water rates

A Song Without Words

Author: water_nix

Rating: T

Status: Completed in August 2014

Word Count: 8,521

Summary: While taking a detour on his way home from work, Kurt comes across a music box in the window of an antiques shop and feels compelled to take a closer look.

Tropes/Genre: AU, time travel, supernatural!Klaine, romance, fluff

Lynne’s review: I adore coming across a fic that’s completely outside of the box - this is brilliant! Loved it to bits!

Read at: AO3

The internet glorifies eating disorder recovery. It makes it look like there are girls out there who eat lots (they don’t) and can stay thin. It’s all pint parties and romantic looking hospital trips and being skinny with no visible consequences. Platforms like Instagram do not promote full recovery because to be ‘fully recovered’ would mean, in most cases, leaving the cosy, comfortable Instagram community and going out there and facing the messy reality of life. And that’s not ‘Instagram ready’.

Instagram does not show what life is like 5,10, 15 years down the line. When treatment teams have given up on you, you’re ‘non-compliant’, when going to psychologist/psychiatrist/dietitian/nurse appointments is boring and simply rehashing well worn ground. You’re 25 and sitting in a cold apartment, wishing you could afford pints of B&J’s but all your cash goes on gas and electricity and water rates and toilet roll. You get up, go to work, think of food. Your friends, bless them for trying for so long, have given up; they have travelled, they’ve bought houses, they’re married. You’ve never even had a relationship, never mind walked down the aisle. While those around you start to have babies and worry about sleepless nights, you worry about the calorie difference between cornflakes and cheerios. 

I never thought I’d reach this age and still have my ED. Two seconds ago I was a teenager, a little girl who thought she’d just wake up magically better with a career and money and friends and a husband. I didn’t need to do the therapy, stick to my meal plan, ohhhh no. Then BAM, here I am. 

Listen to me - time flies. It passes so quickly. Don’t believe in the recovery facade. Get out, or at least start climbing that ladder, before you wake up alone with only 8 years worth of meal lists and missed opportunities next to you. 

Dropping Anchor 1/5

SUMMARY: As if returning home penniless and heartbroken isn’t bad enough, the last thing Emma needs is for her mom to get her a job – and for her future boss to pull her out of the harbor before she even knows his name. But Killian Jones has never been afraid of the water…

Rating: M (later)

Ao3 or FF.net 

Oh, look, yet another time I meant to write a one shot and it got completely out of hand. Hope you like it @32variations

I love the photosets @lenfaz made for this (yep, there’s five different ones) and am so happy she offered when she heard about this project! And a big thank you to @evil–isnt–born for beta duties, even if it did earn her odd looks at Starbucks. 

-x-

Being back in Storybrooke is familiar and it should be comforting, but everywhere Emma Swan looks, she sees the bad choices that landed her in this mess.

Broke.

Living with her parents.

Twenty-five and starting completely over.

If only she could go back in time and tell her eighteen year old self that dropping out of college to follow her boyfriend’s band around the country was a terrible idea; that said boyfriend would develop a drug problem, that he would begin stealing to fund his addiction, and that one day she would find herself picking up a payphone – a freaking payphone – to call her father in tears from a truck stop in the middle of Texas with a rapidly swelling dose of reality on her face.

Just over twenty-four hours later, she’s back in her father’s beat up pickup, the scent of cracked leather and gasoline wrapping around her like a childhood blanket. It’s a cool afternoon in Maine, and after the Texas heat, she’s shivering before they’ve even left the airport despite it still – technically – being summer.

And like nothing ever changed, David reaches into the narrow backseat and silently offers her his old flannel coat, his scent mingling with wood smoke on the worn sheepskin lining. Burrowed into the coat, the soft plaid under her nose, it almost seems like maybe coming home is a good idea.

Before her mother’s pursed lips and thinly veiled judgments.

Before the not-so-subtle hints that Emma got herself into this mess and it’s time to be an adult.

Before the humiliating announcement that Mary Margaret called in a favor and got Emma a job before the week is out.

The job is the last straw, and the end of that conversation sees Emma down by the harbor, desperate for a bit of solitude and peace. Her eyes fall shut as she steps onto the dock, the sun warm on her skin. Summer’s lazy days are fading into the golden haze of fall, the brine of the ocean beyond the harbor carrying on the faint breeze. Soon she’ll be able to see her breath like clouds of smoke puffing out in front of her with every step she takes, and the brilliantly bright sun she’s grown accustomed to several latitudes south will give way to the watery, muted light of winter in Maine.

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2

I Love Lucy has been called the most popular television show of all time. Such national devotion to one show can never happen again; there are too many shows on many more channels now. But in 1951-1952, our show changed the Monday-night habits of America. Between nine and nine-thirty, taxis disappeared from the streets of New York. Marshall Fields department store in Chicago hung up a sign: ‘We Love Lucy too, so from now on we will be open Thursday nights instead of Monday.’ Telephone calls across the nation dropped sharply during that half hour, as well as the water flush rate, as whole families sat glued to their seats.”

Sixty-Five Years of I Love Lucy // October 15, 1951

Dropping Anchor 5/5

SUMMARY: As if returning home penniless and heartbroken isn’t bad enough, the last thing Emma needs is for her mom to get her a job – and for her future boss to pull her out of the harbor before she even knows his name. But Killian Jones has never been afraid of the water…

Rating:

Ao3 or FF.net 

-x-

Her nose is cold.

The rest of her is not.

Before she even manages to crack open her eyes, Emma realizes why that is – the storm hasn’t let up, and the logs she threw on the fire hours ago are nearly burned through. The cabin has grown cold, but Emma remains wrapped up tightly in Killian’s arms, their bodies wedged together on the narrow sofa.

They’re going to have to have a discussion about this. Emma. Killian. The things Liam said about her that morning while she sat on the stairs of their home, her skin still tingling with Killian’s touch. Killian driving all the way out here with a blizzard coming just to make sure she’s safe.

The things they said to each other last night – the things she said.

The fact that at some dark hour of the night, she ended up here, in his arms, every inch of their bodies touching despite his vow to be gone in the morning.

It’s morning. He isn’t gone – and she doesn’t want him to be.

Emma nuzzles closer, pressing her cold nose to the warm skin of his neck. The hand at her hip tightens beneath the quilt, and she realizes that at some point during the night, his fingers dipped beneath the waist of her pants, his callused palm resting on bare skin. “Killian?” she whispers, unsure if he’s awake or not.

He doesn’t respond, and she breathes out slowly, somewhat relieved. Awake Killian is bound to want to have that conversation she’s dreading, but asleep, he’s far less threatening. She breathes in slowly, her eyes slipping shut as she relaxes back into the cozy warmth of his body surrounding her. Their legs are twisted together, and the longer she lays in his arms, the more aware she becomes of his thigh between hers.

Telling herself to stop, she tries to go back to sleep, to sink back into the blissfully uncomplicated unconsciousness she’s known for hours – but it doesn’t work. All she can think about is the slide of his skin against hers, and then her hand slips under his shirt, her palm flat over the soft line of hair that disappears beneath his pants.

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3

Does warming water increase or reduce species? It depends on the water…

Climate change can raise water temperatures in habitats around the world and in general scientists had thought that species diversity tended to increase with warmer temperatures. 

But scientists from the universities of Bath and York studying an important group of aquatic crustaceans called the Anomura, which includes hermit crabs, king crabs and squat lobsters, found that warmer waters reduced the rate of speciation - the process leading to new species arising - in marine environments, but increased it in fresh water. 

It’s the first time this has been shown, and suggests there’s no universal rule about how species diversity is affected by warming temperatures. Instead they believe it is likely that responses to climate change are habitat dependent. 


Read the paper

Images: public domain

Dropping Anchor - 3/5

SUMMARY: As if returning home penniless and heartbroken isn’t bad enough, the last thing Emma needs is for her mom to get her a job – and for her future boss to pull her out of the harbor before she even knows his name. But Killian Jones has never been afraid of the water…

Rating: M (later)

Ao3 or FF.net 

A follower appreciation “one shot” for @32variations that got completely out of hand, part 3. 

Everyone can thank @lenfaz  for this delicious photoset which may or may not give away some of the contents of this chapter… 

-x-

Emma pretends the kiss never happened.

It’s easier said than done, her dreams haunted by the memory of his lips and the tempered strength of his hands on her hips, the low noises she drew from him with a shift of her weight and sweep of her tongue. And maybe he knows her well enough not to bring it up, to go along with her obvious intentions to not discuss it – and not let it happen again.

Still, there’s something different in the weight of his eyes on her, something that makes her breath catch and her belly burn – and makes her wonder if he’s just biding his time, waiting for her self-control to inevitably fail.

But it also draws Liam’s attention, and big brother does not appear happy. Not one bit.

So Emma steers clear of the two of them, keeping her head down and her hands occupied. There are a few terse conversations between the two elder Jones brothers that Emma pretends not to see, pretends not to notice when Killian’s lips flatten with anger and his eyes still seek her out.

Emma does a lot of pretending.

It’s the youngest of the brothers who catches her on her way out of the bar a few days before Halloween. He looks like he’s up to something, and Emma can’t help her curiosity as she turns to give him her attention.

“Tomorrow night we’re going to carve all the pumpkins for the bar. It’s a tradition,” he explains, gesturing around the place. Killian – at least Emma suspects it was Killian – has already strung up some orange twinkle lights and fake spider webs, and there are a few pumpkins scattered about, but no jack-o’-lanterns. The place has a festive vibe going for it, but Emma has been too caught up in her own thoughts to notice until Liam points it out.

“I’m not really good at that,” Emma hedges, shoving her hands in her jacket pockets and fighting the urge to fidget. It’s not a lie, but the truth is that she doesn’t want to be caught in close quarters with the older brothers.

“Please? It’s just me and Killian. Liam is going to be at the bar.” His expression doesn’t so much as flicker, but as Emma stares at him, the very tips of his ears begin to turn red. 

“You know there’s nothing…Killian and I…we’re not…” She waves her hands, helpless when confronted with the actual words. They’re not, but why is it so hard to just say so? “I’m not sure it’s a good idea for me to come,” she finally says, firmly shoving her hands back in her pockets.

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||❥ cold water, rated; M

w o o z i ! s c e n a r i o

b a s e b a l l ! a u                                                   

words; 19.8k

genre; hahaha u know some fluff, smut, tears??

synopsis; a very lengthy story regarding the school’s most talented baseball player and you, his precious girlfriend, surviving the year based on a promise and many… interesting events to come;)  


A chilly breeze swept crinkly brown leaves across the grass and onto the rippling sheet of water before you, the air crisp yet dry as the months got colder. Goosebumps began to prick along your skin, a sudden shiver trickling down your spine and forcing you to wrap the thin jacket you were wearing even tighter against your body. 

The ground felt lumpy and some grass patches had not yet defrosted their morning sheen. You were never a fan of the cold, though it did give you an excuse to wear oversized sweaters and thick, fluffy socks. But today, you were without both of those things, the tip of your nose slowly turning more numb by the second.

When is he getting here? You grumbled inside your head, an impatient huff of air pushing from your lungs. Around 15 minutes had passed since you arrived at the lake and he was still a no show.

The school is right around the corner, you cast a glance over your shoulder, the only sight being a lady bundled in a red coat walking her dog, if he doesn’t show soon then I’m gonna spilt. You turned back to face the lake, the silvery glaze of water reflecting the sturdy willow trees that dotted along the shoreline. Another shiver rushed down your back at the thought of how cold the water must be, it’s icy currents nipping and swirling around your delicate flesh. Subconsciously you started to grind your teeth.

Almost any body of water made you uncomfortable, and when you were left alone with your bustling thoughts, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about how awful it would be to get sucked underneath the liquid surface, all the breath being ripped from your lungs as your limbs thrashed wildly through a darkening abyss. Your own heart beat began to quicken, eyes unable to look away from the sight in front of you.

If it weren’t for the hand that slowly slid over your shoulder, you might have pushed yourself crazy, a slight gasp escaping your lips as you turned to see who disrupted you. An immediate warmth flushed through your body at seeing his gummy smile, the pearly glow of his teeth almost too bright for your widening eyes.

“Sorry I was late, the line for hot chocolate was long as fuck.” A vibrant laugh rumbled in your chest, the rich smell of the steaming drink in his hands causing you to inhale a deep breath. You felt nothing but a tingly warmth when you took the cup from his grip, the bitterness to your fingers now fizzing away until you could fully sense their movement. He shuffled beside you and adjusted the hood over his baseball cap, his glossy eyes reflecting the sheen of the water.

“I was gonna cuss you out for being late but since you brought me hot chocolate, I’ll let it slide, Jihoon.” His crackly laugh almost warmed your heart more than the smooth velvet sliding down your throat, a satisfied exhale of air leaving your lips to fade into the parched air.

“But baby, you’re so cute when you’re mad.” He sang, his fingers coming to pinch the flushed skin of your cheek. You were expressionless as Jihoon grinned at you, his eyes falling to crescent moons at your tasteless response. A snarky comeback was ready to fire from your tongue, but a sneeze beat you to it, Jihoon’s hand snapping away from your face as your upper body jolted forward.

“Thanks for the warning.” You were lucky you pressed the lid over your hot chocolate before you took your first sip, because you may have spilt the broiling liquid all over your lap. Maybe then you wouldn’t have to worry about the cold, but it didn’t seem too worth it to scald yourself in the process. After fishing around in your pocket for a tissue, Jihoon began to unzip his much thicker black jacket, a heavenly warmth suddenly covering your back and around your shoulders.

“You dork,” you hissed as Jihoon scooted closer to you, now reduced to a hoodie, “you’ll freeze.” His arm slipped around your waist while he took a long gulp of his hot chocolate, clearly unbothered by the cold. Before you could nip in with another retort, Jihoon nuzzled his lips against your cheek and placed continuous splotches of kisses, and though you wanted to further pester him about why he shouldn’t always be giving you his jacket, you were finding it difficult through the ear to ear grin that was forcing its way across your lips.

“Well you’re already freezing, now shut up and drink your hot chocolate. I spent more than I wanted to on it.” And just like the flip of a light switch, Jihoon was back to his snappish ways, though you knew there was nothing but affection behind it. Stifling the grin and intense butterflies that tickled the inside of your stomach, you returned to finishing your hot chocolate rich with flavour and warmth, enjoying every minute of it before school started. As you were getting ready to leave the lake, Jihoon tossed your cups out in a nearby garbage and proceeded to stretch his arms high above his head, a tiny whine escaping his lips.

“So, will you let me teach you to swim this summer?” Jihoon asked with a soft glow in his eyes, your hand instinctively reaching for his on your way along the sidewalk. While rubbing your thumb over his milky skin, you cast a look towards the cracked cement and shook your head, every single one of your worries weighing you down like lead.

“I don’t think so.”

“Seriously? I’ve been asking since forever, you know I won’t let you drown, right?” Jihoon replied in a longing tone. He felt a slight sting at the thought you didn’t trust him enough, he knew full heartedly he would never let anything bad happen to you, after all you were the one he loved. Your jaw tightened and your lips pressed into a thin line, nothing but images of swirling water sucking and dragging things under its dark blue surface making you stumble on your words.

“I-I, know… It’s just, I don’t think I can do it, I’ll suck.” The school started peaking into view, the final bus slowly rolling away from the curb after a swarm of grumpy looking students stepped off. Jihoon’s grip momentarily tightened on your palm, a light sigh heaving past his pink lips.

“You won’t suck, it just takes some adjusting, some getting use to.” He mumbled. Eventually you both came to a halt near the entrance to the school, Jihoon’s jacket still heavy on your shoulders. Your morning classes were different, so you had to get your goodbye over with. After regretfully returning Jihoon’s jacket, his hand slid around your waist and he smoothly tugged you close to him, his tongue slowly licking the plump flesh of his lower lip. 

Your fingers took purchase in the sleek material of Jihoon’s coat, the fabric slightly balling in your grip when his warm palms delicately cupped your cheeks. The top of your head lightly pushed up his baseball cap during your sweet and slow tempo kiss, the only taste being the chocolaty flavour of your past drink. It was hard to pull away from his encompassing warmth, even when your kiss was interrupted by the loud cheering of Jihoon’s name, his friends from the baseball team clapping loudly for him.

The bubbling fire in your stomach still blazed when you both shared a breathy chuckle, his forehead resting against yours so he could admire the depth of your glittery eyes. Jihoon’s thumbs affectionately brushed against your now heated cheeks, the kitty curl to his lips growing wider when his friends continued to shout for him.

“I’m pretty sure I gotta go,” he sighed while you returned his stare, “but I’m not dropping the swimming thing.” You snickered as Jihoon placed one final peck on the tip of your nose, your hands coming to fold together in the warmth of your thin jacket. When he began to move away from you, you swallowed the lump in your throat and called out to him,

“If you guys make it to the championships this summer, I promise i’ll let you teach me how to swim!” You never thought the words would leave the tip of your tongue, yet here you were, standing in the bitter breeze with your toes about to fall off, putting one of your biggest fears in the hands of your boyfriend’s baseball team. Jihoon turned around while still shuffling backwards, his fingers coming to adjust the black cap on his head,

“Piece of cake, baby.” He chimed, his little smirk making you bite the inside of your cheek and cast a shy glance towards the brick wall. You were sure you’d just screwed yourself, Jihoon’s team didn’t whip baseballs out in fields of wispy snow for the hell of it. They loved to win, and you were positive you were going to lose.

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Watering a pothos ‘marble queen’: a thoroughly watered plant has firm, bouncy foliage. Once leaves are restored to their perky state, it’s best to get rid of excess drainage water; this applies mostly to tropical foliage plants. Low light = low rate of photosynthesis; thus, low rate of water usage. If this left over water isn’t used up quick enough, several things may happen: water-borne organisms can multiply and cause root rot, cells in the leaves rupture and cause leaf tips to turn dark brown (as opposed to light brown and crispy), fungus gnats breed, etc. Best solution: brighter light! #pothos #pothosmarblequeen #houseplanttips #houseplants #indoorplants #houseplantsofinstagram #plantsmakepeoplehappy #plantlove #plantlife #plantsofinstagram #plantstagram #botanical #botany #greenery #foliage #leaflove #leaf #urbanjunglebloggers

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Dropping Anchor 4/5

SUMMARY: As if returning home penniless and heartbroken isn’t bad enough, the last thing Emma needs is for her mom to get her a job – and for her future boss to pull her out of the harbor before she even knows his name. But Killian Jones has never been afraid of the water…

Rating: M (later)

Ao3 or FF.net 

A follower appreciation “one shot” for @32variations that got completely out of hand, part 4. (There is a part 6 which is a Liam piece for @lenfaz​ who also made the wonderful photoset.)

-x-

Emma is somewhere between waking and sleeping, her eyes unfocused on the ceiling timbers as she lies on the couch. Other than occasionally getting up to feed the wood stove, she hasn’t really moved all day.

It’s easier to stay in the haze of exhaustion than it is to blink her eyes in the watery winter light flooding through the windows. She’ll have to deal with it all eventually – someone is bound to show up looking for her – but for now, letting her hurts wrap around her and shelter her from reality takes less effort.

At the very least, the fire is going to need more wood shortly. She should go to the store too since she doesn’t plan to go back to Storybrooke anytime soon – she’s burned through the meager supply of soup and popcorn left in the pantry. There were a few things left in the freezer, but Emma threw them out when she first arrived, unsure if the power had gone in and out.

She’s almost worked up the energy to get off the couch when the sound of gravel crunching draws her bolt upright. God dammit, Ruby, she thinks sourly, pushing her snarled hair off her face. She was hoping she would have at least a few more days before her friend showed up to drag her back, but it looks like she’s out of luck.

The knock on the door surprises her – Ruby has a key and isn’t shy about using it. “Forget your key?” Emma shouts, lurching to her feet and padding across the floor, grateful for the pair of wool socks she found in the bedroom. “I should leave you out there!”

“Aye, probably, but I’m hoping you won’t.” His voice is muffled by the door, but she can hear the exhaustion in it. And she honestly debates leaving him outside, but Killian is a stubborn man – she’s witnessed him engaged in a battle of wills too many times not to know it – and she doesn’t want to be responsible for him getting sick from the cold.

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ok i had a dumb convo w @cherryandsisters and here we are

Title: In Lieu of Holy Water (Rated T)

Pairing: Solangelo

Summary: 

“Will, what do you think of religion?” he asks. Nico’s not actively religious, but still considers what little semblance of Catholicism he holds onto as important. He doesn’t really care what Will is or what he does or doesn’t believe in, he just really wants to know.

Will seems surprised but not off put by his inquiry. “Hmm,” he considers, wrapping and unwrapping his blistered hands with a loose strip of gauze. “I guess I’ve always been into Satan, you know?”

Nico looks at the camera, appearing distinctly horrified. “I- I don’t know what I was expecting. Mostly atheist, but maybe orthodox or- or Christian- or even Jewish but… I never expected this.”

Read on Ao3

Willpower Butch Reviews: “Swiss Army Man”

There are times when history demands that its braves stand up for the liberty and morality of their civilizations. These cultural sentinels – these Manly Men – must be prepared to sacrifice life and sanity to fight evil from within. They must pass up the buttermilk of polite society for the flavored water of second-rate bistros. It falls to them, these soldiers who measure their courage in arrest warrants, to dick around in lewd squalor that their heartlands might remain a presidium. With this manful purpose in mind, Paragon Shag and I switched on the Discovery Channel the other night to watch a true crime documentary about infamous bus pervert Paula Dano and his Vegas wedding to Harry “Too Much Pot”-ter. And in so doing, we realized – to our horror – that our previous investigations had merely scratched the surface on what sexual misdeeds gays will perpetrate in order to obtain genuine Caribbean bath salts.

The film begins, as most backwoods erotica does, with a disgraced cruise ship doctor committing suicide on the beach. He is distracted by the appearance of a former child star with an expensive-looking belt. After stealing said belt and appraising his posterior, Dano manipulates Daniel Radcliffe into homoerotically jet skiing them back to Santa Monica, where they drink blue whales in an abandoned drug cavern until Radcliffe regains his capacity for speech. There, they develop a feminist critique of Playboy Magazine and call for the Cat in the Hat to be recognized as gender-queer – an affair that occupies an hour of screen time and involves a naked bonfire of Americana souvenirs – before engaging in the most shocking acts of nihilistic sex since The Children’s Hour. But the materialism of The Gay knows no bounds. Not satisfied with Radcliffe’s compliance, Dano takes a final plunge into inhuman effeminacy and shaves off his beard, and his true intent is revealed: to steal the Matrix property by framing Lana Wachowski for debauching Harry Potter in Dick Cheney’s murder forest. To this end, the pair initiate a crimewave that sweeps the Southwest: an epidemic of folk dancing and street art conducted by lady-drink-drunk Fantastic Mr. Fox cosplayers… an affront on public morals which rages for weeks until Dano is caught cheating on Radcliffe with a ‘bear,’ and the Left’s sympathies for him dissipate subsequently.

Paula Dano walks the runway as his drag character, Swiss Miss.

For those who may be curious, the film is titled Swiss Army Man in reference to the scene where Dano strips Radcliffe down to his purple combat boots and force-feeds him expired truffles. And that is precisely the sort of molestation one feels upon viewing this picture. Visually, one is gorged on the tasteless pulverizations of a hippie lifestyle. And the film itself, which serves as a manifesto for communal pot farming, offends not only one’s sense of art: far the most disturbing aspect is watching a respectable young English boy transform into a gay American. As for Paula Dano, there is in his presence an overpowering and lasciviously erotic charisma. Yesterday, Paragon Shag had the opportunity to interview him where he lives, in a shanty constructed of Greek funerary steles and rainbow scotch tape. As he approached the den of the lounge lizard, Dano sauntered out dressed in nothing a hemp anklet and a T-shirt dress made of recycled tulle. “Reclaim Myrna Loy” was written across his forehead in ash.  

Dano regarded Shag from head to toe, biting his lip, before he exclaimed, “I knew my motel flyers were working!” He then rushed forward and wrapped Shag in his embrace. “We’ll start a revolution, you and me. Just believe it.”

“That isn’t why I’m here,” Paragon Shag leapt backward into a fake Kung Fu pose. Dejection flickered across Dano’s face. “Homosexromancy, farting, discount vodka… What is your purpose in offending God like this?”

“Ah, so that’s why you came.” The gay looked down for a moment. “You know, since my indie band failed, homoeroticism is all I have.”

“A matter of personal gain, then, and damned be the consequences?” Seemingly puzzled, Dano asked what consequences Shag could possibly mean. “Does it not bother you, seeing all the hipsters on the news citing your film as an inspiration for their crimes?”

“No, I’m, like, gladdened by how many people have blacked out in cherry mojito-fueled bar fights because of me,” he responded, brushing his thigh against Paragon Shag’s. “I know I’m just an actress, but, um, that feels great, seeing how many children I’ve helped turn against the law. I’m like the Winona Ryder of the new generation!”

Naturally, Shag was appalled. Could it be that Paula Dano has no moral compass whatsoever? Is he truly the leg fetish Satan that he appears to be?

Dano smiled slyly. “It’s worth breaking your rules when you’re trying to get what you want. Like how necromancers use sodomy to raise the dead, and that’s why it’s legal in the military now.” He leaned in then to whisper into Shag’s ear, tracing his neck with his coffee-stir fingers. “That’s, like, part of the take-away you’re supposed to take from Swiss Army Womyn.”

And this, readers and concerned citizens, is the evil we face today: a culture of addressing all of one’s romantic, financial, and personal difficulties by becoming militantly gay, and then going to live in a forest to smoke pot and fart. If the Manly Men do not stand against it, who will?

ABOUT THE AUTHORS

Admiral Willpower Butch, the esteemed first viceroy of the Society for the Gentrification of Brunch, has made a reputation for himself in recent years by misusing corporate letterhead for the betterment of mankind. His friend and sometime-Catholic wafer salesman, the discernably ungay Paragon Shag, will never forgive 1997 for what it did to Tom Selleck. Their new secretary, Dead Summer Days, looks suspiciously like their old secretary in a false mustache.

According to studies by the IISc, rapid urbanisation and expansion between 1973 and 2016 caused a 1005% increase in paved surfaces and decline of 88% in Bangalore’s vegetation, while water bodies declined by 85% between 2000 and 2014. In the next three years, if the same rate of development continues, the built up area in the city is expected to increase from 77% to 93%, with a vegetation cover of a mere 3%.
—  Deepa Bhasthi, ‘City of burning lakes: experts fear Bangalore will be uninhabitable by 2025’, The Guardian  
Bloodlust~ [Got7] (Prologue)

Hey! This is just a snippet of a little series I am starting because like I’m thirsty af for these boys like seriously excuse me for thinking up this fuckery I need to like go bathe in holy water.

Rating: M (For smut in future chapters)

Genre: Vampire!Au

Characters: Jaebum (Got7 in future chapters)

~Enjoy my fuckery :)~


‘Focus. Just focus. Relax and breath focus on nothing else.’ 

I closed my eyes and sniffed the air smelling blood but not animal blood like I thought I would smell, but something purer. Human blood. The smell of a young woman, her scent was probably coming from the nearby town. God, she smelled so heavenly I just needed to find her.

When I arrived at the town her scent became stronger making my throat go dry, then I saw her. There she was hands bound dressed in raggedy clothing on a stand with a man gripping her hair harshly and there were a number of men yelling out prices. He was bidding her…..as if she were a prized piece of meat at a slaughterhouse. Yet she was even more beautiful than I imagined, her dark brown hair fell upon her face almost shielding her gorgeous maroon eyes, as her milky skin glowed in the moonlight almost as if it were reflecting it. 

“Like I told all of you I save the best for last, now tell us, pretty girl, what’s your name?” The man pulled at her hair harshly revealing her neck to the crowd of howling men, this caused my breath to hitch.

“M-my name is Lilly.” She choked without even a small hint of fear in her voice. 

“Hmmm, such a pretty name.” The man hummed in response causing Lilly’s face to twist in disgust. “So which one of you men wants this pretty lass, eh!?” And with that, the men started howling and shouting prices again, I knew this just had to stop. With that, I stormed up to the stand and dropped a bag full of shillings in front of the man and the woman, the woman looked at me wide eyed and shocked while a menacing grin pulled at the man’s face.

“Very well then…” He chuckled lowly. “Sold…. to rich man over here, enjoy your prize.” He then cut her restraints with his pocket knife and threw her off the stand at my feet, she looked weak and frail.“Get out of here that’s it for today! Go on your heard me you rascals!” I was then left alone with the women laying there at my feet, she was unconscious. I took her bridal style in my arms and stared at her for a second listening to the sound of her breathing and watching her chest slowly rise and fall, hating the way her skin felt so soft in my hands. Even though her eyes were closed I felt as if they were burning into me pulling all my unholy thoughts from my mind.         

‘How soft and plump her breast must feel, her moans and whimpers as I caress her body, her plump lips hallowed and wrapped around my dick, how tight her walls would feel around my hard cock as I sink my teeth into her soft flesh drinking her delicious blood as fuck her senseless……’ 

I shake my head and decide to push these thoughts to the back of my mind and start off back into the woods where my mansion sits, after all, I haven’t even gotten to know this woman yet. But monsters like me don’t really get to know their prey before they pounce, but this time is different, for now, I want to protect her. She slightly shifts in my arms attempting to move closer to my chest, I smirk before leaning close to her ear my breath ghosting over it to deliver a quiet whisper I know she won’t hear.

“Do not fret love my name is Jaebum and for now, I am taking care of you…..for now you are mine….”

Is aquarium water supposed to have a (faint) smell?

Like, I have 0/0/40 Ammonia/Nitrite/Nitrate (we’ve got 40ppm nitrate coming ouf of our tap… long story. Authorities have been alerted, RO filter is arriving today, thank you API for making me aware of the contaminants in my drinking water!)

The inverts appear to be thriving, they’re active and are eating, mating, etc.

The plants are more than thriving. I think I have 8x the biomass from what I had bought, two months later. I guess it helps that we’ve got nitrates in the water, eh? At this rate, I’ll be trimming them and giving away the clippings in another month or two.

However, the water has a slight smell to it. Not rotten or pungent, or anything like that. But it’s definitely there. It smells like a river, in a way. I grew up swimming in a small slow river every summer, and that’s what the tank smell reminds me of.

I assume this is to be expected, since I’m maintaining a freshwater ecosystem in there, but I just thought I’d ask.

Tagging @aquariadise and @happyscales because they’ve been super helpful in the past. Sorry to bug you!