#how to dehydrate vegetables

[northbirdblog]

How to Dehydrate Celery

Looking for ideas to preserve your fresh garden veggies?

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[illyrian-dreamer]

And Then There Were None – Part 1

Azriel/fem!reader

Synopsis: In the lead up to the war, Hybern releases a catastrophic spell that wipes out all humans, sparing just one.

Abandoned in the desolate human lands, you scavenge to survive long enough to find your family.

Reluctantly, you are found by the Shadowsinger as fate intervenes to guide you under his watchful eye.

Part 2>>>

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Death, blood, suggestions of miscarriage

Twigs snapped beneath your boots, your steps heavy with exhaustion as you stumbled through yet another town, as barren and deserted as the last one. 

Exhaustion and dehydration weighed heavy, wisps of dust caking your skirts, your boots the only thing to disturb the rubble in days. 

There was no concern for a carriage that might pull up behind, or a bossy merchant to yell at you to clear the path. While the ghosts of the life that once flourished echoed in closed shops and abandoned stalls, you stopped looking over your back days ago.

There were no plumes of smoke from chimneys, no distant chatter or laughter or cries. Safe from the occasional grunts or mews of abandoned cattle - there was not a single sign of life, and no human in sight for the past ten days.

A jarring cramp ripped from your abdomen, pulling you from delirium with urgency.

Water, food, bathe and sleep. That was why you were here.

You tried not to think about how quickly resources were depleting, even though you were sure you were the only one using them. Without people to treat water, the stagnant liquid became increasingly dangerous. And you couldn’t farm a vegetable to save your life, and had spent too long journeying to have tended to any crops.

You’d have to go further into the woods soon, find a fresh stream, perhaps hunt too. But you'd need strength for that, and you had just about run out.

At least it was spring, and at least the trees bloomed with fruit as you travelled from town to town, feet blistered and chapped. You cursed you parents for not teaching you formidable survival skills - fighting, hunting, even the ability to ride a gods damned horse would have been an incomparable luxury these past hellish days. 

A clang of guilt, and frustration quickly churned to longing. Gods, you hoped they were alive. You would do anything to have them here, to journey this devastating isolation together, the little ones too. You prayed to the Mother for the umpteenth time that day that they were safe and well. 

It was not a concern when you woke to an empty house almost a fortnight earlier. Your father was likely at the market, your mother hard at work at the tailor in town. Your siblings were hard to catch at this time of year, with school out of term and the warm spring air, they would spend each waking moment by the river if your parents let them. 

It wasn't until you spotted your fathers wheelbarrow through the speckled glass of your kitchen window, held by rotting wood. Empty and unmoved, his tools lay flat on the ground, untouched since the day before. You could have sworn he told you he’d be at the market by dawn. 

Scanning the room, your eyes flicked to the doorway where your mothers workbag lay untouched. Needles sat poked in balls of yarn as stray thread sprawled over leather - but an eery stillness sang to you at your parent’s tools. 

Names and calls went unanswered, and after a quick search of the home you ran outside, urgent to ask your neighbours where they had gone, your heart fastening with every step.

Too frantic to observe the lack of movement and noise from your own street, you rapped on the door, waiting only a few seconds to push the rattling screen and forcing your way in.

Names went unanswered again, and it was instinct that steered you straight for the nursery. You halted at the sight of new born's empty crib, blankets rippled as if the babe was taken straight from it’s sleep.

Your calls turned frantic as you scoured each room, an upsetting, looming sensation creeping over your skin.

Bursting from the home, you shielded your eyes from the bright sun as you scanned the street with urgency. Your only greeting was a quiet breeze and snort of a horse left abandoned by a cart - as if it had stopped it's journey halfway through.

In a panicked haze, you searched the next home, and the next, and the next. The dizziness found you then. 

Clearly there was an emergency of some kind. But you had been abandoned, left to sleep until midday amongst the quiet. The thought pained you.

More calls to anyone who might have stayed behind, yet still no answer. Your heart was a thunder in your ears. 

Had the war finally reached you? Had your family fled in the dead of the night? You shook the thought from your head – they would have woken you, would have needed your help to escape with the youngens.

And then you were running – yelling, sprinting through the dusty streets, voice breaking as you dashed from home to home, shop to shop, calling, crying, pleading.

You were utterly alone. You had been left there, alone. 

In a swarm of panic, you pressed a palm at your heart, willing yourself to calm. It was a dream, surely. You were not abandoned, only stuck in a nightmare, the kind that often found you as murmurs of Hybern’s army reaching human lands became louder. 

In that dizzying thought, you willed yourself awake, forcing your eyes open to the walls of your dark and cramped room, to the noises as your siblings shouting and playing from downstairs, to the whistle of the kettle and the creak of the wood as your father came to wake you.

But the light was blinding, the sun as true as the your abandonment.

Beads of sweat that ran down your neck, a gnawing anxiousness building in your stomach as it heaved and cramped, nausea and panic churning to one. 

Something truly terrible had happened.

And in that moment of utter disbelief, a stabbing pain ripped from your stomach, so great it forced a whimper from your throat. 

As silent trickles of blood ran from your thighs to your knees, tracing your calves beneath the fabric of your skirt, you found a numbing sort of courage. Pushing your legs forward, you mindlessly heeded the road out of your home town, and on to the next. 

People. You needed to find people.

————

Ten days, and still not a single sole in sight. Each home, each tavern, each market and farm left eerily untouched. 

The silence was enough to drive you mad, if not besides the aide you so desperately sought. This was not your cycle - although the pains were familiar. You had known what you were, what this was.

Almost a fortnight, yet the blood still came. Slower now, spotting instead of trickles. You had stolen clothing from abandoned shops, food and water too. But you were distraught, moments away from folding into utter madness. And you were weak – very, very weak.

Water, food, a bath and rest. A list you repeated to yourself, your body begging to prioritise sleep with every step as you approached a farm at the town’s edge.

With a weak hand, you pushed past the gate to the yard, large rusty barrels sat open where a cow and her calf now drank. The water was murky with a distinct smell, but it would have to do. Tomorrow, you’d find fresh water tomorrow.

The trembling hand that dipped to the cool water hardly looked like your own. Dirt lay thick under your nails, your skin littered with cuts from the countless times you had shattered windows of stores and traders homes, scouring the stock for preserved goods and weapons. 

Bringing the cool liquid to your lips, you ignored the taste of iron as you willed it to soothe your throat - hoarse from the endless calls that went unanswered.

Ears pricking at sudden growl behind you, you jerked at the site of a pack of dogs who approached on stealthy paws. Their eyes were hungry - flicking between you and the calf. Once loyal farming dogs you were sure, now abandoned by owners and left to fend for themselves. They had formed packs - clever things. While you were sure they couldn't kill you, you didn't have the strength to fight an infection if they got close enough to sink their teeth. 

From your side, you unsheathed the hunting knife you had looted from a previous town. Swinging it with unpracticed skill, you shouted at the pack, your heart thundering as you waited for them to recline on hindered paws and leap. 

They pack seemed to weigh you up, deciding the calf was an easier target. You fled inside the house before you could see it meet it’s end. 

The home was neat, and you almost cried at the sight of a loaf of bread sitting atop the kitchen counters. Mould had attacked it’s edges, but you tore at it, fisting mouthfuls of the centre, dry crumbs coating your throat it was an effort not to choke.

Your stomach lurched, unhappy with the quality of the food and water, but you didn't care. You were on step closer to rest.

Another jarring cramp from your stomach, and you faltered, gripping at the wooden table as you trembled to keep yourself upright. This ailment, how much longer would you last? Sleep begged at you, your body moments from giving out. You’d have to forgo the bath, and prayed to the mother you’d find the strength for it in the morning.

Forcing yourself to the bedroom, swaying with each stumbled step, consciousness was already slipping as you collapsed on the bed, clothes and boots in tact. 

————

It was a feverish sleep, your body doused in sweat as you stirred often, jolting awake in panics, phantom calls of your family mixed with the flap of wings, and the crunch of stone and rock under heavy boots.

Then a voice, voices – ones you were sure they were part of your slumber. 

But as those footsteps got closer, you woke in a startle, your heart fastened as you blinked furiously. 

Voices. Humans. People. Alive, well enough to talk. 

You leapt from the bed, ignoring the spin of your head as you clambered to the window, peering behind sheer drapes to the street in front.

Your stomach sank. Lurched. Then sank again. 

A large, demonic figure stalked for the home. Wings arched behind it’s head, it’s figure blackened by the leathers it bore, sword and knives strapped around. 

And, wisps of some kind. Deadly, reaping magic.

Fae.

Fae had come. 

Knees buckling, you stumbled back a few steps. 

The world around you reeled as adrenaline coursed through. You would have just moments to prepare if you wanted a chance to survive. 

Knife. Your hunting knife. Still strewn at your hip.

Grasping it’s hilt tightly with a trembling hand, you scanned the room for the best place to hide. 

The cupboard was too obvious, and there was room under the bed - but there’d be not enough to swing your knife, only enough for them to drag you by the ankle… 

The gentle click of the front door opening, and it took all you had not to whimper in panic.

Scrambling for the door as quietly as possible, you pressed your palm to your mouth, begging yourself not to cry as you pressed yourself behind the wood.

From what you could hear over the thunder of your heart, the steps of the fae were quiet despite it’s size. 

“Anything in there?” a deep voice boomed from the street. You jolted at the volume. More than one, then.

There was no reply from the creature in the home, only the creak of the wood as it made it’s way through. 

“Really, Azriel? Are we to check every home?” Female this time, impatience and ignorance laced in the somehow ancient voice.

No response again, instead a footstep, right by the door.

Something tickled your ankles then, and it was beyond you to stifle your compulsive scream. 

Black furling wisps coated your boots.

And then the door opened.

The creature made it one step inside before you had aimed your knife for it’s heart. 

A prepared, cool hand caught your wrist inches from it’s chest. Your bones crushing in it’s grasp, and you let out a yelp of pain. 

It’s face - his face - was one of shock. “S-sorry,” he stuttered, dropping his grip all together. 

You blinked back in shock, ignoring at the throb of your wrist as you snatched it back. 

For a dumb moment, you stared at each other with equally wide eyes. The male didn't seem to know what to do. 

“You’re human? How are you here, where-?"

The males sentence was clipped short as you drove the knife towards his chest again. 

Quick as an asp, he caught you by the forearm this time, more gently too. 

Hazel eyes scanned you, his features schooling as he called over his shoulder. “I’ve found someone.”

You were sure you looked mad, grunting with the effort to pull your arm from him, breaths ragged, eyes and hair wild. The male studied you as he might a rabid animal. 

Behind him appeared an even taller male, his form more terrifying than the one that gripped you. 

“Mother above,” the new one whispered, scanning you in the way the first one had. 

“L-let go of me,” you rasped, pulling your arm back, tears stinging at the pain of you surely broken wrist began to swell. 

It was a odd detail to note, the scars and ripples of the fae’s hand as he gently unfurled your fingers, prying the hunting knife from you before releasing his grip. 

“Let me see,” the female’s voice piped from behind, the males struggling to fold their wings further, cramming into the room to let her through. 

You faltered back on instinct, legs hitting the edge of the bed. 

As the female broke through the males, harsh silver eyes scanned you up and down. She was half their height, a little shorter than you actually, but the depth of her gaze kept your hands by your side.

“Seems the Mother has spared one after all,” she muttered, nose crumpling at your scent. 

Your answered with a scowl. 

“What is your name?” it demanded. 

“Amren,” the taller male warned, his eyes flicking back to you with softness. 

You refused to answer. Couldn’t if you wanted to. 

Amren sighed, casting her head sideways to the one with rippled hands. “She bleeds.”

“I know,” he answered, hazel eyes not breaking from you. You blushed, furious and humiliated. 

He stepped around her then, the movement graceful and soft despite his size. 

“You need aide.”

You gulped, unable to process his words. “L-leave me be,” you demanded, voice hoarse as you tried to create more distance between you and it. 

He crouched in front of you then, leathers stretching against ripples of muscle. You noticed them then, jewels, saphires, humming from his body as if they were alive.

He followed your eyes curiously, before answering you with a soft smile. 

“These are siphons,” he said plainly, giving one a friendly tap. 

You snapped your eyes back to him, disgust forming your features. “You are here on behalf of Hybern?”

The female snorted from behind, earning a shove from the larger male beside her, his siphons glowing red.

The one in front of you studied you. “No, absolutely not.” 

You scowled, not inclined to believe them. 

“We come one behalf of our High Lord Rhysand, and High Lady Feyre. Rulers of the Night Court. Do you know of them?”

Feyre - the human women who had freed the fae from the grasp of their enemy. You knew the story, the heroic tale of a human women who gave her life for the male she loved. Had heard of her triumphs Under the Mountain, that she had been made into fae herself in exchange for her sacrifice. 

“The-the curse breaker?”

A small smile cocked on both of the males faces. 

“That’s right,” the one crouched in front answered. “She sent us to retrieve you.”

A panic surged within you. “Me?” you spat. Oh the ignorance of the fae, as if you were some pawn to pluck and place elsewhere. 

Azriel frowned, eyes dancing as he realised the mistake in his words. “To help you, of course. There has been-"

"No-n-no. My family, they will seek for me-"

Azriel's brow pulled with softness, his tone falling flat. "We will search for them. Meanwhile, you must see a-"

“Where are the others?” Your voice was louder now, eyes dancing in panic, chest rising with fastening breaths. Had they taken them too? “The people, they've left, I don't know-"

“We are searching for others. You are… the first we have found.”

Your mind reeled. How could that be? You had searched by foot - but with those wings, and the strength and power of fae…

“WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO THE OTHER HUMANS?” the volume of your voice shocked even yourself, that strength, that demand from deep within your chest. 

Azriel gave you a pained look, before standing to turn to his counterparts. “Amren, can you heal-?”

“I’m spent,” she cut off the male with a flick of her fingers. “Those canines out back were hardly enough to keep me going until sundown, so forget about healing. Unless you suggest I drink her blood, though I doubt she’d survive.”

Mother above.

You were too hazed to see the glare both of the males cut her.

“Then she will need to see a healer before we can continue.”

“She might refuse,” the larger one countered. 

“If she’s smart, she won’t. She won't survive out here on her own,” Amren muttered, cleaning her nails as she leaned one on leg, checking her cat-like claws for flecks of blood. 

They continued their mutter without once turning to you.

“There is no option here. I’ll take her to Velaris, and return once she’s safe.”

A shaking, blubbering anger grew within you, the creatures in front of you as ignorant and obnoxious as you had always been told fae are – to discuss your own fate as if you weren't in the room.

A killer instinct flared in you then, and you remembered the second knife you bore, hidden within your corsette. A pocket knife, a tool from your father to help pit and peel the fruit from his farm. 

The oak handle was cool in your left hand, the right throbbing and limp. With the last remains of energy,  you pushed up from the bed, swinging with all your strength - aiming for the blue-siphoned back. 

In a graceful turn, the male caught your arm for the third time. You had to blink at the speed with which he stopped you. 

Bracing for cruel, unforgiving anger, you were instead met with sympathetic eyes. 

Loathing coiled within you. 

“Release me,” you spat.

“I’m sorry to do this,” was all he said, and then pads of those rippled fingers were grasping your jaw, pressing to the pressure points of your neck with precision. 

Grunting to fight his grasp, you didn’t struggle long before a ringing in your ear grew to defeating silence and the world tipped to black. 

Part 2 >>> AN: HELLLOOO! And welcome to ATTWN - massive shout out to @kindasleepywriter for finding the perfect name for this series! I so so hoped you liked part 1. I edited it like a million times, still not 100% happy with it, but I think I just needed to get it out. Fair warning - this fic won't be light hearted, our reader is going to go through some really heavy stuff. I'll of course put my warnings ahead of each part, but please know I plan to explore some darker themes surrounding mental health etc. If you'd like to join the tag list for this fic, let me know in the comments! Always love hearing your feedback, and thank you so much for reading! <3 Nic

#azriel x reader #azriel series #acotar series #azriel angst #acotarfanfic #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x human #acotar angst #azriel acotar #azriel x female!reader #cassian x reader #amren acotar #acotar #azriel fan fic #inner circle angst #acotar fandom #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #rhysand and feyre #ATTWN series #and then there were none #dream big with nic

[kylejsugarman]

honestly walt had a point when he said "how are u alive" during the funyun scene in "4 days out". jesse had severe vitamin d and folate deficiency swag throughout the entire show. his dehydration drip. i like to think that the green beans and water he had during the family dinner from hell in season 5 was his first time eating vegetables and drinking water in like 4 years

#syd squeaks #never saw that mf drink water again. girl ur kidneys!!!!! #breaking bad #jesse pinkman

[onestopfanficshop]

a fish with a bowtie

a simon "ghost" riley x reader blurb part two here!

no shock that i have fallen for yet another tall, muscular masked man. nothing new here! 😭

warnings/author's note: it feels so good to actually be able to write again omg. i included a very poorly drawn floor plan of the house in my head so you can visualize it better- nothing worse than not being able to see a story in your head! just some language and unreasonable amounts of fluff. your call sign is sparrow. simon being simon. gif not mine

word cound: 2100

"If any of you get boot prints on my tile, I swear to God…" you threaten weakly, kicking your shoes off at the door. The team knew better than to argue. You had saved their asses back at the warehouse breach–and unfortunately, you also took the brunt of the damage. Your head was throbbing, and your legs threatened to give out at any moment beneath you. The team had been successful with your help, but the attack was loud. They figured they'd lie low for a couple of days and let the smoke clear, but they needed a safe house. You debated it for a second before reluctantly telling the boys that you knew a place.

Unluckily for you, that place was your house.

The team silently marveled at your home. It seemed to be a perfect reflection of you but also not at the same time. For someone that claimed to be no frills, your couch sure did look fancy. But your collection of vinyls matched up with all the music recommendations you'd give them between missions. Soap geeked out over the movie posters you had framed around the living room, and Price squinted at your coffee table decor. He never took you for a candle person.

"Is that an original Back to the Future poster?" Soap asked in awe. 

"Mhm…" you mumble distantly, racking the fridge for food. You zone out on the bright lights of the fridge for a second before letting out a grim chuckle. Of course there was no food. You were barely ever in this house– if you kept food in the fridge, it would all go rotten. Seriously, how fucked up was your brain right now?

You decided to search for the pantry next. It was mostly empty, save for a few spices and boxes of tea here or there. Your eyes searched the shelves until you found what you were looking for: exactly five bowls of nearly expired Hot-and-Spicy ramen soup, which was just enough for you, Soap, Price, Gav, and Ghost. You thanked whatever higher power might exist out there as you stacked the bowls on top of each other, carrying them close to your chest to avoid dropping them.

"I have the finest delicacy here for you, boys," you say humorously. "Three Michelin stars,” you continue, earning a laugh from Soap and Gaz. You set the bowls down on the kitchen island, keeping one for yourself. You tear open the lid and untwist a water bottle cap, pouring the water up to the ridged line inside the bowl. After you poured the tiny packet of dehydrated vegetables and chicken, you stick it into the microwave and lean cross-armed on the kitchen island, waiting for the three minutes to pass. The rest dutifully follow your lead, taking turns with the microwave built into your kitchen and the other one that was plugged in on the counter. 

"Dinner" was eaten in relative silence. Not that anyone could hear anything anyways (you really needed to tell Soap to go easy on the frags before you all went deaf). You were too busy eating your soup to notice the team sneaking glances at each other and then at you, Ghost most of all.

After you all ate, you pointed everyone to their rooms. Soap went straight away, which is how you could tell he was really exhausted. Price and Gaz sat on the couch debriefing for a while before they headed to bed, too. Only you and Ghost were left. You were lying on the couch, half-tuned in to some old-time game show on the TV. Ghost sat on the loveseat to the right of you, polishing his gun and sneaking occasional glances at the TV—and at you. 

“Shit,” you exclaimed suddenly. Ghost halted his movements, watching as you got up to a sitting position, closing your eyes.

“What is it?” he asked you quietly, finger moving instinctively to the trigger.

“No, I’m fine. I just… I just remembered I have to wash my hair. It’ll be a fucking miracle if I don’t collapse in the shower,” you sighed. “It’s a whole process, and it’s gonna take forever, and it’s already late… I’d better start now,” you finish, rubbing your eyes.

Ghost sat for a moment, contemplating what you said.

“I’ll do it for you.”

“What?”

“I mean—only if you want. I could. Over the sink or... something.” It’s the first time you ever heard Ghost sound unsure of himself, and it completely threw you off.

“Are you... sure?” you ask, staring at him.

“Positive,” he replied, staring back.

“Okay… I’ll be right back,” you say, moving towards the stairs. Once you were in your bathroom, you grabbed everything you would need: a towel, shampoo, conditioner, and your beloved shampoo brush.

When you got back downstairs, you found Ghost ungloved and running water in the sink, absentmindedly touching his fingers to the stream of water as his eyes were fixed on the TV. It occurred to you that he was making sure the temperature of the water would be okay for you. You weren’t entirely sure why your stomach got light at the sight of it, but you stubbornly decided to ignore it.

“You ready?” he asked, eyeing all the stuff you were carrying. 

“Mhm,” you say, setting everything down on the counter. “I’ll just lie like this over the sink to make it easier for you,” you tell him, lying down and pulling your knees up on the unusually long kitchen island. The size of the island had been something that drew you to the house when you were house shopping, even though you weren’t home enough to cook on it.

“Is that a torture device?” Ghost said, jutting his chin at the shampoo brush sitting on the counter as he got your hair wet.

You laugh for the first time all day when your eyes land on what he’s gesturing at. “Far from it. You kinda just use it to get the shampoo into my scalp. Probably my favorite invention.”

“Your favourite invention?” Ghost repeated to you.

“Yeah. What’s yours?” you ask him. 

He’s silent for a minute as he squeezes the shampoo onto your hair and works it into a lather.

“Electric kettle,” he responds finally.

“You Brits and your tea,” you say fondly, laughing to yourself. Ghost let out a sound, and it took you a second before you realized he chuckled. He laughed. You had never heard him laugh before. You decided you liked the sound.

“What’s your favorite kind of tea, Ghost?” you ask, closing your eyes. He had started using the shampoo brush, and it felt like heaven. You could feel the grime and dried blood dislodging from your scalp; you didn’t even want to see what the sink looked like right now.

“Black tea, maybe earl gray. But I’m not picky,” he shrugged. His eyes narrowed at the nape of your neck where he saw a thin line of blood. 

“You have an interesting cut back here, Sparrow.” He started rinsing out the shampoo as he carefully moved your hair aside to examine it further.

“Well, shit,” you say, sighing louder than necessary. “How bad is it? Is it stitch-worthy? Am I gonna make it?” you ask sarcastically.

“No stitches. You’ll live. Unfortunately,” Ghost deadpans. You roll your eyes at him just as you notice his hands aren’t in your hair anymore. You turn your head to see him squinting at the conditioner bottle.

“The hell is this for?” he asked.

“The conditioner?” you replied incredulously. 

“I know what it is, it’s just—why is it separate?” 

You squint your eyes in thought, trying to understand what he meant when it suddenly clicked.

“Simon…” you say, a wicked grin spreading on your face as you move up to a sitting position, carful not to drip water everywhere. His eyes shot down to look at you. That got his attention. You almost never called him by his actual name. “Please don’t tell me you use it.”

“Use what?” Ghost pressed, getting mildly annoyed. Oh, how he wanted to wipe that stupidly adorable annoying smile off your face. He hated not being in on a joke, even if he rarely showed it.

“On today’s true crime episode,” you say, grabbing the conditioner bottle out of his hands to use as a makeshift microphone. He crosses his arms at your antics, seeming oblivious to the fact that he was getting water and eucalyptus-scented suds all over the arms of his uniform.

“We’re looking at one of the most prolific criminals out there, Lieutenant Ghost. It’s terrifying, it’s horrifying, it's downright disturbing. What are his crimes ,you ask? Using two-in-one… shampoo and conditioner,” you finish, lowering your voice for dramatic effect.

“Fucking hell,” Ghost rasps, voice tinged with exasperation. “Am I not supposed to?”

“No!” you whisper-shout, mindful of your sleeping teammates. “Shampoo strips all the oils from your hair and conditioner puts moisture back in! How could one product do that simultaneously? I mean, seriously, Ghost,” you say, squeezing a generous amount into the palm of your hand before smoothing it over your strands. “It’s common sense.”

“It’s not common sense. Tedious and unnecessary is what it is,” he replies gruffly, watching you put the conditioner on. “So what, you just–put it on, and… leave it there?”

“Yeah… I usually leave it in for 15 minutes while I do other stuff but I’ll just let it sit for a couple minutes since I’m-” you pause, yawning. “Tired.”

“Do you want me to wash it out for you?” he asks, his voice going unusually soft.

“Yes, please,” you responded, lying back down so your hair was over the edge of the sink again. 

His fingers thread through your hair, ridding it of the last traces of conditioner. You force your eyes closed, trying not to think about the fact that Ghost’s face was mere inches away from yours. You felt something cold brush by your face, and your eyes shoot open to see the gleam of his dog tags dangling over you.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” he mumbled, tucking them back into his uniform like it was nothing.

Like it didn’t just get your heart caught in your throat.

You can feel his hands wringing out the water in your hair, strong enough to get your hair dry but not strong enough to hurt you. In a final act of pure kindness, he takes the towel sprawled out on the counter and throws it over your head.

“Done,” he says nonchalantly, ignoring your muffled protests from under the towel. When you finally get the towel off and tie it around your hair, you see him standing by the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the wall and watching you intently. Suddenly shy, you pull a stray blanket off of one of the chairs at the island and wrap yourself in it as makeshift armor from his icy gaze.

“You going to bed?” he asks as you walk up. You spin on your heel to look back down at where he’s still standing, arms crossed.

“No. I was actually just about to go for a six mile run,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes. “You should go to sleep too, Ghost. I could see your beady little eyes fighting to stay open at the dinner table.”

“My eyes are not beady.”

“Whatever. I’m going to bed. You can stay up until my neighbor's rooster Fish starts crowing if you like,” you say, fighting off another yawn.

“Your neighbor has a rooster named Fish?” he asks, amusement tinting his voice as he starts up the steps after you.

“Mr. Stricker is a strange man,” you reply. You’re met with a few seconds of silence as Ghost catches up to you.

“What do you call a fish wearing a bow tie?” he questions.

“Oh God.”

“Sofishticated,” he continues, not missing a beat. You were not expecting the laugh that erupts from your lips, and you clamp a hand over your mouth, wary of the rest of the team sleeping right above you. 

“That was so not funny,” you say, clearing your throat in a poor attempt to cover up your smile.

“Mhm. And yet you laughed,” Ghost replied. Even in the dim light, you can spot the glint in his eyes. You’d like to think that under his mask, he was smiling too. 

He fell into step with you now, his hands brushing against yours as you two made it up the rest of the stairs. There was plenty of room for both of you to walk without touching each other, but you didn’t pull your hand away.

Neither did he.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fanfic #mw2 #modern warfare 2 #ghost x reader #onestopfanficshop

[novlr]

How to write the heat?

Quick Tips on How to Write Heat

Heat can have many connotations in your stories beyond just temperature. It can be a sensation, an event, or even a metaphor for something else. The way a character internalises or experiences heat will also be unique to them, so here are some quick tips on how to use imagery to convey heat in a variety of ways.

In Nature

Use colours like red, yellow, or orange

Parched scenery, like cracked earth and dry leaves

Bright sunlight

Mirages

Blistering winds

Heat waves radiating from hot asphalt

Animals huddling in the shade

Wide and barren landscapes

Hot sand to contrast with cool water

Wilting vegetation and a change in colour

The sound of cicadas

Foods and Objects

Hot peppers with bright colours

Spicy dishes (and how characters handle them)

Melting ice cream and frozen drinks

The sizzling sound of food in a hot pan

The smell of a barbeque

Cold drinks that provide relief

Flip flops, shorts, and tank tops

Sunscreen and hats

Metal and leather that is too hot to touch

Salt or minerals left on surfaces after liquid evaporates

Faded colours on objects left in the sun

Peeling paint

The hiss of steam from a kettle

Character Moods

Short-tempered

Lazy

Discomfort

Easily frustrated

Disinterested

Relaxed

Energised

Joyful

Exhausted

Adventurous

Anxious

Fearful

Irritable

Lethargic

Contemplative

Restless

Overwhelmed

Rejuvenated

Impatient

Distracted

Apprehensive

Isolated

Embarrassed

Motivated

Character Body Language

Wiping sweat from their faces

Fanning themselves

Shifting uncomfortable

Sluggish movements

Licking lips and swallowing due to dehydration

Shedding layers of clothing

Unconsciously moving toward the shade

Constantly drinking

Breathing heavily

Squinting or shielding eyes

Flushed skin

Panting or shallow breathing

Avoiding physical contact

Actions and Events

Seeking shelter during a heatwave

Roadtrips in a hot car with the windows open

Swimming at a pool, lake, or a beach

Sharing drinks with friends at a cafe, bar, or beer garden

Planning holidays to cooler climates

Staying indoors to read to watch TV where it’s cool

Watching the sunset or sunrise when it’s cooler

Going out at night to avoid the heat of the day

Beach parties and barbeques

Wildfire warnings

Outdoor markets and garage sales

Camping trips

Positive Aspects

Heat can be a time of joy, where families and friends can enjoy time together doing outdoor activities not available to them the rest of the year. Food becomes lighter, the days are longer, and people tend to get more exercise. There are also positive ways to describe the juxtaposition of something hot after immediately experiencing the cold, like a hot drink on a cold day.

Negative Aspects

Not every association with heat is positive. Hot weather brings environmental damage like droughts and wildfires that affect agriculture and wildlife. It can also lead to physical discomfort, like heat rash, dehydration, sunburn, sleep disruption, or being forced to work or exercise in uncomfortable environments.

Helpful Synonyms

Scorching

Blistering

Temperate

Boiling

Fiery

Burning

Inferno

Glowing

Simmering

Sweltering

Torrid

Steaming

Tropical

Flaming

Feverish

Stifling

Roasting

Searing

Tropical

Radiant

Common metaphors

Passion or desire

Anger and conflict

Pressure or stress

Excitement and energy

Change or transformation

Danger or warning

Life and vitality

#writers #creative writing #writing #writing community #writers of tumblr #creative writers #writeblr #writing inspiration #writerblr #writing tips #writblr #writing advice #writing resources #quick writing tips #creative writing tips #references for writers #writing references #let's write #learn to write #how to write #writing help #writer tips #writers corner #writers community #advice for writers #help for writers #helping writers #writing setting #writing characters

[luveline]

can I request more bodyguard James? he’s just the cutest and I’m happy to read anything about it!!

thank you for your request! you and James go shopping and get mistaken for a couple ♥︎ fem!reader 1k

James looks like your boyfriend, sometimes. There are moments that he deems low risk in your life where he won't wear his radio or his utility belt, opting instead for plain black civilian clothing. In those moments, you aren't proud of yourself for doing so, but you like to pretend he is your boyfriend. 

He's looking through broccoli's for you. You hadn't asked him to. His hands sift through huge trees until he's found the most vibrant, holding it up for your inspection. 

"Perfect," you praise, opening your small paper bag so he can drop it inside with the rest of your hand-picked veggies.

The only thing left on your list is extra virgin olive oil, but you don't want to go home yet. You like the way people look at you and James when you're together,  awed and a little jealous. They might wonder how you nabbed a man like him, and of course you haven't nabbed him at all. That's your secret to keep. 

You meander down the vegetable aisle, your eyes skipping over snap peas and cabbages, bags of wonky carrots and parsnips. James grabs a bag of rooster potatoes before you can stretch over the crates for them. 

"Gotta wake up earlier in the morning to beat me, angel," he says. 

"I don't think I could." 

James wakes up at 3AM every morning, if he's to be believed. It makes sense. He wakes up, does bits around the flat, works out, has breakfast, and is waiting smiley and bright-eyed when you emerge from your room at 6:30. You're never as put together as he is, usually in your nightgown or one of those matching pyjama sets that make him look you up and down (though you both pretend he doesn't). 

No matter how bleary your vision is, it's impossible to miss the way he smiles at you every single day, like you're the sun coming up over the horizon. His pretty brown eyes squint, his thick crop of eyelashes threading together at their corners, and he says some warm variation of, "Morning, princess. Is it me or did you get prettier while I was gone?" 

"We could try it out. Of course, if you wake up at three, I'll have to start waking up at midnight," he says now. 

"I don't know how you do it," you say. Your voice is softened by genuine admiration. 

"I get to see you. Makes it easy." 

He's flirting, but with James you can never make out where the line is. Does he want you to flirt back? Does he want you to want him? You'd say without hesitation that James is your best friend in the whole world. He'd say without hesitation that his best friend is actually a duo, Sirius and Remus. That makes it hard. 

But it's okay. You don't need anything more than this: his hand on your shoulder guiding you across the aisle to the fresh fruit punnets, the smell of his cologne a familiar treat. 

You pick up a couple of things you like, mostly stuff you know you can convince James to share. He likes oranges best, so you grab a bag of huge ones and drop them in your basket with the veggies. It's getting heavy. You can practically see James' holding in an offer to carry it for you.

You're somewhere in the spreads and grains aisle when an older lady approaches you, or rather James, tapping him on the elbow gently.

"Hey, hun, you couldn't help me reach something?" 

"I'd be happy to!" he says cheerily. 

"Thanks so much. I've never been very tall, and every year I seem to shrink. It's just over here." 

James legally isn't supposed to stray from your side, so he threads his hand under your upper arm and pulls you with him. 

The elderly woman points to a box bragging organic, dehydrated strips of applesauce. "It's those right there if it's no trouble for you, hun." 

"No, of course not." 

James grabs her box with little to no effort expended. He doesn't even need to go on toes. 

"God, he's so tall," the elderly lady says to you. 

"He's super tall," you echo, your sunny talking-to-strangers voice in play. 

"And very handsome. You're a lovely couple." 

You fall into silence with your lips parted, not sure what to say. It isn't worth correcting and potentially embarrassing her for a harmless assumption, especially when you like that she thinks it, but you don't want to embarrass yourself in front of James by looking to eager. 

"She's the lovely one," James says, offering the applesauce with a huge beaming smile. 

She presses her hand to her collar, basket proffered until James places the applesauce carefully on top of a punnet of plums and a TV magazine. 

"Thank you," she says. "Getting old's no fun when you're short. And my husband was even shorter than I am! You hold on to this one, love, you never know when you'll need something from a tall shelf."

You and James laugh in a mirrored delight at her easy-going joking, his hand falling against the top of your shoulder, fingers spread and clasping. You swear, heat radiates like the sun from his touch alone. 

"I'm holding on about as tightly as I can," James says, "she couldn't get rid of me if she wanted to." 

You look at him, startled, and meet his earnest gaze. "I don't want to. I don't think I'll ever want to." 

James smiles. 

The elderly woman nods like this is something she'd suspected. 

"Good. You're a perfect pair," she says.

James rubs the space between your shoulders affectionately while he finally steals the heavy shopping basket from over your arm. You're too flustered from his touch to kick up a fuss. 

"I've been thinking the same thing," he says. 

#bodyguard!james #james potter x reader #james potter #james potter x fem!reader #james potter fanfiction #james potter imagine #the marauders x reader #the marauders fanfiction #the marauders fanfic #the marauders #marauders era #marauders #james potter fluff #bodyguard!james potter

[1d1195]

Traditional V

It's literally 8.2K words. I'm so sorry. I hope you like it anyway even if it's long.

Read the rest here: Traditional

“How do these things usually end?”

Forget dislike, he hated this. “I usually end it,” he told her. He liked being honest with her, but honesty about this might ruin him. He was glad she wasn’t looking at him. Just pressed to his side, he thought he might have exploded while answering that question if she wasn’t so closely snuggled up to him.

Harry practically begged his driver to teleport him with how fast he wanted him to drive. The thought of her alone in his home in pain made him almost delusional with anger. The car had hardly stopped when Harry threw the door open and punched in the code for his lock before entering.

We left her on the couch with her favorite show – E & L was the message he got from her phone. He really should have just gotten their numbers. It seemed like a safer idea. He appreciated them taking care of her. She didn’t seem like one that wanted or needed someone to take care of her all that much. This was proof as such. She was going to stay at work if it wasn’t for Eleanor asking. He was grateful Niall had the same idea as him to send her home.

He was more grateful to Louis and Eleanor for taking her here.

Harry had a large, comfy sectional in the main room. Again, the storm door hadn’t even shut yet and he was across the room knelt by her side on the chaise part of the sectional. There she was sleeping so peacefully, her show long forgotten, he didn’t even want to wake her up. But after extensive research on burn care once she left the office, he was worried she was getting dehydrated--so much so he thought he'd have to take her to the hospital. Especially after she drank her coffee and not water. He did note there was a glass of water on the end table beside her and once more he was grateful for her best friends.

Harry continued marveling at how pretty she was and, for another moment, forgot about how upset he was that she was injured. Her lips parted just slightly, cheeks a cute rosy pink, her hair a bit smushed against the pillow behind her. Her friends must have propped her up just a little so she could rest and watch the TV. He wondered how long she lasted because the TV was still playing, and he did manage to take note that The Good Place was her favorite show. The remote was just by her fingertips and he paused the show before turning back to her.

She had two blankets on her and looked a bit lumpy. He thought it was weird that with a burn she wanted more heat. Which of course led him to worry her body temperature was dropping rapidly like he had read on the multiple websites he studied from before arriving home. Carefully reaching out, he rested a hand on her abdomen noting it was cool and squishy to the touch.

Too squishy.

Peeling the top blanket back he found her covered in a second blanket and sandwiched in between were all the ice packs and his frozen vegetables from the freezer. He smirked and covered her back up. He really liked Louis and Eleanor.

Her face was so peaceful, not a wrinkle of distress from pain or her dream. He really didn’t want to wake her up, but he would go mad if he didn’t hear from her directly that she was still okay. Gently, he pressed a hand to her face and rubbed his thumb along her cheekbone. “Hey, kitten,” he murmured so softly. “Can y’wake up for a minute?” He didn’t want to touch anywhere really in worry he would hurt her aching skin. He slid his hand down to her neck and rested it on her shoulder and before he gave a tiny little shake. Mostly just pressure on her arm than a shake, really. At least that’s how he was justifying it to himself. She shifted ever so slightly, and her eyes fluttered open. She frowned so cutely Harry wanted nothing more than to kiss her so badly. “Hey love, do y’feel okay?” He asked shifting his hand back to her sweet face. Her eyebrows were pinched together as her eyes adjusted to the setting sunlight coming through the window.

“Harry?” She murmured.

“Yes, love, what d’you need?” He asked.

“M’sleepy,” she told him closing her eyes again quickly. Harry thought his heart was going to burst out of his chest, she sounded so cute.

He chuckled. “I know, love. M’sorry. Jus’ want t’make sure you’re okay.”

Her eyes opened again, it seemed like a better adjustment than the first time. “M’okay. Louis went through your cabinets looking for medicine,” she told him. “M’sorry. He doesn’t have any boundaries.”

“No, kitten, s’alright. I should ��ve told him where it was.”

“Eleanor went through your kitchen and linen closet for veggie soup she turned me into,” she said sleepily.

He was so glad she could make jokes because he was still so upset but it was easier to talk to her with no one around. “S’okay, too, love,” he promised chuckling. “Can I take ‘em off now? They’re not too cold anymore.”

She nodded. “I’ll buy you new ones,” she closed her eyes again.

He rolled his eyes as he collected all the packs and bags of vegetables off her body. The short walk to his fridge and leaving her on the couch literally had his heart aching to be away from her. He was so far gone for the poor girl laying on his couch he doesn’t know how he got so lucky to happen across her profile. “When did y’take medicine last?” He asked looking at the bottle of pain killers that was left on the counter. She reached for her phone on the end table inhaling sharply at the movement.

“Right when I got here...probably five hours ago.”

“Okay,” he said. He still had an hour. He didn’t want to chase her pain. The thought of her being in pain made him sick. “Y’okay?”

“I want to sit up more...but...I need help,” she admitted.

“Sure, sure,” he hurried back to her side. “What d’you need?”

She threw the blankets off to the side and Harry gathered them up and tossed them onto the other end of the sectional. Reaching her hands out, Harry eagerly took one in each hand. Her hands were so warm. He waited for her next direction. “Harry,” she said gently.

“Yes, love?”

“There’s nothing you can do about it, it’s going to hurt a little bit no matter what. It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

He frowned. “I don’t like that you’re trying t’comfort me when you’re injured.”

She giggled. “M’okay,” she promised. “Just pull me to standing and then I’ll readjust.”

“Okay,” he nodded. As he pulled her upright, she closed her eyes and inhaled sharply as her clothes and skin surely rubbed together. He pouted more at her pain and waited until the pain subsided a bit while she stood. “Y’alright, kitten?” He hummed.

She nodded. “Yeah,” but she didn’t really sound like she believed she was fine. Opening her eyes she glanced back at the corner of the couch calling her name. “Okay, um... I should... probably use the bathroom before I leave.”

Harry was full blown pouting. “Leave?” He asked.

“Well...yeah...I was going to call Louis and Eleanor.”

“I was going t’make y’dinner, kitten,” he said.

Again, she wasn’t one to believe in herself much when it came to relationships. Especially after her last one abruptly ended. Even more so with the somewhat interesting relationship she had with Harry. But she swore she could hear the tone of disappointment in Harry’s voice. “Er...I don’t want to overstay or put you out...I just thought—”

“Love, I want y’here so I can take care of you.”

Harry was a several inches taller than her, so she had to tilt her head up just a bit to make eye contact with the prettiest green eyes—that, without any exaggeration—in existence. Even pouting, he was still the most handsome person she had ever laid eyes on. He looked worried and she wanted to smooth out the wrinkle he had made between his eyebrows. How on earth could a man’s eyebrows be cute? How could Harry be this attractive? It did not seem fair to the rest of the male species. It was hardly fair to her being in the same room as him with so much effortless beauty. “Well...what about work tomorrow? I have to go home so I can shower and put on real clothes.”

“Tomorrow’s Saturday, love,” he reminded her.

She completely forgot. Sighing, she bit the inside of her lip. Truth be told, the idea of having to maneuver without anyone around when every movement felt like literal fire seemed stupid on her part. But she wasn’t sure she wanted Harry to see her naked and burned—especially when he hadn’t seen her naked when she wasn't injured. “Yeah, but I have to replace those files and I want to get Niall’s shoes replaced and his pants dry cleaned from all the coffee—”

He shook his head as she spoke. “Kitten, you’re not going t’work on a Saturday. I don’t even think I’ll let y’go in on Monday,” he said definitively. She was speechless.

“Harry,” she started.

“S’fine kitten. It’ll be like a little weekend getaway. I could use a day off,” he smirked wryly.

“You can’t take Monday off, it’ll be too suspicious. You’ve never taken a day off while I’ve been there.”

“Y’sound like Mum,” he rolled his eyes.

“Well it’s true.”

They were both quiet for a moment and Harry glanced at the hallway before turning back to her. They could quibble over Monday later. “The bathroom is down there,” he said. “Do y’need me t’help you at all?”

She snorted. “No thank you, I’d rather die.”

He chuckled. “Kitten, s’okay...I...I won’t say anything.”

She shook her head. “No,” she started to slowly move down to the hall. She just had to get her leggings off her thighs, and she could pee in peace.

“Jus’ shout if y’need me,” he said sitting on the couch and scrolling through his phone.

*

She was extremely unhappy that Harry was right. She probably couldn’t be alone. It took her nearly fifteen minutes just to pee. When she left the bathroom, Harry was in the kitchen, prepping some vegetables for dinner. He had a cookbook open on the counter. He also had enough time to change because he was now adorned in a black band t-shirt and a pair of shorts. It felt so domestic and homey she almost forgot she was in pain. Harry gave her a tentative smile. “At least stay for dinner, yeah?” He asked.

She nodded. “Okay, thank you.”

“Course, love.”

She went over to find her phone where she last left it and texted her message thread with Louis and Eleanor.

El, are you around this weekend?

Sorry, love. We’re heading to my mum’s this weekend. If it wasn’t for a birthday party, I would be right over to help you! Why don’t you stay with Harry...? :)

No worries, it’s no big deal!

I’ll ask him.

Ask him to fuck you too.

Thank you, Louis.

She groaned audibly.

“Y’okay, kitten? Are you in pain? Y’should take some more medicine,” Harry was too nice.

“M’fine,” she said. “Umm...I need to go home to get some clothes...if it’s okay, I think I will stay the weekend...if you don’t mind.”

Harry continued chopping the variety of veggies he had on the cutting board, and he didn’t want to overwhelm her, but he thought he might be smiling like a crazy person thinking about how he was going to spend the whole weekend with the pretty girl he liked so much. “Sure, kitten. Whatever y’need.”

She blew out a breath and she tossed her phone on the couch. “I know you’re busy with the food, could you help me sit again?” She asked rubbing a hand over her face in embarrassment.

Harry frowned more and wiped his hands on a kitchen towel before coming back to her. “How can I help, love?”

“I think we just reverse what we did for me to stand. Except I need to be sitting up more,” she said and held her hands out for Harry to take. Harry took them and she couldn’t help but notice that despite having literal second degree burns on her body, she thought the fire Harry started by holding her hands was hotter than the coffee that was spilled on her. Slowly, he lowered her to the soft cushions, and he apologized every time she winced in pain.

She sighed as she settled into place comfortably. Harry fluffed the pillows around her and lightly laid the blanket across her lap. He put the phone and remote in her hands and took her glass to refill. “M’sorry,” she muttered. She hadn’t really fully processed her injury. She was too shocked when it first happened, then embarrassed, and sleepy when she felt the comfort of his couch. Now that she was alone with Harry for the weekend, she was nervous. Harry brought her water glass back along with two pills for the pain. He didn’t want to hover, so he returned to the veggies.

“What are y’sorry for, beautiful?” He asked over his shoulder.

“For bothering you,” she mumbled quietly.

Harry frowned. “You’re no bother, love,” he promised. She didn’t say anything for a minute and Harry just went back to the veggies and then turned to the pantry to get the pasta he had for the dish. At that moment he heard her sniffle. He spun on his heel dropping the box of pasta on the floor. The box broke open and scattered all over the hardwood. He didn’t care. “Kitten?” He asked nervously and rushed to her side. He sat next to her and was heartbroken by the tears in her eyes. “Does it hurt too much? Do y’want t’go to the hospital t’get checked out?”

“No,” she sniffled. He reached out carefully and cupped her face.

“Angel, what’s wrong?” He was practically begging for the answer. Frowning, he took a deep breath. “I don’t want t’force you t’stay, love. If y’really don’t want to, I could take you t’your parents or another friend or something,” he suggested. “I jus’ wanna help you,” he promised.

The tears left her faster and she shook her head. The notion was worse. She didn’t want to think about how kind it was of Harry to have her stay. It wasn’t Louis and Eleanor’s fault or problem to take care of her and it wasn't their fault they couldn't take care of her. But she should have had more than two people who could help her.

But no one else but Harry could take care of her. “No, it’s...I’m fine,” she promised. “I...” she swallowed back the tears and Harry was so grateful he felt the smallest pressure of her leaning toward his hand.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he promised.

She hiccupped on a broken cry and turned from him. “I’m sorry. You’re so nice and helpful and this is...above and beyond what’s expected of you,” she didn’t look at him, but the only thing Harry could do was look at her.

“Love, I want t’take care of you,” he said quietly. “Please jus’—”

“When my brother died, my mom and dad started...” she shook her head and winced like it was fresh. Harry stopped speaking not fully understanding where this was headed, but here he was, holding his breath waiting for the rest of her speech. “They stopped taking care of me and... themselves. I left as soon as humanly possible. That’s why Louis is always around for me...he was so mad when he found out how they...” she trailed off unfortunately, so Harry had to use his imagination to imagine what happened. But he didn’t spend long on it because she was still sad, and still speaking. “I stopped having friends and that never really bothered me. No one really ever understood me like Louis and Eleanor anyway...but now...now I’m stuck bothering you and,” she let out shaky, gut-wrenching sob that felt like a literal tear in Harry’s heart. “I don’t even have parents that care about me,” she cried and covered her face.

Harry wanted to pull her into his lap and wrap her in a bubble and then a blanket and then himself. But he couldn’t because she was hurt and that hurt him. “Angel, m’sorry,” he hummed. He didn’t speak for a few more moments and just let her cry as she let out all her emotions. “I want t’take care of you. S’all I want,” he promised. He carefully turned her head toward him and he brushed the sad tears off her beautiful, perfect cheeks. “M’sorry, kitten,” he said and leaned forward to press a kiss to her forehead. She sniffled against him and then sighed softly stifling all the cries she had with just a kiss to her forehead by quite possibly the sweetest man she had ever met.

*

Harry video chatted with her while he went to her apartment to get her belongings. “In hindsight, we should ‘ve brought y’here,” he smirked.

She smiled at him as he entered the darkened place. “Had enough of me now that I cried all that much?”

“You must be the most tragically funny girl I know,” he rolled his eyes ignoring her commentary. He didn’t know how someone so beautiful and lovely could have such low self-esteem. She giggled cutely as she directed Harry to her belongings and tried to find him a suitcase.

“You were the one that wanted me here,” she reminded him.

He paused his search for clothing for her and gazed directly into the camera. “Yes, kitten. I love being around you,” he promised. “Didn’t think you would want me t’invite myself over...or rather thought you would think you’re a bother if y’did. Inviting y’over ensures you’re not bothering me,” he had a goofy grin on his face that made her frustrated because he was entirely right. It almost seemed like a trick for him to be so cute and make such a comment that was so accurate. She was quiet for a second. Harry mistook her silence for pain or being upset. And he hated that. “Y’okay, love?”

She nodded silently. “Um...I didn’t really think this through, but m’gonna need some underwear so just open the top drawer, grab a handful and don’t look. And then T-shirts are in the third drawer. I have leggings and sweatpants in the fourth drawer.”

He chuckled as he followed her directions, even not looking in the drawer as he pulled out way more underwear than she needed for her few days stay. He threw them in her suitcase and then grabbed the other things she asked him to grab. “Do y’need anything else, kitten?” He asked.

“Can y’grab a couple books for me?”

“Course, anything else?”

Her makeup was still with her because of Eleanor along with most of her other toiletries. “No that will do it.”

“Alright, then m’on m’way back after I get the books,” she heard the zipper of her suitcase close and she realized that in the span of three years of dating and living with someone that she loved, he never would be doing what Harry was doing for her. In fact, she couldn’t imagine any guy blindly reaching into her underwear drawer if she wasn’t sleeping with them. There was no way she could have someone rifle through her apartment looking for things to make her feel better. “D’you want your laptop, too?” He asked. It made her heart flutter, and she cleared her throat awkwardly overcome by the realization and emotion.

“Uh, yeah. Yes, please.”

She could not fall in love with Harry.

*

At some point between dinner and watching The Good Place from the beginning so Harry could experience the chaos and drama, she fell asleep on the couch. Harry wasn’t one to read books or watch TV the way she asked when they put her bookshelves together. For a while, he was engrossed in the sitcom that had clearly stolen her heart.

But a slight little snore pulled him from his TV stupor. Once more Harry watched how beautiful she looked just sleeping. This time her neck was bent forward at an awkward angle since she was sitting up facing the TV. He admired her for a moment (only a short moment because he really was worried about her neck) and how much he liked having her there on the couch.

He just wished with everything in him that her body wasn’t burned.

He pressed the pause button on her show. “Hey, love?” He said shaking her very slightly. Just like this evening. “Let’s get you t’bed.”

Her eyes fluttered open, and she rubbed the back of her hand sleepily against her eye. Harry thought she was deliriously cute. But her frown deepened. “It hurts,” she mumbled.

Harry frowned. “Oh, kitten. M’sorry. I’ll get y’some more medicine,” he said getting up from the couch. She shifted uncomfortably.

She forgot he was her boss. She forgot he was paying her to just be there and that she was supposed to be sleeping with him or at least kissing him. Right now, all she could think about was how uncomfortable her skin was. “Harry,” she whined.

“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed. “I’m so sorry,” he hurried back to her side and put the medicine in her hand and waited for her to place the pills between her lips so he could give the glass of water to her. She was still in pain.

“Can’t I just stay here?” She asked practically whimpering.

“We have t’change the bandage, love. And at that point y’may as well be in a bed. I’m sorry.”

She sighed heavily. “Okay,” she whispered.

“I’m sorry, beautiful,” he said grabbing hold of her hands waiting to pull her to a standing position. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as she waited for Harry to pull her up. With a good tug, Harry had her standing. Before she lost her balance though, he wrapped his arm around her back careful not to touch any part of her facing him.

“Ow, ow, ow,” she cried.

This was a terrible idea. He should have just let her sleep on the couch. But by morning it would be even worse. “I’m sorry, love,” he repeated. He felt so horrible she was in pain. In the light of the TV and the dimmed kitchen light over the island, he saw the sparkle of tears forming in the corners of her eyes. It broke his heart. They slowly walked down the hall, her sniffles the only sound.

“Harry,” she whispered when they made it to the bedroom. She didn’t know if it was Harry’s. It was beautifully furnished, but it hardly looked like someone lived in there. Her suitcase was laid flat on the floor under the window.

“Yes, love?”

She sighed. “I’m so embarrassed but you’re going to have to help me,” she mumbled.

“’Course, love.”

“You’re so going to regret picking me once you see how gross it is.”

He chuckled dryly. “I don’t think you’re gross at all, love. Please stop making fun of yourself. You’re breaking my heart.” She kept quiet until she was seated toward the middle of the bed, a little more awake and in less pain now that the medicine was working through her system. Harry turned on the lamp on the nightstand. The room glowed in a warm yellow-orange light. She liked this house so much she hoped Harry would let her come back again after seeing her gross body.

“Yeah, but the first time you’re going to see me mostly naked is when I have these burns all over me.”

He shrugged. “Then we’ll pretend s’the first time when you’re better and I can see y’naked for the right reasons,” he said simply. If her skin wasn’t already burning and aching with coffee scalds, she would have probably lit on fire right there at the words he spoke. She realized it was her own doing that she said the first time he sees her naked. Indicating there would be multiple times that he would see her naked. “This is purely medical,” he told her crouching in front of her legs ready to take her leggings off.

She was a bit shocked Harry was willing to compartmentalize like that. It made her a bit woozy. She was lucky she had the burns to blame. Harry was slow and careful getting her pants over her thighs. Once past them, it was easy to pull them off. She tried not to think about how Harry was her boss. But she was really grateful she shaved her legs this morning. Even if she had no intention of Harry seeing her naked when the day started.

“M'gonna do your shirt now, love, okay?” He asked. “S’all business.”

“That can mean a lot of things with you,” she muttered as she put her arms over her head as he tugged the shirt off. He chuckled at her. Harry didn’t seem to pay any mind to her body. It made her nervous that he hated it. He was probably too kind to say anything now. Especially since he already volunteered to take care of her for the weekend. She envisioned a text on Monday evening saying that he would no longer be paying her and needed to find a new place to stay.

“Lay down,” he nudged gently grabbing the petroleum jelly and coming over to kneel beside her on the bed. “Y’okay, in there, love?” He asked gently tapping on her temple with a smirk. He started with her thighs—they would heal fastest, she was sure. The jelly was so cool compared to her hot skin and Harry was so gentle it felt nearly sinful. She sighed with relief before she tried to answer him. He moved along to her hips and she would have to remember to thank Eleanor for grabbing a basic pair of bikini underwear that covered everything.

“Uh...yeah.”

“Convincing.”

She sighed. “I...I’m assuming you hate my body,” she said glancing at him nervously. He snorted at her remark.

“I liked y’first answer more,” he rolled his eyes. “Why would y’think that?”

“Well,” she shrugged. “M’not really a huge fan,” she explained looking back up and avoiding his eyes. “I really don’t know why you picked me in the first place,” it was easy to talk to his ceiling fan. “I think I’m quite ordinary looking,” Harry carefully removed the bandage that Eleanor put in place and the air touching the most sensitive part of her injury stung. She saw Harry frown as he looked at it. It must have been worse looking than she thought. “And I know it’s confusing because I just said I was nervous and asked you to pretend, but—

“I don’t really know what scenario I would be taking y’clothes off that wasn’t for sex or a medical purpose, but I think your body is beautiful and if I didn’t have a purpose t’take care of y’right now, I would strongly consider not sleeping tonight jus’ t’ook at y’for eight hours while y’sleep. There’s nothing ordinary about you. You’re extremely sexy.” She was stunned and silent. She didn’t expect him to say that. Certainly, didn’t expect him to carry on as if he didn’t. But she hadn’t a clue what to say after his confession. “Burns and all,” he finished. Harry continued taking care of her quietly, while she couldn’t do anything but look at the ceiling fan. Now it really felt medical. She winced audibly when his fingers brushed over the blistering burns. “Sorry, love,” he murmured. “Alright, all done. I’ll be right back.”

She watched him leave and she laid there letting the ointment dry a bit. She heard the water in the kitchen turn on and he seemed to grab a few other things. He returned to put a water bottle and book on the side table. He had gauze and bandages as well.

“Thank you,” she whispered. She wiggled awkwardly toward the pillows trying not to get the oil of the jelly all over the sheets. Harry helped by pulling the bed spread and sheet under her butt as she slid toward the top of the bed.

“I still want t’fire him,” he said knowingly, fluffing the pillows around her as if this was a completely normal moment for the two of them.

She rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t his fault.”

He shrugged. “He hurt you,” he reminded her.

“It was an accident. I’m as much to blame.”

He shook his head. “M’not arguing with you.”

“Harry?” She asked quietly. Harry found the remote for the TV in the little drawer and sat it next to her book. He grabbed the gauze and bandage and got to work on the sensitive injuries. It felt so intimate. So personal. It was wildly awkward. She wished he would get in the bed on the other side. She bet if she asked, he would.

“Yes, kitten? Can I get y’something?” He murmured, focused on making sure he didn’t bandage too tight or snag any part of the burn with tape so that it would be a nightmare to get off in the morning. His concentration was adorable. She was definitely not falling in love with him.

“Thank you.”

Harry’s smile was so lovely she could have cried. It was so gentle. So beautiful. She wished she wasn’t so hurt right now because all she wanted to do was snuggle with him and maybe actually let him see her naked. Definitely not in love. He leaned over the bed and slid one hand along her cheek and tangled his fingers in her hair beside her ear. “Of course, love,” he said and pressed one of those perfect kisses he had been giving her to her forehead.

Well, he would have.

But she bravely tilted her head up at the last second so their lips touched. It was the briefest of seconds but enough to cause a tingle in her lips. It barely lingered long enough for her to even feel it before Harry yanked back nervously, almost losing his footing as he knocked the water bottle off the nightstand.

She pouted feeling like an idiot. “Oh,” she said looking away. “Sorry,” she muttered embarrassedly. Of course, he didn’t want to kiss her after caring for her gross body. It was a dumb idea, and she was hoping she could blame her actions on her injury and the need for sleep to recover.

He couldn’t believe how upset she sounded or how dejected she looked. As if Harry hadn’t spent hours awake at night imagining what it would be like to kiss her from the moment he met her.

Carefully aware of where she was situated, he sat beside her, careful not to touch or shift her aching body parts. “Kitten, y’surprised me,” he chuckled and placed both hands on either side of her neck and his thumbs gently brushed over her cheeks. He was so gentle with her it made her so weak. Swallowing the embarrassment of being rejected momentarily as it dissipated from the air, she glanced nervously into his eyes. He chuckled again. “If I knew y’were gonna kiss me, I wouldn’t have pulled away,” he promised seeing the worry in her eyes. His perfect face was so close she swore even though it was dimly lit, he never looked more handsome than he did at midnight, an inch from her face, ready to kiss her. “M’gonna try that again, yeah?”

She nodded eagerly, cheeks warming beneath his thumbs stroking her face. Harry leaned forward brushing his lips against hers so perfectly she thought that if she died because of his kiss, it would be the best and only way to go. His lips were so soft, it felt like kissing two little pillows. She felt woozy from how fast her heart was beating and all he did was apply the slightest pressure to her mouth. She moaned softly against him, and he smirked pressing another perfect kiss against her lips. He pecked at them a few more times, almost like he didn’t want to move to far from her mouth (he didn’t). Eventually, he pulled back just a bit so he could kiss the tip of her nose and then the one kiss he meant to place on her forehead.

She smiled slightly and thought about where she was just a mere three months ago. Her ex would never take care of her like this. Lord knew her parents wouldn’t either. But this man that happened to like her profile was perhaps the only person outside her family (Louis and El included in her familial statement) that had ever cared for her in this capacity.

“I’ll let y’sleep now, kitten,” he whispered. “Sleep well,” he pressed one more gentle, sweet kiss on her lips, picked up the water bottle he knocked over, and turned the light off before he left the room.

*

Saturday passed in a lazy blur. Harry was very mindful of her movements and despite his insistence, she didn’t let him stay in the bathroom while she showered. The blistered burns seemed to take well to the jelly and the more minor burns were red in color but the initial sting was gone, indicating they were well on their way to healing. “I can probably get out of your hair tonight. That way you can have your home back when you go to work tomorrow,” she said eating the omelet and home fries Harry made her. “Do you like cooking?” She asked casually. “You’re very good at it.”

He frowned. He really enjoyed having her around. Especially now that they had moved onto the kissing phase of their relationship. He really enjoyed that. “What makes y’think I want y’out of my hair.”

She sipped her chocolate milk that she insisted on making. Chocolate milk is a breakfast staple. She had insisted when she stirred a glass for him as well. “Well...I took up all your free time this weekend,” she shrugged. “On top of that you waited on me hand and foot and I was really needy.”

Other than the first night when she was in so much pain, she had hardly been needy. Harry loved having her around. It was like playing house with her. The need to have her there all the time was so strong. He woke up to her in his dining area looking at her laptop playing music from her phone. He thought he might pass out from how perfect it felt to see her there, so at ease.

“Y’weren’t needy,” he mumbled biting into his own omelet. “I like having y’here.”

She smiled sweetly. After kissing it seemed she was little more at ease with his compliments. “Harry,” she said gently. It almost sounded like the way someone says we need to talk. But it was just his name. It pulled bitterly at his heartstrings.

“Yeah, love?”

“I know I’m new at this...but you’re not. Do you usually have...companions here for extended stays without...” she trailed off looking down at her plate. “Without having sex?” She asked quietly before she looked back at Harry with blushed cheeks.

For the last forty-eight hours, Harry nearly forgot he was paying her money to spoil her and have her in his life. He forgot the arrangement they financially agreed to. And he forgot that it was quite different than all the other ones. Part of him was grateful he forgot because that meant she was asking as his companion. He was misinterpreting her reasoning, it wasn’t because she wanted to leave as just a girl. In all the picture-perfect weekend moments (injury aside) she was just a girl in his house, and he wanted her to stay, and she wasn’t getting on his nerves for that. “Oh,” he shook his head clearing all his thoughts trying to remember where he wanted this conversation to go. “Uh...no,” he shook his head in response to her. “No I didn’t,” he admitted.

She smirked wryly. “I don’t want to overstep,” she said softly. “I appreciate you taking care of me, but...it’s not fair for me to...take your money when all we’ve done is kissed a few times and you’ve done all this caretaking.”

He felt like his heart might break. He seriously considered just...not paying her anymore and asking her to move in like some sort of love-sap psychopath. “I don’t mind, love...you’re...different.”

“All the more reason I shouldn’t stay,” she said softly. “I...can’t be caught sleeping at my boss’s boss’s house,” she wrinkled her nose cutely. It was hard to be sad or mad when she looked so goddamn adorable. He hated that the reason she thought she was different was simply because he worked at his company.

He wanted her to know it was because she was the most beautiful person he had met.

“M’not even gonna be home tomorrow...y’would have the whole place t’yourself,” he bargained.

She bit the inside of her lip and tilted her head at him. He sat across from her, and it was so domestic. Like they were playing house. It broke her heart a bit that she had to leave. She kind of wanted to stay. Especially after all the kindness Harry showed her. Other than Louis, she was rarely treated so perfectly by a guy...and even with Louis it was all brotherly. She wished she just met him at work and not online. It put a whole damper on the whole...situation. “I just don’t want to overwhelm you.”

Harry was not against begging. He was about to start when he thought of a different angle. “Y’said you’d be friends with me if I wasn’t paying you, yeah?” He asked.

“Yes,” she said tentatively. It was literally like a business deal. Like the one they had when he first messaged her nearly two and a half months ago. She was hedging her bets and Harry was prepared to make any deal he had to, just to get what he wanted. All for her to stay one more measly day with him—especially when he wasn’t going to be home and he just wanted to come home and make dinner for her.

“Can’t y’stay as my friend?”

She smirked. “Do you have Niall stay for days at a time and make him breakfast, lunch, and dinner?”

Harry thought there was something in her perfume or pheromones that made him an idiot. That, or she was much smarter than he gave her credit for—and he knew she was brilliant. But that was an easy deflection, a simple counter to his request and he didn’t see it coming at all so he assumed it was the former and her pheromones were like some kind of drug that turned his brain into mush. “No,” he sighed.

“I don’t want to leave, Harry,” she told him. “I like kissing you and I’ve actually rather enjoyed the waiting on me part. I just feel bad because I can’t reciprocate anything with all these disgusting burns,” she was finished with her omelet, and she popped a fried potato into her mouth so casually. It really was a business deal.

Harry knew that. At the heart of all of this, it was a business deal. He was paying her to be in his life.

He regretted it. No if ands or buts about it. He was quiet for a while as he pondered her argument. He wasn’t sure he could continue bargaining with her. “Well...I want y’here. Can y’at least stay so I can make y’dinner one more time?” He asked. There was no use in arguing. She made more sense than he did and he would remember that when it came to hiring at the end of her internship.

But he was really looking forward to waking up to her still in his house when he left tomorrow and returning home to her in the evening.

“What kind of multi-millionaire doesn’t have a chef?” She asked, again, so casually. As if she hadn’t just severed Harry’s heart in two.

*

“Uh...love...do y’mind if I spend an hour or two in m’office tending to a few things?” He asked. “They’re pressing, apparently,” he said looking at his phone. They were back on the couch. She could get up and move now on her own and she was watching Harry’s reactions for all the funny parts in the show. It was a lot easier to talk to him now that they had kissed. Maybe it was because she felt like it was something in part to the relationship they had. She got a little too involved in watching her own favorite show because she hadn’t realized Harry wasn’t watching. She paused the show.

“You’re not seriously asking me if you can work in your own house, are you?”

He chuckled at her reaction. “I don’t want t’be rude, kitten.”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. Go ahead...let me know if you need help,” she smirked.

Harry had a hard time getting off the couch and leaving her. Especially when he knew he only had hours left with her now that she would be leaving tonight. She pulled the book she was reading off the side table and settled it into her lap. Again, he was overcome with how goddamn cute and perfect she looked in his home, reading in the main room while he was about to work.

He walked behind the couch and sneakily tilted her head back and kissed her in one motion before she had time to notice what was happening. When he pulled away, he smirked and gave her another gentle kiss before tilting her head back up. “Enjoy your book,” he said climbing the stairs to his office.

*

It was approaching three hours that he was still working on calls and other work when he was getting antsy that he hadn’t heard a peep from the pretty girl waiting for him downstairs. The idea that she left without saying goodbye was making him cranky.

God, she was going to take down his company if she got a new job at the end of this internship and left him for any extensive amount of time.

“Okay, I’ll deal with it tomorrow morning. First thing. Have a good night,” he said and hung up. He barely closed his laptop and rushed downstairs to find her gone. He hurried to her room (and the idea that it was her room was not lost on him), thinking she had gone to nap.

But the bed was made perfectly. He could have bounced a coin off it. Even her suitcase was missing. He frowned and felt like he might melt into a puddle of heartbreaking sadness. He wasn’t even angry at her; he was just annoyed that she didn’t say goodbye. Not even a text. Maybe some emergency came up and she just left, that would be understandable.

He made his way back to the main room not seeing any evidence of her. How someone who could hardly walk thirty-six hours ago left without a trace or a sound in a matter of three hours was nearly impressive. If he wasn’t so sad, he would have called her immediately and told her such.

Just as he was about to call her to ask why she left without saying goodbye, he saw the movement on the porch outside—she was waving to someone. Must have been one of his neighbors. As low and sad as his heart was seconds ago, it was just as equally happy. He left his phone on the table and headed to the door. He slid it out of the way and moved around to the front of the swing where she was reading cutely. Her finger paused her spot on the page and she looked up at Harry. “Hi, Harry,” she smiled.

Harry would never be mad at her for as long as he lived. He was certain.

“Hey love, aren’t y’chilly?” He asked.

She shook her head. “No, just a blanket and a book, I’m all good,” she grinned. “I wanted some fresh air."

"I thought you left."

She frowned. "Without saying goodbye?"

Harry was in love with her. So deeply. "I didn't see your suitcase."

"I put it in the bathroom for an easier time showering," she said simply.

"Oh."

"Do you want to sit? Or do you want to watch more TV?”

He wanted to sit and stare at her for the rest of the day. Maybe well into the week, too. “I don’t want t’interrupt..."

She shook her head, folding the corner of the page before closing her book. “Of course not,” she said softly and then she patted the seat beside her. Harry wasted no time sitting beside her. She lifted his arm around her shoulders and pressed herself firmly into his side. “I love it out here,” she smiled. “I’ve always wanted a porch swing,” she giggled. “I love your house,” she said again.

Harry thought it might be a bit ridiculous if he bought her a bunch of porch swings. The sentiment was there, though. He would have. “Thank you, kitten.”

“So...I know we don’t have the most...traditional of relationships as it were,” she started. Harry was really starting to dislike talking about their circumstances. He just wanted to hang out with her all the time and probably marry her and kiss her until he died. Was that too much to ask? “How...how do these usually end?”

Forget dislike, he hated this. “I usually end it,” he told her. He liked being honest with her, but honesty about this might ruin him. He was glad she wasn’t looking at him. Just pressed to his side, he thought he might have exploded while answering that question if she wasn’t so closely snuggled up to him.

“Oh good,” she said simply.

He snorted. Her responses were almost never what he thought they were going to be. “Why is that good?”

“Oh, I’ll never end this,” she smirked. “I’m all yours until you don’t want me. I don’t want to date another guy as long as I live.”

He loved the first part of her statement. The idea that she was all his was more exciting than he could describe—especially given that he was merely going to propose by the end of her internship which he assumed would likely mean the end of this companionship too. Probably by Christmas at this rate. He frowned at the latter part, however, because it may pose a problem for him later. “Kitten, y’can’t let some idiot ruin love for y’like that.”

She sighed. “I know...Eleanor said the same thing...I guess she has a friend that has a friend that would be perfect for me, so she says,” she rolled her eyes. “I told her to tell them I’m in a relationship.” The roller coaster of emotions this girl spoke into existence for Harry was going to give him a heart attack at the ripe old age of 29. “So, I was just wondering,” she said. “Sorry for saying it’s a relationship. I promise I know it’s not.”

She was apologizing for all the wrong reasons. “S’okay. Happy t’cover for you,” he murmured hoping he didn’t sound as disappointed as he felt.

“I know I don’t have a lot of power given you’re the one with all the money—but if...if you start sleeping with someone else, can you just let me know? I’m not sure I’m all that comfortable with it just because of...ya know...diseases and stuff. Not that I think you’d knowingly give me something! I don’t think you’re...oh Jesus,” she said putting a hand over her face. He chuckled. Listening to her talk and trying to piece together where she was headed with her reasoning and line of questioning was easily becoming one of his favorite things about her even if the questions weren’t always what he wanted to hear.

He was never right when he tried to guess, though. “Kitten, I am very cautious ‘bout that sort of thing. I wouldn’t do that t’anyone. Especially not you,” he promised.

“Okay,” she said and then tilted her head up to look at him. “Thank you for being so honest with me, you don’t have to be...so it means a lot,” she reached up and brushed her thumb over his cheek. Harry still thought he was going to have a heart attack because of her. But it might be for simply being the sweetest being he had ever met and nothing more.

He hated that she was going to leave after dinner. “Are y’sure you don’t want t’stay the night?”

“No...I figure if we’re going to have dinner tomorrow I should let you have some time to yourself before—”

“Dinner tomorrow?” He interrupted, feeling the somersault of his heart once more.

“Oh, sorry, do you have plans? I just assumed we always get dinner on Monday. I figured—”

“No, no,” he smiled knowing that even if she left tonight and he wouldn’t see her at work, he would still see her tomorrow. He had no idea that she had thought their...dates...were regular. He loved that. Hopefully he was hiding the fact that he faltered, overwhelmed with relief that she really wasn’t leaving because she was sick of Harry. “You’re right. I have t’make a reservation for somewhere...anything you’re in the mood for?”

She shook her head. “Now that I’ve had your cooking, I don’t know how I’ll be able to eat anything. You’ve effectively ruined breakfast outings for me. I think if this whole Styles Incorporated thing doesn’t work out, you should open a restaurant--maybe you can keep the same name. No one will know.”

He chuckled, rubbed his hand up and down her arm that was wrapped around her and he leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “I’ll keep that in mind, love.”

--

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[esamastation]

Part forty-six of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: thirty, thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty-four, forty-five

-

Observation log, 11th of October, 12:00

07:05 Sephiroth wakes up.

07:34 Sephiroth eats a breakfast of porridge, canned apples and orange juice. Meal detailed in attachment E.

07:57 Sephiroth begins preparing for Energy Alignment with warmups and stretches, detailed in full in attachment D.

08:15 Sephiroth begins sword practice.

08:42 Sephiroth begins Energy Alignment. Energy output matches previous sessions visually. Movements and forms same as ones detailed in attachment C.

20:15 Sephiroth finishes sword forms and moves onto meditation. Visual concentration of light and energy in his cupped palms, no indication as to its nature or purpose, but likely a progression of Energy Alignment.

22:32 Sephiroth finishes Energy Alignment and begins preparations for bed.

Observation notes: Sephiroth only ate one meal today, with nowhere near enough kilojoules to support the level of physical activity he is practising - nor is he drinking enough water. Sephiroth shows no visual sign of exhaustion, starvation, or dehydration. Will continue to observe.

Addendum to observation log for the 11th of October: checking perimeter showed no sign of local activity. Angeal Hewley ventured out at 11:27 to hunt monsters and returned at 15:56. Reno is getting agitated.

End log for the 11th of October.

Observation log, 12th of October, 12:00

07:20 Sephiroth wakes up.

07:51 Sephiroth eats breakfast of rice, eggs, canned apples and tea. Meal detailed in attachment E.

08:20 Sephiroth begins previously mentioned warmups and stretches. He is joined by Hewley. They move on to a session of Buster Sword Lessons, detailed in attachment F.

09:34 Sephiroth begins going through his usual sword forms. Angeal Hewley moves to train by himself in the inner yard.

10:12 Sephiroth enters the Energy Alignment phase of training. No visual change in forms or energy output. In fact, forms are starting to look like they come in an established pattern.

15:23 Sephiroth finishes sword forms (notably early) and moves onto meditation. No visual concentration of energy observed this time.

15:54 Sephiroth finishes meditation and goes looking for Angeal Hewley, who is, at the time, examining the Charcoal Burner's House's old vegetable garden.

16:00, est. Dialogue:

Sephiroth: "Hey, what are you up to?"

Angeal Hewley: "Just checking to see if there's anything edible here - canned food is going to get really tiresome in the long run. What's up, it's everything alright?"

Sephiroth: "No, no. I'm just - getting a bit lost in my own head."

Hewley: "Do you want to talk about it?"

Sephiroth: "No, I want a bit of - I need a distraction, for a bit."

Hewley: "... Okay? Do you want to go hunt monsters, do you want to spar, or…?"

Sephiroth: "I think if I spent another moment thinking about physical cultivation I might lose it. So. No. Something else."

Hewley: "Uh?"

Sephiroth: "You know when you work on something for so long that it starts losing all meaning? Like, a report, maybe? Stare at it long enough, and it turns into nonsense. I need, you know. A break."

Hewley: "Ah, yeah, okay, I get what you mean. Yeah, I can take a break with you. What do you want to do?"

Sephiroth: "I have no idea. Just something else."

Hewley: "I'm sure we can figure something out."

16:00-18:00 est. Sephiroth and Angeal Hewley proceed to explore the Charcoal Burner's House's abandoned stores and discover an old, broken set of something called Weiqi. Sephiroth proceeds to teach Angeal Hewley how it was played.

18:15 Dialogue

Hewley: "Now, I don't want to sound impatient, but, this energy alignment stuff. How long is it going to take?"

Sephiroth: "Normally decades."

Hewley: "Decades?!"

Sephiroth: "Most of it is just energy gathering, that usually takes most of the time. I don't exactly have that issue. If anything, I have too much."

Hewley: "Oh. Right. Um, then, how long do you think it will take for you to sort it out?"

Sephiroth: "I've gotten things moving. If my veins can take it… maybe another week?"

Hewley: "That's not too bad, though… what do you mean if your veins can take it?"

Sephiroth: "... Have you figured out whether MP resides in your body yet?"

Hewley: "Um, no? I mean, I know it's there and I can sort of feel it there, but it's not really in any specific location."

Sephiroth: "Hm. Keep trying."

Hewley: "Sure, I'll try. I'm not sure what you're after, though."

Sephiroth: "You'll know it when you feel it."

19:12 Sephiroth fills the tub in the back room and has a full bath. 

20:07 Sephiroth eats a dinner of pasta, canned pickles, canned peas, crackers and apple juice. Meal detailed in attachment E.

20:24 Sephiroth turns in early.

Observation notes: Sephiroth ate two full meals and seems to have taken in enough nutrients for his daily requirements. It should be noted, however, that his level of physical activity was greatly diminished today. It should also be noted that between the training session and the later board games he seemed rather distracted. He might be procrastinating on his progress, perhaps having some sort of block? If faster results are desired, it might be advisable to remove Hewley from the situation.

Addendum to observation log for the 12th of October: Reno reports signs of activity in the forest - a smoke trail approximately 15 kilometres away. It is possible that our occupation has been noticed by Wutai troops. We are increasing our level of alert and redoing our traps. Though with two SOLDIER First Class present we have little to fear from any kind of Wutai assault, a surprise attack at an inopportune moment might be disastrous. Reno will be heading out to investigate at first light tomorrow.

End log for the 12th of October.

Observation log, 13th of October, 12:00

07:11 Sephiroth wakes up.

07:36 Sephiroth eats breakfast.

08:02 Sephiroth and Angeal Hewley proceed to meditate together in the main room of the house. Sephiroth is talking through the entire process, guiding Hewley every step of the way. No visual energy fluctuations to observe.

09:12 Sephiroth and Angeal Hewley proceed with sword practice, with Sephiroth instructing. 

10:35 Sephiroth and Hewley separate and Sephiroth proceeds with his sword forms in the usual manner.

10:54 Sephiroth enters the Energy Alignment phase. The forms seem to have settled into an established pattern. No other changes to the overall practice to be observed.

11:30 Reno returns and confirms there's Wutai troops making their way towards our location. With Sephiroth in the Energy Alignment phase, it's deemed unsafe to disturb him with the news. Hewley offers to take care of the enemy troops.

11:43 Hewley sets out to meet the Wutai troops. I will check the perimeter while Reno keeps watch on Sephiroth.

12:11 Perimeter secure, traps primed. Should the worst come to pass and Sephiroth goes into misalignment, we will proceed according to plan.

12:15 Sending the WIP log to Tseng, just in case.

-

Rude's logs are very factual I feel while Reno adds the nuance.

#Fanfiction #ffvii #ff7 #svsss #rude of the turks #sephiroth #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #angeal hewley #reno of the turks

[moonkissedmeli]

🌿Minimizing Waste as a Hearth Witch🌿

Minimizing waste saves money and the environment. With a little creativity, there are many ways you can create opportunities to reduce waste and maximize the supplies you have.

🍄 Keep your jars. If you buy something that comes in a useful container and can be reused - then reuse it. In my experience, the best reuse for plastic containers is to freeze food. Also, small bottles like Advil bottles, are EXCELLENT spell jars. However, for all types, you can use them to store food, organize drawers and closets, store spell ingredients, or even make decorations. The possibilities are nearly endless!

🍄Keep all your fruit, vegetable, and herb scraps. With some scraps and water, you can make a lovely broth. Alternatively, you can use them to make a simmer pot for a spell or simply for the scent.

🍄If you eat meat, keep the bones. Again, a great broth ingredient!

🍄Avoid paper towels whenever possible. These are super wasteful and expensive. Whenever possible, I opt to use a towel or cloth. You can recycle old textiles for rags. However, if you're feeling ambitious you can knit or crochet towels and cloths; this is a great way to use up that scrap yarn you probably have laying around! You may even choose to add a bit of knot magic to these pieces.

🍄Thrift and upcycle. This is a bit of an obvious one; but really. It's a great way to have lovely belongings while reducing waste overall and saving money. With a bit of love, many things can be new.

🍄Almost every dish can be salvaged. It happens. We mess up. But, before you throw it away, do some research on how to salvage it. Odds are, you will be able to do it!

🍄Don't throw away fruits or vegetables that are overripe or wilting. Within reason, of course, many of these fruits and vegetables can be frozen for soups, casseroles, sauces, and smoothies!

🍄Buy a reusable coffee filter and tea basket for loose tea. Really, this is a given if you are a tea or coffee lover. Disposable ones are so wasteful and the reusable ones will pay for themselves in no time.

🍄Compost if you can. Compost dirt is amazing for growing ingredients for dishes and spells. While you're at it, save your eggshells, as well.

🍄Mend your clothes, blankets, and even shoes. A little bit of love can go a long way, including increasing the life of your favorite items. You can also add flair by learning how to darn and apply patches.

🍄Learn how to remove stains from fabric. In the same vein as mending, learning how to remove stains increases the life of your clothes. Different stains require different methods of removal, but usually, it is not impossible. Failing this, learn how to dye your clothes to revamp them.

🍄Use alternative cosmetics. This is a really big topic and I will create a post about this later. But, consider doing research. There are lots of things that can be made or substituted; notably face masks, hair masks, and using coconut oil as a make-up remover.

🍄Localize your practice. Use natural herbs and ingredients found in your local environment. Create your own correspondence if needed.

🍄Collect rainwater. Unfortunately, it is no longer a great idea to drink rainwater - but use it to water plants and clean your floors. Rainwater is also a powerful spell ingredient for spells that don't require drinking or putting on your skin.

🍄Only buy what you need. This time of year more than ever it is VERY tempting to buy up cheap Halloween-themed goods. But, consider an item's long-term usefulness, if it will create clutter and disorder in your home in the future, and if there are alternatives.

🍄Buy a cheap food dehydrator. These are perfect for making tea and drying out herbs, flowers, and other ingredients for spells and cooking.

🍄Consider alternatives in cooking and spells. There is always an alternative, you may not have to buy something new.

🍄Meals and beverages as spells. As a full-blown kitchen, I believe spells eaten and drank are extremely powerful. It also saves on ingredients.

#kitchen witch #hearth witch #sustainable witch #zero waste witch #zero waste witchcraft #DIY witchcraft #spells #witchblr #witch tips #witch tip list #sustainable witchcraft #kitchen witchery #hestia #helpol

[macgyvermedical]

Do you know how our understanding and treatment of diabetes has changed through history?

Oooh good question, anon!

As you may guess, diabetes mellitus is not new.

We've known about it since at least the Ebers Papyrus (1550 BCE) when the disease and a treatment was first described. This treatment was: "a liquid extract of bones, grain, grit, wheat, green lead and earth." I did not look these up, but I would guess they did not do a whole lot for the treatment of diabetes.

Later during the 6th century BCE it was first given a name when it was described by Hindu physician Sushruta as madhumeh or "honey urine."

Honey urine is a very apt descriptor for diabetes. In any type, one of the most measurable symptoms is that the person urinates a lot, and the urine tastes sweet (or, if one didn't feel like tasting, that it ferments, or that it attracts ants). This was also the first test for diabetes.

The reason for the sweetness of the urine (as well as a lot of other general info about diabetes) is spelled out more clearly in my "Don't Be That Guy Who Wrote Hansel and Gretel: Witch Hunters" post.

A Greek physician Apolonius of Memphis named it Diabetes, meaning "to siphon" (referring to the large amount of urine lost).

Roman physician Aretaeus later made the first precise description of diabetes. This included the classic symptoms of incessant thirst, copious urination, and constant hunger leading to emaciation and death. He also notes that if deprived of water, the patient will continue to urinate until they become so dehydrated that they die.

The term "Mellitus" was not added until the 1600s by an English physician Thomas Willis. This was again due to the sweetness of the expressed urine. Willis prescribed a diet of "slimy vegetables, rice, and white starch. He also suggested a milk drink which was distilled with cypress tops and egg whites, two powders (a mixture of gum arabic and gum dragant), rhubarb and cinnamon". Supposedly his patients improved if they kept to this diet, though few managed it long term. I honestly don't know how it would have worked, even temporarily.

A major breakthrough came in 1889 when it was discovered that if you removed the pancreas from a dog, the dog would become diabetic (particularly, that it would urinate large quantities of sweet urine). Up until this point it was thought that diabetes stemmed from the kidneys and bladder, or perhaps the lungs. This was the first time it had been shown experimentally that the pancreas was the problem.

Speaking of this, this was also part of a series of experiments where an English physician named Merkowski implanted a small amount of pancreas in the pancreas-less dog's fat, which reversed the diabetes temporarily. This proved that the pancreas was making something that helped regulate blood (and thus urine) sugar.

What this was wasn't figured out until 1921, when Canadian scientists Banting and Best (with help from McLeod and Collip) isolated something they called insletin (after the islets of langerhans, where the substance was being produced). It's important to note that all of these scientists hated each other so much they almost refused a Nobel Prize over it. Later, Collip would refine the substance and McLeod would rename it insulin.

Prior to insulin existing there was basically 1 vaguely useful treatment for diabetes. Unfortunately, that was starvation. So you could either die a slow and painful death by diabetes or you could die a slightly less slow but still painful death due to eating about 500 calories per day. Either way, diabetes was fatal, usually within a couple of years of diagnosis.

By 1923, the first commercial insulin product, Iletin, had been developed. Iletin was a U10 insulin (10 units per 1 milliliter- less potent than today's U100 and U500 insulins) and was made from pork pancreases. It took nearly a ton of pork pancreas to make 1oz of insulin. Fortunately, as a byproduct of the meat industry, pancreases were readily available.

Now, you might be thinking- no one has mentioned type 1 or type 2 yet in this entire post!

Well, you would be right, because diabetes wouldn't be split into 2 forms (insulin-dependent and non-insulin dependent) until 1979, and wouldn't be classified as types 1 and 2 until 1995. That's right- some of you were alive when there was only one kind of diabetes out there.

Now, there's more about the types in the Hansel and Gretel post, but essentially type 1 diabetes occurs when the pancreas itself stops producing insulin, usually in childhood. When this happens, the body stops being able to use sugar (insulin, a hormone, acts as a "key" to let sugar into cells for use). Without replacing that insulin, the person dies because their cells starve.

Type 2 diabetes occurs when the pancreas still produces insulin, but the cells stop responding to it correctly. This causes high sugar levels in the blood, which causes longer-term complications (infections, ulcers, blindness, neuropathy, heart and kidney disease, hyperosmolar syndrome, etc..) which eventually lead to death.

We started discovering oral drugs that worked on what would later become type 2 in the 1950s. Particularly those that worked by increasing the insulin output of the pancreas, but only when the pancreas was still producing some insulin.

Predicting which diabetics would benefit from oral therapies was challenging, but it was recognized that when the onset of diabetes was slow and came on in adulthood, the oral agents would work, while if it came on suddenly in childhood, the oral agents wouldn't. Terms like "adult onset" and "maturity onset" were common:

(Side note: if you have ever read Alas, Babylon (1955) there is a diabetic character who by today's standards clearly has type 1 diabetes, but wants to switch to the "new oral pill" (called "orinase" in the book, though they are likely referring to diabinese pictured above).)

From 1923 into the 1980s, insulin was given once or twice per day, and not particularly titrated to blood sugar. This was probably just because we didn't have a great way to measure blood sugar in real time. Pre-1970s, there was no way to test blood sugar outside of a lab setting.

Urine testing was common starting in the 1940s, but was cumbersome as it required a flame for heating the urine. By the 1950s, a test had been developed that didn't require a flame, but was still not practical for home use. In the 1960s, paper strips were developed that changed color for different amounts of sugar in the urine. The problem with this was that the strips couldn't change color until there was sugar in the urine- a blood sugar level of over 200 by today's measurements. Low blood sugar readings were impossible at this time, and had to be treated based on symptoms.

In the 1970s, blood sugar could finally be measured by putting a drop of blood on a test strip, wiping it off, and matching the color of the test strip to a chart. While less cumbersome than urine tests, this was still something that would generally only be done at a doctor's office.

In 1983, the first home blood glucometer is developed. Finally, it was practical to take one's sugar multiple times per day, and it becomes possible to experiment with "sliding scale" insulin injections that keep tighter control of blood sugar. By the late 90s, continuous glucose monitors became available- though unlike today's CGMs that allow readings in real time on a smartphone or monitor, these had to be downloaded to a computer at regular intervals.

The 1980s were the first decade where insulin pumps become widely available. The very first pump was large and had to be carried in a backpack, but it represented a huge step forward in glucose control, as it more closely mimicked the function of a working pancreas than once-daily injections.

For the next 30 or so years you really had to work to qualify for an insulin pump, but recently it's been found that pumps greatly improve compliance with blood glucose control whether or not the person had good compliance before getting the pumps, and insurance has gotten better about covering them (though CGMs are still a pain to get insurance to cover).

The 1980s was also the decade that recombinant human insulin (insulin made by genetically modified bacteria) was first used. Up until that point the only insulins were pork and beef insulins, which some people had allergic reactions to. Recombinant insulin was closer to regular human insulin than beef or pork, and represented a big change in how insulin was made.

Today for people who take insulin to manage their diabetes, insulin is usually given as a single injection of a long-acting basal insulin, coupled with smaller doses of ultra-short-acting insulins with meals or snacks. This is the closest we've gotten to mimicking the way a pancreas would work in the wild, and keeps very tight control of blood sugar. This can be done by fingerstick blood sugar tests and individual injections of insulin, or it can be done with a CGM and pump- it just depends on the resources available to the person and their personal preference.

#writing reference #whump reference #diabetes #insulin #hospital life #nurblr

[asliceofzosan]

pspsps Zeff meeting Ayari 👀👀👀

oH YOU REALLY DONE DID IT NOW

zeff knows how much sanji loves kids.

he first noticed it when he was roughly turning into a teenager. around the age of 13-14. it isn't often that families come to the baratie. but when they do, sanji actually volunteers to wait tables when on normal understaffed days, zeff would have to drag him out of the kitchen kicking and screaming. he didn't understand it until he decided to watch sanji and everything made sense.

if one is the child of a pirate or a marine, you're bound to be a little fussy (case and point: sanji). and his boy was a natural at calming down fussy babies. those chubby little rascals would immediately stop crying when sanji would pick them up and carry them on his hip, taking everybody's order like usual. the parents would look at him gratefully, even allowing him so far as to let him wait other tables with their baby in his arms.

during sanji's break, he would play with them. if they won't stop crying, he'd ask patty or carne to heat up some milk or mushy vegetables to feed the kid. and more often than not, sanji would sometimes be seen with a sound asleep baby as he barks out the orders to a bewildered kitchen.

zeff asked him once if he wanted a baby sibling. sanji just laughed until his sides hurt.

"you can barely raise me, you old coot." he said in response with a bright grin that reminded zeff how much he loved this kid. "i'm better off as an only child. trust me."

(he does. trust sanji, that is. but he will never forget how his laugh sounded pained. like an echo of a terrible memory. he'll come to realize why after a long while.)

as sanji grew up, his natural gravitation towards children never wavered. in fact, kids often flocked towards him at the baratie, following behind him like little ducklings in a row. sanji's smile was softer on those days, the sparkle in his eyes as prominent as when sanji talks about his beloved all blue. the kids would hang onto his every word.

he doesn't know how qualified he is at knowing good parenting from bad parenting. but he did raise sanji for most of his life. his little eggplant turned out pretty decent by his standards.

so of course, it's a no brainer for zeff that if sanji would one day have his own kid, he'd be the best dad in the world.

"head chef?" patty says as he enters zeff's office. "someone downstairs really wants to meet ya."

"if they want a discount they better fuckin' run." he gruffly replies without looking up from the newspaper. "customer is always right my ass—"

"sir?"

"–and you know what's real upsetting? the fact that they think they're all hot shit! i don't care who you are. you pay to eat here–"

"chef-"

"–would be nice if i didn't get some dumbass like that for once—"

"chef, it's sanji!"

zeff has fought sea beasts, marine fleets, and pirates with a worse death wish than him. he has faced starvation, dehydration, massive bloodloss without batting an eye.

but nothing. absolutely nothing makes his heart jump more than hearing that his son has come home to visit.

"well what the fuck are you doing standing there, patty?" he bellows, standing up and stalking towards the open door. "you better be preparing a feast for my boy."

"actually, he's already in the kitchen cooking one himself."

zeff laughs. that sounds exactly like his boy, alright.

it took zeff all of two seconds to notice that sanji isn't alone.

the swordsman is there, hanging off his shoulder like it's nobody's business (and he's pretty sure sanji mentioned at one point that he had gotten his head out of his ass and finally got together with him. lord was that an ordeal). and it looked normal for a few seconds until sanji turned around to face zeff.

there was a child there.

strapped to sanji's chest with some sort of blanket-like contraption was a baby. it couldn't be more than two years old. its shrieks of delight echoed in the kitchen as it drooled all over sanji's suit. its hair was green – the same shade as that of the swordsman glued to sanji's side. and it was tied up into little pigtails that bounced as it moved.

"zeff!" sanji greeted, that same bright sunny smile plastered on his face. "come meet your granddaughter!"

his... what?

then he looked closer at her and it all made sense.

the curly eyebrows.

but it also made no sense at all. because the longer zeff stared at his granddaughter, the more confused he felt because how in the love of the all blue did sanji get a child that looked exactly like him and his idiot swordsman?

he was so much in his head that he didn't notice sanji take the kid out of her baby sling and hold her out in front of him. he was brought back to reality when one small hand wrapped around the end of his mustache with a continuous giggle. zeff stared at her, his whole world stopped on its axis. he never saw sanji as a baby. he wonders if this is the closest he'll get to experiencing that for the first time...

then the baby pulled on his mustache with a high pitched shriek that could reach the heavens.

"jiji!" the little girl squealed, now holding onto zeff's mustache with two chubby baby hands. zeff stayed rooted to his spot, transfixed by the girl's mere existence. but also there's a stirring in his heart that occurs when she smiles at him. she looks exactly like sanji. though with a lot less teeth.

"would you look at that, old man." zoro laughed as he gently pried his daughter's (????) fingers off of zeff's mustache. "you get her fifth word. congratulations."

on a normal day, (but god what even classifies as normal anymore?) zeff would have probably kicked that swordsman's chest in and sent him flying into the next room. but there's something about the way sanji's smile softens as he watches zoro play with the baby. his eyes mist over and the only reason he probably isn't openly crying right now is because zeff is right there.

there are precious few instances where zeff's seen sanji genuinely happy.

now is one of them.

he coughs roughly to get their attention. all three of them look up, sanji's gaze particularly nervous. but zeff just shook his head, figuring he'll ask all the dumb questions later, and holds his hands out expectantly.

"you gonna let your father hold his grandbaby or or ya just gonna hog her the whole time you're here?"

the laugh that escapes sanji's mouth has both zeff and zoro staring fondly at him. then when sanji transfers his baby girl into zeff's arms, sanji's smile is freer and more open than zeff's seen it in years.

"zeff," sanji says, smoothing down ayari's hair down with one hand, his other hand resting on zeff's bicep. a strong grip. a grounding force. "meet ayari. our little blessing."

ayari coos up at zeff and grabs his mustache again. sanji bends down slightly to rain her little face with a million kisses. zeff just stares at this all with the barest hint of a smile on his face.

yeah. he always knew sanji was gonna be a good dad.

genuinely i am in agony i love this family 😭 do you have any idea how much i was crying while writing this??? is it possible to get baby fever from your own oc zosan baby???

#niki's fics: she has your eyes #one piece #sanji #roronoa zoro #zosan #red leg zeff #niki's asks #oc: roronoa ayari

[leafie-draws]

plant care masterpost ⋆˚✿˖°

part 1 Types of Plants: plants come in all shapes and sizes and each plant has specific needs! so here's some quick tips to keep in mind while picking out a little plant friend!

a general rule of thumb when choosing a plant is considering how the plant thrives in it's natural habitat and providing that with your care, whether it's in a sunny spot in your window or in your garden outside. Succulents and Cacti need more sun and dry conditions than tropical plants that enjoy more wet and humid conditions. keep this in mind while growing many different types at once!

if growing plants in a terrarium make sure there is plenty of light and air circulation to prevent moisture buildup and rot. do not seal the plants inside! you'll want to be able to remove them in case they get sick.

all plants have unique grow-times and dormant periods. for example plants native to the northern hemisphere go dormant (hibernate) while plants in the southern hemisphere are growing, and vice-versa. plants in their peak grow-time require more water and care than dormant ones.

some tropical plants have very specific needs; like staghorns, orchids and air plants so I recommend researching those thoughroughly before getting one.

I don't have a lot of experience with trees, fruits and vegetables so I'm skipping those for now.

Watering: the amount of water a plant needs depends mostly on what type of plant it is and which climate it's in. remember that growing plants need more water and dormant plants need less!

plants only drink when they're awake! roots are most active during the daytime so water your plants in the morning, afternoon or evening. watering at night will cause too much water to sit in the pot and will rot the roots.

tropical plants are picky needy guys and enjoy very damp, humid, rainforest-like conditions. humidifiers help keep moisture in the air as well as routine misting with a waterbottle, just make sure there's proper ventilation so the plants aren't too wet for too long.

arid plants like succulents and cacti are pros at storing water and need less watering than other plants. (I water mine every 2 weeks. 3 weeks in the winter.)

no plant likes having wet feet! make sure your pots and containers have drainage holes to allow airflow to the roots and so excess water can escape.

it's always better to under water than to overwater! it's easier to save a dried-up plant than a rotten one. so if your plant seems sick it's better to hold off on watering it for a while.

most plants die from getting too much water! overwatering leads to rot, infections, mold, and even attracts bugs! it's a bad time! so only water your plants when the soil is dry and make sure there's proper drainage.

an overwatered plant will look sickly. it might turn yellow or pale, drop it's leaves, or be squishy to the touch. some plants like succulents or cacti may have swollen, cracked stems from absorbing too much water.

an underwatered plant will look droopy and the leaves will feel dry, crispy or wrinkled. water the plant throughroughly until water drains out of the bottom of the container and give it some time to recover. if your plant is severely dehydrated you might want to completely soak it, spraying the entire plant and putting the pot in a basin or tray of water so it can absorb water as needed.

Soil: the type of soil depends on the type of plant, but all plants require nutrients in order to grow. it's important to use well-draining soil and provide airflow to the roots.

typically you want soil that's a mix of organic matter and grit (like pumice or lava rock.) the organic matter provides nutrients while grit helps keep the soil loose so it doesn't compact and rot the roots while watering. (I've been using Bonsai Jack's gritty mix for years and I swear by the stuff.)

keep in mind that thick, organic soil holds water longer than a loose, gritty mix and takes longer to dry out so you should water your plants less. likewise, gritty mix drains faster and may require more watering, especially in the summer.

seedlings require more nutrients and have less developed roots so highly organic soils or coco coir works best. (more organic matter = more prone to rot though so be careful!)

worms are friends. like seriously. earthworms in your pots are a good thing! not only does it mean your soil is rich in nutrients plants love, but worm tunnels help create air pockets in the soil so your plant's roots can breathe easier and helps prevents rot. they won't hurt your plant at all and only eat decomposing matter. if you don't want them in your house though they'll do wonders for your garden!

#leafie speaks #plant care #advice #masterpost #leafie plants

[shisui-shrine]

god, i LOVE your blog, thank you for writing for shisui 🥹 i’d like to ask shisui and any other characters you want and the moment they fell in love with their girl friend

Thank you for your kind words <3. Just as many other people, I was desperate for more Shisui content, and well, be the change you wanna see I guess.

Shisui X F!Reader

When he fell in love with you

Shisui

When you didn't see him as an Uchiha, a prodigy, Shisui of Teleportation but just as Shisui

Almost everyone only sees him as a shinobi, a protector of Konoha

They see his abilities, what he does for them, but not what he is

So when he realised that he was a person in your life and not a ninja, his heart couldn't help but beat a little faster

He could barely believe his ears, others seeing him as a person was uncommon, unexpected, refreshing

"Do you want dessert?" Y/N asks her friend sitting on the opposite side of the table. "Sounds good. But how'd you know I have a sweet tooth? I never told you after all." "You just give off the vibes, is all" the female answers as she took out her wallet to pay for their shared meal.

"Is that so weird? You look a bit... surprised? Startled? Shocked even?", she chuckles a little, looking at Shisui's widened eyes.

"No, it's just that people usually assume nothing unhealthy has entered my mouth ever since I became Jonin. It's a refreshing change of pace", Shisui grins, taking one of the Dangos the waiter brought during their conversation.

"That's weird. I mean, yeah, sure, shinobi usually have a very healthy diet, but that doesn't mean we only eat vegetables and meat."

"So," Shisui begins, "any plans for the rest of the day?"

Y/N thinks about it for a few seconds and then shakes her head. "No, I honestly just wanted to go home and relax. I have a pretty long mission starting in a few days, so I wanted to enjoy my peace and quiet while it lasts"

"Yeah, I had something like that in mind too. Some hotsprings and then a calm evening with some tea and a good book"

"Makes sense. I hate doing anything before a tiring mission. Waking up sore or tired is not something you want before an A-Rank" Y/N comments, moving around her finger on the edge of her cup.

"Oh, you have something in your face by the way. Right there", she pointed at the corner of her mouth. Shisui grabbed his napkin and and wiped it away. "Wha- That's meat! How long has that been on my face?" "Quite some time, but you looked kinda cute with it so I didn't want to tell".

Y/N giggles at Shisui's face, distorted in disbelief and surprise.

"Thank you for the invitation, Y/N. I really needed this", Shisui looks down at the finished plate of Dango, the whole afternoon replaying in his mind. The fact you knew he liked sweets, how you understood that he needed a break, how you laughed about his messy face and his expression.

Why was his heart beating so fast? Why did his stomach feel so weird? He didn't eat anything bad the past few days. Could it be that...?

"Is everything alright? Your face is so red all of a sudden, not that you're dehydrated or have a fever" his friend say worried, bringing her hand to his forehead, but before she could touch him he stopped her hand by gently holding her wrist.

"No, no, I'm fine. Please don't worry about me." He doesn't want her to find out, not yet. First he needs to make sure she feels the same and choose a better timing.

"You always say that. You always shake my worries off, say that you're fine and move on. But I am worried, I know what it can do to people to bottle everything up and try to deal with it alone. You're not a superior being to us all, you still need help every once in a while. If not from me then at least from Itachi, but I know that you're not talking about it with him either. Shisui please, stop saying you're fine before your soul cracks."

Wow, he did not expect that. That you looked through him this easily, that you looked right past his walls right into his soul. Your expression one of fear and worry.

"Okay, I swear that the next time I have a problem I'll come to you, no matter what it is", he holds up his hand with his pinky outstretched.

Y/N follows the action and with that their promise is official.

"Thank you, Shisui. I care a lot about you and it'd kill me to know that you're suffering in silence."

Shisui's heart does a little jump. Perhaps she loves me too? Was the only thing his brain could think about. He was good at reading you, but then, how good were you at hiding feelings?

After that they say their goodbyes and head to their homes. The whole way home multiple thoughts were swirling through Shisui's head.

But all he knows is that he loves you, but telling you can still wait.

#shisui uchiha #shisui x reader #shisui headcanons #naruto x reader #naruto #naruto headcanons #while writing this i rewatched shisui's episode and then got to his death #that's why yn was yapping so much #plus as someone who also bottles up her feelings it got kinda personal

[fluffysucker]

Epilogue

Bucky Barnes x Reader (AU)

A/N: Written in Third POV. No use of Y/N. However, the reader is referred to as a female.

I'm very thankful for all of you who have read this story and shared their thoughts and opinions. It really means so much to me.

Let me know if any of you want to stay in my taglist. Also I do take requests if you want. And my inbox is always open

Thank you so much♡♡♡♡

Series Masterlist

Masterlist

You stood in front of the stairs, glaring at them. If looks could kill, they would be on fire. They are your worst enemy right now. You took a deep breath, refusing to let them win. You held onto the railings for dear life, taking very slow steps down. One by one. You almost screamed in victory once you finished the stairs. You moved to the kitchen when you could already hear the chaos happening.

"Good morning, my babies." You made your presence known in the kitchen with your cheerful greeting, also declaring that you were in a good mood. There was no need to avoid you.

A mix of "Good morning, mommy" filled your ears as you moved to give each of your kids a kiss. You turned to your husband, who looked like he, too, expected a good morning kiss. But you turned to get a bottle of water from the fridge. The audacity. Like he hasn't done enough.

You sat in between your children, where Bucky put your plates filled with your favourite food. You thanked him reluctantly and kept on talking to Theo and Lily. It wasn't long before you heard the honk of the school bus. Bucky helped them out as you wished them a good day.

"So the silent treatment is only for me?" Bucky asked as he walked back into the kitchen.

"I think it's the least you deserve." You replied, eating your food.

"C'mon. It's going to be fun." Daggers shot from your eyes at your husband. Only for giggles to fill the place.

"See, Sam agrees with me." Bucky was grateful he could find someone to help him.

"No, he is laughing at how stupid his dad is." You turned to look at your smiling toddler in his chair.

"Isn't that right, sweetie?" You asked as you fed the toddler a spoonful of his food.

Your year and a half old baby, who was named after his Uncle Sam as a thank you for his help and support, was fully laughing. A laugh that warmed your heart.

You got up to get some juices out of the fridge. You opened the cupboard to get a cup, but you couldn't reach it. Somehow, you got shorter this time. There was no explanation for this.

"C'mon, doll. You can't blame me for making sure you never leave me." Bucky said as he handed you your favourite cup at the moment.

"Who is known for leaving who, Barnes?" An offended gasp left Bucky's mouth at your words.

"Cheap shot, doll." Bucky said as he added more food to Sam's plate. And your favourite vegetables chopped into yours.

"And I think you should keep it in your pants or get a vasectomy because I can't do this again." You got back to your place, resting your hand on your swallowing belly.

"But I already bought a car big enough for a football team." You threw the piece of toast at him. God, he was so annoying. But you were his to annoy.

"Plus, don't act like you didn't enjoy it. I'm pretty sure that one is all your fault." Bucky came to sit next to you.

"How so?" You asked as you fed your toddler, who was having so much fun watching his parents bicker.

"You seduced me. What exactly were you expecting when you wore that dress on my birthday? A man can handle so much." A smirk formed on his face at the memory of the day.

"So you made sure I could never look good again." You pointed to your six-month-pregnant belly.

"Nothing can ever make this true. You are always going to be the most beautiful and prettiest woman ever." Bucky wasn't just saying this to boast about your confidence, which had been lacking lately, but because he truly believed. In his eyes, you only get prettier by the day.

"You are unbelievable." You woke up to get some water. That baby was dehydrating you like a desert.

As you closed the fridge, you felt Bucky's hand around your baby bump, and you instantly relaxed into his touch.

"Okay, one more baby. Then we can see. But I'm not getting a vasectomy." Bucky kept laying small kisses on your neck until you turned to look at him.

Maybe if he stopped looking at you like you were his world, you could resist. Maybe if he didn't shower you with affection and love, you would be able to keep it together. Maybe if he wasn't always there for you, you would have something to say.

You gave up and smiled at him. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his in a soft kiss that didn't last as long as he wanted.

"You will be the death of me, Bucky Barnes."

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[bumblebeeappletree]

You can grow tanks, rather than buy them, and they'll have a lot more water-harvesting capacity.

This video is about how living sponges (rain gardens) have far greater capacity than non-living manufactured water tanks, in that they utilize and infiltrate water during and immediately after rains to quickly make more room or capacity for the next rain - even if that rain comes just a few hours after the first rain.

Thus rain gardens (in this case, a water-harvesting, traffic-calming chicane or pull out) typically have much more potential for flood-control, groundwater-recharge, bioremediation (natural filtration of toxins), and heat-island abatement (due to the shading/cooling vegetation they grow and the cooling effect of the water transpiring through these "living pumps").

This works in any climate, but the vegetation changes as you change bioregions. The easiest path to success is to use plants native or indigenous to your area and site's microclimate. Go further, and select native plants that also produce food, medicine, craft/building materials, etc so you grow living pantries, pharmacies, craft suppliers, etc.

At minimum, make sure your tanks overflow to rain gardens, so that overflow is used as a resource. And place those rain gardens and their vegetation where you most need that vegetation, such as trees on the east and west sides of buildings to shade out the morning and afternoon summer sun for free, passive cooling.

The ideal, is that once this rain garden vegetation has become established the only irrigation water it will require is the freely harvested on-site water, so no importing/extracting of groundwater, municipal water, or other is needed. This way we can infiltrate more water into the living system than we take out - thereby enabling the recharge of groundwater, springs, and rivers; instead of their depletion and dehydration.

Get more info on how to do this and harvest many other free, on-site waters at:

https://www.harvestingrainwater.com/

where you can buy Brad's award-winning books, "Rainwater Harvesting for Drylands and Beyond" at deep discount direct from Brad at:

https://www.harvestingrainwater.com/s...

For more info on the community water harvesting and native food forestry work check out:

https://dunbarspringneighborhoodfores...

For more videos that expand on this one subscribe to this channel at:

http://www.youtube.com/user/Harvestin...

#rainwater

#waterharvesting

#permaculture

#rainwaterharvesting

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[simkaswriting]

Hoodie- Human!Jake Sully

Word count: 950 A/N: this is just a little drabble I thought of while I definitely should have been focusing on my course work... Human Jake is kind of my weakness (ily Sam Worthington) And yes I am now shamelessly writing for Avatar too ;)

It was that pesky lab setting, the low temperature necessary to keep the teams samples stable and usable. To keep months of ground-breaking work and discoveries safe. And, to your chagrin, eliciting goosebumps upon entry to the lab every single morning, day by day. You of course understood the need for the cold environment, but that didn’t mean you were happy about it. And a certain ex-marine had picked up on it.

-

“Video log seven, time is… twenty-three forty-nine, and I’m, uh… I’m in the lab again.” Jake’s eyes flick to the analogue clock to his left with a sigh before settling back on his own reflection in the camera, a slightly dishevelled face staring back at him, a biproduct of spending so much time in his avatar.

“Location, shack.” He sighs again. He doesn’t have time for this. There are other things to do, places to be. And taping one of these stupid video logs per Grace’s request doesn’t even begin to scratch the list of things on his mind. He gets their purpose, sure, and he understands why Grace places so much urgency on doing them right after he ‘exits’ his avatar. So, if he has to do them, he’ll do them his way. And his way involves you.

Jake swivels in his seat, eyes landing on your hunched over form at the desk behind his, your hand furiously writing in your little notebook like usual. He watches you for a few moments. The way your hair frames the features he religiously studies when you’re deep in thought, risk free of being found out. Your near-death grip on the pen in your hand as you scribble whatever thoughts or findings race through your beautiful mind. Your eyes, nose, lips, features he desperately wants to run his fingers over, like a man starved of touch.

Jake has had his eye on you ever since Grace had her very first, but certainly not last, rant about how she did not need him. How she needed his brother. You were rolling your eyes behind Grace as she went on her tangent. And to his delight when he was in the canteen later that night, alone and picking at the strange amalgamation of dehydrated meats and vegetables he’s never seen before, you stopped by. Just for a second, just to say words that have played in his mind every night when he lays in his bed, some parts more than others. ‘Hi, we briefly met earlier but I’m (y/n), and unlike Grace, I’m actually happy to have someone who doesn’t have a stick up their ass in the lab with us. And you look like the type of fun I desperately need here.’

And that was it for Jake. He took your words as challenge, as a personal goal of his. Every morning he wheeled himself into the lab, he took it upon himself to act a fool to any extent, if it meant he got a smile from you. Some days he even settled for one of those scoffs of yours you gave when laughing was one of the last things on your mind. And over time, what seemed like months to him but was just weeks in reality, he grew fond of you. And by association, began to dislike the cold of the lab.

-

He tells himself to focus on the video vlog, the camera propped up against random shit he scrounged up on his desk still taping. But he doesn’t care, you take precedence.

“I can hear your teeth all the way from my station.” Jake chimes, eyes still on you as you continue to write. As Jake realises his words went right over your head, he smiles. He’s always admired your ability to lose yourself entirely in whatever you were doing.

He grips the edges of the hoodie he’s wearing, an old tattered grey thing he thinks has lived in his closet for longer than anything else he owns, before pulling it up his chest and over his head. He shakes it out a little to fix the left sleeve before he turns around and wheels himself over to your desk.

“Here.” Jake places the hoodie on your lap, the only available place as he eyes the paper towers stacked all across your desk. He squints at one of the papers near him but doesn’t read further than the title. He doesn’t understand the scientific jargon.

You flinch a little as the material lands in your lap and drop the pen. You look down at the clump of grey, Jake’s hoodie you realise, before turning your head to face him with a confused frown.

“What’s this for?”

Jake throws one of his grins your way that unbeknownst to him give you minor heart palpitations.

“Don’t want my favourite girl catching a cold.” He croons before turning himself back around and heading back to his own desk, heartrate slightly higher. Then again, it doesn’t come as a surprise to him.

He looks back into the camera, but this time not at his reflection. No, he watches as you play with the material of the hoodie for a few seconds before deciding that the ex-marine’s hoodie is probably your best option at staving off the cold. His eyes stay focused on you as you pull the hoodie over your head and down your torso, adjusting the hood of it. And for a second, he swears he sees you nuzzle your nose into the material through the camera’s reflection. His heart kicks up the pace, a small smile filled to the brim with pride not adorning his lips.

And as the low temperatures raise goosebumps on his own arms, he thinks it’s worth it to see you wearing his hoodie.  

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