuals") and keeping the chunk that makes the most potent penicillin, then break THAT into smaller pieces (and maybe re-mutagenizing), and so on.
again, if you have a biochemist on hand, finding a way to isolate and concentrate the compound you want might also help! but i'm just an experimental biologist lol
the next barrier is mass production, yikes. the biggest take-away from my reading on this is: grow it in a big vat. is there a brewery in your universe? try talking to them.
and then the final barrier is getting people to take it correctly. well, you might have to work to get people to take it at all, depending on your character's reputation. and then we can't even get modern day people to take antibiotics correctly, so. good luck?
anyway so this is probably years of work and definitely requires help from many different types of people lmao
#fic: plasticity#you didn't ask about that but i mentioned it twice ;)#tbh the point of that side quest is tori is like 'this is will be good for humanity' but she doesn't actually give a shit about humanity#she wants to do it to prove she can do it. she will not be concerned with getting medicine out to people
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