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reve-writes · 11 months

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—the 1; leon kennedy.

ʚ leon kennedy x reader | resident evil | 2k words. ʚ based on taylor swift's the 1. | you've requested for backup on a mission. the backup happens to be your ex-boyfriend, agent leon kennedy, whom you're not really over. ʚ exes-to-lovers (kind of); fluff; some injuries because it's re; profanity. ʚ a/n this fic came to be because i'mmissing my ukulele and the 1 was one of the first songs i learned on it. you can tell i suck at ending my fics nasjkgnajgnwr

You have requested for backup.

All of this zombie-slaying, information-hunting activity is usually not a walk in the park, but this mission is harsher than usual, taking everything out of you and then some. You fear that you may be flying home in a zipped-up plastic bag or worse, no homecoming at all. Lost in some city, a couple hours of chopper ride away from your cozy apartment—a terrible way to go.

Hunnigan's screen-lit face appears on your handheld device. You can hear the clack clack clack of a keyboard as she types away.

“Okay, you're not going to like this.” Her voice sounds through your in-ear.

“I don't like a lot of things.”

“He's the only agent available in the area,” she says slowly, as if she's weaving her way through a broken glass path. “I know your... history, but he's the only one who can help at the moment.”

“Okay, I take it back,” you protest. “I'll be fine without backup, Hunnigan. Don't—”

“Good luck.”

Her line goes down and you're left staring at an empty screen. Cursing under your breath, you're already attempting to connect back into the line, only to be answered by the constant tut tut of an answered call.

You're hunkering down inside an abandoned supermarket. Most of the townspeople are too bloodthirsty to care for a pack of Snickers and a can of Sprite. You're sitting on the ground, back leaning against the check-out counter. Faint moonlight trickles through the glass door as you sit in silent, pondering.

Is he really coming?

You are mature enough to handle the break up and the painstaking move out process (although you still have a jacket left at his place that you're too reluctant to grab). You don't think you can handle a whole mission with him, despite it having been over four months since the fateful 'it's over.'

You aren't mature enough to see him—afraid that it will have you reconsidering if walking out was a good idea (as much as you wanted to stay when he pulled the plug). Besides, he is tangled up with a past lover-turned-enemy and world-ending catastrophe. You're also busy with your own missions and your fair share of bioweapon disasters. Schedules clash, this was inevitable.

Fifteen minutes passed before you even attempt to contact Hunnigan once more. Her pixelated face reappears as usual.

“His ETA?” You finally ask. Beggars can't be choosers, and right now you're practically on your knees, pleading.

“Ten minutes,” she replies. “Stay put. He's been directed there.”

“Great,” you grumble. “Can't wait.”

Hunnigan sighs. “Keep me updated.”

With a click, the line is disconnected and you're left on your lonesome once again. Not for long, you assume, since apparently your former lover, Agent Kennedy is joining you soon.

God, what do you even say to him?

“Hey.”

“Jesus!” He jumps, not expecting you to be so close to the entrance door. “Hey.”

He stares at you, his flashlight blinding your eyes as he shines it in your direction. You use your hand to block some of the lights, still sitting with one of your knees bent, back pressed against the cashier counter.

He hasn't changed much since the last time you saw him. Same broad shoulders. Same dirty blond mop of hair with bangs that get into his eyes every so often. You once took the opportunity to tie his bangs up into a miniature ponytail that stuck up like a sprout on his head. He's also wearing the black leather jacket you helped him pick out. Too many memories, threads of your life too tangled to pull apart.

“Nice trip?” You want to recoil into yourself as you make small talk. It feels strange—you know him too well for this idle chat. At least, you used to. He switches off his flashlight, moving to investigate the supermarket you're sheltered in.

Leon's expression doesn't betray any emotion. Just the furrowed set of his eyebrow and thin line formed by his lips. You wonder if he has thought about you as much as you have him in the past few months.

“Yeah. Like going on a vacation,” he replies, pressing a button on the cash register which ejects the cash drawer. A loud ding sounds and somewhere outside a loud growl answers. “We should find somewhere safer. Let's rest up and make our move in the morning.”

“The managerial office is in the back,” you suggest. “Should be safe enough.”

It is safe but also somewhat cramped for two adults. A square room with one small window, a desk paired with a chair and a couch that takes up most of the space. Leon locks the door behind you as you settle on the carpeted floor, leaning back on the couch. You're so tired, having run around the infected city chasing tips that go up in smoke the closer you think you're getting.

“You okay?” Leon asks, coming to sit cross-legged across from you. Your ankle almost grazes his knees as he leans back on the wall. What a small room.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“You did ask for backup.”

Sighing, you withdraw one of your legs, unzipping your boots and twisting your ankles, hissing when you feel a sharp pain. “I fucked up my leg running. Also got some minor cuts. I wanted backup in case I couldn't walk tomorrow.”

Leon's gloved hand is already reaching for your bruised ankle, but he stops before skin contacts skin. “Can I?”

“You don't have to. It's not as bad as it looks.”

“I know what a sprained ankle looks like,” he mutters. “Wait here.”

With that, he's gone and you let out a huge sigh of relief. You don't even realise how much his presence has compressed the air in your lungs until the moment he leaves. You should've just sucked it up and gone solo as you were supposed to. Does he share the same sentiment? Is he wishing that he is somewhere kicking his feet up and having tropical drinks instead of a dingy, abandoned supermarket with you?

Before you can dwell too long, the door reopens and Leon slips inside with an armful of knick-knacks. Bandages, snacks, bottled water and a half-melted ice pack. He spills them onto the floor and sits closer to you, bright blues staring at the swelling near your heel.

“Let me help,” he says.

Stubbornly, you shake your head. “I can do it myself.”

He calls your name for the first time in months and your heart feels like it's been jump-started to life—obnoxiously beating inside your ribcage.

“Yeah. Fine. Whatever,” you splutter. Gloved hands move to massage your foot, twisting your ankle so heartlessly you're hissing and hitting the floor with your fist. “Leon, what the fuck?”

“It will feel better,” he reassures and you hate when his reassurance works. His voice so suggestive it practically hypnotises you. You hope, for your sake, he never finds out the effect he has on you. In an attempt for distraction, he asks, “How have you been?”

“Excellent,” you hiss out. “Caught up with work, but I've been good. What about you?”

You half-wish that he hasn't been good, perhaps he drinks a little too much on some nights to forget you. You know you've been drinking a lot more since he left.

His eyes occasionally dart from your leg to your face as he continues rolling your ankle. “That's... good. I've been good, too.”

“I've been picking up new hobbies, too,” you continue. “Tried Wushu. I may return for more lessons after this.”

You don't tell him that on the first class you attended, there was a blue-eyed, blond-haired man who looked so much like him. You accidentally called the man Leon—which led to an awkward conversation you don't care to recall. You also don't tell him that you see glimpses of him in your peripherals as you go about your day.

“We planned to sign up together, but never got around to,” he muses.

That sentence encapsulates how your relationship went in the last couple of months before it ended. Spoken plans with no execution. Promises left hanging. Apologetic voicemails. Cancelled reservations.

Yet, despite it all, you and him were something great. You were mission partners-turned-friends-turned-lovers. You worked together so well, your chemistry was off the charts. Sometimes he knew what you were going to do before you did. It's ironic that the missions that brought you together is also the one that drove you apart.

“We should have.”

If you're a better person, you would have left well enough alone and ceased following the trail going down the reminiscence rabbit hole.

However, you are not.

He hums—a nonscandalous response that doesn't lead you further towards or away from the hungry monster that is nostalgia. His hands stop their ministrations, finally leaving your ankle alone and then grabs a roll of elastic bandage and starts wrapping them around the swelling.

“Heard you went on a date with... Angela, wasn't it?” You are poking a sleeping bear with a stick.

“Wasn't a date,” he clarifies—he knows doesn't have to, but there's a nagging feeling that won't leave you with the misunderstanding. “We're old friends.”

“Do you think we can still—” You swallow. One last chance to stop running your mouth, but you don't take the opportunity, carrying on foolishly, like an insect falling into a pitcher plant. “—sign up for the classes together?”

You just can't let what died rest in peace, just have to pull out your shovel to dig and poke at the dried earth. He doesn't realise but he pulls a little too hard on the bandage and you're swatting his arm, hissing.

“You're cutting off my circulation,” you protest.

“Sorry,” Leon sighs, undoing the bandage before rewrapping your ankle with a clean one. There's a deep set of frown on his face. It prompts you to immediately apologise.

“I shouldn't have asked,” you say. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologise.” He delicately secures the bandage and presses the melting ice pack onto your wrapped ankle.

You have one leg bent while the sprained one lies limp on the floor. You press your chin on your knee. “Thanks.”

“You should be able to walk it off in the morning,” says Leon. “You can have the couch. Get some rest. I'll keep watch.”

You express your gratitude once again as you pull yourself up, not moving your ice-compressed ankle too much as you sink into the soft cushions. “Good night, Leon.”

Leon pulls the chair out from behind the desk and sets it down next to the couch. He thinks you're asleep, but you suddenly call out to him and as much as he wants to pretend he doesn't hear you, he can't.

“Rest,” he orders.

“Do you think if—”

“Let's drop the what ifs,” he stubbornly interrupts.

However, you're just as stubborn as he is. Why else were you such a fitting pair? “I really thought you were it, you know, the one.”

Leon remembers walking out of his apartment after dropping the all-ending line. An argument over something not-so significant, but past small events kept being dogpiled on top of one another until it turned into you raising your voice and him being defensive. Each step out of the living room felt like shedding a part of himself. The empty drawers you left still remain unfilled to this day. He only sleeps on his side of the bed, even though yours has been cold for months.

“Get some rest.”

It's too late. The flood gate has been opened and everything is spilling over. You're too thick-skulled to quit now, choosing to drown if you have to.

“If I hadn't taken the job, would it be different?”

Leon stares at you, lips parting slightly, brow furrowed in confusion.

“It wasn't—”

“Don't give me that,” you interrupt. Your voice turns mocking. “It wasn't you, it was me. Yeah, right.”

“Why'd you think it was you?”

“I think it was both of us. I was just wondering if we could've done something.”

He lets himself be pulled under, too. A flood of repressed emotions he drowned by scraping the bottom of liquor suddenly comes up for air and he's already asking you, “Is it too late now?”

You move to sit up on the couch, facing him. “You tell me. What do you think, Leon?”

“I think I might've made a mistake, leaving.”

“We can fix that.”

[ ]

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #—ki writes 🍯

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suzukiblu · 7 months

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More omega Clark and hungry!Kon for @qwertynerd97, whose priorities are obviously Correct, haha.

Clark finishes the dishes and checks in on Jon. He helps him out a bit with the book report he's working on and doesn't think about how Kon has never once asked for help with his own homework but was literally terrified the first time he brought home a bad grade on a test. Clark's tried to offer before and knows Lois has too, but Kon always says he's fine.

Always says it nervously, too.

And Clark just doesn't want to push him. Who knows how Lex made the kid feel about needing help or making mistakes or just trying to learn anything that hadn't been forcibly uploaded into his brain? He can't imagine it was ever anything good, given Lex's constant lack of patience for anyone he thinks isn't keeping up with him. Never mind that Kon's a pup; Lex would've expected immediate perfection from him anyway. Especially from a pup with his own DNA.

So it's no wonder Kon doesn't want to learn or make mistakes in front of them. No wonder he's afraid to bring home a bad test. No wonder . . .

No wonder a lot of things, honestly.

Lois takes a break from her article to put away the clean dishes and rant about shitty ethics in local building projects and corrupt council members and also the restrictions of MLA format while Jon giggles into his homework. Clark makes sympathetic noises and tries not to laugh.

Kon stays in his room and doesn't make a single sound. Clark can't even hear him tapping at his phone screen or playing anything on his handheld. Doesn't even hear him shifting around or his breathing settling into sleep. He's just lying there awake and away, doing absolutely nothing.

Though he might still be crying.

Clark's chest hurts–in more ways than one–and he wonders why Kon would rather hide in his room in perfect, motionless silence than be out here with the rest of them.

He can't help feeling like it's his own fault. Like if he weren't here making Kon think about all the things he doesn't want to talk about, Kon would be tagging after Lois in the kitchen or distracting Jon from his report or just . . . something. Anything.

Even just sitting quietly on the couch instead of curled up all alone in his room.

Jon finishes his report, and Lois eyes the freezer speculatively.

"Dessert?" she suggests. "I think we all deserve ice cream tonight."

"Do we?" Clark asks, amused.

"Well, Jon and I do, Smallville," Lois replies with a smirk. "But we'll share with you and Kon, because we're such good packmates like that."

"Oh, both top three at least," Clark agrees with a laugh, then sweeps back into the kitchen and wraps his arms around Lois to give her a peck on the cheek. She rubs the scent glands in her wrists across the ones in his neck and smirks up at him again, and Jon delightedly takes the excuse to worm in-between them and get himself scented too.

Clark tries not to concentrate on the fact Kon isn't in here doing the same thing and reminds himself that they need to not push him; that they need to give him space and time and let him come to them. Lex did nothing but push the kid, always demanding something else from him, always demanding more from him, and he absolutely despises the idea of ever, ever treating him a thing like Lex did.

He just can't do that to him.

How could he?

He wants to scent Kon so badly–even more than he wants to nurse him, honestly–but Kon always stays back just out of reach, and stepping into his carefully-established personal space just seems like too much. Too invasive, too disrespectful, too . . . pushy.

Once or twice, when they've responded to disasters or accidents together, Kon had wound up in his arms for one reason or another, and it hadn't ever been any kind of purposeful scenting, but . . .

Clark had liked it. Felt soothed by it.

And then they'd gone home and Kon had rushed straight into the shower and hadn't come out 'til he'd scrubbed through half a bar of soap, and Clark had barely been able to hold himself back from scenting him deliberately.

"Go get your brother," Lois tells Jon as she gives him a last scruffing, then gives Clark a quick nuzzle before heading to the freezer. He goes for the bowls and spoons, and Jon runs off to knock on Kon's door. Clark tries not to eavesdrop, but at this distance . . .

"Kon!" Jon calls, and Clark hears a very, very quiet shifting that might be Kon sitting up, or might be him curling up into a ball, or might . . . "We're having ice cream, do you want some?"

"Not hungry," Kon says, short and blunt. Jon wilts a little, then puffs himself back up.

"It's ice cream, you don't have to be hungry!" he exclaims. Clark very badly wants to get down a fourth bowl, but . . .

Kon is odd about sweet things, sometimes. Clark's pretty sure he likes them, but sometimes he seems to get upset when he eats them or only takes a bite or two and then runs off with another weak excuse.

Clark isn't sure if that's something else to blame Lex for, or . . .

Omega milk is sweet, is the thing.

And sometimes Kon seems to get upset when he eats sweet things.

Clark doesn't know if the taste is reminding him of whatever's putting him off Clark's milk or is making him miss Lex's milk or who knows what, but . . .

But it's just hard not to think about it, sometimes.

"Not hungry," Kon repeats, and Clark hears him just barely shift his weight against his mattress. Kon never nests or burrows or even messes up his bed that much, but Clark can't help but picture him hiding from them in it; picture him feeling unsafe, and unwilling to leave the only place in the apartment that smells that much like it's his, even if he's never deliberately scented it as his. Can't help remembering the awful sound of that single hitched sob, and, worse, Kon's stuttered heartbeat and held breath after it. Kon's obvious fear that he'd been heard, and whatever he'd thought that might mean.

Clark doesn't even want to think about what Lex would've done if he'd ever caught the kid crying. His custom-designed "Superman" who hadn't come out the way he'd wanted, who hadn't been as unbeatably powerful as he'd wanted him to be, who hadn't been as impossibly perfect as he'd wanted him to be. Who hadn't been something he could just push a button to control like one of his machines.

Who he hadn't even fucking named.

No. Clark really, really doesn't want to think about what Lex and that damn green syringe of his would've done.

#clark kent #kon el #superman #superboy #superfamily #lois lane #jon kent #omegaverse #qwertynerd97 #rinfic #wip: omega!clark and hungry!kon

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cloverdaisies · 6 months

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YOU SEEM LIKE TROUBLE TO ME

☆*:.｡. eric sohn imagine. ☆*@: cloverdaisies

𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍’𝚟𝚎 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚠𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚊𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚠𝚜 ☆*:.｡.

☆*:.｡. ★彡☆*:.｡. ☆*:.｡. ☆*:.｡.★彡 .｡.:*☆☆*:.��. .｡.:*☆

☆*:.｡. description: should’ve known he was a bad guy, maybe all the red flags would be a good sign? are you really gonna let eric sohn take you on a test drive?

carwashboy!eric x fem!reader!suggestive themes!

☆*:.｡. member: eric x you

channel: @deoboyznet

a/n: very short drabble from a while ago! sumn about eric sohn being a sleaze in the best way possible has me floored !! 🧍‍♀️leave me alone crying over this concept !! i’m so sorry eric stans in advance, all in love <3

☆*:.｡. ★彡☆*:.｡. ☆*:.｡. ☆*:.｡.★彡 .｡.:*☆☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆

“you can’t be serious” you sighed as your water went out once again. watching as the garden hose you’d tediously dragged around from the back of your house pathetically spat out its last drops.

there was a car wash no further than a mile out and it seemed to be the only option since you had an interview the next day and your car looked as if it had been driven three times through quicksand.

music blared from the small station, the metal shack rusting in a dirty bronze colour, with an unmissable billboard that read “a beautiful spot for amazing car repair” above the place that was practically falling apart.

you drove in, spotting a crimson haired man presented in a white tank covered in black soot, wrench in hand seemingly working on another car out in the scorching heat.

“hey, my waters gone out. I was hoping I could get a wash and polish.” you walked up to the man who was crouched in front of the tire of another car.

he looked up at you briefly, his skin glazed over shining under the unforgiving sunlight, he dropped the wrench and stood to look at the absolute disaster state your car was in.

“jesus, where’s this girl been?” he ripped the orange gloves off his hands and walked you into the garage space.

“listen it rained a lot before the draught.” you spoke with a serious tone, watching as he chuckled and kissed his top row of teeth with his tongue.

“yeah, just park over there, 10 minutes darling.” he wrote out a bill of $5, cutting the price by almost half of what it was supposed to be.

“hey, is this for the polish too?” you asked looking at the receipt with a confused frown.

“yeah, dolls like you don’t pay full price.” his mischievous grin, stank of trouble but you couldn’t complain since you’d gotten a pretty good deal.

you drove into the station, flicking through your phone whilst you waited for him to wander over with a few sponges and cloths hanging out from the pocket of his work bottoms.

he began to hose down the car, his hair somehow getting wet in the process hanging down in strands over his forehead. his jaw sharpened as you noticed his side profile, and the little smile he broke as he noticed you checking out his toned biceps was more than enough to say he was entertaining himself.

as soon as you thought he was finished, he swung open your door and whipped open a handheld hoover to clean the dashboard and seats.

“do you mind?” he asked pointing towards the gearstick, the compartment beneath clearly needing a swift clean. unbuckling your seatbelt about to move out of the way for him, your eyes almost bulged out of your skull as he leaned over you slightly, hand rested on top of the car as he reached over you. he hadn’t left much to the imagination since his shirt stuck to his abdomen, showing off his toned physique. and… and.. his scent… a manly musk, coated in the sweetest smelling aftershave.

trying your best not to externally yell, he smirked as he reached back and smirked at you, catching your eye contact for just a second.

it was almost like a 2000s college movie, where the frat boys hosted one of those cliché sexy car washes, the feelings in your stomach churning as the red flags waved in front of your eyes.

“what’s your name gorgeous?” he asked still leant against the side of the car, smiling down at you promiscuously.

“y/n” you replied, the smart side of you wanting to slap you silly.

“well y/n, let me know if, you know, anything else needs a clean.” he passed you a crumpled piece of paper with a number scribbled on it in pencil beneath his name eric sohn.

☆*:.｡..:*☆☆*:.｡..｡.:*☆☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆☆*:.｡. .｡.:*☆:*☆

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accio-victuuri · 4 months

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marie claire cpns by xiao zhan 🤍

let’s start with this one first, i will definitely do a separate cpn analysis of wyb’s songs and the MV, god i hope there’s a music video and we’re not just hoping for nothing. lol. anyway, i started with pointing out the jewelry which turned out to not be that big of a deal as i thought it was. but that’s the reality of clowning. this post is about the shoot itself and the interview.

as usual, all of these are speculations/interpretations of someone with a bxg lens on. 😎

starting off with the photo i used for this post. i’m sure most of us noticed the similarities between the shoot. tho the b&w were very few and that tank top! the long hair! can you believe, after all the hair disasters we’ve been through with this two— that we will get them in magazine covers with long luscious hair? in the year 2023? we are so blessed! i hope this trend doesn’t get banned or something cause i love it. here’s one more! they look so good! 💦💦💦

we have also caught on the art director for their shoots is the same person. you can say that marie claire is not as personal as working on yibo’s single but the this is not the first time that this happened. and it’s one of those cpns that we think they recommend stuff to each other and that includes people and companies they can use for certain projects. ✌🏼

there are elements of the plane and dreams, which are cpns we hade before but i won’t say much cause i think that’s really more of the magazine’s concept. i don’t think xz will have that much say on that and he only showed up their to shoot and interpret the concept the best way he can.

the meat 🥩 is truly in the interview. it’s a long one that talked about his career and personal life so let’s see what he said. 💭

Xiao Zhan held up a handheld fan to dry the sweat from the filming. When the photographer signaled the start, he stepped forward, stepped back, walked again, and continued to retreat.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Is this the 380 yuan fan wyb gave you? It’s just too funny that it’s the first thing the interviewer wrote about.

What he shares is only his sincere daily feelings.

"Don't you think that the emotions between people have never changed? Old movies will always be read and watched, and old songs will always be listened to over and over again, because the emotions sung by truly classic works remain unchanged through the ages. Only sincerity can move people."

This really stood out to me, the message of sincerity. It’s something that both of them has talked about and especially WYB. Bobo was big on sincerity during Hidden Blade’s run and it’s nice to see the same thoughts come up in XZ’s interview. They really have the same view in life and it’s why they are loved by many. Also thinking about emotions that don’t change is so them. After so many years, their love remains strong.

Old songs? My mind immediately went to Wuji. Lol. because personally, that song will always make me feel the love!

Almost every time he shoots a movie, he has a routine: dreaming. I dreamed about memorizing lines, dreaming about acting against a director, or even dreaming about taking a math test, but couldn’t solve any of the questions on the paper, and then I woke up with a start.

Dreaming! The lyrics for Everything is Lovely 🎶 has the same thought as this. WYB saying he loves to dream.

Deep down in his heart, he does not regard himself as a qualified actor, but always puts himself in the position of a newcomer, with an attitude of learning and exploration. Therefore, every time he goes to a crew, he has the experience of starting all over again.

Another same outlook as WYB. They never see themselves as the best in the room, there will always be something new to learn. They are not afraid to look at things with fresh eyes and like a child.

As for what role he most wants to play, Xiao Zhan said: "I have been mentioning it for many years, a cute and charming villain, if I get the chance."

I’m adding it here cause at this point someone should cast him as this type of villain already 😂 WYB sort of got this with Mister Ye but I hope XZ gets his dream role!

Xiao Zhan seems to have a special sense of time. He is nostalgic. Whether singing in variety shows and evening parties, or listening to them in private, he always has a preference for old songs. They are memorable, rich in meaning, and give him space to think.

I have always seen this with XZ, how his taste leans towards the older stuff. It’s so interesting cause WYB has recently been into old rock songs. I wonder if they share songs and what their updated playlist is. WYB can now related to XZ’s old songs! Maybe this is an indirect influence.

During his spare time, he just works out and watches movies. He never regards watching movies as a task. He watches everything regardless of genre, whether it is popular movies such as popcorn movies or niche movies such as art films.

Yes. Yes. ZZ & WYB are not the only people in the world who loves to watch movies. But this little tidbit coming out when we just had that info about WYB watching a shit ton of movie. They don’t even have to be together, we had fake rumors before that they watch movies together even if they are apart. Whether that’s them on the phone/video while the movie plays or recommending movies then discussing it later. 🎬

-END.

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do #i need some more time with yibo’s songs 🥹🥹🥹🥹#it’s so overwhelming 🥹🥹🥹🥹

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leviackermanscleaningbuddy · 1 year

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SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals.

Or the sixteenth installment of the SKZ!Pack Prequel Series.

Tags: SKZ, Stray Kids, Stay, ot8, SKZ drabble, SKZ!pack, SKZ!abo, poly!skz, omegaverse, pack!prequel, skz!pack prequel, bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, lee felix, hwang hyunjin, han jisung, kim seungmin, yang jeongin, y/n, skz x you, skz x reader, skz imagines, skz reactions, skz scenarios

Genre: Fluff, Non-explicit Smut

Warnings: Mentions of Unprotected Sex, as a treat (Wrap it before you Tap it, kids)

Title: Bet on You

“And you have no idea what he has planned.”

You shake your head and huff out a sigh, studying the patterns on the dorm’s old popcorn ceilings.

“No idea. And I hate surprises.”

“We know.” Hyunjin remarks wryly from his spot beside Felix on the couch, chin on the other omega’s shoulder.

You raise your head just enough to shoot him a glare and then let it flop back down to the floor once more with a groan.

“God, I never should have agreed to this.”

“What, going on a date?” Seungmin asks plainly, not bothering to look up from his book, as he flips to a new page. “I think it’ll be good for you.”

“You would say that.” You retort sharply and then with a pointed glower in the beta’s direction, “Traitor.”

“Maybe he won’t even show.” Jisung pipes up distractedly, biting his bottom lip in concentration as he tries to beat a level on whatever game he’s currently playing, eyes trained on the switch in his hands.

“Why do you say that?” Felix asks curiously, playing with Hyunjin’s fingers in his lap.

“Dammit.” Jisung mutters under his breath, before letting the handheld game fall onto his lap, his eyes focusing on you as he raises his head slightly from its position atop your shins.

He looks suddenly sheepish.

“Um, well, I might have scared him off. Because I maybe asked him if he’d fuck me in the studio sometime? It’s been like a lifelong fantasy of mine, you know?”

Changbin chokes on his water, coughing violently, and Minho thwacks him none too gently on the back in response.

Hyunjin is cackling.

Changbin gets enough of his breath back to gasp out incredulously, eyes bugging out of his head, “Why wouldn’t you ask me that?!”

Jisung shrugs, already focused back on the new level of his game.

“I didn’t know you’d be into it.” He glances up now, smirk on his lips, as he stares at the astounded alpha. “Would you fuck me in the studio, hyung?”

Changbin splutters.

“Yeah, of course I would, if you had asked!”

“Oh. Hm.”

“Oh god.” You groan and cover your face with your hands. “This date is going to be a disaster.”

“Take heart, noona.” Hyunjin reaches down to pat your head in a patronizingly sweet manner, and you swat blindly at his hands. You can hear the grin in his voice. “Jisung did you a favor.”

“Yeah!” Jisung pumps a fist and starts upward, voice triumphant, until he glances up in confusion and sinks back down to his spot against your legs. “Wait. What did I do?”

Hyunjin grins like the cat who’s just had the canary.

“ Now nothing, and I mean nothing, is going to appear more daunting for Chan-hyung than meeting Han Jisung.”

********

“I really, really don’t like surprises.” You repeat dolefully for what feels like the fifth time in as many minutes, and Chan shoots you a look that’s equal parts exasperation, equal parts fond amusement.

The latter has your heart doing a weird little skip in your chest.

“So you’ve said. But I swear to God-” He avoids a puddle in the middle of the sidewalk, and comes back to your side with a slight grimace and a look upward at the dripping trees overhead. “-it’s nothing crazy.”

“Damn.” You reply sarcastically, tone teasing, as you watch your footing, careful not to step in the mud that lines the path. “And here I was hoping that you’d rented me a yacht and a Michelin starred chef for the evening.”

Chan chuckles, and you hide your grin behind your teeth.

“I mean-” He holds his hands out and gives you a sidelong glance. “-I’ve been told I can cook a mean pot of ramen.”

“Oh yeah?” You snort and eye him disbelievingly. “Who told you that? Changbin?”

Chan hesitates as you both step around another pool of rainwater. “Maybe.”

You scoff. “Please. Seo Changbin will eat anything. That man would eat my cooking and rave about it for a week, and that’s saying something.”

Chan laughs again, and you try to ignore the fact that you really like hearing it-his laugh. It’s nice.

He cocks his head and gives you the start of a smile, biting on his bottom lip as his dimples start to hollow out his cheeks.

“What, it’s that bad?”

You snort beneath your breath again and this time, you let yourself grin, even as you roll your eyes.

“Well, it’s not good, that’s for sure.”

Chan huffs a laugh beneath his breath and digs his hands into the pockets of his coat as you round the corner and stop abruptly at the back of one of the buildings downtown.

You’re not sure which building it is, not from the back, but you squint suspiciously at the door before you, the door which Chan currently has his hand on, the door clearly labeled No Public Access.

The other alpha glances over his shoulder at you, and upon seeing your expression, chuckles, his hand already turning the knob.

“I promise, I’m not gonna kidnap or murder you. Swear to God.”

You stay rooted to the spot, staring him down, eyes still narrowed.

“I’m not worried about that. I could absolutely crush you in hand to hand combat, Christopher Bang. Felix has been teaching me taekwondo.”

His eyes go wide for a moment, and then he laughs, a genuine, throaty chuckle, and starts to pull open the door.

“Good to know.”

He throws another mischievous glance back at you, before ducking through the door, and you realize, with a deep sigh, that you have no other option but to follow him.

With slight caution, wolf on high alert, you step through the door.

Chan is waiting on the other side, and he watches with a growing smile on his face as your jaw drops and your eyes widen.

“Oh my god.” “Surprise?” He offers hesitantly, still watching you carefully.

You step forward, still staring, open mouthed, at the behind the scenes of the biggest traveling science exhibit that has ever graced downtown Seoul.

Chan cocks his head beside you, grinning full force now. “Seungmin said you really wanted to go.”

You glance back at him in disbelief. “Yeah, and he also said that tickets sold out instantly. How did you-?”

Chan shrugs, grin only widening, and gives you a mischievous wink. “I happen to have an inside man.”

Your gaze lifts once more to the towering displays, the hundreds of people walking by on the opposite side of the glass cases, and you feel your heart do a weird little thing in your chest.

You force your gaze to remain impassive as you turn back to the other alpha once more.

“You don’t like science.”

He shrugs again, looking serious now, his eyes holding yours. “Yeah, but you do.” His lips lift once more into a cheeky grin, dimples appearing. “And I like you, so.”

You scoff, hoping to god he hasn’t seen the light pink starting to dust your cheeks, and glance down at where your sneakers scuff the floor in an effort to avoid his gaze.

“Disgusting.”

Chan chuckles, and his hand finds the small of your back. His palm is warm, even through the thick material of your coat.

“Oh, speaking of man on the inside-”

You raise your gaze curiously at his words, and see someone headed directly toward you, purpose in their step, and there’s two things you notice immediately about Chan’s ‘inside man.’

Number one-she’s not a man, not in the slightest.

And two, her candied peony scent wafting toward you tells you only one thing-omega.

Your wolf growls protectively, and you swallow, trying to keep your own scent stable.

The woman reaches the two of you, and eyes crinkling into a large smile, stops just short of touching Chan, her heels coming to a sharp staccato on the tile beneath your feet.

“I’m so glad you made it!”

Chan, however, doesn’t hesitate, sweeping her into a hug that has them both laughing as he exclaims, “Lisa! Super great to see you, mate!”

Your wolf snarls-mine-and you immediately force the thought deep down inside, because it’s bullshit, all of it.

Chan isn’t yours-you’re not even sure if you like the guy-and he’s definitely not pack, so why is your entire body quivering with withheld jealousy at this moment?

You note the sour tone to your scent, and force a deep breath and a smile as Chan finally releases the omega and she turns to you.

Chan grins. “(Y/N), this is Lisa. She’s the one who managed to get us in.” He glances at the shorter woman proudly, then, “She’s one of Seoul’s top emerging event planners.”

Lisa giggles and swats his arm. “Stop. Don’t tell her things like that, Channie.”

The nickname has bile rising in the back of your throat, and you try to ignore the way Lisa tucks her long blonde hair prettily behind her ear as she steps toward you and holds out her hand.

You take it, noting the way her perfectly manicured red nails are in stark contrast to your own, currently sporting chipped teal nail polish haphazardly applied by Jisung.

“It’s so nice to meet you. Chan doesn’t shut up about you.” She gives you a little conspiratorial smile and wink as she shakes your hand gently.

“Oh?” You glance past her to Chan with a raised eyebrow, and he’s dutifully avoiding your gaze now. “That’s good to hear. I’m flattered, Channie.”

He glances up at the sharp use of the nickname, but you’re already looking away.

“Well.” Lisa steps back, releasing you, and your whole body gives a sigh of relief as the smell of peonies starts to fade. “I’ve got things to do. But it was really nice to meet you, (Y/N)-” She gives you a little nod and smile, and gives Chan one more quick hug before stepping away, pointing a menacing finger in his direction. “-Keep in touch better, Channie. Your eomma is worried.” Chan rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly and huffs a laugh. “I’ll call her this week.”

Lisa nods. “Good.” She waves to you both. “Enjoy the exhibit, you two!”

She disappears into the crowds.

You watch her go, trying to calm your bristling nerves and annoyed wolf, and Chan steps up beside you. “Ready?”

You drag your eyes away from where Lisa disappeared, and can’t help but be petty, just for a moment.

“She’s pretty.”

Chan is quiet for a moment, and then he drops a hand on your shoulder, leaning in to murmur in your ear with slight amusement, “You don’t need to be jealous, you know.”

You scoff and shrug out from under his hold, determined not to look at him.

“I’m not jealous, Christopher, I’m bisexual.”

One of those things is the truth, so it’s only half a lie.

Without another glance back, you stomp toward the line for the science exhibit.

Chan chuckles beneath his breath and follows you without another word.

*******

You’re watching Chan cook beef-raw, red, rare, just how you both like it-on the small barbecue grill at the restaurant later, and you don’t know if it’s the soju or the atmosphere or the leftover glow from the exhibit, but everything feels soft, nice, in place.

Maybe it’s because he’s your moonmate, your wolf whispers, and you bury the thought deep beneath the surface before you can dwell on it, knocking back another shot of soju.

“You should drink some water.” Chan hums beneath his breath, as he flips another piece of meat, and you roll your eyes.

“No.”

“Yeah.” He motions with his chopsticks to your water glass with a raised brow. “It’s good for you.” You hold his gaze defiantly, and reach for the glass without looking, draining the water before setting it back down on the table.

“Happy?” You ask in an overly sweet tone, batting your eyelashes at him for good effect.

Chan laughs and shakes his head, going back to tending the meat.

“Yeah, happy.” He flips the meat once more, lips still pulled into an amused smile at your antics, and settles back into his chair, watching it carefully as it continues to sizzle.

He catches you off guard when he says, “You know, I know you think you’re being all bristly and standoffish when you’re like this, but it can’t be helped.” He glances up at you through the shag of his curls and grins, and you try to ignore the flash of his dimples. “I find it incredibly cute when you’re trying to put up a defiant front.”

You stare at him and then groan, rolling your eyes.

“Oh god. You’re one of those.”

Chan stares at you in open confusion. “One of those?” He questions back, looking entirely lost now.

“Yeah.” You nod and prop your chin in your hand, staring him down, as he pulls pieces of meat off the grill and places them on your plates. “A brat tamer.”

His chopsticks pause in mid air. “What?”

You pop a piece of beef into your mouth and chew, before you say, pointing at him with your chopsticks now, “Yeah. Someone who likes when their partners defy them, or rile them up on purpose. Minho’s one too.”

Chan is staring at you. “Oh, really?”

You can tell. He’s just had some sort of epiphany.

You eat another piece of meat and chew while nodding emphatically. “One hundred percent. See-” You wave your chopsticks around again, as Chan moves to turn off the grill, popping his own piece of beef into his mouth. “-You and Minho. Makes sense. Changbin, he’s like, half that way? But only with certain partners. Usually Hyunjin, cause that one is a capital B Brat. With me-” You take a sip of your water thoughtfully. “-Changbin usually switches. He’s big into bottoming sometimes.”

Chan chokes on his own sip of water.

You wait for his coughing to die down, and then he says hoarsely, “That–feels illegal to know.”

You shrug and eat another bite of food. “I mean. If you wanna be part of the pack, you need to know all that shit, right?”

You eat another bite, dutifully avoiding his gaze, even though you can feel it boring into your head, and try to ignore the way the atmosphere has gotten suddenly serious.

Finally, Chan clears his throat and asks quietly, “You–want me to join the pack?”

You shrug and continue to avoid looking across the table, moving your food around your plate aimlessly now, just for something to do.

“I mean. Jury’s still out. And it’s not just up to me. But-” You glance up now, and you have to stop yourself from letting your gaze fall to his mouth, the plush skin of his bottom lip sucked between his teeth in an anxious gesture. “-I don’t think I’m opposed anymore.”

Chan sucks in a sharp breath, you see it in the rise and fall of his chest, and then he grins so brightly that you’re almost blinded.

You clear your throat and take another long drink of water, just so he doesn’t see the blush creeping up your neck.

“I-” He sets down his chopsticks and folds his hands in his lap. “-I’m really happy to hear that actually.”

“Don’t go getting a big head.” You warn teasingly, though you still can’t quite meet his gaze. “Like I said, it’s not just up to me, and Minho’s a hard sell.”

Chan’s grin widens.

“I wouldn’t worry about Minho. Now that I know we have so many similar qualities, I think we’ll get along just fine.”

******

“Well, this is me.” You offer awkwardly, trying to be cheesy because you know Chan just lives a floor up from you, but falling flat, as you both stand in front of your door after dinner.

Chan laughs anyway, because he’s a good sport, and you appreciate the gesture. You’ll never admit it to him, but when he laughs and his dimples appear, it makes you go all warm and fuzzy inside, your thoughts turning to mush.

Damn soju.

You’re both hesitating for some unknown reason now, and Chan looks like he wants to say something, but can’t quite brave it, and you decide to hell with it, you’ll do it, because what’s the worst that could happen?

“Do you wanna come in?” You blurt out, no hesitation, voice confident, and Chan looks entirely off guard. “And yes, that’s entirely a line. It’s definitely an invitation. Just so we’re clear.”

He’s still staring at you blankly, and the smirk curving your lips fades in the face of his silence, and suddenly, you’re floundering.

You backpedal a bit, hand sneaking behind you to the doorknob. “I mean, only if you want to, of course. You don’t have to if you don’t want to-”

Chan kisses you before you can make an even bigger fool of yourself.

This kiss is entirely different from the first time, when you kissed in the hallway outside Felix’s room, on the brink of something unknown and an omega’s heat.

That kiss was sweet and soft and gentle and a bit timid, languid, testing unsure boundaries.

No, this kiss is nothing like that. This kiss is impatient and hurried, frantic, teeth bumping and tongues tangling almost instantly, licking into each other’s mouths as Chan cages you back against the door, angling your chin expertly with one big hand.

There’s a break for breath, and you find words still tumbling from your lips.

“We never got to talk about it, after Felix and everything, and we said we’d do it later and I just thought-” “(Y/N).” Chan’s low, commanding use of your name has you shutting up, meeting his gaze, his irises swirling golden and caramel, his lips pulled into the start of an amused smirk.

He lets his thumb trace over the outline of your bottom lip, slow and sensual, and you have to stop the visceral reaction of a shiver that threatens to run up your spine.

“Stop talking.”

You swallow, and freeze beneath his hand, his fingers now tracing down your throat.

“Right. Sorry.”

His smirk flickers, and then he’s leaning in once more, slotting his mouth over yours, picking up where you left off.

Chan tastes like soju and vanilla chapstick and how the forest floor smells after rain, and you know that doesn’t make sense, but somehow it does and-

The warmth of his fingers curl around the jut of your hip bone beneath your sweater, and suddenly, cognitive function ceases to exist, what is a thought? You wouldn’t know.

He slots a thigh between your legs, and makes a content noise in the back of his throat when you gasp in response-something between a hum and a growl-and dammit, if it doesn’t instantly make you wet.

His fingers graze your scent gland and-

Fuck.

You’re stumbling backward into your apartment before either of you know what you’re doing, tangled up in each other, blindly navigating the hallway, your fingers tangled in his curls, his palm on the small of your back to keep you from falling.

When your back hits the bed, you break contact for another brief moment, and you stare at each other for a long second, and you don’t know what Chan’s thinking, but you’re admiring the way he looks like this-all kiss bitten and rumpled from your fingers, hovering above you, knees on either side of your hips, staring down at you like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

He seems to snap out of his daze after a moment and glances around your small room.

“Fuck. I didn’t-” He glances back to you helplessly, and you understand what he’s getting at.

“It’s fine.” You motion to your arm with a raised brow. “Birth control. You can hit it raw, pretty boy, with no consequences. Consider me every man’s wet dream.”

Chan stares at you for another long moment, and you think he’s gonna make a comment somewhere along the lines of ‘but what if-’ or ‘we should be safe, just in case-” because you don’t know much, but you’ve gathered that Christopher Bang is a bit of an overthinker, even in the short time you’ve known him.

But instead, he simply leans back in, and putting his lips close to your ear, murmurs, “Would you like that? Tell me, would you like me to breed you, (Y/N)?”

All the air leaves your lungs, and when he meets your eyes once more, you see it, see the alpha, the gold swirling, mesmerizing, in the depths of his dark gaze.

Everything inside of you wants.

“I-” You start to say, because you can’t think of the words, can’t even form a cognitive thought after what he’s just asked, even though inside, your wolf is practically clawing in impatience, begging for you to say yes.

Yes, alpha, I’d like that. God, I want that, more than anything.

He’s still staring at you, eyes like minted coins, and he cocks his head, raising a brow in an entirely too attractive way for your own good.

“Hm?” He hums beneath his breath, reaching up to trace a finger over your mouth, finger coming back slick with spit. “Use your words, baby. Tell alpha what you want.”

You swallow, and gain back some of your senses.

“I think you want me to beg you to fuck me, alpha.” You reply instead, heart hammering in your ears, trying to keep your expression neutral as you stare up at him, your wolf making it hard, as it already bares its throat.

Chan smirks, predatory and dangerous.

“Is that what I want?”

You shrug casually, trying to put on an air of indifference.

“Sure sounds like it.” Chan, for what it’s worth, looks thoughtful, before he once again leans into your space suddenly, his fingers looping around your wrists as he pins you down, eyes sparking.

“Interesting. Because I think-” He muses beneath his breath, voice almost a growl in the back of his throat, and you have to stop your body from quivering beneath his in a physical reaction to his tone. “-it sounds like I’m asking you to tell me how badly you’d like for me to finish inside of you.” “Oh my god.” You exclaim, staring at him in shock now, as he drops the facade and instantly looks worried, like he’s hurt you somehow, or done something wrong. “This is a kink for you, isn’t it?”

You see his shoulders slump in relief, and he suddenly looks like he’s reflecting.

“I dunno. Is it? Maybe. I’ve never really thought about it.”

“It’s definitely a kink.” You laugh at his open surprise, reaching up to stick a finger into the outline of one of his dimples. “But we can talk about that later. Right now-”

You let the grin drop from your face as you push yourself up on your elbows beneath him, and Chan looks curious, frozen, like he’s waiting for what you’re going to do next.

You lean in close and let your lips brush his ear, teeth grazing his pulse point as you talk. You don’t miss the way he shivers.

“Right now, alpha, I’d really like for you to fill me up.”

******

“Breeding kink.” You announce triumphantly, as you sit down at the table in Changbin’s kitchen, letting your backpack drop to the floor.

“Oh god.” Chan groans out from between his fingers, already flushing pink.

“Really.” Hyunjin whistles, glancing at Chan with a smirk, before he reaches into his pocket and flicks Changbin a dollar across the table. “Interesting.”

“I did not see that one coming.” Jisung looks thoughtful, and a little bit betrayed, as he too reaches into his pocket and slaps a dollar into Changbin’s outstretched hand.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Chan has gotten over his embarrassment enough to look appalled at what’s happening around him. “Did you guys bet on this?”

“Of course we did.” Hyunjin snorts, stuffing a hot cheeto into his mouth, as he pulls out his phone gleefully. “I gotta call Felix. This is gold.”

“And I won.” Changbin announces smugly, counting the dollars in his hand slowly, as if he’s a banker at a betting table in Vegas, collecting his hard earned winnings.

Chan glances at you with helplessness in his gaze, and you shrug, leaning over to snag one of Hyunjin’s cheetos.

“Sorry, dude. Welcome to the pack.” Jisung cackles suddenly from his spot beside the refrigerator.

“God, Minho-hyung’s gonna be pissed when he finds out. He was really gunning for spit.”

“Oh my god.” Chan groans again, and you grin at him wickedly, raising an eyebrow as you stuff another hot cheeto past your lips.

“Like I said. Welcome to the pack, Christopher Bang. Enjoy your stay.”

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

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justalittlesolarpunk · 10 months

Text

This is my last post before I head off on my ten-day minimal-internet tidalpunk adventure (expect pics when I return!) so I thought I’d make a nice long list-type thing for all you solarpunks before I go.

Now, this might not seem very cheerful compared to my other topics - certainly all the people I’ve brought this up with irl have acted like I’m being alarmist and depressing, but I don’t see it that way. I view it as being prepared and maximising your ability to keep yourself and your community safe, which is after all what solarpunk is all about!

So without further ado, here is my *extremely idealised* suggestion for an emergency kit list to help you cope with increasingly frequent and severe extreme weather events. The goal is that with the supplies in this bag you could either shelter safely in place or get up and go, and be well supplied in either case to care for yourself and share with those in need. In fact, in both scenarios you would hopefully be able to temporarily ‘start from scratch’ in terms of infrastructure should the frameworks of society around you no longer be reliable. I based mine off suggestions by climate scientist Kendra Pierre-Louis (you can check out her advice on the ‘Unnatural Disasters’ episode of the How To Save A Planet Podcast), but yours might look subtly different depending on who you are, what you can afford/carry, and where you live.

Emergency kit list:

-Big hiking rucksack, to keep everything in

-Sleeping bag

-A small portable tent and camping stove

-A penknife or multi tool

-Matches or a lighter

-Kindling or firestarters - I use wood wool balls held together with wax

-Torch (with up to date batteries!)

-Towels

-Non-perishable or long-life foods, such as protein bars, rice cakes/breadsticks/crackers, dried fruit, bagged nuts/seeds, crisps, tinned soup, pot noodles

-A seedbomb of edible plants (you can get some for slightly excessive prices here in the UK, otherwise they can be made fairly easily by combining clay, straw, paper or flour with the desired seeds)

-Two large water bottles (600-650ml) and a water bladder

-A water purifier (preferably one capable of filtering out both natural pathogens like bacteria and viruses and synthetic pollutants like heavy metals and PFAS)

-A collapsible bucket

-A first aid kit, including plasters, bandages, sterile wipes, hand sanitiser, latex gloves, antiseptic/disinfectant, (K)N95 masks to filter out particulates (whether ash or pathogens), painkillers, antihistamines, rehydration sachets, anti-emetics and anti-diarrhoeals, steroid creams, aloe vera gel, iodine tablets in case of radiation, and any medication you regularly take (including epipens and inhalers if needed)

-A pair of goggles to protect your eyes from air pollution such as smog, wildfire smoke, etc

-Toothpaste tablets and a spare toothbrush

-Period supplies (pack these even if you don’t get periods - someone you run into might need them)

-A solar charger

-A satellite phone

-A mechanical handheld fan, with working batteries, to keep you cool in extreme heat

-A magnetic heat belt for extra warmth

-A change of clothes, including a sun hat, a scarf, woolly hat and gloves for extreme cold, and waterproofs (plus an umbrella!) for wet conditions

-Pliers or secateurs for cutting through dense debris or vegetation

-Some strong, climbing-grade rope

-A trowel (for planting and digging up but also for burying…waste 😅 - a long-term wild camping scenario isn’t infeasible here)

-Your passport and any other documents (marriage certificate, adoption papers, savings bonds if you’re like a hundred years old) that you might need if fleeing your country becomes a necessity

-As much cash as you are comfortable withdrawing/leaving lying around your house/carrying with you in an emergency

-A personal locator beacon is a radio-transmitter that signals your location to emergency services via satellite. These tend to have a 24-hour battery life, so if you foresee being in any way ‘stranded’ for longer then a useful trick is to switch it on for one hour each day, and then turn it off again. This not only saves power but shows emergency services that there is conscious intention involved, proving you’re still alive and lucid

-Some things to keep your spirits up, like a chocolate bar and your favourite/funniest book

-It’s worth having a sturdy pair of hiking boots for if you have to pick up the bag and go

Obviously this list is super extra, a bunch of these things are prohibitively expensive, and some items would need periodic replacement if a long time passed without the necessity of using the emergency kit. You could also likely build a fairly functional emergency kit with only a fraction of these supplies, I’m just trying to anticipate every eventuality here.

It’s up to you whether you think the investment is worth it - it’s a big outlay for a possible zero return. Personally I think it’s at least somewhat worth it as extreme weather is only going to happen more often and have more serious consequences, and preparedness turns what could be a disaster into an inconvenience, often saving money in the long run. But it will depend on the relative likelihood of severe weather events in your local area. It’s also worth saying that these work for ostensibly non-climate related problems, from a power cut in your town to an authoritarian coup in your government to your house falling down! It isn’t just for wildfires or tornadoes.

Over the next few months I’m hoping to slowly build up the aspects of the kit that are affordable and accessible to me, with the aim of being able to keep myself safe and aid my neighbours should disaster strike.

#solarpunk #disaster preparedness #community care #hopepunk #cottagepunk #environmentalism #social justice #climate change #extreme weather #natural disasters #readiness #obvs all of this stuff is pretty intense but I thought it was worth making the list #also like it’s so expensive I acknowledge especially as I’ve tried not to put Amazon links #how to save a planet #Kendra Pierre-Louis #links mostly for reference #these are just suggestions do what you think is best

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skellymom · 6 months

Text

"Vagabonds" Chapter 6

Ongoing fanfic Hunter x Reader/Fem Reader/OC

(Posted 11/12/23)

To read Chapter 5:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/730320896366149632/vagabonds-chapter-4?source=share

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

Word Count: 1.5K

Background: Mad takes a job that's more than she bargained for. Hunter and Wrecker go shopping. Omega and Sil bond over shared experiences.

Warning: Fear, the "F" word, Star Wars swearing, droid prejudice, brief mention of medical experimentation on unwilling participants, brief conversation of abuse and PTSD, supporting character death by blaster.

(Credit: Cool moving star dividers by @4ngelic-wh1spers )

Recap: If what the butcher back on Coruscant said was true, Tiggy was a hybrid between two Force sensitive breeds of canine: Vornskr hunting dog and wild Loth Wolf. Seems her tail was docked to remove the venomous barb at the end and blunt any aggression. Mad was concerned about any residual Vornskr aggression against Force users, but hoped the lofty Loth Wolf would dilute this. Either Tiggy was going to be a great pet or a total disaster. Mad was going to have to consult with Tech later to see if he had any knowledge or advice on the matter.

She tiptoed toward the refresher to clean up and get ready for the next job...

"Job Gone Wrong"

Mad strolled across Ord Mantell and arrived at the meeting place for her next pick up. She knocked 3 times on a non-descript door, waited for 2 knocks on the other side, then knocked 3 times again.

When the door opened, an older bespectacled gentleman appeared. He was short and wearing a clinician’s uniform.

“Dr. Zebba?” Mad inquired.

He nodded, “Mad?”

“The one and only.”

The doctor stepped aside and Mad entered. He seemed VERY nervous. Not the best sign, but not totally out of the ordinary, as he didn’t seem like the type used to smuggling. “Come with me, please.”

Mad rested a hand on her blaster...just in case.

Dr. Zebba led her through a small entryway, then another door. The room she stepped into was a clinic. Rudimentary, but well kept. The doctor walked over to a handheld cooler and lovingly caressed its top. A 2-1B med droid was busy cleaning and organizing the facility. Mad eyed it suspiciously. Its unemotive “face” and skeletal-like design was the furthest thing from providing comfort in her mind.

“This is ‘Remedy’” Dr Zebba fondly motioned to the droid. “She’s been my assistant for quite a few cycles now.”

Mad stood silently, hand still on her blaster, staring warily at the droid.

“Remedy, meet Mad.”

“Hello, Mad, pleased to meet your acquaintance.” A very calm electronic female voice emanated from the droid. It... she extended a metal hand in greeting.

“NOPE!” Mad backed away from the meddroid with one hand up to block the greeting. The other now gripping the handle of her blaster. “Don’t touch me.” Mad’s hip firmly bumped into the table and jostled the cooler sitting on it.

“Remedy is gentle, she would NEVER hurt anyone.” Dr Zebba looked slightly hurt by Mad’s reaction. The droid stood in place silently.

“The Nomaadi have...a ’history’...as unwilling medical experiments, doc.” We are VERY wary of medical staff...and meddroids.” Mad was starting to sweat. “You can thank the fucking Kaminoan’s.”

Dr Zebba was stunned by Mad’s very frank reply. An uncomfortable silence hung in the room for a few minutes.

“Shall I step out for a while, Dr Zebba?” The meddroid politely inquired.

“Yes, thank you Remedy.” He watched her exit the room, then cleared his throat. “Shall I brief you on this job?”

“Go ahead.” Mad kept her eye on the door the droid exited from.

“Well...as you know, the deal was to ferry humans across the galaxy. Unfortunately, the courier and the clone soldier sent to accompany her were...intercepted. Instead of two individuals and this cargo...well, it’s just this cargo.”

“Clone, huh? I don’t work for The Empire. Sorry.”

“No worries. I assure you this was and still is purely a mission for The Rebellion.” The doctor seemed legitimate in his sincerity. “Since we lost our courier, I am requesting that you carry it. Otherwise, this mission will fail. Several lives are hanging in the balance here.”

“Oh?”

“You will be compensated handsomely for the inconvenience.” He pulled an extra case of credits out of drawer, setting it upon the table.

Mad opened the case to see twice the number of credits that was quoted for the job.

“When you deliver the cargo at its destination, another payment will be given to you. We will supply you with any chain codes to ease your journey, of course.”

“Ok, so what’s the catch?” Still eyeing the door and rubbing her bumped hip.

“Please sit and I will explain the details.” Dr. Zebba gestured to a chair.

Mad sat down to hear what crazy plan would earn her more credits than she had the past 6 months of smuggling.

Meanwhile, at the Marauder, Hunter emerged from the refresher. Tech and Echo had already left for the antique parts junkyard. Wrecker was snoozing in the pilot’s chair. Hunter’s night with Mad played back in his head. He looked forward to seeing her again tonight. Hunter wanted to get her something special. No kriffing idea what, though.

He wished he had asked Echo about such things. Echo was good at choosing heartfelt gifts. Tech perhaps might even suggest something unique and exotic. Hunter glanced at Wrecker sleeping while tying up his hair in a clean bandana.

This wooing a woman stuff was new territory for Hunter. Especially such a vivid woman like Mad. No simple trinket would do. Something significant, with meaning, but maybe not too much. He didn’t want to seem desperate. Oh, but he was...desperately falling for Mad.

“Wrecker, wake up”

“Zzz...wha...whatchawant?”

“I uh...need help.” Wrecker could see something was eating at Hunter. “Have to make a stop at the Vendor’s Market. Come with me.”

“Oh? Can’t be food, we just stocked up” Wrecker stretched, then peered mischievously at Hunter, then lowered his voice, “Oooh, it’s for Mad, isn’t it?”

“Matter of fact, yes.”

“You really got the hots for her! Even more than that girl back in basic training...or that Twi’lek at 79’s... or...”

Hunter chuckled and shook his head at Wrecker.

“Never brought them gifts, though.”

“No...”

“Sure, I’ll help ya” Wrecker grabbed Hunter and squeezed him tightly. “Must be serious!”

“Just don’t want to show up empty handed to the ‘Dame for dinner.”

“Whatever you say” Wrecker chuckled and winked.

Mad accepted the terms of the job. Dr Zebba was able to talk her into it if “The Droid” stayed in the other room. The extra money was going to be a boon as well. Meeting at the extraction point sounded like it would be quick and easy.

“Now remember what I said about...” a sudden explosion in the next room interrupted the doctor’s instructions. He dropped the bacta patch he was about to adhere to Mad’s hip.

“WHAT THE KRIFF???” Mad jumped from the sudden loud noise.

Dr. Zabba immediately grabbed the cooler, shoved it into Mad’s chest and yelled, “RUN! No time, our security has been breached!” And pushed her along frantically towards the back door to the clinic. He opened the door which led out to an alleyway. Another explosion in the room behind her and blaster fire. As Mad crossed the threshold of the doorway, a heavy weight fell onto her back. She stumbled, slammed into the ground, cooler flying out of her grasp and into the alley. The wind was knocked out of Mad, with Dr. Zabba’s dead body sprawled across her legs. Mad squawked in terror and struggled to shove his body aside. She felt the adrenaline surge, kicked herself free, got up and started running. Pulled her blaster and squeezed off a few shots for good measure. Mad grabbed the cooler and took off down the alley as fast as her legs could run. Abdomen cramped with stress, she bit her lip and kept going.

“Shitshitshitshit” What the fuck was she going to do? Who was pursuing her? The Empire? Mercenaries? Bounty Hunters? She had nowhere to go except the Beldame. No backup plan, no alternative hiding spot. This job was supposed to be simple.

Mad ran blindly in the direction of her ship. Crossed the vendor’s market, hoping to find cover and lose her pursuers. Whomever was after her didn’t care about causing a scene as there were still active laser blasts and screams of people running away from danger.

Hunter and Wrecker had successfully acquired a gift for mad, with time left over to sit in the vendor square and relax. Their respite was short lived, however, as the sound of blaster fire and screams filled the air. They both shot up to their feet and drew weapons. Vendor tents caught fire and smoldered, filling the air with thick smoke and affecting visibility. A crowd of vendors and patrons ran in all directions adding to the confusion.

Hunter heard her voice before he even saw her. Mad was still swearing to herself as she ran through the smoke. A crazed exercise in self-soothing.

“Mad!” She heard Hunter’s voice and slid to a stop, quaking in place. “Stay still, I’m coming to you!!!”

She was enveloped in thick grey smoke. Voices, screams, and blaster fire coming from all directions.

Mad was easy to find. Hunter could smell sweat and fear, hear her frantic breathing. Wrecker followed behind his brother.

Hunter reached through the smoke and grabbed Mad’s hand. She spun around wildly with abject terror on her face.

“They’re after me. It all went bad!”

“You ain’t kiddin’!” Wrecker quipped.

“Who???” Hunter implored.

“I don’t know for sure. Didn’t stay around long enough to find out!”

“Let’s get out of here. Wrecker, I'm taking Mad back to the Beldame and leaving. You run to the Marauder and get off world with Echo and Tech. Comm them ahead to prepare the ship. We can meet up later. Hopefully this smokescreen will buy us some time!”

“I’m on it!” With that Wrecker was gone.

“C’mon!” Hunter and Mad took off towards the ‘Dame.

“Where did she get this?” Omega marveled at the bobbling plasticine Rancor affixed to the ‘Dame's dashboard.

She and Sil had been sitting in the cockpit conversing and watching Love levitate Tiggy. The puppy was happily executing the doggy paddle through the ship. It was an easy way to tire her out and restrict access to anything chewable.

Omega bumped the Rancor to make it bobble again. Mad had “modified” the toy so the Rancor was holding a severed doll head by the hair. The head bore a certain likeness to Emperor Palpatine.

“Mad picks up all sorts of odd things all over the galaxy.” Remarked Sil. “From traders, other Nomaadi, odd shops, even things cast aside on the street. She’s got an eye for it. Used to bring me and the family exotic and funny gifts when we met for Reunion...that was before I was taken away.”

Uncomfortable silence for some time.

“It’s ok. Talk to him.” Love urged Omega telepathically.

“I’m sorry they hurt you.” Omega hoped she wasn’t speaking out of turn. But she could tell by Sil’s expression he was dealing with some heavy scars. Love had Force spoke to Omega briefly about how they found Sil and that he had been missing for several years.

He nodded and sighed. What could he say? There was so much. Certain triggers: A tone of voice, a touch, certain body postures, even random noises. Panic attacks during the day and nightmares after dark. Physical and psychological scars from things done to him. Sil was trying the best he could to heal and not be seen as a burden to others.

“You’re NEVER a burden, Couzin” Love whispered in his head.

Sil glanced over to Love. He forgot that occasionally his Couzin could sense intense emotion and snippets of internal dialogue with individuals they emotionally bonded with.

Omega proceeded carefully, “The Kaminoan’s...they would run tests on me. Sometimes I didn’t want them to touch me, but I had no choice. The first time I ever left Kamino was with my brothers. The Kaminoan’s would have kept me locked up at the facility forever. It took me a while to heal...not completely. Not sure that’s possible.”

Sil was quiet for several minutes, thinking about Omegas words. She extended her hand and held it open. Sil reached out, took it, and gave a little squeeze. They smiled at each other.

Behind them Love smiled.

Tiggy, sensing the emotion in the room wagged her tail and continued to doggy paddle in levitation.

The ‘Dames comm lit up with Mad’s voice, “Love...Sil...Hunter and I are en-route to the ship. Start her up! We need to leave Ord Mantell NOW!!!” Laser fire and screams could be heard in the background of the transmission.

Sil spun around in the pilot’s chair with wide eyes. “Love, lower the gangplank and meet them there. It sounds like they’re in trouble. You might have to do “that thing” again...like on Coruscant.”

“What ‘thing’???” Omega demanded to know exactly what.

“No time! Take Tiggy and belt into a seat!!!” Love Force spoke inside Omega's head, handing her the pup, and running to the gangplank.

Sil fired up the ‘Dame and kept it running. He used the thrusters to turn its nose towards the city. Smoke and fire came into view through the cockpit windows. Ships around them were taking off and leaving in a hurry, more than usual. Something big and emergent was happening.

“What the kriff is going on???”

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

To Read Chapter 7:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/734468366280065024/vagabonds-chapter-7?source=share

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withlovefromsimtown · 3 months

Text

Lifa's Life Update (+Sims Progress)

Well it's been a minute, but We're still here & I don't mind.

Things roughly in order:

I fully remapped onto a custom SC4 terrain & rebuilt an entire Sims 2 BG neighborhood to update it to UC (any guesses?), started working on clothing defaults for the aforementioned neighborhood.

Started 2 huge TS2 projects that I may someday finish, completely unrelated to all of that, because I was in Milkshape & I can't control myself.

Had my partner's friends over A LOT, like it seemed like every couple weeks for awhile someone would be crashing in the guest room. (They're my friends too they just... started off as partner's friends lol.)

Barbecued & grilled a lot, because friends & food.

Went to a VNV Nation show with my friend (things that are on the Elder Goth Bucket List lol), made a whole Yeet Weekend outta it & also went to Ikea, Fivebelow, Spirit Halloween, a local outdoor market, & a snowcone stand.

The fucking holidays.

Got sick, part 1.

Surprise, my cat has diabetes & needs 2x daily insulin shots!

More of the fucking holidays.

Got sick, part 2.

2x/month cat checkups to check blood sugar & adjust the dose, for like 3 months.

TX freezes, local friend doesn't have sufficient insulation or central heating in their home to deal with the temps, because TX, & comes to stay with me (with their cat) for a week because I have central heating.

During that week that my friend was here, Mr Diabetes Cat decided to a) eat all the dry kibble out of every bowl, b) refuse wet food at shots time because he was full of dry kibble, & then c) throw up kibble & turn around & pee all over my carpet right after throwing up, which resulted in him not getting his shots that night--they have to be given with food---& getting scheduled an urgent vet visit in the morning. (He's fine, just expensive.)

On the day it actually warmed up outside before it went back to 20 degrees, friend & I did a mini-hike together. We also had food from the Generic Asian Cuisine place (yeah I know, it's Texas though) where we got Pho, Lumpia, & a tofu stir-fry.

I regret having to work during the freezy times, unfortunately.

Partner obtained me a uhh... knockoff Steamdeck handheld? Rog Ally? so I can keep Win7 on my monster computer & also play my dumb ancient murder-aliens 4x RTS game on Steam that I like, but I haven't fixed my mods for it to play it, because I...

Got sick, part 3.

While sick, took Mr Diabetes Cat to his very last 2-week checkup; we're on 3-month checkup schedules now! Because he's stable! Yay!

The entire house is a disaster & I'm still not 100% but I'm back to cooking/cleaning a bit between work at least.

Working on more of the necessary clothing defaults for the TS2 neighborhood I redid.

Planning for March when the entire zoo needs to be vetted again for vaxxing, just gonna wrap the diabetes checkup into that & do everyone's bloodwork at that time also unless something drastic happens. (We do like 2-3 cats at a time over the course of 2 weeks, & then the dog on her own, we're not like... hauling a van of animals to the vet all at once...)

Need to get some of the soft mesh transportation prisons for the cats before then, because the big crate with the lid is about to disintegrate.

#sort of sims related #life update

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preservationofnormalcy · 5 months

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Are there any documents on this thing I'm calling a "darklight?" It's like a flashlight but it makes things darker, but also easier to see like a regular flashlight. It's been in my junk drawer for a few years now and it never seems to need batteries.

Oh boy, that's a flashback, pardon the pun. I looked in our records.

The Pennington Flashlight was developed in the 1950s by Pennington Magicworks out of Boston. It was supposed to just not ever need batteries, supposedly by containing within it a constantly fluctuating conceptual anomaly, focusing noospheric concepts like "darkness" and "light" into an easy, handheld device.

Of course, that's not how it ended up. The "darklight" was a disaster, the Office spent years tracking down all the ones that got sold and destroying them. I had one as a kid, actually - it just rolled around in our junk drawer for years until I turned it over when I became a full Agent.

I'd....really advise you to turn it over to the nearest physical Office location, they'll ship it out to AbTech for disposal. If the housing breaks, it has a chance to leak conceptual energy into the surroundings - and you will count as "surroundings".

#office for the preservation of normalcy #ask #advice

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dr3amofagame · 17 days

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Yeah that moment kinda shows how he can make c!discduo listen to him and even the way how this is not healthy. I also think he might be participate in comflict bewteen cdiscduo if he didnt leave but more as an motivator but not him causing it on porpuse. At the end cdream was trying to make him by his side to have laverage, ctommy was still really depend on him and the disc that cdream have. It was a a disaster that was coming but he leave so he did not caused a new conflict but was a factor that played in a resolution

i mean ? "participate in conflict between c!discduo" he is like the foremost reason why the conflict between c!discduo even looks the way that it does honestly. it wouldn't have been about heroes and villains without lmanburg, full stop. when dream and tommy had their first disc spat, they didn't need to be handheld into figuring out a solution, yk? they had their fornite battle, tommy and dream both got their shit back, they did a trade of a stack of diamonds for a netherite chestplate, and i'd go as far as saying that both of them kinda had. fun ???? like c!tommy is reminiscing about those times IN THE LITERAL FINALE, a consistent trend with him throughout the server (he did the same during november 16th, where he had been downright excited to go back to the disc war and was ribbing c!dream about how he's never in the walls no more) and while c!dream honestly has a terminal stick in his ass and always saw the whole thing as more serious than c!tommy (hence why c!tommy was sitting there going i never realized how much that hurt you), i think it's hard to look at the way c!dream acts with c!tommy pre-vassal and really say that he hated the kid's guts over a stupid surprise attack the whole time lmao. they liked each other! they were friends!

c!wilbur being able to make c!discduo listen to him (and um, give his words the weight of the world) isn't just an inconsolable differences thing, it's really smth that stretches as far back as that first discussion about lmanburg that they ever have. it's something that applies to the duel, to vassal. c!wilbur participating and fanning the flames of conflict between c!discduo (and quite literally prying them apart in vassal, which was kind of the beginning of the end) is something that happens throughout the server, and i'd argue that inconsolable differences -> boundless sands is his clumsy attempt at fixing that. shutting the damn book on lmanburg as the one who penned the story, say youre a tyrant dream and put it in writing and burn the discs, you two can't play nice so the game's fucking over. tommy, stay in your place, dream, do as i say, etc etc. c!wilbur has to leave because of who c!wilbur is to c!dream and especially to c!tommy, it's just things were too fractured for him leaving in itself to Completely Fix Everything

#c!dreambur #my asks !!#c!wilbur /can/ make them play nice by technicality yeah as the one that can get both dream and tommy to do as he says when he says it #which is also why he couldn't. be the solution. inconsolable differences shows that.#muzzling two dogs and putting them on leashes doesn't solve a problem when the reason they wanna rip each other's throats out #is cuz you trained them to fight in a cage in the first place. ykwim.#^ that's a messy analogy #like he HAS to leave. this DOES serve as the catalyst for the events that end with a nuke falling over their heads.#this doesn't mean it would've been /better/ if he controlled them into playing nice #idk idk this is all messy as an explanation but ... yeah

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mariacallous · 29 days

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Since the start of Moscow’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine, the Russian authorities have begun integrating ideological and military-themed lessons into school curricula. However, their plans for the upcoming academic year are even more drastic. Children will receive instruction in combat training and learn how to use grenade launchers and automatic weapons, all as part of the required school curriculum. The Russian government has radically revised the list of social sciences, replacing them with militarized or ideological equivalents. Now, instead of economics and law, students will study “traditional values” and the “Russian world.” The independent outlet Holod explained Russia’s new educational model. Meduza shares an abridged version in English.

Russia's educational landscape has experienced significant shifts since the start of the full-scale war. In September 2022, schools across the country rolled out a new class called “Important Conversations,” a state-designed, “patriotic” lesson series meant to bring students’ spiritual and moral values in line with the Russian Federation’s National Security Strategy.

A year later, the Russian authorities supplemented this ideological teaching with military instruction. In addition to things like fire safety and first aid, students began learning “basic military training” in their “Fundamentals of Life Safety” classes. In 10th grade, they learn about the workings of the Kalashnikov assault rifle and “information-psychological warfare.”

Now, the Kremlin is looking to further expand ideological and military teaching in schools. From September 2024, “Fundamentals of Life Safety” will be replaced by something called “Fundamentals of Homeland Security and Defense.” (While related amendments to federal education law were made in July 2023, the program was only officially registered with the Justice Ministry on February 29, 2024.)

A child today, a soldier tomorrow

“Fundamentals of Homeland Security and Defense” (FHSD) is approved for students as young as those in fifth grade, but from eighth grade, the course is mandatory. Among other things, eighth and ninth graders will be taught about the tactical and technical characteristics of the Dragunov sniper rifle, the RPG-7 handheld anti-tank grenade launcher, the Kalashnikov assault rifle, and various hand grenades. Students will also study drill training, general military regulations, “the essence and importance of military discipline,” and “the essence of unified command.”

Instructors are tasked with fostering specific “personal results” in students by the program’s conclusion, including “a responsible attitude toward fulfilling one’s constitutional duty of defending the Fatherland” and “an understanding of the significance of the military oath.”

By ninth grade, students are expected to master skills such as putting on equipment and body armor, “assessing the risks of violating military discipline,” and performing drill exercises. Over the two following years, the program goes even deeper. Tenth and 11th graders will learn the basics of combined arms combat, how to set up a combat unit’s position, and how to use more modern firearms such as the MP-443 Grach pistol and the AK-12 assault rifle.

The FHSD program has between 136 and 238 lessons, depending on the grade level at which it’s introduced. Since schools can independently decide how many hours to allocate for each unit (there are still traditional topics such as disaster preparedness and response), this could add dozens of military lessons to those already required in the “basic military training” block. As a result, a significant portion of the school curriculum will focus on military training and preparing future soldiers for combat.

The Russian authorities plan to tap “special military operation” veterans to help teach the new subject, according to First Deputy Education Minister Alexander Bugaev, who said the ex-soldiers will fill an “invaluable niche [in schools by transferring] their personal experience.”

These veterans will be prepared for their new teaching career at the Vertex Center for Military Patriotic Education at Russia’s Federal State University of Education. After just 36 hours of training, a former soldier can get a document certifying them to teach in schools. In addition to retraining war participants as teachers, the center will organize military games for children. Officially, the university’s vice rector, Alexey Ryabtsev, heads the program, but the actual work is likely to fall to his deputy, Pyotr Ishkov, who served as deputy education minister of the self-proclaimed “Luhansk People’s Republic” in 2022. However, details about the center itself and its educational programs remain scarce.

Integrated ideology

Russian schools are also set to make big changes to core classes. Russia’s Education Ministry has already drafted a law that would replace social studies in sixth through eighth grade with something called “Our Region’s History.” While social studies will still be taught in high school, many Russians leave school after ninth grade to go to trade schools.

Less than half of the topics covered in “Our Region’s History” will actually touch on local history because the course is meant to incorporate topics from an existing discipline, “Fundamentals of the Spiritual and Moral Culture of the Russian Peoples.”

Course topics include: “The Traditional Family,” “Risks and Threats to the Spiritual and Moral Culture of Russia,” “The Russian World,” “Russian Language — the Basis of Russian Culture,” “Spiritual and Moral Values of the Russian People,” “Unity of Values in Russia’s Religions,” “Heroes of the Armed Forces,” and “The Citizen’s Duty to Society.”

Students will still have separate “Important Conversations” classes, but now state ideology will also be integrated into and dispersed across regular subjects.

Previously, ideological subjects could be mostly ignored. While they might influence awards at school, they didn’t have an impact on college admissions. Now that ideology has been added to the core school curriculum, though, related topics will be included on Russia’s college aptitude test, the Unified State Exam (EGE).

Students planning to take the history EGE are now required to know the reasons for “The Revival of the Russian Federation as a World Power,” “The Reunification of Crimea with Russia,” and “The Special Military Operation in Ukraine.” In 2023, only Russia’s annexation of Crimea was included.

In 2024, the list of topics students should know for the EGE in social studies includes things like “The Spiritual Values of Russian Society,” and “The Russian Federation’s State Policy to Counter Extremism.” Neither of these topics was on the exam last year.

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j3nnyjams · 10 months

Text

interests

so i’m kind of a fake nerd. always have been. i’m a big ol dummy, just faking it til i make it. i definitely have things i’m interested in/excited about but i’m not really the Resident Expert on most things except certain extremely cringe and niche things like early-2000s animutations. but i’ve definitely been gettin into more stuff as time goes on...

i think the reason i made morgan such a renaissance person is because i kinda wanna be that. i wanna learn and know EVERYTHING about EVERYTHING but actually learning is such a pain for me, to the extent where i wonder sometimes if i haven’t just had a learning disorder this whole time, or maybe it’s just my adhd but i struggle to focus on new subjects. i wanna be a geek who knows all there is to know about 18th century naval disasters and extinct bugs and the intricate inner workings of 1970s home computer architecture damnit!! but its so easy to slip into what feels ‘comfortable’ and never expand your mind beyond that... have i lost my childlike curiosity? i sure hope not!

anyway i been gaming

i bought a retroid pocket 3 last year and it’s been REALLY fun trying a bunch of old games at work but i still usually stick to mario world and pokemon rom hacks because i’m a creature of habit. anyway emulation is fucking sick and i’d like to play a lot more old games. if anyone has any recommendations for games up to N64/PS1 era (and handhelds up to the PSP/DS) let me know, i’m good to try pretty much anything once

#text

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xyilous · 1 year

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very not good mentally so self medicating with the comfort character of the month

didn’t really know how to start this so apologizes if the beginning is weird 💀💀

gn reader, can be platonic or romantic

cw for depression, poor mental health, intrusive thoughts (one mention of eating/food), suicide mention, depression room based off personal experience

if anyone tries to insult people with mental health or say it shouldn’t get that bad, you will be blocked

shit took me like 3 days

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Ding dong!

A loud chime rippled through the house, letting you know someone was at your door. Everything already feels so heavy, there’s no energy left to converse with another being. It took so much will power to pry your exhausted body out of bed, the surround mess and clutter feeling like a mockery of your poor mental state. The steps felt so cold on the way to the front door but weren’t enough to clear the fog, there was a haze throughout the world that made it so hard to think, everything just moved in a blur. Once the doorknob met your palm, you paused for a moment in hopes of somehow willing away whoever chose to ring the doorbell. With a twist the door creeped its way open with a low groan, revealing an old friend, Corey.

There was a mutual bond between the two of you, back when you guys where younger he’d come to your house during the later hours of the night to vent about how his mom is relentless about controlling him. Recollections of the things she’d say were shared early in the morning, up until he had to run back home before she woke up. Some nights you’d share as well, talking about how your brain chose to torture you for the week or how you’ve noticed it’s getting harder to find joy in your favorite hobbies. After the accident, he learned just how debilitating depression can be and tried to be even more gentle with you when he picks up on you getting worse.

It took him a moment to look up from his phone, when he did he jumped a little bit, not expecting to see you since he didn’t hear the door open. He started with a big grin but once he took in your disheveled appearance his face softened, still smiling but with a sorrowful look to his eyes.

“Hey! You’ve not been as cheery lately, I came to check on you.” As he spoke, he turned the screen on his handheld device towards you, showing how your side would be short and flat, a strong contrast compared to your usual tone. Words didn’t come to you as fast as you’d hoped, the only thing you go out was a muttered apology before you drew back a little bit, trying to hide in your doorway.

“No no don’t be!! I was just worried about you, I know you can have your bad moments and I didn’t want you to feel stranded. Can i come in?”

The question made your stomach drop, quickly remembering all the mess that was strewn around your house’s floor and shelves. You felt embarrassed over it, hyper aware of the rotten bowls and plates of food that sat too long, the pile of dirty laundry sitting in the bathroom that was a bit bigger than you’d expect, especially considering showering has been too energy consuming.

“I don’t think you want to, it’s a disaster. Haven’t really been able to pick up and it,, it’s not great.” Corey’s face dropped a little more, slowly processing that you’ve been a bit worse than he thought. Your eyes were avoiding him like the plague, terrified of seeing him draw his face up and scowl at you for being unhygienic, but that was the last thing on his mind. A silence hung in the air, before his voice edged its way through.

“That’s ok, I’ll clean up for you, if it’d make you feel better. Might help to freshen up the place some.” He was calm, caring even. Finally being able to look his way, a welcoming smile taking place on his cheeks. It was nerve wracking, the help was practically needed but you should be able to clean your own house shouldn’t you? At the same time it felt so hard, simply taking a plate to the kitchen took so much effort, even if it was such a small task.

“I don’t know, you shouldn’t have to take care of a grown adult.”

“I don’t have to. I want to. I wouldn’t have offered if it was something I didn’t want to do.” Corey set his hand down on your shoulder, not paying any mind to your filthy shirt. His thumb rubbed on your shoulder, trying to reassure you that he doesn’t mind while not wanting to talk too much and overwhelm you. Once he got you to reluctantly agree, he gently ran his hand down your arm until it met your own and led you inside.

It took him a moment to figure out where he wanted to start, eventually choosing your main bedroom to get the worst of it over and done with. Grabbing a couple garbage bags and a bottle of water for each of you, the two of you made your way back up the flight of stairs.

It felt like ages, you had to fight the urge to turn him around and send him back home multiple times, scared that he’s eventually going to find you as disgusting as a rat in new york. It was scary, in movies or online it’s always the mild symptoms, you never see how bad it gets. And if you dare to show the severity of it? You’ll be shamed off the internet.

Having someone from outside see the chaos festering inside of your living area made you somehow feel even smaller, you practically folded in on yourself to try and hide in your own arms. It was humiliating, even if you knew Corey understood you could feel him get grossed out the more and more you stood there.

“Would you mind sitting in the chair for a bit? I’m gonna switch out your sheets and pop your blankets and pillowcases in the washer. I’ll take these dishes down there while I’m at it.” If he was grossed out he did his best to make it obvious. Some of those said dishes had unfinished food fusing to them, they weren’t meant to sit for so long but every time you told yourself you were gonna take them down there they’d sit for another day. Corey walked over to your dresser and pulled out a solid colored fitted sheet from the bottom drawer before turning back to your crumb coated bed. The old sheet came off with ease, the second one effortlessly replacing it.

“I’m sorry there’s so much, you really don’t have to do all this-“ He stood up from adjusting the final corner, ditching the grimey sheet into a slightly over flowing laundry basket in the room. The rest of the bedding was already in there, as well as whatever clothes sat in the floor.

“I insisted. I’m not gonna tell you I’ll clean just to make you do it.” Sympathetic eyes met your face, really taking in just how tired you look. Darkened eyes with matching bags underneath, knotted hair lazily splayed across your face, you look absolutely exhausted, and felt twice as bad. You shouldn’t be so drained, you’ve done nothing worth being drained, but you can’t help it no matter how hard you try. It’s always a battle in your head, but there’s times like these where all you can do is let the enemy attack because you’ve gotten so tired of fending it off. A barely noticeable frown was on his face as Corey took your appearance in, he felt bad that it got so bad and he didn’t step in sooner. In all honesty he wanted to, but he also wanted to give you any needed space. Growing up he never got the love he needed, after the accident with Jeremy he needed even more but never got it, in turn all he wants is to comfort and help other people so they maybe don’t feel as helpless as he did. He wants people to get the care the need, whether it’s a clean house or someone to simply be there. Another silence settled between the two of you, just a small moment to take what’s happening in. A growl coming from your stomach broke both of you out of your own heads, prompting Corey to open his mouth again.

“Have you eaten today?” You haven’t, it’s nearly 3 and you haven’t had a single thing to eat, not much to drink either (apart from a couple sips from the water Corey grabbed).

“I don’t think I have actually.” Although your stomach practically roared, no appetite was there. Sure you could eat, but you didn’t bother feeding yourself since you just didn’t feel hungry.

“Is there anything you want in particular? I can make anything that you ask for!! Can even order from a restaurant, I’ll pay.” Patient as ever, he stood there and listened intently to what you felt like you could stomach, making a mental note to get a little extra since you probably haven’t eaten much proper food lately. To kill some time, Corey disposed of bits of garbage in one of the bags he brought up and took the laundry and old dishes downstairs and to their respective areas. The crusty blankets were tossed into the washer so they’d be done as fast as possible and you could get to a clean bed. It didn’t take long for lunch to arrive, before making his way back up the steps he quickly thanked the delivery man and snagged the fast food. Probably not the most ideal meal, but it’s better than a single package of crackers.

Eating went by a lot easier with him, he acted a little goofier than usual and talked your head off, anything to keep your attention away from the misery that danced around in your head. Even going as far as acting out stories to make you laugh, he’d throw his arms out wide and puff his chest out to make him appear like some brave hero, he wanted you to feel better and was willing to be a complete fool to accomplish it. It was endearing to know someone cared that much for you. By the time his story was over, your food was gone apart from a couple fries. To an outsider that wouldn’t be abnormal, but as of late eating has been so taxing, it felt like 100 pound weights were strapped to your wrists and prevented you from taking more than a couple bites. Corey noticed as well, a proud look on his face as you ditched your wrappers into the garbage bag. He started picking up again as he finished off the last bites of his burger, since most of the bigger pieces of trash were disposed of he made his way into the hallway to fetch the vacuum from the storage closet.

“You wanna step out before I start this? I know that the sound can be a bit much.” The question wasn’t expected, it’s such a mundane task that people usually get upset if you show any discomfort for it, but he was concerned about something as simple as a loud noise making you uncomfortable.

“I think I’ll be ok, but thanks for asking.” Your words came out softer than you expected, almost airy. Receiving help feels so foreign, you tried to avoid accepting offers due to it feeling like a chore or burden to them, there’s been times where they would pity or even shame you for letting it get so bad. You didn’t mean to, you did your best but so often your best simply wasn’t enough.

Stepping on the pedal, the vacuum roared to life and Corey immediately got to getting little bits and pieces out of the floor. Slightly rushed, but still thorough to be sure all the crumbs are gone. Your hands covered your ears as your legs got pulled to your chest and out of the floor to allow him access under the chair. When the main floor was cleared, he adjusted the settings until the smaller tube on the side started started sucking as he kneeled to get along the edge of your bed frame. By the time everything was said and done, the washer dinged downstairs, signaling your bedding is now clean. The chime made you jump a little, both of you nearly forgetting Corey even started it. Grabbing the handle of the vacuum, he let you know he was going to switch your blankets to the dryer before he trekked down to the laundry room. In the short time he was gone, your thoughts turned sour. He said he wanted to help and he looked like he meant it, but what if it’s because he pitied you? What if he didn’t want to be around someone who would make his reputation even worse?? You wasted his money on food too, you didn’t need that. He was here because he knew you couldn’t even take care of your self. Yeah, that’s it. He didn’t want to be around a slob so he wanted to fix it-

“Are you alright??” You got so lost in your own thoughts that you didn’t even notice that he returned. All you could muster up was a half assed hum, hardly acknowledging that Corey anything. His worry was incredibly evident on his face, his eyebrows were twisted upwards with his lips ever so slightly agape. Not even 5 minutes passed while he was gone, but you looked so lifeless by the time he walked back through the doorway. Even after the initial shock wore off, concern was still etched into his features, it was the first time he’s seen you in weeks and now you look like an empty husk of your happy self.

Corey strode over to you carefully, as if you were a scared animal about to bolt, just to scoop you into his arms. It was tighter than either of you expected, one arm was wrapped around your back while the other’s hand held your head close to his warm chest. All of him enveloped you and held on as if you were going to fade away at any moment, even his head was pressed against your own, anything to keep you grounded.

It was startling, every part of you froze in place. Part of your mind screamed at you to pry your way out of his grip while the other side begged you to take as much as you could, to accept the comfort you so desperately sought after. Your arms moved slowly at first, so slow you weren’t sure you were even moving, creeping their way up his well worn sweater. When your body fully caught up to what was happening, you couldn’t stop your fingers from clawing at the the knot fabric and holding on for dear life. Everything was so much, your face starting to burn as your eyes began to water. This isn’t real, it can’t be, it’s not right. You’ve done nothing to deserve this but you want it so badly.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His words were hushed, barely audible, if he wasn’t so close you wouldn’t have heard them. Mixed emotions laced his voice, sorrow and sympathy with a bit of fear laced in, he was overwhelmed with anxiety over your well-being and seeing you somehow drop even more made him get panic. Depression can be devastating, it’s claimed countless lives of people who just couldn’t fight it anymore, he didn’t want to hear about your untimely death in the news.

Your entire body tensed at the question, your brain froze up and refused to conjure up any form of a reply, not even a small noise to let him know you heard him. Fat tears stung your eyes, it was all so intense and so sudden that all you could do was stand there as they slipped down your cheeks. Both of you had a small shake to each of your hands, yours only getting worse as you clung to his shirt tighter and tighter. It hurt, beyond the lump in your throat and the growing headache you couldn’t fathom someone genuinely caring so much to ignore your unclean state and just hold you. No comments about your greasy skin or your week old sweatpants, no insults about how you can’t take care of yourself or let it get so bad. Corey was simply there for you, no strings attached.

Minutes passed, neither of you made an effort to move away until your shaking subdued and you stopped sniffling. He was the one to move back, just enough to have room to properly look at your flushed face, to ask about doing something to make you feel better.

“How about a movie? Since your stuff is still in the dryer we can crash downstairs. Your pick, it can even be horror if that’s what you want.” You’ve seen plenty of shows and series since you started losing interest in anything else, but it would be nice to watch something with someone.

“I’m so gross right now though. I’ve not showered in like a week, wouldn’t you want to wait a bit?” Avoiding eye contact for yet another time today, you admitted that you’ve not been keeping up with hygiene. You felt disgusting over it, it’s not like you meant to let it go but it was just so hard to find the energy to take the time to clean yourself.

“It doesn’t bother me, I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I’m willing to wait a little bit if you want to shower though.” You almost immediately decided to shower, wanting to get clean as soon as possible, especially after hugging him. Somehow you didn’t leave a grease stain on his sweater, as thankful as you are.

It took a little longer for you to shower, wanting to take a little extra time to ensure you cleaned the old grime off of your skin, by the time you finished it was nearing sunset, curse the fall for looking so beautiful yet cutting your days so short.

Corey was waiting downstairs with the throw blanket tugged from the back of the couch, a big bowl of fresh buttery popcorn sitting in his lap. The whole scene felt so inviting, the controller for the gaming console was resting in his hands, a glance to the tv screen showing that he’s already started exploring some streaming app. When he took notice of your presence, he held up one end of the blanket to welcome you next to him, making sure you both had ample cover. Somehow he broke through his awkwardness to go above and beyond to make you feel better, even just for a few hours. As clingy as mental illness could be, he managed to chip as much as he could from you with a limited skill set. It was agony watching someone he’s so close to struggle to keep themselves alive, as long as he could ease that burden he was going to try. In a sense he admired your ability to keep going, especially considering that your brain is trying with all it’s might to get you to cave in, he looked up to your strength for carrying on even with people looking down their noses at you.

After shuffling through through more categories and apps than you wanted to, you ended up settling on a somewhat outdated slasher film, it was an early 2000s remake that was trying so hard to be edgy that it ended up being a bit goofy, wasn’t the best but it was something to laugh at. As it passed you relaxed a bit, eventually readjusting to where you were wore or less splayed across Corey’s legs, he didn’t seem to mind, even holding up the blanket to keep you from getting yourself too tangled. Though slightly uncomfortable considering bones, it was nice to be able to just relax. Even if most of your time was spent wallowing around in your own dead skin cells, there was always that guilt following you around over not doing anything. This was different, that said guilt wasn’t screaming in your ears and telling you the worst things. It was quiet, you could listen to the movie and Corey’s quirky little rambles, there wasn’t near as much fog clouding all of your thoughts and it just felt so peaceful.

Eventually the film ended, another quickly coming on right after, but it wasn’t as easy to pay attention. Questions danced around in your head, it felt awkward to ask but you needed to know.

“Why did you help me? Wouldn’t have been better if you just,, did something else? Like go to a park or to some restaurant.” When there wasn’t an immediate response you tensed, immediately thinking you made a mistake and should’ve already been fine with what happened, but before you could tell him to ignore it he gave you what you wanted.

“Well, I was worried about you. And when I saw that you weren’t doing too hot I decided to help. I’ve known you for ages, if you broke your arm I wouldn’t just abandon you with it.”

“But I didn’t break my arm, a broken arm feels serious and is something that very obviously needs help.” By now you’ve turned to where you’re facing him halfway, the movie completely forgotten. Corey looked a bit confused, taking another moment to think out his words carefully before just spewing out something that you’ve already heard.

“Think about it this way, if you had a cold, runny nose and all, I still wouldn’t leave you to deal with it by yourself. Sure, you’re fully capable of recovering by yourself, but I’m not just gonna take your word for it and let you handle it the hard way. I can get your medicine for you and make you food that’ll help you recover.” As he spoke he rubbed your back reassuringly, trying to get you to understand.

“You’re sick, regardless of if you have or don’t have symptoms like a cough or upset stomach. You deserve help, even if it’s in your head.”

That’s new. Usually people bombard you with remarks about how it’s all in your head and that you’re making it up, either that or they’ll make it a huge over exaggerated sob story about how it’s so horrible. Yes, without a doubt it’s awful but the dramatization of it makes it feel like you’re feeding into it too much. You never hear it just be accepted like any other issue, especially if it’s treated like a genuine illness, even if it’s in the name. Growing up your mental illnesses were constantly dismissed, you were always written off as attention seeking or lazy, now that someone took it seriously you’re rendered speechless. You probably look like an ass, you’ve yet to respond, instead delving into your head to try and process what you’ve heard.

“Are you alright?” Those are the same words he asked you hours ago, this time lacking their frantic tone. You didn’t feel as frozen, just nodding as you continue to replay the words in your head, making sure that’s what he said.

“Thank you.” It wasn’t much, but it was all you could mutter out. Corey was appreciated, of course he was, but you didn’t know how to articulate what you were thinking. A sliver of you doubted him, fearing that he heard it in some video and he’s just repeating it, but you know him, you know how he is and you know that moments like these are genuine, even if his words were up-cycled movie quotes.

“Of course, I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it.” Okay mind reader.

“I care about you, I really do. Please, if it ever gets that bad again, call me, yeah? You don’t even have to, just get ahold of me somehow. I’m not going to let you just wither away on me.” Pulling you back down to him, his arms wrapped around you in a tight hug yet again, using the grip to punctuate his words.

“I’ll try to, no promises though.” That was all he needed, anything close to a yes would work for him. Even if the way you spoke showed your tiredness, you still had a resemblance of a grin on your cheeks to show your sincerity.

“When this wraps up I’ll make your bed and spend the night, how’s that sound?”

“If you insist, I won’t complain.”

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