#water checkpoint also.

[payasita]

Your art is SOOOOO fucking good

thank you!! here is an ant

☝️theyre too small to tell but i think they must look like that or similar

[pathologicalreid]

excuse me but spencer and kindergarten teacher reader is just what i need and i didn’t even know!! it’s like my new favorite ahhh i need more please!!

fishbowl | S.R.

you offer to bring spencer lunch when he forgets his at home, leading you to become an object of curiosity at the BAU

also kindergarten teacher!reader: kindergarten crush

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: the bau being nosy, kindergarten teacher!reader, pet fish/class pets, lots of dialogue, spencer has his cane word count: 1.79k a/n: i love spencer and kindergarten teacher reader they are very important to me!! i would equate this fic to spencer bringing a girl home for the first time, but home is the BAU. thank you for requesting!

“Ma’am,” an unfamiliar voice said insistently, you snapped out of your awe-induced stupor and looked up at the security guard. He didn’t seem overtly threatening, save for the gun that was holstered to his hip, but he was looking at you the same way you looked at your students when they first came to school in the morning. He was looking at you like you were lost. “Can I help you?”

You frowned at the guard for a moment, fumbling with your school bag for your phone to call Spencer for help. You held the phone in your hand, trying to open it with busy hands as someone approached you, and just as you were about to ask the security guard for a second, you were met with a familiar face. She had cut bangs in her dark hair, but other than that, the woman in front of you was the same Emily Prentiss you had met months ago, “Hey, Miss Y/L/N, right?”

The relief in your eyes had to be visible as she smiled, “Right,” you affirmed, “It’s good to see you again, Agent Prentiss.”

“Oh, no, please, call me Emily,” she insisted, taking charge and reaching over to take your tote despite your protests. “What brought you all the way out to Quantico?”

Ducking your head as she led you through the security checkpoint, you clipped your visitor badge to the waistband of your skirt and crossed your arms in front of your stomach before answering, “Uh, Sp- er, Dr. Reid forgot his lunch this morning, so I offered to bring him something.”

Arching a dark brow, Emily led you into the elevator and hit the button before leaning against the wall – sixth floor, you’d have to remember that. “Y/N… I know,” she said, proffering you a knowing look that made you flush.

“Spence left his lunch at his place,” you shrugged, “I had a half day today, so I told him I could bring something by.”

Humming, watched carefully as you shifted your weight from one leg to the other, “So, you went to Spencer’s place with your key and grabbed his lunch for him.”

Nervously, you looked up at the number above the elevator doors – why was this taking so long? “No, there’s a deli around the corner from my school, he likes the soup there. I have a key, but the deli was on the way. I’ve been watering his plants while he’s away. That’s why he gave me a key. If you were wondering.”

Your secret was out, you rambled when you got nervous. You hadn’t even considered the fact that Spencer would want to keep the private aspects of your life private.

Emily definitely noticed the sigh of relief you let loose as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open, “Spencer’s desk is through there. At the end on the right,” she directed you, handing your bag back to you.

As you slung your bag back over your shoulder, you thanked the person who held the door open for you and made your way through the bullpen. “Next time,” you said, garnering the attention of your boyfriend, “You have to come get me. If they ever let me back in this building, that is.”

Casually, he reached for your hand, pulling you closer to his chair until you were close enough to drop a kiss on his lips, “I thought you were going to call.”

Your shoulders slumped as you set the lunch on the only clear spot on his desk, “Terribly, impossibly long story,” you waved him off, setting your bag on the floor as you noticed a familiar wooden apparatus next to Spencer’s desk. “Your cane is back,” you observed, “Are you alright?”

He nodded, “’M fine,” he reassured you, “It hurt this morning when I woke up, but it’s fine now.” He turned his head at the sound of a door opening, you followed his gaze as a blonde made her way out of the bullpen, leaving the glass doors swinging behind her.

It was hard enough to come around to the fact that Spencer’s job was dangerous, but the fact that he had actually been shot – not long before he met you – was even harder to come to terms with. You watched him carefully as he got up and found an available chair for you to sit down in and begrudgingly came to the same conclusion, he seemed fine.

As you unpacked your lunch, a new face approached Spencer’s desk, leaning against the metal, “Reid, who’s this?”

Upon first glance, the man in a V-neck t-shirt was very protective over your boyfriend. From what you knew about the team, that made a lot of sense – Spencer was the youngest member. Taking the initiative, you stood up and reached your hand out for him to shake, introducing yourself to him, and he introduced himself as Derek Morgan.

“Alright, pretty boy,” Derek said, nodding over at Spencer. “So, what brings you here to the BAU?”

Explaining yourself again, you sat back down, crossing your ankles and watching as Spencer’s boss walked by, ushering Derek along with him. “Mr. Hotchner,” you greeted, happy to see a familiar face. Your eyes followed them as Derek said something about this being the first time Reid’s had a girl in the BAU.

You laughed slightly, glancing over to Spencer who didn’t seem bothered by the commotion.

“How do you know Hotch?” Emily asked from her desk, she nodded in the direction of the unit chief.

Passing Spencer a napkin, you looked over at Emily, “He toured my school with his son. They’re talking about switching me to preschool next school year, so I was there – he recognized my name.”

A solemn expression passed over Prentiss’ face, “Right, how is Cody?”

“Good! He’s doing really well, he and his mom are moving over the summer to be closer to her parents, so he’ll be at a different elementary for first grade,” you explained, wondering if they usually got updates like that on the children they find.

You waited for another question, but Emily’s phone started ringing, “Saved by the bell,” Spencer said, switching off his monitor and turning his attention fully onto you. “How was school?”

While eating, you explained how with half days, you usually just have an activity day with the kids and, for some reason, today you found it impossible to get them to stay on task. “I get it though, I think it’s hard to pay attention when the workday is shortened, even if I have a ton of lesson planning left to do after the final bell. Especially if they’re moving me next year.”

“When will you know for sure?” He asked, eyes catching on something behind you.

Shrugging, you balled up your trash and put it back in the deli bag, “I might not for a while. They’re trying to hire someone for preschool but if they can’t find anyone, I might be pulling double duty… What are you looking at?” You turned in the desk chair to find the blonde from earlier and another woman, also blonde, but dressed in bright colors, “Ah,” you said, understanding what Spencer was looking at.

The two women looked away, pretending like they hadn’t been staring. “I’m sorry,” Spencer apologized, “Usually on Fridays most people go off campus for lunch, but it seems like today was the exception.”

Leaning back in the chair, you gave Spencer a knowing look, “They’re tapping on the fishbowl,” you concurred.

“The fishbowl?” Spencer asked, frowning in confusion.

Turning around again, you waved at the two blondes in an attempt to try to get them to come in, “The kids do it all the time, they’re tapping on the fishbowl to see if they can get the fish to move,” you elaborated.

“Fish? What about fish?” A new voice chirped, and you turned to find the blondes had elected to come into the bowl.

You nodded, “Two fish. They’re the class pets.”

“Do they have names?” One of them asked, looking between you and Spencer curiously.

Spencer chuckled, “Nikola Tesla and Rosalind Franklin,” he answered – he was, after all, the one who had named them in the first place.

Beaming at your boyfriend before going back to his co-workers, you giggled at their confused looks, “Do you teach a class filled with geniuses?”

“No,” you smiled, “they’re four- and five-year-olds, they call the fish Nikki and Rosie,” you clarified. “I’m Y/N,” you said, deciding to forego a handshake and waving at them instead.

The two of them introduced themselves – JJ and Penelope – and continued to make conversation with you before the latter of the two gasped, “You should come to girls’ night!”

There was a chime of agreement from Emily’s desk, and you looked over at Spencer to see if he wanted to weigh in. Truthfully, he looked less than excited at the prospect of you spending the night with his co-workers.

“What, Reid?” JJ asked teasingly, “Are you afraid we’ll tell your girlfriend all of your dirty secrets?”

A laugh erupted from Derek’s desk, “He would need to have dirty secrets for you to tell!”

At that point, Spencer looked like he was ready to drop his head on his desk, you reached over and set a hand on his knee. You peered back up at JJ and Penelope, “Can I get back to you?”

Holding up her pointer finger, Garcia grinned, “Absolutely, have Spencer give you my number!”

You stood up at that, gathering your things and silently letting Spencer know that you were ready to leave, “I’ll walk you out,” he offered, standing up, and grabbing his cane as he did so.

Waving goodbye to his team, you led the way out, holding the door for Spencer as he tried to wave away any remnants of your concern. The two of you stood in silence as you waited for the elevator, resisting the urge to hit the call button again as your impatience resurfaced.

The two of you let people off of the elevator before boarding the empty car, “I’m really sorry about… all of that.”

Frowning, you kept your eyes trained on the elevator doors, “It’s like a little family,” you murmured, completely disregarding his apology.

“What?” He asked, turning to face you.

You pointed up toward the sixth floor, “Your team,” you replied. “The way you all function. It’s like a family and you’re the younger brother – at least in that dynamic.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, “Oh, yeah. Kind of.”

Nudging at him with your elbow, you smiled slyly at your boyfriend, “Do you think they liked me?”

He nodded reassuringly, “I think you will very quickly be welcomed into the family.”  

[zingay]

To provide an explanation for people who don't understand the living situation in Gaza:

Gaza is under siege, there are no open exits, the only passages are Israeli checkpoints and the Rafah Crossing at the border of Egypt. The border is completely closed due to Egyptian relations with Israel and the West. Israel does not allow Palestinians to pass through checkpoints.

The other border is the sea, which is not a passage they are able to take as they have no transportation as well as the fact that Israel has an active navy

All of their necessities (food, clean water, medical supplies, electricity) are controlled by Israel, they cannot recieve humanitarian aid as all attempts are met with threats. They are given less than the necessary amounts of resources to sustain themselves. Israel has now cut that off completely. Hospitals are running on generators

They do not have the materials, permits or machinery required to make water purifiers, produce medical equipment, ensure food safety or to even rebuild demolished housing.

This also means they don't have the means to build bomb shelters, something I've noticed many Westerners expect them to have. Gaza has no shelters and nobody is able to build them

This means every time Israel has sent a bombardment, Gazzans have been out in the open or hiding in corners of their hopes hoping not to get killed.

Human rights are non-existent for Gaza. Protest is met with snipers. Children are met with violence. Any non-white, non-jewish people who pass through a checkpoint are forced to strip in order to be searched. Palestinians are treated as subhuman

Palestinian people, including children, have been arrested without provocation and are held prisoner without trial for years on end. Many who were arrested as young teenagers are now adults and still imprisoned, with some in solitary confinement for years

Rape is extremely prevalent among IOF soldiers. Both men and women have bragged about sexually assaulting Palestinian men, women, and children. This includes prison guards, who sexually abuse prisoners. Sexual abuse is also prevalent at checkpoints and during interrogations

Anyone who manages to leave can never come back, as Palestinians are not given a state or government, and are forced into remaining stateless and a refugee in most countries

If I see you people still supporting Israel after seeing this, then I have to believe you're heartless

[alicearmageddon]

"The North Korean regime in the ‘50s developed a series of remarkably effective torture techniques, techniques that were so effective, in fact, that they were able to make captured American airmen admit to all sorts of atrocities they had not in fact committed, all the time, being convinced they had not, actually, been tortured. The techniques were quite simple. Just make the victim do something mildly uncomfortable—sit on the edge of chair, for example, or lean against a wall in a slightly awkward position—only, make them do it for an extremely long period of time. After eight hours the victim would be willing to do virtually anything to make it stop. But try going to the International Court of Justice at The Hague and tell them you’ve been made to sit on the edge of a chair all day. Even the victims were unwilling to describe their captors as torturers. When the CIA learned about these techniques—according to Korean friends of mine, they’re actually just particularly sadistic versions of classic Korean ways of punishing small children—they were intrigued, and, apparently, conducted extensive research on how they could be adopted for their own detention centers.

Again, sometimes, in Palestine, one feels one is in an entire country that’s being treated this way. Obviously, there is also outright torture, people who are actually being shot, beaten, tortured, or violently abused. But I’m speaking here even of the ones that aren’t. For most, it’s as if the very texture of everyday life has been designed to be intolerable—only, in a way that you can never quite say is exactly a human rights violation. There’s never enough water. Showering requires almost military discipline. You can’t get a permit. You’re always standing in line. If something breaks it’s impossible to get permission to fix it. Or else you can’t get spare parts. There are four different bodies of law that might apply to any legal situation (Ottoman, British, Jordanian, Israeli), it’s anyone’s guess which court will say what applies where, or what document is required, or acceptable. Most rules are not even supposed to make sense. It can take eight hours to drive 20 kilometers to see your girlfriend, and doing so will almost certainly mean having machine guns waved in your faces and being shouted at in a language you half understand by people who think you’re subhuman. So you do most of your dalliance by phone. When you can afford the minutes. There are endless traffic jams before and after checkpoints and drivers bicker and curse and try not to take it out on one another. Everyone lives no more than 12 or 15 miles from the Mediterranean but even on the hottest day, it’s absolutely impossible to get to the beach. Unless you climb the wall, there are places you can do that; but then you can expect to be hunted every moment by security patrols. Of course teenagers do it anyway. But it means swimming is always accompanied by the fear of being shot. If you’re a trader, or a laborer, or a driver, or a tobacco farmer, or clerk, the very process of subsistence is continual stream of minor humiliations. Your tomatoes are held and left two days to rot while someone grins at you. You have to beg to get your child out of detention. And if you do go to beseech the guards, those same guards might arbitrarily decide to hold you to pressure him to confess to rock-throwing, and suddenly you are in a concrete cell without cigarettes. Your toilet backs up. And you realize: you’re going to have to live like this forever. There is no “political process.” It will never end. Barring some kind of divine intervention, you can expect to be facing exactly this sort of terror and absurdity for the rest of your natural life."

-David Graeber, Reflections from a Visit to the West Bank

[cythena]

COMPLIMENTARY

ꨄ synopsis . on his flight back home, geto expects peace and quiet. he can't wait to relax and get away from his busy idol life for a moment. his plans are disrupted by the charming flight attendant who gives him first class treatment.

warnings . strangers fucking, flight attendant!reader, idol!geto (ig), not proofread and was written for san so if something doesn't make sense that's way, airplane sex, semi public sex, PnV, PwP, fingering, reader wears lipstick idk

word count . 2k

notes . this was san. i love san. he's my man. muah. happy new year.

Suguru is grateful, to say the least, to get onto his flight without trouble. No fan spots him walking through the airport, and he isn’t “randomly” selected at any security checkpoints. Now he can enjoy his first-class flight with his manager sleeping beside him. The flight attendants hustle around him as standard procedure. He relaxes into his seat, ignoring them and letting his body sink into the plush cushioning.

Suguru closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. It’s rare to have this kind of peace during travel, and he plans to savor it. As the flight attendants continue their rounds, he catches glimpses of them moving through the cabin. One in particular catches his eye—you.

Your hair is neatly out of your face, letting him admire your features clearly from across the cabin. Your eyebrows are neatly trimmed, and your eyeshadow is a neutral shade with a sharp wing extending from the corner of your eyes. And is that glitter? Then his eyes fall on your lips—that red lip. It’s outlined by a dark lip liner that he hasn’t noticed on any of the other attendants.

There’s also a brighter smile on your face as you speak to the mother-son duo. It’s not just a customer service smile either; it looks genuine, even when you walk away. His coworkers tend to lose a majority of the charm once they walk away.

You move with an ease that captivates the attention of everyone in the cabin, even though you remain focused on your work.

When you reach his row, you pause and offer a polite smile, your eyes briefly meeting his. "Good evening, sir. Can I get you something to drink?"

Suguru smiles back, feeling a flutter in his chest. "Just some water, please," he gulps, his voice calm but carrying a hint of curiosity. He watches as you move away, feeling an unexpected intrigue. It’s been a long time since he’s been captivated by someone in such a simple, unassuming way.

“Really?” you hum. Your response surprises him as you fill a short glass with ice cubes. “Nothing special?”

He manages to snap back into the conversation when you pour water into the glass and set it on his tray. Shaking his head, “No. Maybe later.” A natural smile falls onto his lips as he looks at you.

“Well, it’s a 13-hour flight,” you say while leaning on your cart. “Call me when you need me.” You let out a harmonious giggle that Suguru swears replays in his ears. You offer him a final wave as you push to the row behind him. He glances at his manager who is still knocked out peacefully.

Suguru shifts in his seat, trying to focus on the in-flight entertainment, but his thoughts keep drifting back to you. Every so often, he hears your voice as you interact with passengers, that same cheerful tone making him smile to himself. It’s rare for anyone to catch his attention like this, let alone during something as routine as a flight.

Hours pass, and the cabin begins to settle. Most of the passengers are either asleep or engrossed in their screens. Suguru glances around, noticing the row beside him is still empty. Just as he’s about to recline and close his eyes, you appear again, this time without your cart.

You pause next to him, flashing him that same bright smile. “Looks like my break lines up perfectly with your row being empty,” you tease lightly. “Mind if I sit for a bit? It’s not every day I get a flight so easy.”

Suguru blinks in surprise but quickly recovers, nodding. “Not at all. Be my guest- if that won’t get you in trouble.”

You wave his concern off while you slide into the seat beside him, smoothing out your uniform as you settle in. “Hospitality is very important, especially with such a special passenger. So,” you begin, leaning slightly toward him, “what brings you on this flight? Work or play?”

Suguru chuckles softly, running a hand through his hair. “A little bit of both, I guess. Mostly work, though.” He hesitates for a moment, then adds, “What about you? What made you wanna be a flight attendant?”

You laugh softly, resting your chin in your hand. “It’s a little silly. Don’t laugh.”

He nods, unsure of what tale could result in your career choices.

“I wanted to be a singer.” Suguru quirks a brow which urges you to continue with your explanation. “Well, a performer, more so. One night, I was chatting with a friend who said something that really had me thinking. Anyone can be a performer, singers have their stages, and me—I have this as mine.” You pat the leather armrest you lean on.

Suguru listens intently, a small smile tugging at his lips. “That’s not silly at all,” he says softly. “In fact, I think it’s... poetic.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “Poetic? That’s one way to put it. But I like to think it’s true. Every day, I get to meet people from all over the world, and for a few hours, I’m part of their journey. No matter what. That’s special, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Suguru agrees, his gaze softening. “You get to create memories for people, even if it’s just through small moments.”

You glance at him, slightly surprised by his thoughtful response. “Exactly,” you reply, your voice tinged with admiration. “Most people don’t get it, but you do.”

Suguru shrugs modestly. “Maybe because I know a thing or two about being on a stage.”

Your eyes narrow playfully. “Oh, so you’re a performer, too? What kind of stage are we talking about?”

Suguru hesitates for a moment, debating whether to tell you the truth. “Something like that,” he says vaguely, a small smirk playing on his lips. You tilt your head, sensing there’s more to his story, but decide not to push. Instead, you smile and lean back, enjoying the unexpected ease between the two of you.

He chuckles softly, his smirk deepening as he watches your curiosity linger in your eyes. “What about you? You ever dream of being on a stage again, even for a moment?” he asks, his voice dipping lower.

Your breath catches for a beat, the question catching you off guard. You glance around the dim cabin, ensuring no one is listening, before leaning in slightly. “Sometimes,” you admit, your voice just above a whisper. “But I think I’m better at making people feel special in little ways. It’s more... intimate.”

Suguru’s gaze flickers to your lips for the briefest moment, a movement so subtle it’s almost imperceptible. But you catch it, and your heart skips a beat.

“Intimate, huh?” he murmurs, his voice soft, yet carrying an undeniable edge. “I can see that.”

You shift in your seat, your fingers brushing near the corner of your lips and make a small smudge in the red. You continue eyeing him with a dangerous glint in your eyes. It doesn’t match the sweet smile playing on your lips and the delicate sound of your voice. As his eyes dart across your face and seem to linger on the bit of red against your skin, he feels the need to adjust his pants.

He curses himself, knowing he’s not being subtle about this at all. But before you can take a glance he clears his throat. “Sorry…but you don’t think I could get another water.” He almost wheezes out the last word.

“You know,” you begin, your voice light but laced with risk, “I could show you where we flight attendants really work behind the scenes, as I get you this water.” You add the last part with light-hearted sarcasm.

Suguru raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued but he soon catches onto what you mean. “Behind the scenes?”

You nod, biting your lip as a mischievous glint lights your eyes. “Follow me,” you say, standing up and motioning subtly toward the aisle.

Suguru hesitates only for a second before rising, his heart pounding in a way that has nothing to do with turbulence. As he trails behind you, the dim glow of the cabin lights seems to heighten the tension, every step feeling more deliberate, more charged. He passes by passengers focused on their screens and just hopes they don’t feel like looking up.

You lead him to the back of the plane with little to no passengers all spread around the last few rows. Another coworker of yours sits idly on her phone with one of your complementary cookies in her hand. With one glance at you and your guest, she gets up with a knowing smirk which leads Suguru to believe he’s not the first lucky passenger of yours.

The crew lavatory is a bit more spacious than the economy one but smaller than the first class. It gives him enough space to sit you up on the sink and let you wrap your legs around his slim waist. He steadies his hands on your hips while your hands sink into his soft locs.

You think he’s going in for a kiss when he leans closer but defers towards your ear. His lips brush against you as he softly murmurs, “Hospitality is important, right?” You nod. “Then you’ll make your guest feel special?”

He smashes his lips onto yours with a passion you’ve never seen before. He kisses you like you’re the last bit of oxygen on Earth. His hands work quickly at your uniform, opening your blazer and undoing the buttons to your white blouse. Then he tugs your pencil skirt up over your hips.

Once he pulls away from your lips, he peers at the slight smudge of your lipstick. It’s far from his liking but his eyes are quickly pulled lower to your matching set underneath your clothes. He lips his pink lips while rubbing his thumbs over your plush thighs.

“Is this part of your uniform? Or did you wear it just for me?” he hisses. You reply with a crooked smile that’s wiped when he hauls your hips closer to the edge of the counter.

He glances down between your thighs and slides two fingers between your folds to test. He lifts them into the cool bright lighting of the bathroom. A shimmer reflects on the strand between his fingers. You don’t get a good look before he wraps his lips around his fingers. You moan at the sight yourself.

He sets a quick pace with his digits. His fingers move in and out of you, slick gathering around your cunt, and dripping onto the counter and down his wrist. You squeeze his shoulders while your head falls back against the wall. Your jaw hangs open while your eyes shut from the pleasure.

Suguru uses the hand holding onto your, he snakes it up your spine and grips the back of your head. Your eyes snap open as he slots his lips against yours again. He’s less precise with the way his lips move against yours. He doesn’t let up with the way he kisses you, taking every opportunity to swirl his tongue around yours.

You pull away. “Oh f…fuck,” you hiss. “I’m gonna…”

“You wanna cum?”

You nod.

“Okay. Cum for me. You can do it.” He whispers as his fingers continue their pace. He forces you to hold yourself up while his other hand rubs your clit.

You feel your mind go blank once he adds his second hand. Your moans start to crack while your pussy clenches around his fingers. He blocks your body’s natural reaction to clench your thighs. The sound you make when he pulls away has him holding in a whimper himself. He quickly pops his fingers in his mouth for a taste.

You don’t get time to acknowledge it before you feel his tip prodding at your clit. Jolts of electricity shock through your body.

He lets his head fall onto your neck and his cheek rubs against your necktie. He lets out a shaky curse followed by a dry chuckle and can barely lift his head. “Fuck me…You’re gonna kill me.”

“Sorry,” you pull his head back up so you can look at him. Your tongue swipes over your lips and sends Suguru into a spiral. He sinks the rest of his length into you at lightning speed. You’re stuffed before you can even blink. Your manicure scratches him through his shirt.

“Heh…mhm…gonna let me fuck you? Make you feel real good, baby?” he asked, nodding like he was answering for you. “That’s right.” He pulls out halfway but quickly pushes himself back in like he’s cold without your warmth around him.

Your hands sneak underneath his shirt to push it up. You were curious about what he was hiding underneath his black t-shirt – a masterpiece handcrafted by God, clearly. He seems proud of it, you assume, by the cocky smirk on his face as he wraps both arms around your back.

You wrap your legs around him as he thrusts. He settles on how hard he wants to fuck you and it’s hard.

Your hands grab at nothing as he fucks into you. He fills you up completely and leaves you empty for less than a second. His thick cock hits that spongey spot every single time.

You’re not sure if you love the way he’s wrecking your insides or the butterflies he’s giving them more. He continues pressing kisses across your face. He cushions your head from the hard wall and mumbles sweet words.

“God. You’re so pretty…Feel so good, too…Do you feel good? I wanna make you feel good – lemme make you feel so good,” he babbles. You can clearly make out his pussydrunk words and all they do make is make you wetter and your cunt louder.

He adjusts your hips and completely changes the angle you’ve felt his cock at. This new angle has you screaming and creaming all over him.

“Please please please,” you whine pathetically.

“Yeah. Cum for me, you’re so pretty when you cum.”

You whine again, even louder this time. Your back arches into him and you let yourself go. Your eyes cross from the pleasure while your brain forgets how to function momentarily. Your chest heaves as you catch your breath.

“Such a greedy girl, cumming for me twice,” he mocks. His teasing is short-lived and his high is rushing. “Where do you want it?” His voice is almost a whisper.

“Inside?” you ask so politely it has him shooting without another thought. He pulls you close to his chest. His head hangs by your ear again, you hear every shaky breath and curse. He buries his head in your neck again.

“Think I just fell in love,” he confesses playfully when he pulls away.

You can’t resist the grin on your face as you come down from your high. He continues to hold you as he helps you redress and straighten your clothes. He buttoned your blouse up and pulled your skirt back down. He even readjusted your necktie again.

You look so pretty, he thinks to himself. It almost bothers him.

He smiles at you. His gaze locks onto your lips, a flicker of mischief crossing his features. Without a word, his thumb grazing your bottom lip presses firmly enough to smear your lipstick. Your mouth widens in a gasp which helps him even more.

He pats your cheek and leaves you with one more kiss. He lets you fix yourself up and returns to his seat.

It’s only a few minutes before he sees you again. You stop by his seat and set two things on his tray table: a glass of whiskey neat and a small business card. He glances up at you and notices something that’s got his pants in a tent again.

Your lipstick was still smeared.

He doesn’t get to comment on it. “Complimentary,” you say before continuing down the aisle.

He takes a look at the pretty card. There’s a red kiss mark on it with his name and seat number. On the other side: “Call me when you land! XXX-XXX-XXXX ♡”

He had a few days off when he returned.

[oldpotatoe]

as many of you know, gaza has now gone dark.

targeted israeli strikes have wiped out the telecommunications infrastructure. phone lines and internet services are gone. gazans cannot call their loved ones to check if they are still alive. they cannot call for ambulances for aid. if they survive the increased bombardment tonight and the following nights, they will bleed out alone with no aid.

now i will tell you what will happen in the next few days/weeks, and i pray it to be untrue. unfortunately the apartheid state, also known as israel, has been quite obvious and transparent with their plans.

the stated goal of many politicians over the years from israel, including netanyahu, has been to have the entire strip of land of gaza as israel, with no separate region for palestinians. i am not going to provide links, google is free and i am fucking tired.

what they had done before tonight, in the last two weeks, was destroy over 50% of buildings in gaza city as well as neighbouring areas, so gazans have nowhere to return to. gazans have been forced south, and israel will use this opportunity to have troops in north gaza (currently referred to as the ground invasion) advancing south while bombing "h*mas sites" in the south. israel will do this knowing there are plenty more civilians there that will die, causing terror and panic and having palestinians want to flee to anywhere, anywhere that is safe.

israel is doing this in the hopes that this panic and terror will convince egypt to open the border (well, the border israel isn't currently bombing) so that palestinians can escape to the sinai desert in egypt.

once survivors leave, the area that is currently the gaza strip will 1) be reduced in size if a lot of palestinians stay, should they not be bombed out of existence, or 2) be entirely absorbed into israel if very few palestinians stay, which is the ultimate aim of israel. those remaining palestinians will be moved to the west bank, or the remainder of gaza will be converted to west bank conditions where they'd go through the same problems palestinians in the west bank go through (reduced access to water, checkpoints to go from any place to any place within their own land, getting dispossessed, or randomly killed by racist extremist settlers).

now, egypt has been adamant not to displace the palestinians. in online discourse, people have been dehumanising palestinians by talking about past disruptions in other refugee areas and saying that is why egypt does not want to take them. while there may be slight truth to this from egypt's perspective, the major reason egypt is refusing is that no palestinian refugee abroad has even been given the right to return to their own land. and this will be the fate of gazans if they are made to leave in a mass exodus to egypt/other neighbouring countries such as jordan, which these leaflets from army-backed israeli are threatening palestinians with (photo from salfit in the occupied west bank):

therefore, what i likely see happening is the above bombardment (in increased numbers now that gaza has gone dark) -> mass panic in gaza, more so now that gazans are cornered in the south -> a reluctant egypt, but with the US will promise a large amount of "aid" money to egypt to facilitate the mass exodus of palestinians, the borders will open.

palestinians will be forced out. israelis are already planning on hoovering up the prime real estate there, for amusements park no less!

this is nabka 2.0. this is genocide.

btw, as we speak: israel's leading newspaper is already making claims that h*mas's main operation base is under shifa hospital. the hospital currently housing 50,000 displaced palestinians. the idf is claiming h*mas is using the hospital as a human shield, which is their new favourite phrase to justify killing civilians. so you already know what to expect in the news.

[httpdwaekki]

airport | s.c.

summary: the airport could be overstimulating, but binnie (and chan's headphones) are there to help you through it.

wc: 937

a/n: last n final week of binnie month w/ @straykeedz :/ as sad as i am that it's over, thank u for doin this w me <3 based of this video of binnie n seung i saw :3 very special thank u to my bubba @giddyfatherchris for helping my write this, ily<3. anyway, i hope you enjoy! remember to eat, drink water and take your meds, ily <3

my library | bee's vers. | bee | binnie month | fundraiser

(pictures not mine! credit to owners!)

you weren’t a fan of public places, especially the airport.

too many people, too much noise, and everyone in a rush with no care for personal space. now on top of that you have to deal with the floods of cameras and crazed fans yelling for your boyfriend.

you’ve been together for a few now so you’ve learned things to help you throughout the years. however they don’t help as much when you forget your headphones and everything else that could go wrong does.

you felt like you were suffocating in your clothes, heat gripping every inch of your skin as people push and crowd you. you could feel the lump in the back of your throat as you clench your fist as you finally make it into the building.

changbin was holding your other hand, rubbing soothing circles on the back of it, reminding you he was there. you felt slightly better being in the air conditioned building but that didn’t help the sound, in fact in only felt amplified.

as you approach the security checkpoint he takes notice of the distress in your body language. it was at this point he also notices the lack of headphones over your ears. once you reach the line he leans over to you.

“where’s your headphones baby?” changbin whispers in your ear. “i forgot them.” you respond, keeping your tears at bay. “i have mine in my bag, do you think you can wait until we get inside for me to get them for you?” you nod, focusing on your entwined hands.

he squeezes your hand before letting go, he gently wraps his hands around your neck, pulling you into him. you lay your head on his shoulder, letting out a sigh of relief as he placing a kiss to your hair.

“we’re almost there bunny, just a little while longer, okay?” you nod, taking a deep breath before pulling away, moving up in the line. you place your head back on his shoulder, focusing on your breathing.

while distracted, chan makes eye contact w bin, silently asking what’s wrong? he points to your head, and chan understands immediately. he quickly and carefully takes the headphones around his neck off handing them to bin.

he smiles before taking them. he squeezes your hand, trying to get your attention. you pull back, quickly wiping your eyes as a few tears slipped out.

“channie hyung gave me his headphones for you, i’m gonna put them on, okay?” you quickly look at the object in his hand before turning around to look at the older man but to find him moving up with the rest of the boys.

you nod before he slips them on your head, instantly filled with relief as the environment around you becomes muffled. “good?” you read his lips, giving him a small smile and nodding. he grabs your hand once more, moving you up in the line to catch up with the rest of the boys.

once you make it through security, everyone makes their way to one of the restaurants except you and changbin. changbin gives them your orders, before you head to your gate. you were thankful as you walked up to the gate that it’s in an isolated and quiet part of the airport.

you set your bags down, taking a seat before taking chan’s headphones off, setting them carefully on your lap. “how are you feeling?” he asks, carefully taking stuff out of his bag. “better now, thanks to you and chan.” you smile, watching as he pulls out a handheld fan and his headphones.

“ here you go baby.” your eyes well up once again as you grab the objects. feeling overwhelmed at just how sweet your boyfriend was. “i’m sorry i didn’t realize you did have your headphones earlier, i would’ve gotten them out in the car.” he smiles sadly.

you shake your head, “no, it was my fault for forgetting mine but thank you for taking care of me,” you place the objects in your lap as well, grabbing his hand, placing a kiss to the back of it, “ you calmed me down before channie gave me his headphones, so thank you baby.” he smiles, squeezes your hand.

“you never have to thank me for that, it’s my job as your partner.” it was his turn to kiss your hand before placing everything back in his bag. you place his headphones around your neck before turning on the fan, relaxing back into the seat.

bin leans over to you, pulling out his phone and giving it to you to pick out a movie. as your scrolling through your choices the boys walk over carrying 9 bags of food. chan walks over handing changbin 2 bags before setting his bags across from the both of you.

“how are you feeling?” chan asks before sitting down.” better.” you smile before grabbing his headphones, handing them back to him. “and thank you for these, i really appreciate it, they really helped.” he grabs the item, placing them on his backpack.

“it’s no problem, glad i could help.” he smiles before opening his bag of food. bin hands your bag of food, “i had them get your favorite and there’s a water in there too.” you smile at him once again, your heart swelling at the love you have for the man next to you.

“ thank you binnie,” you place a kiss to his cheek as he gives you a cute smile. luckily the rest of the day went smoothly, but even if it didn’t you had binnie to help you through it out.

[sea-salted-wolverine]

In honor of the moose/Iditarod rule 34 chaos post reaching 1000 notes and then Dallas Seavy winning the Iditarod here are all the unhinged stories and things I know about that race

They changed the rules and schedules so you can't do this anymore, but there was a subset of mushers who would race the Yukon Quest and the Iditarod back to back. That's a 1000-mile race followed by another 1000-mile race through some of the harshest terrain on earth in late winter. And the Yukon quest doesn't even finish where the Iditarod starts. To do this required putting dogs in a plane OR having another team of dogs waiting in anchorage and someone to deal with both teams of dogs.

The first woman to win the Iditarod was Libby Riddles in 1985.

Only to have her finish promptly blown out of the water by Susan Butcher who won the race in 86', 87', 88', and 90' while setting speed records the whole way.

Susan did race in 85' but she ran into a moose early and it killed two of her dogs and hurt the rest so she scratched. Dallas got lucky this year.

She was also the first person to mush a dog team up to the summit of Denali, the tallest mountain in North America. This is not what dog teams are intended to do, I don't know why she even wanted to, other than to prove it was possible. I don't think anyone has since.

The race now requires GPS trackers on all the racers and you would not believe the bitchfit everyone threw over those. Mushers can either hop between checkpoints or camp on the trail and it may surprise you to learn that these are the kind of people who have secret camp spots in the woods that they don't want anyone to know about. So now, everyone has acquiesced to the tracker requirement but you must have an account on the race website if you want to see them.

The race has 2 paths that alternate even and odd years with different checkpoints but every year includes a section of race that crosses the sea ice, approximately 50 miles from Shaktoolik to Koyuk. so forget landmarks. point the sled north and hope you're going the right way.

the race is in honor of the 1925 Serum Run and the diphtheria outbreak, but the trail itself is the old freight route which is almost twice the length. also, it's a freight route for hauling freight which means the the racers are going at more or less lightspeed as compared to the intended use.

the most effective way to avoid frostbite on your face is a fur hood and duct tape on your cheeks and nose. Cold-related injuries are rare but far from unheard of. The average number of toes and fingertips among mushers is lower than that of the general population.

The finish line is a massive burled arch in the middle of main street in Nome. There is not a lot going on in Nome at any given time and this time of year is the exception. Every racer who finishes the race gets the same reception, which is everyone in town crowding into the finish chute to cheer them on and the city fire siren going off. The last racer in gets the Red Lantern Award which means that they finished dead last but didn't scratch.

the 2020 race had started and was fully underway when the pandemic lockdowns came into place. as far as social distancing goes, you really can't do much better than being isolated 100 miles into the middle of frozen nowhere but the checkpoints are itty bitty villages with no medical infrastructure and the finish was reportedly terrifying because instead of a crowd to cheer at the burled arch, it was just the siren going off in a ghost town.

there is no way I can tell this story that doesn't sound like I'm making it up as I go. The sign says no sniveling and they fucking mean it.

no really, click that link. here's the YouTube vid (non-graphic, after-the-fact interviews)

[skeletonpartyoftwo]

Prologue: Shadows of the Empire

The city reeked of oil and smoke, the stench of industry replacing the scent of anything natural. The air was thick with soot, choking out the stars above, leaving the streets below in an artificial twilight. Once, this had been home. Now, it was just another Imperial outpost, another conquered world where survival was dictated by credits and cruelty.

The siblings knew this better than anyone.

They huddled in the narrow alley between two rusted-out buildings, their bodies hidden in the deep shadows. The hum of a passing speeder made them press tighter against the cold durasteel wall. The younger one shivered, but they made no sound. Years of living under the Empire’s boot had made silence second nature.

“We’re not staying here,” the eldest whispered, voice sharp yet quiet. “Too exposed.”

The middle sibling nodded, adjusting the frayed cloak wrapped around the youngest—their most precious treasure. Their sister.

She was frail, too pale in the dim light, her breath too shallow for comfort. She was always like this. Always weak. But she was also theirs. And if the galaxy wanted to take her, it would have to go through them first.

They moved quickly, slipping through the streets like ghosts, avoiding patrols and droids. The Empire didn’t care about street rats, but stormtroopers were bored creatures, and bored creatures found entertainment in cruelty.

Their shelter was a cramped room in the lower levels of the city, deep enough that the Imperial patrols rarely ventured down. It wasn’t much—just a stolen mattress, a few crates acting as makeshift furniture, and an old heater that barely worked. But it was theirs.

The eldest pulled back a loose panel in the wall, revealing their stash: a handful of credits, a small ration pack, and a rusted vibroblade. Not enough. Never enough.

“We need more,” they muttered.

The middle sibling frowned. “We just got back. We are exhausted.”

“We don’t have a choice.”

They all knew it was true. The rations wouldn’t last the week. The credits were barely enough for clean water, let alone medicine. And their sister—she needed medicine.

“I can go,” the middle sibling offered, but the eldest shook their head.

“No. Stay with her.”

The younger one stirred, eyes fluttering open. “Don’t go.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

The eldest hesitated. How could they refuse her?

“I’ll be back before you know it,” they promised. A lie. They never knew when—or if—they’d come back.

And then they were gone, swallowed by the night.

The market was dangerous, but it was also necessary. It bustled with merchants selling everything from stolen Imperial tech to rotting fruit. The eldest moved through the crowd with practiced ease, hands quick, eyes sharper.

They spotted a vendor counting credits, distracted. A slight bump, a murmured apology, and a handful of credits disappeared into their sleeve. A risk, but a calculated one.

They turned a corner, scanning for their next target, when they froze.

A squad of stormtroopers stood near a checkpoint, talking to a man in a fine coat. A bureaucrat. Imperial. The kind of man who saw lives as numbers on a datapad.

The eldest started to back away when they caught something—a whisper through the Force. A presence. Familiar.

Their sister.

Their blood ran cold.

She wasn’t here, she was back in their shelter—wasn’t she?

They turned on their heel and ran.

The middle sibling paced, hands clenched. It had been too long. The eldest should have been back by now.

The youngest stirred again, murmuring something incoherent. Her fever had worsened.

A knock at the door.

The middle sibling froze, hand hovering over the stolen vibroblade.

Another knock.

Then, a voice—smooth, confident.

“You’ve been difficult to find.”

The door slid open.

And standing there, clad in dark robes, was him.

Darth Vader.

Their worst nightmare.

Their inevitable doom.

And the only being in the galaxy who wanted their sister as much as they did.

I hope you enjoyed the prologue! I do have the 1st chapter done but it still needs to be edited! So it may be come out tomrrow or the day after, depending on how my work is. What do y'all think so fair? I know it is just the prologue but is there anyone y'all want to see be added as a yandere or just a side character? <3 SkeletalScribe

[eriscary]

Heyyy I think I'm getting a LITTLE obsessed with tear? Maybe?

Water color paint, oil pastels, acrylic paint, colored pencil, water color pencil, sharpie, and the last of my white acrylic paint, along with my special glitter water color paint!

Woah, you used so many things at once, yet it all works together so well. IT'S SO BLOCKY BUT ALSO FLOWY. A REALLY FUN PIECE. The multiple colors make it really fun too, as well as little flowers and hearts around Tear. It's fun seeing the save checkpoint being a consistent thing through all your pieces with Tear hahaha. Like before, I REALLY THINK THIS IS CUTE and it's very calming to look at. Sending my hearts. FGHFHGFHGFGHFHGFHGFGf

[croded]

yknow the more I think about it the more it connects -

Link Click is like Geometry Dash

now you might be thinking "hey what the fuck does this mean"

hear me out

so Geometry Dash is a side-scrolling platformer/rhythm game of a sort. You control a cube and go through a platformer-esque level, which progresses linearly most of the time. You can't stop the cube nor can you control the speed in which the cube travels through the level, but you can make it jump, and throughout the level you have to jump over and avoid deadly obstacles like spikes or lava/water or chomping monsters. Now here's the kicker about this game - there are no checkpoints. You die, you go aaaaaaall the way back to the beginning. Doesn't matter whether your progress was 10% or 60% or even 99% - you die, you go all the way to the start. To 0%.

Yeah it's a rage game as well (a game of many talents). Don't you feel enraged already? It gets better! Whenever you start a level, there will be an attempt counter at the very beginning of it. You start off with attempt 1, and with each death it restarts and an attempt is added to the counter. (I've seen mine get to attempt 300+ before it's so infuriating) Now, the gimmick here is actually testing your memory as well - mental memory and muscle memory both. Sometimes the level design will be so motherfucker that you need to remember the placement of the spikes, the timing of events (eg spikes suddenly popping out of the flat ground in front of you. at progress 90%. what the fuck level designer), the correct timing of jumps to get through tight spaces, etc. When you play the same level enough times, this starts to become muscle memory. With each restart, each spike, each event, each jump gets engraved deeper into your memory until soon you're executing jumps without even thinking about it. (Sometimes the cube changes form too - there's ship form, where you hold the screen to make it go up and release to make it go down in a gentle sine-wave like arc; wave form, where you hold the screen for up and release for down as well, but it moves in a jagged zigzag line instead of a soft curve; UFO form, where it's literally just flappy bird; robot form, where you hold to control how high you jump; ball form, where each tap of the screen changes the gravity of your cube/ball. There are also a bunch of other stuff like gravity portals, size portals, speed portals, pads, rings, pick-ups etc. But that's a little too much to delve into, so I'll settle for the basics here.)

"So how does this connect in any way to link click?"

Now, replace the player with Lu Guang. Replace the cube with Cheng Xiaoshi. Imagine the spike placements and random events and jump times as the major nodes in time, and the hazards like spikes and pits and monsters as the factors/people who endanger Cheng Xiaoshi's life.

Doesn't the situation seem kinda familiar?

Lu Guang, going through countless attempts to keep Cheng Xiaoshi alive, trying his best to guide him through danger and carving all the major time nodes into his memory so that he can steer Cheng Xiaoshi away from the ones that will result in disaster. The linear progression of the timeline, no randomly turning around or taking a small step back to recuperate, just a relentless forward march. How Lu Guang has to restart all the way from the beginning every time he fails. How Lu Guang doesn't have full control of Cheng Xiaoshi either, he can only slightly tweak the direction he's heading towards.

oh my god link click is geometry dash <-me randomly in the middle of a quiz, many hours after making that song analysis about lull and "the necessary line that Lu Guang has doomed himself to travel" and "the end of the line being Cheng Xiaoshi living" and "are you with me till the end of the line?"="will you stay alive with me?"

[opencommunion]

Palestinians from several of the displaced communities described the same pattern to +972: Israeli settlers arrive with their herds and prevent them from grazing on land where Palestinians have grazed for decades; then armed settlers would proceed to harass them day and night, even entering houses, without the army or police intervening. Everyone described the same, overwhelming feelings of fear and distress under the shadow of these settler invasions. “It’s like 1948,” said Mohammed Hussein, a resident of Ein Samia — invoking the year of the Nakba (“catastrophe”) and the expulsion of hundreds of thousands of Palestinians from their homeland during Israel’s establishment. According to the Palestinian residents, the situation grew worse following the establishment and growth of several grazing settler outposts in the area in recent years; settler violence and further expansion also noticeably escalated since the current Israeli government, led by extremist far-right parties, was sworn in last December. ... The Israeli authorities, along with the settlers, have played a central role in the displacement. For years, the occupation apparatus has banned the Palestinian communities from construction; demolished their homes; denied them connection to water and electricity; stopped them from paving roads; issued demolition orders for schools built with funds from the European Union; established and recognized Jewish settlements; and, of course, stood by during settler violence.  ... “We have always been under occupation, in a prison with checkpoints, but now we live in a prison van,” said Ali Abu al-Kabash, 60, sitting in a tent he had set up in an open area across the Allon Road. Abu al-Kabash, who is originally from a-Samu, near Hebron, moved to the Ramallah area in the 1980s, and to the area near Ras a-Tin in 1995. “Before the [last] election, the settlers would run away if there were a few of us [facing them]. Today, they attack because the government is with them. The police, the army, and the Shin Bet are all with them,” he added. “For 25 years we lived a normal life,” Abu al-Kabash continued. “In recent years, the settlers came and established two outposts [Micah’s Farm and Malachei HaShalom]. They blocked the road between us and Ein al-Rashash, and the one that goes down toward Fasayil. We would herd in the area, but they came to us in the name of the government and the Civil Administration and said that the land belongs to the settlers. They brought sheep to eat the food we grew for our sheep … They enter houses, sometimes with many soldiers, taking photos, even when there are girls, women, and old men present.” According to Abu al-Kabash, the violence increased after the Muslim holiday of Eid al-Fitr in May. “They park at the entrance of the homes. Some of them are under 12 years old, under the age of criminal responsibility. They go in, look in the refrigerator, or at our phones. What can we do? They want Area C for Israel, to take control of the land through the settlers, but without war. But where will we go? The occupation is everywhere.” Ras a-Tin, which neighbors al-Qabun, was subjected to similar harassment and severe violence by settlers. On the day its residents fled, in July 2022, Ahmad Kaabna, the mukhtar of Ras a-Tin — who died suddenly in early August at age 60 — told a group of activists: “The settlers frightened the women, the children — everyone. They came to the homes at night in groups of 10-15 people … the army with them. If you talk to them and say ‘get away, get out of here,’ they call the army or the police, who come and arrest the young [Palestinians].”

[drieddpetals]

modern things the crows would love

(based of the reference of them being in the victorian era)

(also, i've seen a couple people do this so full credit to them for inspiring this)

kaz:

* (secretly) card shuffling asmr/those asmr videos where they teach you card games, even tho he knows how to play them already

* (when he was a kid) those diaries where you have to have a code to get in with a speaker to record messages in

* ^^ also diaries with locks on them

* combination locks

* hard swing jazz

* mean girls (movie & musical)

* "dark acadamia" literature

* making sure everyone in a fifteen mile radius of him knows that frankenstein was the DOCTOR and the monster was frankenstein's MONSTER

* making up conlangs/ciphers for fun

* ^^ getting the crows to memorize them so they can communicate secretly

* gloves with pads on the fingers that let you use screens

inej:

* tumblr aesthetic moodboards

* taking hyperspecific uquiz personality quizzes

* crystal jewelry

* competitive gymnastics & tumbling

* claw clips & french pins

* colored eyeliner & mascara

* midi skirts

* making boards on pinterest—sharing those boards with jesper & wylan

* ^^ having massive joint pinterest boards with all the crows

* leg warmers

* ballet & "ballet aesthetic"

* any movie with natalie portman

* birkenstocks but specifically the ones with a holder for your big toe (idk if this makes sense)

* phantom of the opera

* oil diffusers

* american girl dolls

jesper:

* laser tag

* rollerskating & roller derby

* plato's closet

* tourist jewelry

* volleyball

* colored & funky shaped sunglasses

* just dance 2

* bruno mars

* fall out boy

* cargo shorts

* hamilton

* finding obscure fashion inspo on pinterest

* showing everyone how he can run barefoot on gravel

* gyaru fashion

* sour candy

* mt. dew

* saying, "i'm just joshing you" ironically

* sneezing extremely loud on purpose when it's dead silent

wylan:

* papa louie arcade games

* laufey

* asmr

* flute beatboxing

* green and brown colored converse

* tumblr aesthetic moodboards

* magnetic puzzle tiles

* percy jackson

* moisturizer with sunscreen in it

* the great comet of 1812

* dr. pepper

* accidentally dropping really traumatizing memories bc he genuinely thinks they're just funny stories from his childhood

* watercolor pencils

* shazam & the google "hum a tune" feature

nina:

* forever 21

* lush

* those mommy baking blogs that post their whole life stories before the recipe

* french tip manicures but in any other color but white

* ^^ also charms on nails

* gel manicures

* megan thee stallion

* lip gloss

* juicy couture

* the met gala

* amy winehouse

* duolingo/memrise/babbel

* panera bread

matthias:

* ^^ also, those mommy baking blogs that post their whole life stories before the recipe

* volunteering at animal shelters

* carhaart & patagonia

* those massage chairs at malls

* apple watches

* buying those massive bottles of ibuprofen at costco

* ^^ buying bulk protein powder from costco

* ^^^ generally he just likes costco & buying things in bulk

* colored fairy lights (HATES LED light strips)

* those big tubs of aquaphor

* vera bradley blankets

* gallon water bottles with the motivational time checkpoints

* at home gyms

* the classic white boy flannel over hoodie combo

* jacuzzis

* massage guns

* steel toe boots

* yawning and sneezing like a dad

* hair and beard oil

[velaris-fic-repository]

Modern Things I Believe ACOTAR Characters Would Love

I selected some of these for comedic purposes but mostly based on vibes

Feyre

Sandbox/Color-by-number apps

Renaissance Festivals

Gracie Abrams

Themed makeup/face paint videos

Big cardigans

Texting using only emojis

Giving silly nicknames to all of her contacts

Floor Time™️

Sprayed/Stenciled edges on books

Websites where you can search recipes based on ingredients you already have

Six the Musical

Stuffed animals made to look like miniature versions of real animals

DIY channels

Paintball

Rhysand

Pinterest

Tumblr aesthetic moodboards

Black IKEA furniture

The Great Gatsby (both book and musical)

Aladdin

Throw blankets

Met Gala outfits

Owl City

Prank Wars

Daily Affirmations

Origami star jars

Fairy lights

Sheer shirts

The theatre kid aesthetic

Nesta

BOOKTOK

WITCHTOK

The PWHL (Favorite Team: The Minnesota Frost)

P!nk

The Traitors

Bath bombs

Fuzzy socks

GoodReads

Immersive audiobook + physical book reading

Fail compilations

Slasher movies

Complicated Starbucks orders

Self defense weapons disguised as other things

Elain

Baking blogs

Scrapbook journaling

Starkid musicals

The Owl House

Jean jacket + dress outfits

Water bottle stickers

The Arcadian Wild (their music is really good!)

Travel vlogs

Build-a-Bear

Shakespeare productions

Volunteer work

Petitions

Earth Day

Every Day’s A Holiday calendars

Mor

Reddit “Am I The Asshole” posts and videos

Hear Me Out Cakes

Arcane

Wearing converse with dresses

Charcuterie parties

Also Met Gala outfits

Prank parking citations

Mario Kart and other such party games

Cards Against Humanity

SNL

Having a phone case for every outfit

Glitter gel pens

Leather jackets in colors other than black

The rediscovery of Shakespearean insults

Amren

Cryptids/Urban Legends

Horror podcasts

Dark Academia literature

Uno

One Night Ultimate Werewolf

Friendship jewelry

Themed Study/Ambience music

Book tabs

Desk lamps

Battery operated candles

Dracula Daily

Whodunnits

Logic puzzles

Halloween decorations

Cassian

The Green/Red Flag Guy

The PWHL (Favorite Team: The Montreal Victoire)

Those dog daycare/adoption center videos where they list funny things about the animals

Sleeveless hooded gym shirts

Shirts that say things like, “I flexed so hard my sleeves ripped off”

The Olympics

Water bottles with the motivational checkpoints written on them

The Emperor’s New Groove

“Action Man? Who the hell is Action Man? Oh my god, no, it’s John Wick” and other such meme TikTok sounds

Marvel movies

Fluffy romance novels

Super Bowl Commericals

Chaotic cooking shows

Chappell Roan

Azriel

Cat videos of any kind

Unconventional pets like snakes and lizards

The PWHL (Favorite Team: The Boston Fleet)

LED light strips

Buzzfeed Unsolved

True Crime

Dubstep

Bluetooth headphones

Motorcycles and dirt bikes

Night driving

Batman comics and movies

Silent discos

Fake plants

“Stalking” people on social media

Lucien

Baldur’s Gate 3

Critical Role

DND in general

National parks

Travel mugs

Postcards

Poetry collections

Hot Chocolate mixes with the mini marshmallows

Saying things to women to ensure they aren’t afraid of him when passing them on a hike

Nature documentaries, especially ones with sarcastic narration

Scientific hubris as a trope

Cozy fantasy books

Book lights

PowerPoint nights

[najia-cooks]

فخارة العدس / Fukharat l'adas (Palestinian clay-pot lentils)

The name of this dish comes from "فَخَّار" ("fakhar"), meaning "pottery," and "عَدَس" ("'adas"), meaning "lentils." It is traditionally cooked in a قدرة ("qedra," clay pot) made from clay refined from local soil and shaped in family-owned pottery workshops. This type of pot is also used to make a lamb and rice dish of the same name commonly eaten in Gaza and Hebron. The qedra is filled with the cooking ingredients, sealed with a flour-water paste or with aluminum foil, and placed in a wood-fired oven—or buried in an earth oven—to cook for several hours, or even overnight.

This simple dish cooks red lentils with yellow onion, olive oil, and cumin to produce a smooth, earthy stew; additional olive oil and fresh lemon juice squeezed on after cooking add freshness and a tart lift, and شطة (shatta, red chili paste) is spooned in for heat.

As of 2019, the number of families producing qedra in Gaza had decreased from 40 or 50 to 3 or 4, according to workshop owner Sabri Attallah. The Israeli blockade which began in 2007 closed off foreign markets for Palestinian qedras, while cheaper, metal imports cut in on the local market. When the pots are exported to Israel, the multiple checkpoints and mandatory searches between Gaza and Israel cause many of them to break. The compression of Palestinians into small areas by Israeli government and settlers also spells problems for the qedra industry, as the smoke caused by firing pots reduces air quality for nearby residents. Many consider pottery-making to be both an integral part of Palestinian identity, and to be dying out: thus the targeting of Palestinians' economic self-determination targets cuisine and culture as well.

Today, Israeli weapons threaten Palestinian existence. Palestine Action has called for bail fund donations to aid in their storming, occupying, shutting down, and dismantling of factories and offices owned by Israeli arms manufacturer Elbit Systems.

For the lentils:

1 cup split red lentils, rinsed

1 yellow onion, chopped

3 Tbsp olive oil

1 tsp cumin seeds, toasted and ground

Salt, to taste

About 3 cups water

For the shatta (شطة):

100g (about 1 cup) fresh red chili peppers

2 tsp table salt

2 Tbsp olive oil

To serve:

Olive oil

Juice of 1/2 lemon, or to taste

Sweet peppers, radishes, spring onions, pickles, olives, leafy greens, shatta (red chili pepper paste).

Instructions:

For the shatta:

1. Wash peppers and remove stems. Use a mortar and pestle, food processor, or potato ricer to reduce peppers to a paste.

2. Add salt and stir. Add olive oil and stir. Store extra shatta in a jar in the fridge; cover with a thin layer of olive oil to avoid spoiling.

For the lentils (in the oven):

1. Coat the inside a piece of clay cookware of sufficient size, such as a Palestinian qedra or a Moroccan tanjia or tajine, with olive oil. Add the rest of the ingredients, followed by enough water to cover the lentils by at least an inch (about 3 cups). Make sure that the opening of the pot is completely covered (e.g. with a layer of aluminum foil, and then the pot's lid).

2. Place the clay pot in your oven and then heat it to 500 °F (260 °C).

3. Reduce the heat to 150 °F (65 °C) and cook for 2-3 hours, until lentils are mushy.

For the lentils (on the stovetop):

1. Heat olive oil in the base of your clay cookware, or a large pot. Add onions and cumin and fry briefly.

2. Add water and lentils and cook, stirring occasionally, for 10 minutes on medium.

3. Lower heat to low and cook for another 30 minutes, until consistency is smooth and mushy. Add water as necessary.

To serve:

Transfer lentils to individual serving bowls. Top with lemon juice and olive oil. Serve alongside shatta (which you may choose to spoon into your bowl) and fresh vegetables.

[911coded]

Chapter 6: Don’t Dream It’s Over

The silence stretched uncomfortably and Tommy couldn’t think with enough clarity to even know what to say, what to do. What was even happening here? He could feel himself spiraling into panic again as his eyes watered.

John crouched and leaned over, “Hey, Tommy?” he whispered.

Tommy blinked, sighed, and turned his head to look at John from where he was now fully extended in the recliner from hell, “Yeah, John?”

“We can fly spaceships. With our minds,” he whispered with an encouraging grin.

Wide-eyed, Tommy turned his head back to the rocky ceiling, blinked, and suddenly it’s as if his body and mind clicked back together. “Cool,” he breathed.

“Would you like to see the ships that you will be able to pilot, Thomas?” The voice was gentle, hesitant, and seemed to be coming from the chair but also through Tommy’s mind, the same voice that he had struggled to understand while flying earlier.

Tommy glanced at John out of the corner of his eye for directions, but he seemed to be just as flummoxed as Tommy was at the conversation, so he decided to play along again, “Um, sure?” 

“Our sister ship, Atlantis, lost her fighters to the great war, but she has several small gateships that Primus Filius seems to enjoy.” An image of the base of a great steel city floating on an endless ocean was projected in the air above his reclined body and he and John watched as a tube shaped ship with wings darted into frame and seemed to skim along the water before rising to fly to the city glittering on the dark sea.

*******************

The check-in process was fairly painless with Lorne at his side, though the guards gave him quite the look when they asked if he had any weapons. 

”Swords, Buck?” Lorne chuckled, “I feel like every time I see you, you have a new surprise for me.”

“Eh, I got the impression that I would have to come up with things to do in my down time and I’m hoping to find someone to practice with, it’s been a while,” Buck said with a shrug. *

Once they made it past the security checkpoint, they went through a massive blast door and entered the mountain proper. Around a corner and through one more blast door, they passed the last checkpoint at the elevators, then Buck and Lorne began their descent deep underground to one of the most secure places in the world.

“Did you know that this facility was built in 1967 in response to the Cold War, in order to have a secure place to track long range Soviet bombers? It was designed to withstand a 30-megaton nuclear blast from as close as 1.24 miles away. Those blast doors take 45 seconds to open or close and though they are tested every day, they have only really been closed once, on 9/11.”

“No, somehow, I missed that in the transfer onboarding information,” Lorne snorted.

“Mmhmm, and it originally housed the NORAD Combat Operations Center. When NORAD moved to Peterson Air Force Base in 2008, Cheyenne Mountain was considered to be on “warm standby” and is supposed to be manned by a skeleton crew of military scientists that study “deep space radar telemetry,” Buck continued.

“I think I can actually hear the finger quotes you are using there, Buck, what are you getting at?” Lorne asked.

Buck snuck a look at Lorne out of the corner of his eye, “Wikipedia says there is a broom closet labeled “Starportal Command” from the tv show “Wormhole X-Treme!”. I may have made a bet with my friend Karen when we were wine drunk that it was the only true part of the article. You gotta help me out, here, I need to be right, Lorne, she’s too smart, it’s impossible to argue effectively with that woman. Honestly!” Buck exclaimed.

Lorne stared at Buck blankly for a full ten seconds before he lost it, leaned a hand against the elevator wall and laughed until he cried.

The elevator doors open to a tall blond woman with a smile on her face. The smile turned to a frown as she caught sight of Lorne trying and failing to get himself back together. Buck flashed her an innocent smile and leaned out of the elevator car, holding the door open, his hand out for a handshake. 

“Hey, I’m Evan Buckley, most people call me Buck,” Buck declared. The woman slowly reached out a hand, but paused while she stared at Lorne with her eyebrows practically in her hairline. 

“Is he going to be ok?” she asked, starting to look concerned, “Lorne?” 

Buck bobbed his head in a nod, “Oh, he’s fine, no idea what that’s about. Maybe he has a condition?”

Lorne manages to stand up long enough to punch Buck in the shoulder, “A condition?! You asshole! I’ve missed you, emails really aren’t enough to get the full effect.” Lorne groans, shoving him out of the elevator and directly into the intended handshake. “This is General Samantha Carter, head of Homeworld Security. She oversees this facility and our remote base from D.C., while making sure we continue to get the funds and people we need to run the program. She’s going to take you to sign the biggest NDA you will ever see, then to a conference room where you can meet everyone else.”

The General shook her head with a roll of her eyes like their nonsense was just the latest of her day. “Come with me, Buck, and we’ll get you sorted. You can call me Sam when I’m not giving you orders,” she said with a wink. Buck followed with a pout and Lorne stepped back into the elevator with Buck’s bags and a wave of his fingers.

Lorne wasn’t kidding about the NDA, Buck was rubbing his aching wrists as they traveled again lower and lower in the elevator. With a ding on sublevel 27, he followed Sam down a hallway that looked no different than the one several levels above them. 

“How do you keep from getting lost in here? I feel like I’ve been down the same hallway three times now,” Buck questioned.

“You get used to it, but the first few weeks are definitely a struggle,” Sam replied. “Ah, here we are!” With a perfunctory knock, she opened the door to what looked like a conference room. He could see Dave and Lorne whispering, heads together on one side of the impressive table, but had to guess at who the other man across from them could be. 

“Buck, you know Parrish and Lorne, of course, the other gentleman sitting there is General Cameron Mitchell,” Sam explains. “I don’t know where the others wandered off to, I guess I’ll do the explaining this time,” Sam gestured for Buck to take a seat and sat down at the head of the table. “The main reason you were asked to come here today is because of an incident during your time in Peru with Parrish and Lorne. Lorne was carrying a piece of technology that has a mental component and he believed that the technology was trying to make a connection to you. Lorne?” Sam gestured at Lorne. He stood up and reached into a pocket.

“Oh hey, that’s what it was! Is that one yours?” Buck interrupted with a giant grin, pointing to the LSD (Life Signs Detector) that Lorne had just removed from his pocket and made to hand to him.

“What?”

“What?!”

“The fuck?”

Buck startled and looked around the room, eyes wide, as multiple people shouted at once. He rolled his shoulders forward, ducked his head, and shrugged. “It sounds the same. Are there more?” Buck quickly forgot that he was uncomfortable and the questions continued almost faster than they could keep up, practically vibrating in his seat.  “Do they all feel the same? What is it? Is it an alien intelligence of some kind? How can I hear it? How does it work? This been bugging me for like 10 years now,” Buck wheezed out the last of his oxygen and before he could take in another breath to ask another question, Sam interrupted.

“How did you recognise what Lorne was going to hand to you?” 

Buck’s face blushed scarlet and he shifted about in his chair, “Uh, well, as you know, I met Dave and Lorne in Peru about ten years ago and every time Lorne got within three feet of me, I could sort of hear someone that wanted to be picked up, but there was nothing there. I didn’t want to look like a crazy person, so I tried to look around without making it obvious. Then I realized if I stayed in the same place, but Lorne moved, I stopped hearing it. Then, when I didn’t respond, it kept trying to give me instructions on pickpocketing. For all I knew, it was some weird rock you picked up on your trip or was some new technology that was heavily classified and I didn’t have any idea how to ‘talk’ back to it without doing it out loud, so I figured it would be one of those mysteries you never solve, the ones you ponder at 3AM when you can’t sleep, you know?”

“What do you mean by sounds the same?” she prodded, leaning forward across the table, the scientist in her now coming out to play. Buck leaned back in his chair and visually paused, trying to figure out how to answer.

“It has the same ‘voice’ for lack of a better word. Um, I, uh, don’t ‘hear’ it as words. More like…” he faltered a bit and Lorne cut in, “Emotions? Kind of projected at you?” Buck’s head tilted like a dog or bird mentally looking at something from another direction. He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again. “Emotion is probably the closest way to describe it, but also pictures?” 

“Wait. Wait, wait, it was sending you instructions visually on how to pickpocket?!” Carter exclaimed. “Neither you nor Sheppard ever mentioned visual feedback!” Carter accused, pointing at Lorne on the other side of the conference room. Lorne stood back up from leaning against the wall with his hands held up in surrender. “Other than the visuals on the screen, I never got anything from it other than a vague yes, no, excitement, or disappointment. Sheppard’s gene has always been stronger than mine but you know how cagy he gets when emotions come into play,” he said, with a smirk.

All eyes in the room are now on Buck and he struggled to explain the unexplainable. “You know when you are speaking to someone and you can hear what they are saying, but you are also picking up facial expressions, body language, and tone of voice to get the whole picture? Now imagine it is someone you know really well and you are talking to them on the phone. Even though you can’t see them with your eyes, your brain picks up what they would be doing anyway from the words and tone because your brain is filling in the gaps intuitively. That’s what I’m getting from the device. My brain is getting information that I can’t SEE, but is filling in the gaps so that I have the whole picture as if I were seeing it,” Buck said, looking around the room to see slack jaws and blank expressions.

Mitchell broke the silence. “Holy shit. Great job, kid, I almost understood that,” he said, chuckling quietly. 

Sam looked like she was trying to stare a hole through Lorne’s head. He shrugged. “That’s more than I get. They respond to my thoughts, but I don’t get much feedback at all,” he explained.

******************************

Tommy took a deep calming breath, “You said your sister ship, are you sisters with Atlantis? And what does Primus Filius mean?” Tommy asked, prodding the genderless voice along.

“At one time, we were many sisters, but though I can no longer fly, Atlantis and I are the only city ships left. Though we may not be sisters the way the first ones and you humans consider sisters, we have always thought of ourselves as such. Primus Filius is from the first ones’ language, it means first son. He woke us up and gave us life again, such as it is.” 

“Who did?”

“Why John, of course. John will not live for all time, unfortunately. And he does not enjoy talking to anyone who is not his Condictor(fixer). We need more sons and daughters, Thomas, but John has not given us any and your Stargate people are too secretive. They impede the process. I am afraid that we have been influenced by our hospites(guests). We grew impatient at the delay, and decided we would have to look for new sons and daughters ourselves.” There was an electronic humming sound before they continued to explain, “The endeavor has been difficult. Most that could hear us are too far away and those that are close often refuse to listen. Thank you for answering, Thomas. Will you and your amantis(lover) finally come home?” 

An image of Evan as he remembers him, smiling brightly in delight hovered over Tommy’s head and he finally accepted that Evan may be right about the universe speaking. In that moment, staring at Evan’s beautiful face projected above him, he realized that he was done running. He sat up and mentally asked the chair to let go. He felt a caress of pride from the voice and shakily stood up, John’s hand coming to his elbow to steady him. With his eyes closed, he took a deep breath, and on a count of five, he opened his eyes and turned to John.

“Tell me everything.” **

************************

“So, what does it do when it’s not trying to arrange its own kidnapping?” Buck asked. Lorne strolled over and placed the device on the table in front of him. He looked it over. The screen was blank and it was about the size of the old school Game Boy color he had as a kid. As soon as he picked it up, though, the screen flashed madly and changed functions faster than he could blink. “Whoa! Hey, slow down!” Buck whisper-shouted at the little device. He was getting an impression of giddy, but the device did what he asked and then started to show him each screen and “explain” what it did. While he was absorbing information as fast as he could, the rest of the room was completely silent, and after a couple of minutes the feel of multiple eyes on him started to sneak through the hyperfocus. Buck blinked a couple of times and looked up while his little friend pouted but stopped sending a signal until he could concentrate again. 

Parrish waved a bit in Buck’s direction, “You back with us?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry. It’s very excited to see me again,” Buck replied sheepishly.

Buck took a long look around the conference table at each of the faces watching him, “So, ok. Hit me with it. It’s aliens, right? Makes more sense than sentient rocks, anyway.” Dave let out a snort of laughter and held a hand out to Cam, who rolled his eyes and passed over some cash.

“Carter?”

“Right! Yes, well, the little device you are holding, Buck, is a bit of what is essentially advanced, alien technology. What allows you to connect and “talk” with it, is a gene that was passed down through the generations by one of your ancestors. The aliens, that we used to refer to as ‘The Ancients’ and now know to be Alteran, left behind bits and bobs of their creations all over the galaxy. We believe they engineered the gene to put a sort of “lock” on their tech so it couldn’t be used against them. They added the gene lock into just about everything. Any personal or professional device, even their ships and cities were built around using the gene to interact with technology. There are only two ways to tell if a person has the genetic history to operate this technology. We can run a blood test, or we can…,” her voice trails off while gesturing at Buck.

“Hand some unsuspecting person a random piece of technology that wants to talk to them?” Buck asked.

“Yeah, basically. I’m afraid that’s what Jack did to your friend Tommy,” she replied, sheepishly.

Buck winced, “Ah, yeah. I’m sure that went over like a lead balloon.” 

Sam cleared her throat, “Mr. Buckley, we brought you here today because we would like to tell you about the Stargate Program and convince you to join us.”

Notes:

*If my ex-boyfriend and I could find a Japanese trained kenjutsu master in St. Louis to learn from, so can Buck. This was more than 20 years ago, so I only remember enough to look up what I am picturing in my head. My participation wasn’t serious on my part, it was just for fun. The ex-boyfriend and his friends got good enough to compete after we broke up so my handful of lessons with a bokken is all I have to show for it. (Honestly, my favorite part was the flick to the side to shake off blood before sheathing your sword. Dramatic movie stuff, very fun!) The swords may come back in another chapter or may pop up in a one-shot, but the swords are NECESSARY.

**I used google translate and Latin to stand in for the names the outpost uses to refer to their chosen people. According to Stargate lore, latin, as we know it, comes from the Alteran language.

The gifs that I had in my brain that are projected in the air above Tommy:

Tags for those who asked: @eliotwaughdeservesbetter @anangrylittlehobbit @grimmsdead