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wolfliving · 7 months

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It starts with him

What was once a promise of technology to allow us to automate and analyze the environments in our physical spaces is now a heap of broken ideas and broken products. Technology products have been deployed en masse, our personal data collected and sold without our consent, and then abandoned as soon as companies strip mined all the profit they thought they could wring out. And why not? They already have our money.

The Philips Hue, poster child of the smart home, used to work entirely on your local network. After all, do you really need to connect to the Internet to control the lights in your own house? Well you do now!Philips has announced it will require cloud accounts for all users—including users who had already purchased the hardware thinking they wouldn’t need an account (and the inevitable security breaches that come with it) to use their lights.

Will you really trust any promises from a company that unilaterally forces a change like this on you? Does the user actually benefit from any of this?

Matter in its current version … doesn’t really help resolve the key issue of the smart home, namely that most companies view smart homes as a way to sell more individual devices and generate recurring revenue.

It keeps happening. Stuff you bought isn’t yours because the company you bought it from can take away features and force you to do things you don’t want or need to do—ultimately because they want to make more money off of you. It’s frustrating, it’s exhausting, and it’s discouraging.

And it has stopped IoT for the rest of us in its tracks. Industrial IoT is doing great—data collection is the point for the customer. But the consumer electronics business model does not mesh with the expected lifespan of home products, and so enshittification began as soon as those first warranties ran out.

How can we reset the expectations we have of connected devices, so that they are again worthy of our trust and money? Before we can bring the promise back, we must deweaponize the technology.

Guidelines for the hardware producer

What we can do as engineers and business owners is make sure the stuff we’re building can’t be wielded as a lever against our own customers, and to show consumers how things could be. These are things we want consumers to expect and demand of manufacturers.

Control

Think local

Decouple

Open interfaces

Be a good citizen

1) Control over firmware updates.

You scream, “What about security updates!” But a company taking away a feature you use or requiring personal data for no reason is arguably a security flaw.

We were once outraged when intangible software products went from something that remained unchanging on your computer, to a cloud service, with all the ephemerality that term promises. Now they’re coming for our tangible possessions.

No one should be able to do this with hardware that you own. Breaking functionality is entirely what security updates are supposed to prevent! A better checklist for firmware updates:

Allow users to control when and what updates they want to apply.

Be thorough and clear as to what the update does and provide the ability to downgrade if needed.

Separate security updates from feature additions or changes.

Never force an update unless you are sure you want to accept (financial) responsibility for whatever you inadvertently break.

Consider that you are sending software updates to other people’s hardware. Ask them for permission (which includes respecting “no”) before touching their stuff!

2) Do less on the Internet.

A large part of the security issues with IoT products stem from the Internet connectivity itself. Any server in the cloud has an attack surface, and now that means your physical devices do.

The solution here is “do less”. All functionality should be local-only unless it has a really good reason to use the Internet. Remotely controlling your lights while in your own house does not require the cloud and certainly does not require an account with your personal information attached to it. Limit the use of the cloud to only the functions that cannot work without it.

As a bonus, less networked functionality means fewer maintenance costs for you.

3) Decouple products and services.

It’s fine to need a cloud service. But making a product that requires a specific cloud service is a guarantee that it can be enshittified at any point later on, with no alternative for the user owner.

Design products to be able to interact with other servers. You have sold someone hardware and now they own it, not you. They have a right to keep using it even if you shut down or break your servers. Allow them the ability to point their devices to another service. If you want them to use your service, make it worthwhile enough for them to choose you.

Finally, if your product has a heavy reliance on the cloud to work, consider enabling your users to self-host their own cloud tooling if they so desire. A lot of people are perfectly capable of doing this on their own and can help others do the same.

4) Use open and standard protocols and interfaces.

Most networked devices have no reason to use proprietary protocols, interfaces, and data formats. There are open standards with communities and software available for almost anything you could want to do. Re-inventing the wheel just wastes resources and makes it harder for users to keep using their stuff after you’re long gone. We did this with Twine, creating an encrypted protocol that minimized chatter, because we needed to squeeze battery life out of WiFi back when there weren’t good options.

If you do have a need for a proprietary protocol (and there are valid reasons to do so):

Document it.

If possible, have a fallback option that uses an open standard.

Provide tooling and software to interact with your custom protocols, at the very least enough for open source developers to be able to work with it. This goes for physical interfaces as much as it does for cloud protocols.

If the interface requires a custom-made, expensive, and/or hard-to-find tool to use, then consider using something else that is commonly available and off the shelf instead.

5) Be a good citizen.

Breaking paid-for functionality on other people’s stuff is inherently unethical. Consider not doing this! Enshittification is not a technical problem, it is a behavioral one. Offer better products that are designed to resist enshittification, and resist it yourself in everything you do.

Nothing forced Philips to do what they are doing: a human made a decision to do it. They could have just as easily chosen not to. With Twine’s server lock-in, at least we chose to keep it running, for 12 years now. Consider that you can still make a decent living by being honest and ethical towards the people who are, by purchasing your products, paying for your lifestyle.

We didn’t get here by accident. Humans made choices that brought us to this point, and we can’t blame anyone for being turned off by it. But we can choose to do better. We can design better stuff. And we can choose not to mess things up after the fact.

We’re putting this into practice with Pickup. (We also think that part of an IoT reset is giving users the creative freedom of a general-purpose device.) If you’re looking for something better and our product can fill a need you have, consider backing us. We cannot claim to be perfect or have all of the answers, but we are absolutely going to try. The status quo sucks. Let’s do something about it.

Published October 15, 2023 By Jeremy Billheimer

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fleet-of-fiction · 5 months

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Jake Kiszka // Female Narrator

Part Three

After a blinding light eradicates mankind, you're left in a desolate and empty world. A year of solitude eliminates all belief that anyone else was left behind. Until a chance encounter on the side of the road. Jake is injured and fighting for his life, but his presence brings a renewed sense of hope. Touch starved and lonely, you need him. And undoubtedly, he needs you too.

"It would be the last man on earth that would end up being mine..."

Explicit sexual content Sex (penetrative & oral) /Foreplay /Blood / Injury / Hunting. / Intense emotions / Death.

Day 410 ~ Jake

Her eyes drifted up from the board. An air of concentration furrowed between her brows and the tip of her tongue which sat delicately at the edge of her teeth.

"Check mate!" She announced, knocking my piece off the board with a look of devilish satisfaction.

"Beginners luck." I replied, sending a hand to my ribcage to rub an ache I suspected would always trouble me from now on.

The snow had fallen in earnest. A blanket of dazzling white covered the ground, powdered flakes falling off the canopy of trees around us made for a spectacle when the sun peeked out from behind clouds. It was the first real beauty I'd taken note of in what felt like a very long time.

"And what if I told you that I was a secret master? That I'd been dumbing down my abilities all this time just so that I didn't demasculate you over a game of chess?" She gloated, raising an eyebrow as she waited for me to make my next move.

She reminded me of a sunset. With a touch of copper in her hair and those damned freckles on her nose. She had all the hope of a beautiful end and that it would bring something as equally beautiful in the morning.

"I didn't have you down as a liar." I replied, scanning the board for something that would knock her off her winning streak.

She folded her hands beneath her chin and leaned her elbows onto the edge of the kitchen table. "There's a lot you don't know about me, Jake."

I didn't doubt that. But I was sincerely grateful for the things which I had learned over the past few days. She'd carefully guided me around the entire place, shown me how everything worked and where the source of all the power came from. How to maintain all the power sources and what to do in the event of any of them breaking down.

There was a bank of solar panels on the cabin roof, flanked by a couple of small turbines. They were hooked up to a battery which powered the entire place. There was a small out house around the back, a few old generators were sat in there gathering dust in case of an emergency but she assured me the solar and wind provided more than enough for the entire place to run off for another decade.

These were things that I felt as if I should've known. Things that felt fundamental to survival. As if somehow it'd been wrong to live in a house that was attached to a network that relied on manpower to keep going. The foolishness of it.

Even the polytunnels where the vegetables grew made me feel as if I'd been missing the point entirely every time I'd walked into a grocery store. There were chickens kept in a coop, and there were two horses in a small stable on the other side of the trees. Because, apparently, someday the fuel was going to turn bad. She talked at great length about how she had no idea how to get the horses to mate, in the event of their untimely deaths she didn't want be left without transportation.

These were things I hadn't considered. Things which made me feel a little stupid when she pointed them out to me. My eyes widening in slight horror at the sheer expanse of pickled foods and canned goods kept in what she liked to call the "store". It was a small shelter, dug into the ground and covered in mossy earth to the untrained eye. But inside there was every non perishable and medical supply you could think of. Put there by her Grandma, in the event of the government falling to into it's own pit of destruction, or so her Grandma explained it.

The stark realisation that my life had been filled with convenient privilege was not lost upon me. I watched her muck out the horses and feed the chickens, tend to her plants and make sure the store was stocked up making mental notes of each little thing she did. Hoping that when the time came, I'd be able to be of some use to her.

"I know you're not a chess master." I hummed, tipping over her Bishop with my Queen. "Check mate?"

She leaned back in defeat. Chewing on the inside of her cheek as she tried not to react. The board looked a little chaotic now, with pieces in places I had no idea what to do with. I had minimal knowledge of the game and I suspected she was trying in vain to keep it going.

"You're a dark horse." She ruminated, trying to step over the impasse we'd arrived at. "I can't imagine we'll complete this before sunrise."

What did it matter? Time was our greatest thief. And yet, it was slowly becoming our greatest asset. We had time to sit and play chess, time to sit and read. Time to take walks in the woodland and drive into the empty streets of Roanoke to go in search for supplies.

The world was gently eroding back to nature. Something I'd barely noticed over the passing of the last year. Maybe I'd been so hell bent on finding another living soul that I'd forgotten to take in what was around me. With Amelia, it was starting to feel like I had woken up from a deep and dreamless sleep.

I was about to consider my next move when she shoved the board aside.

"How about that whiskey?" She asked, a flash of mischief in her eyes that I'd never seen before. "You're done with your antibiotics now."

The wind howled outside. Another flurry of snow in the air. The animals were fed and watered. I felt a churn of something deep within, like the stirrings of Christmas morning as a child. Like everything was precisely as it should be.

Everything was ok.

"You might not like me when I'm drunk." I warned, allowing a hint of playfulness to slip out. "I have this terrible penchant for speaking in a British accent."

She grabbed a bottle of something dark from the cupboard beneath the sink. Hooking two small glasses between her fingers from the cupboard above.

"That's the alcohol influencing the broca's area of your brain." She explained, pouring out two generous shots. "The part which perceives speech is impended. Although the accent thing is weird, I'd quite like to hear it."

There was a little curl in her lip as she clinked her glass against mine.

"You're so smart." I told her, "You make me feel like I was just travelling towards a destination with my eyes closed."

Immediately she brushed a dismissive hand through the air. Curling up her legs to sit with them crossed in the little dining chair, nursing her glass as she watched the brown liquid roll around the crystal edges.

"I think we were both entirely different people before." She said warmly, "If we had known what was to come, would we have lived our lives any differently?"

I sank my drink and leaned my hand out for a refill. "My life wasn't ordinary, even back then."

There'd been so many reasons why we hadn't talked like this before. Her initial reluctance had taken time to thaw. The silence we'd become accustomed to seemed so much safer to dwell in.

I was starting to lose count of the days I'd been with her. I was entirely distracted with surviving and being of service to her. Getting myself well enough to pitch in and not be a burden. The way she had given me purpose again made me want to live in this empty world. It made me not want to be anywhere else, with anyone else.

"I guess we haven't really touched on that, yet." She replied sheepishly, almost as if she didn't want to go there. "It almost seems irrelevant, doesn't it?"

She sank back another shot. Wincing as the burn slid down the back of her throat. Her nose wrinkled, all those freckles converging. For a moment I could forget that once there'd been another woman in my life.

"We both lost people we loved." I countered, taking the bottle for myself and pouring my glass almost full. "It's not relevant now, but I still miss them. I don't know how to stop missing them."

She didn't say anything for what felt like too long a period of silence. Where usually it was solidly comfortable, I could feel her unease at the presence of the ghosts of those we loved. Their names on the tips of our tongues.

"I don't think we're meant to. I think we're meant to miss them for the rest of our lives. Maybe that's our cross to bear. For whatever this life now brings." She replied, our mutual sadness at that thought evident in the way her eyes glossed over.

I didn't want her to cry. I couldn't bear to see her cry. It made me want to throw all my resolve away and take her into my arms whether she would have me or push me away. It made me want to make a fool of myself.

"I don't think we should play chess anymore." I suggested, "It makes us melancholy."

I clocked the bottle and it was already half empty.

"I don't think it's the chess." She slurred a little, gesturing to the snowy expanse outside. "I don't think I've seen this much snow for this long in my life, ever."

I could feel the heat of the whiskey in my blood as I stood. Taking my time to stroll over to the kitchen window. Trying to make myself appear steadier than I felt.

"Maybe the climate is changing."

Her face remained still. It took me a moment to notice that she wasn't responding. When I chanced a glance over at her, she was chewing the inside of her cheek. Lost in a thought I couldn't follow her into.

"What is it?" I dared to ask.

"They won't be here to see it." She replied quietly, a solitary tear betraying her. "They won't be here to see any more sunrises. Or the way that grass is starting to grow in all the pot holes that were left. And they'll never see the snow on the ground again. I hope..."

She swallowed hard, taking the bottle and foregoing the glass entirely. Swigging it back, like she couldn't stand to measure it out anymore.

"What do you hope?" I asked.

There was a longing there in her face that wasn't there before. Subsequent tears spilling down her red cheeks. Her skin all blotchy from the drink and the roaring fire.

"Wherever they are..." She sobbed. "I hope there's snow."

If we didn't speak their names, how could we honour them? If I was doomed to spend the rest of my life missing them, their names would never be forgotten anyway. They deserved to be spoken. They deserved to be memorialised. If they were dead, we couldn't go to their graves and weep. If they were alive, there were no roads we could find that would lead us to them. Speaking of them was all we had.

"Josh loved snow." I offered, returning to the table as slowly as I could. "We used to get a lot of it in winter where we grew up. Our parents used to make us go out back and chop wood and we'd have these huge bonfires and burn all the crap we didn't need for next summer. When we got a little older, our little brother Sam would have to come with us and we'd make him do all the hard labour. And he'd stand there and complain that it wasn't fair and we'd spin him a yarn about how he used to get to sit in the house all nice and warm while we did it and he wasn't a baby any more. Our sister never had to it, though. Her name was Veronica. She would sometimes come outside and hang out with us, though. She was cool like that."

I hadn't said their names in so long it was like resurrecting them. When I looked up from my faraway gaze, she wasn't crying anymore. There was this look of inherent surprise. Like she hadn't expected me to offload a childhood memory so freely. I could see a glimmer of hope where the tears had once been.

"Josh was your brother?" She ventured.

"Twin." I nodded, "He and I were the eldest. Then Veronica. Then little Sammy."

I probably shouldn't have, but I let her slide the bottle over towards me. Enough left for one more sip. I could feel myself on the fringes of being drunk, I knew one more would tip me over the edge.

"I had two brothers." She sniffed, wiping her cheeks with the sleeve of her t-shirt. "I was the middle child. My older brother, Deacon, he was like eight years older than me. I'm not sure my parents planned on having more than one but I guess nothing really goes to plan in life, does it? My little brother, Charlie, he was only two years younger."

Charlie. The little toy chest in my room still had his name carved in it. For her, they weren't just names to be said in remembrance. They were real, solid echoes still bouncing off these walls. I felt this uncontrollable need to close the distance between us. To hold her like I had when she'd screamed in the night.

"It didn't stop us from fighting, though." Her eyes lit up. "Deacon would always have to be the voice of reason, but every now and then he would come down to our level and bicker with us about something until our Dad had to step in. Our Mom was always a little more laid back, I think it was because she was raised here at the cabin. My Dad grew up in Silicon Valley. He had vacations in Europe and country club memberships. My Mom had yearly road trips to Virginia beach in a beaten up Volkswagen my Grandpa drove into the ground. Deacon was the first person in her family to graduate college."

And just like that, the fire went out again.

"So your Dad was rich?" I poked at the embers, hoping to see the spark in her come back.

She shrugged. "His family were. All surgeons and lawyers and ceo's. I think he probably would've lived that textbook rich white guy life if he hadn't met my Mom. She kept him grounded. We were never allowed to exploit our wealth, we had to do volunteer work and give generously to charities. We had to go to college and get our own jobs and careers, there were no hand outs. But I guess you could say we were privileged. But never spoiled. Not when we used to spend summers here, with our Grandparents."

I could have listened to her all night. "What was that like?"

She uncrossed her legs and inspected the empty bottle. Her eyes were half closed, lids fluttering up and down slowly in a drunken haze.

"It was like fucking Disneyland." She smiled, then. "My friends all went off to ski in Aspen or whatever. We got sent here to hunt squirrels with my Grandpa and bake pies with my Grandma. And toast marshmallows on the fire every night. They'd let us go swimming in the lake until sunset, taught us everything we needed to know about living in the woods. And every time we had to go back to California, it always felt like I was stepping back into something I didn't really feel a part of."

She looked up at me from her inspection of the empty bottle. As if she'd forgotten that I was sat there at all.

"What was your life like?" She asked, scuttering off to the cupboard under the sink, falling almost as she slinked off the edge of her chair.

She waved a bottle of red wine at me, her lips flattening into a straight line as she settled on the floor.

"We don't have any wine glasses." She said flatly, "Can't drink wine without a wine glass."

I would have gone to her and picked her up off the ground. Helped her back to her seat, made her laugh if I could. Let her fall asleep on the couch in a delicious drunken heap, wrapped in the blankets she'd left me in when she'd saved my life. But she stumbled to her feet, giggling softly as she realised how quickly the whiskey had gone to her head.

"You need some help, there?" I asked, reaching out my hand for her to take.

"No, I'm good." She lied, "You just tell me your life story while I pour."

She filled our little crystal glasses to the brim, taking care to leave enough space at the top to allow for spillages. All regard for needing a wine glass dissipated.

"I was just a boy with a guitar from Michigan."

She stared at me with those hooded lids. Keeping her drink propped against her mouth, like I was weaving the most interesting tale she'd ever heard.

"Where's your guitar now?"

I hadn't anticipated how much that question would sting. I knew she noticed the way I backed away from it. She reached over the table and placed her palm on my forearm. Her thumb making soft movements against the scar which ran down the centre of my flesh.

"No...not without Josh..." I stammered, "I can't play..."

There was a real sympathy in the way her brows knitted together, squeezing my arm a little in silent comfort. She stayed like that, touching me innocently, as I tried to compel myself to bring together the story of my life. It felt like I was entirely detached from all of my memories somehow. As if recalling it from something I'd watched rather than experienced first hand. Like a fever dream.

One thing I knew for certain. One thing that struck me as the alcohol coursed through my veins. It didn't matter how many thousands of people I had played to. It did matter how many awards I'd won. None of it mattered a damn thing without my brothers. And I'd sworn never to play without them again.

Day 413 ~ Amelia

The rain began that night. Lashing against my bedroom window, forcing the snow to retreat. A part of me was relieved. That the snow would wash away and all the earth beneath it would be able to breathe again. Bringing a renewed hope for the coming spring. But it kept me awake. The deafening pitter patter against the old glass felt as if it was break at any moment. The rattle of the wind like ghosts through the cracks in the old wood.

Jake had been a formidable drinking partner. My head still aching somewhat from a hangover that had lasted three days. I bore no regret from it, though. The whiskey and wine had afforded me a courage I couldn't have found on my own. And the nightmares had been kept at bay too. Sleeping far too deep for any of those demons to penetrate.

My mouth was dry. Frustrated by the noise and the insomnia and the lingering consequences of my booziness I crawled out of bed and slipped into my robe. On soft tiptoes I crept out into the hallway, certain that the wind and rain would shroud my movements. But staying quiet just in case.

Down the hall Jake's bedroom door was ajar. A shard of low, golden light striking the hall in half. I'd expected him to be asleep, coming to know his sleeping habits in the days he'd been here. He was a night owl, often hearing him slip into bed hours after I'd retired. It was almost dawn, but still pitch enough that it felt like the dead of night.

It was in my mind to go downstairs and fetch a glass of water, to mind my business and leave him be. But the soft whimpers that cried out above the din of the wind called out to me. And I crept on silent feet down the hall, moving against all the intricacies of the floor boards I knew would creak and alert him to my presence.

It sounded like he was in pain. The way he'd recovered so quickly had been unusual, part of me had wondered if he'd tried to save face. If, when in private, he'd allowed himself moments to feel the pain of his healing injuries where I couldn't see him. But it wasn't pain.

It was pleasure.

I stood in the crack of his door. Sinful sounds coming from the bed. A rush of blood to my head made me weak at the knees. His hand was moving vigorously beneath the bed sheet. The sound of his voice, like that of a man who had known truly how to love a woman.

I closed my eyes and began to imagine hearing those melodic moans above me. A reminder that I'd long forgotten what it felt like to simply be a woman. In survival mode, there was no allowances for arousal. It had been gone from me, the desire to even touch myself. Every night I'd laid my head down and tried to rest until the sun came up. Never allowing myself to fall into that trap of desire. I was forever alone. There was nothing but grief each time my hand had travelled across my breasts. So I'd abandoned it. All hope that I'd ever feel want again.

Despite my eagerness to uphold his dignity, I couldn't find it within myself to move. Even when he grew too heated under the covers, kicking off his blanket to reveal the line of his body. I held my breath. Took note of the way his chest moved as he breathed harder, his stomach rising and falling. And the way he wrapped his hand around himself. Making gentle strokes that pulled on his shaft, revealing the flex of the muscles in his forearm.

I had no right to see this. I was the worst sort of voyeur. The sort that never made their presence known. If he had known would he have been angry? Humiliated? I couldn't tear my eyes from him. It was wrong, and it troubled me. The way I stood there and allowed the sight to make my core begin to throb. A heavy beat making me wet and swollen.

I stood there until he came into his palm. An agonizing groan signalling the end of his endurance. I watched the white, sticky mess spurt from his tip and spill down his fist. My hand pressed against my mound, not daring to trespass further. Not even underneath the fabric of my pyjama shorts. I was quietly hyperventilating, almost light headed from it as I watched him drag a hand towel down his softening cock and the back of his hand.

And just like that, he flicked off the lamp at his bed side and plunged the room into darkness. And I felt my own shame begin to rise in my cheeks as I stood there peering into the pitch black. Allowing the thunder which gathered overhead to shroud my footsteps as I retreated back up the hall way.

It was still raining when the sun came up. It drenched the daylight in a darkening grey and it didn't really feel as if the sun had come up at all. I busied myself with throwing down some chicken feed into the coop and gathering up some of the eggs which had been laid. I mucked out the horses and let them roam a little while I put down fresh bedding. Trying to keep my mind from returning to the thing I had done that morning.

He was a man who had been alone as long as I had. Clearly with a thirst which begged to be quenched. I was throwing down the bedding far more aggressively than I ever had before, torturing myself with thoughts that were unwelcome.

I didn't want him to kiss me, but why hadn't he tried? I didn't want him to fuck me, but why hadn't he tried? Why hadn't he even hinted at it? Or was his own hand a more preferable means to an end? Did he find me unattractive? Did I find him unattractive?

I cursed him as I shovelled the last of the bedding in, throwing my spade down as it clanged against the stable door. I hated myself for thinking such despicable things. All we had to do was survive. Nothing more. What did it matter if he satisfied himself behind a door I wasn't meant to be standing behind?

"There you are."

I spun on my heels. His hair was dripping, his shirt so wet that I could see right through it. A curious look on his face, like he'd been searching everywhere for me.

"Oh, hey." I replied, as nonchalantly as I could.

He looked into the clearing at the horses milling about, with no regard for the rain. They seemed to be enjoying being out of their confined space. And by all accounts, so did he.

"I woke up and you weren't there." He said, rain dripping off the tip of his nose.

"Yeah, I had stuff to do." I had already done it all, but I tried to make it appear as if I was still busy.

He watched me for a moment, his hair sticking to his collar bone and that stomach of his concaving as he breathed against the drenched shirt.

"Is it terrible that I didn't like it?" He asked, "I've grown fond of seeing you there drinking coffee at the kitchen table every morning."

How had I let this happen? This thing I swore I'd never let happen? How had he become so necessary to me and I to him? When he couldn't even bring himself to kiss me? Was it nothing more than a platonic fondness borne of this unwanted necessity? Was I a replacement for his mother or his sister?

"I've got shit to do, Jake. I'm sorry." I dismissed him, passing him as coldly as I could to fetch the horses in.

He would wonder why my temperature towards him had dropped. But I couldn't help it. I wanted to rid myself of this gnawing churn in my stomach that was forming each and every time I looked at him. Least of all now, when I knew the curve and shape of his cock and how he liked to stroke it so perfectly gently and firmly.

"Amelia..."

He would have one kind word from me.

"Jake, I don't have time for this nonsense." I spat, leading the other horse into shelter. "We're running low on fire wood and I need to do a supply run for toilet paper. There's two of us here now, you understand?"

I'd been initially standoffish and he could forgive me for that. We didn't know each other or our intentions. But it was clear I'd let my guard down somewhat, and I knew the way I spoke to him was a bolt from the blue. He couldn't understand my switch.

"You know I'll do anything to help." He said so apologetically my heart almost broke in two. "I can do more, now. I'm starting to feel stronger every day. And I promise... soon you won't have to do all this stuff on your own. I'll pull my weight. I'm sorry..."

I couldn't bear it. The way he looked at me. A solemn pleading in his eyes as I latched the stable door shut and we stood in the pouring rain staring each other down like a duel at high noon. The rain hit the canopy above so hard it sounded like static when the tv didn't have any signal.

"Why are you staying here, Jake?" I demanded, raising my voice above the crescendo of rain. "What is it for? Are you afraid to be alone again, is that it?"

He blinked at me. Water rushing so hard it even poured off his eyelashes. Torrential and hard, we stood there like statues letting it shower over us like it wasn't even there.

"Of course I'm afraid to be alone again, aren't you?!" He snapped back, drinking rain as he spoke. "But that doesn't mean I'd rather be with anyone else?! I don't want to go back out there and carry on looking, I've found what I was searching for! Don't you get that?!"

Someone to take the edge off his solitude. Nothing more and nothing less. And why should I be anything more to him? I didn't want him crawling under my skin any more than he already had. We would ride out this error in humanity's timeline. Help each other to survive. That was it.

"I don't know." I confessed, " I was fine before. I was doing just fine! And then you came along, literally crashed into my life! Like I needed the distraction? The pull on my resources?!"

I didn't mean it. I could feel myself filled with regret even as the words came out. He was shaking his head, his hair so wet it barely moved. The dark circles beneath his eyes seemed deeper somehow. And I knew that I'd hurt him by the way he couldn't seem to get his words out. He could only look at me and feel the knife in his back that I put there despite standing right in front of him.

"If you want me to leave I will leave."

And now because he wanted to. He would leave because I wanted him to. And now I wanted to scream at him and fall into his arms and throw away all my pretence and beg him to kiss me. Beg to know why he hadn't kissed me before. I hated feeling like this, I had never felt like this before. Not for a man, not for anyone. He stole all my resolve and I hated him for it. Hated myself for allowing him the strength to take it.

I could feel the sting of tears begin to spill over my lashes. The salty warmth of them in stark contrast to the cool rain.

"If you stay, you'll only grow to hate me." I sobbed, "You'll see that I'm not capable of letting you in."

"That's not true, Amelia." He replied, taking a bold step forward, reaching out for me before pulling back in case I rejected him. "I've seen your warmth and compassion. You're not cruel. I don't understand where all of this is coming from?"

I backed away. "I can't do this, Jake...I wont do this."

I retreated into the trees. Running through the mud and rain, letting it lash against the backs of my legs. I could scarcely see in front of my eyes, but I knew the way back blind. I could hear him calling out my name, unable to keep up with me. But he pursued me, regardless. With his healing bones, he ran behind me Begging me to stop.

"Amelia! Please!!!" He called, his voice fading out beneath the falling rain. "Stop! Please, don't do this!"

I reached the clearing at the front of the cabin. My body burning from the exertion and my breath caught in my lungs. Before I had chance to regain my composure, I felt his body against mine. Wet and solid. Heaving breaths as he spun me around, forcing me to look at him.

"Don't you run away from me like that again!"

He was furious. A rage the likes of which I'd never known could exist burning in the delicate tremble of his lip. I was too weak to protest.

"If you ever do that again I will always follow you, do you understand me?!" He shook me, hands wrapped around my shoulders as I gazed at the fire in his eyes. "I swear it, I'll follow you to the ends of the earth woman!!!"

Still, he wouldn't kiss me. Just let the rain fall upon us as he held me close. Breathing into my parted lips. Our shared breath turning to vapour in the freezing cold air.

"Because there's no one else to follow?" I said, my mouth desperately close to his.

"No." He replied harshly, turning his head to get a better look at me. "I had a girlfriend before all of this. We lived together in Nashville. She travelled with me when I had to go on tour. We were together for years. Maybe I would have married her, if I'd been given the chance."

"Why are you telling me this?!" I didn't want to hear it, I didn't want to hear about the way he had loved another.

"Because." He swallowed hard, "Even if she came back, even if she appeared to me right now like none of this had ever happened....I would still follow you."

I couldn't feel my fingers, or the tip of my nose. A flash of lightening streaked above, illuminating the darkness on the ground. For a moment his face lit up and I could see the conviction there.

He meant it.

But still, I wouldn't have it. "You don't know what you're saying."

"Oh, don't I?" He clenched his jaw. "You don't know a damn thing about what I know. You don't get to tell me how I feel. I might be afraid to be alone, but I'll do it if that's what you truly want. I'd leave just make you happy."

Nobody had ever held me like this. So securely. So aggressively soft. Like he could shake the life out of me if he so desired, but wouldn't.

"You wont even kiss me." I replied so pitifully, speaking so quietly a part of me hoped that he wouldn't hear me over the mounting thunder.

"And have you slap me across the face for taking such a thing?" He replied, almost laughing at me. "Would you have kissed me back if I had? I might not have kissed you yet, but I've imagined it. At night, when I know you're on the other side of that wall. And in the morning when you're sat at that table. I wanted to kiss you the other night when we got drunk and I could have used it as an excuse. Every time you wrinkle that nose and those freckles connect I want to kiss you. When you curl up by the fire to read, I want to kiss you. When I see you going out there to make sure the animals are safe, I want to kiss you. Ok?"

"Ok." I breathed, not an ounce of fight left in me.

He kissed me in the rain. In the storm that was brewing. His lips covered in raindrops and mine in tears. A kiss so desperate, so forcefully full of need I let him wrap his broken body around mine. I let him clutch me to him, whether it would hurt him or not. The heat of his tongue against mine was like the lightening had descended from the sky above and struck me where I stood. The gentle murmur of his whimpers in harmony with mine. I could feel his palm against my cheek, his thumb trespassing a slow stroke across it. I'd never been kissed like this before. Like I was in a black and white movie, my knee bent just a little to keep me from falling. He kissed me like he was starved. With gentle intention, but intensifying pressure as his tongue slipped further into my mouth. Until I was sucking on it, grappling at his shirt to tear it from his flesh.

"Fuck, ahhhh..." I stopped myself. "No, no... we can't..."

He was panting as he pulled away, his lips a little swollen from the pressure of being against mine.

"We don't have to, just don't push me away. Please? Don't do that... Sssshhh, come here..."

My eyes flitted over towards the store. Of all the medical supplies I'd sequestered, none of them included birth control. Something I never would have given any credence to before. But now I was dulled with the thought and the fear of him spilling inside me and putting a baby where there didn't need to be one. Not now.

"No, it's not that..." I clung to him. "I stopped taking my birth control. I didn't think I needed it..."

His face washed over with realisation. "Oh."

His smile was going to lead me down a murky path. I knew it. I would've died for the way he smiled at me in that moment. Like I was the sweetest thing alive.

"Not tonight, then." He whispered, his mouth moving against my ear. "Tonight, we can do other things."

@caprisunsister @thewritingbeforesunrise @takenbythemadness @katuschka @its-interesting-van-kleep @lvnterninthenight @writingcold @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @edgingthedarkness @velveteencatch @lyndz2names @nina-23-45 @itsafullmoon @vikingisthenewsexy

#greta van fleet #jake kiszka #fanfic #greta van fleet fan fiction #fanfiction #gvf #gvf fanfiction #jake kiszka fanfic

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dark-elf-writes · 2 months

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We all agree that I have too many au’s right? Right?

So anyway the bodyguard thing I was talking about yesterday has grown legs and won’t leave me alone.

Pushing the timeline back a fair amount so Cloud is eighteen when he gets to Midgar and already has a solid amount of experience under his belt just from random odd jobs/monster hunting/traveling. And sometime in his odyssey to Midgar the president dies and Rufus takes over.

Now Rufus has a choice for how he can run the company and he decides the most annoying way to his father’s legacy that would still put him in a good light with the public would be to go for the family company route, meaning all the known bastards (*coughlazardcough*) are recognized and paternity tests for any suspiciously blond perspective employees become the norm.

And Cloud is immediately flagged as a possible Shinra when he eventually shows up.

A quick paternity test and not so quick total meltdown later and Cloud is presented with his new future whether he likes it or not.

Because there is no way any Shinra could be treated as someone lesser (and because Rufus would eat his own gun before he let the science department and Hojo specifically get their hands on any Shinra test subjects) Cloud can’t be in SOLDIER. But they also… don’t really know what to do with him.

He is treated as the public darling as he is the youngest Shinra Bastard currently known and he at least looks far more innocent than any of his half siblings, but other than letting him roam the Shinra building and occasionally finding him lurking in the garages tinkering with whatever motorcycles he can get his hands on there’s no real… place for him.

And then he barges into Rufus’ office with proof that Palmer is embezzling funds gained through his budding friendship with several of the engineers in the space department who took a liking to him after seeing him covered in engine grease with those big wide eyes that really couldn’t mean any harm, and Rufus realizes he is sitting on a gold mine.

Cloud is as close to a common man as any Shinra could be, has the youthful innocence look down, and is ruthless enough to offer up the head of a department on a silver platter to his older brother because and he quotes “I mean if he’s stealing from you then he’s stealing from me”

So Rufus sets Cloud to be his spy inside the company to uncover where the problems are from the bottom up undercover boss style.

The only problem?

Cloud will be gaining enemies fast once changes start rolling out and he has slipped every bodyguard he has put in the kid up to and including his Turks, and there is no way in hell he is going to assign the kid Tseng who is his.

So Rufus has to look for bodyguards elsewhere who are strong, fast, and smart enough to keep up with Cloud but who also won’t get in the way of his spying.

Enter Kunsel. Who is all but running a spy network of his own, has the enhancements to keep up with Cloud when he’s in his moods, and somehow has earned the kids loyalty after one afternoon spent in a training room.

Surely with a SOLDIER assigned to him Cloud can’t get into too much trouble right? Right?!!

#the elf talks #ff7 #just cloud bothering his brothers vibing. with reeve and engaging in a healthy dose of corporate espionage

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socialist-microwave-laser · 9 months

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whats ur challah recipie? for the cinnamon ginger delight concoction? ill trade a recipe if you want, i make a banger lentil pie

oh omg thank you! the recipe is actually my roommate @edens-jorts 's, i just added the cinnamon ginger stuff bc i was feeling adventurous and wanted my apartment to stop! fucking! smelling! like! apple! cider! vinegar!!! (the previous occupants apparently attracted a bunch of flies </3) the challah is (mostly) as follows (i fully eyeballed it today bc eden will be bringing the measuring cups but i've been making it enough that it's still very fluffy and tasty)

Challah:

1 cup warm water - 250 g

2 ¾ tsp yeast / la levadura - 15.5 g

½ cup white sugar - 175 g

½ cup vegetable oil - 175 g

1 tbsp honey - 17 g

2 ½ teaspoon salt - 14 g

2 eggs (room temp) (mine have Never been room temp oops)

4 cups bread flour / la harina de pan - 1 kg

Glaze:

1 egg

~1 tbsp water

Add yeast to water with a little bit of sugar (probably about a tsp) and stir

Add all other ingredients in a separate bowl and then add yeast to that mixture. (i don't do this i just throw everything in with the yeast lmao) Mix until incorporated

Knead dough until it makes a ball and is less sticky—if very sticky or too dry you can add flour/water as needed. Should probably knead for about 5-10 minutes

Cover & put into a warm place for about 1.5 hours. Add or subtract time depending on temp but 1.5 usually is fine

Take out & punch down dough & let sit for 5 mins

Divide into 8 and make 8 strands

Make two braided loaves

Sprinkle w/ water (not too much or else your strands kinda melt together into one beast, just enough to make you feel like you did something), cover, & let rise for 1.5 more hours. Preheat oven to 350ºF/176.7°C

Glaze loaves w/ egg & water mixtures (recommend SOAKING it in this. don't miss a spot)

Bake for about 40 mins, adjust for size. Goal internal temp 190ºF/87.8°C

then for the stuffing stuff i based it off of a recipe (here) for ginger cinnamon rolls i attempted once (and will attempt again now that the air isn't clouded with smoke) but honestly i just went off vibes. i probably could have added more vegetable oil bc it was rather difficult to spread into the strands but eh it did its job. here's the relevant bit:

1/4 cup brown sugar - 56 g

2 tsp cinnamon - 28 g (definitely feel like i used more)

1 tsp flour - 14 g (ngl i think i definitely used less than this. maybe like a third tsp)

1 tsp ginger - 14 g (again feel like i used more, also i used ginger paste)

then i added vegetable oil till it got to a good consistency (it was like moldable and rather damp, again i could have added more to make it more runny and easier to spread but i didn't wanna "water" it down so i just decided to fill each strand with More Stuff)

when you get to the strand step, divide the dough into however many pieces you want (i've been doing six strand braids recently so i divided mine into 12). roll one out to a good length, then use your fingers to kinda spread it out and flatten it. use the back of a spoon and your fingers to spread the Stuff into it, then kinda pinch the strand back shut. you could probably use water to make it stick shut better but i'm not on food network so i gave up after my second strand (plus it made the workplace much stickier and made it harder to braid later on so maybe i'm onto something here). then rinse and repeat! except don't rinse your hands between strands bc the Stuff kinda transfers over onto the next strand when you're rolling and flattenjng and yeah 10/10

anyway my Stuff was a consistency that there was actually surprisingly little mess. when i pulled it out of the oven some of the stuff had like run over and it was all gooey and sticky and genuinely i swear this shit could be candy

if you end up making this lmk send pics and tell me what you think!!! my neighbor told me this is literally the best bread she's had her entire life which made me very happy. i hope you enjoy!!!

#recipes #baking #challah #happydayes28 #asks #jumblr

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monstersdownthepath · 2 months

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Monster Spotlight: Mobogo

CR 10

Chaotic Evil Huge Magical Beast

Bestiary 3, pg. 194

These gigantic, demonic toads are thought to be the direct offspring of Gogunta, Demon Lord of Swamps, though the Mobogo themselves rarely care about their potential genealogy unless she bothers to contact them directly and bless them with some divine power. Rather, they act as the emperors of entire tribes of Boggards and other swampfolk, embodying the gluttony of toads and the greed and pride of dragons (this art doesn't show it, but they do have a draconic tail and back spines!) as they spend their days basking in the adoration of their peers... and the constant stream of sacrifices provided for them.

Whether they serve Gogunta's will or see themselves as gods worthy of worship, there's little that a Mobogo enjoys more than having food and gifts lavished upon it by devoted subjects. Unlike with, say, a normal dragon, playing into a Mobogo's greed and gluttony will in no way promise safety or passage through their territory; give them all the possessions you have while promising them even more, and they may still decide that it's better to have food now than later and snarf you down whole and alive. The only creatures Mobogo bother listening to and refrain from eating are their boggard sycophants and others of their kind, and even that loyalty begins to fade if they find their tummies grumbling.

It's not a matter of supernatural metabolism, they just enjoy eating. Which, y'know, relatable. Ironically, food isn't much of a problem for the big toads or the tribes they surround themselves with; able to use Charm Animal at will, the Mobogo are in no danger of starving. If one's hungry, it's simple to snare the mind of a swamp boar or a flock of birds and beckon them closer so their servants can dispatch it. How often this technique is used is entirely dependent on the Mobogo's mood; some only use it to feed themselves and force their servants to hunt and farm for food, while others can act more benevolently and share their charmed spoils with their boggard neighbors... but the default state of these dracotoads is "screw you, I got mine." The at-will charm also means they're kept in the loop on what's going on in their swamps, as they're able to Speak With Animals without needing an action. They're actually quite stupid despite their power (Int 6) so it's not likely that they'll have a spy network of birds and lizards around, but it's useful for keeping their minions behaving when they think every insect and frog they see may be an eye for their master.

Charming animals isn't all they offer! If they really put their minds to it, Mobogo can be true gods of prosperity and harvest; they can use Create Water at-will, Control Water 3/day to undo the damage of flooding (or cause even more of it if offended), Plant Growth 3/day to enrich the ground and assure a bountiful harvest (or entangle and destroy whoever they wish), and Quench 3/day to instantly snuff any fire that proves a danger to their land (or... actually there's no evil way to spin Quench). The unfortunate problem in the 'could be a bringer of prosperity and hope' is everything I've mentioned in the previous three paragraphs.

In addition to their utility magic, Mobogo have a lot more offensive magic than it first appears. Sure, Fog Cloud and Control Water don't look that impressive in a vacuum... But you have to remember that you're not fighting these dracotoads in a vacuum, you're fighting them in a swamp. A thick, primeval swamp loaded with gigantic patches of quicksand, choking vines, waters that go way deeper than you think they do (perfect ambush spot), and trees that block out the light. Say you're in a dingy little boat trying to get through boggard territory, and then suddenly you have to contend with a whirlpool forming in the river you're sailing through! Or a bank of thick fog rolls in out of nowhere, blocking your view of the shoreline!

And then a gigantic toad crashes down on your boat from above, dealing 2d8+13 damage to everyone and everything in its 15ft space. If you're lucky, that's its opener. If you're not, your head is split by the beast's at-will Sound Burst, potentially stunning everyone in a 10ft burst... and then it slams down with its Crush to initiate before attacking everyone open to its Full-Attack. Mobogo attack with two slams for 1d6+9 damage and a bite with their oversized mouth for 2d6+9, which aren't the most impressive, even if their 15ft space and reach let them swath huge chunks of the map in a threat radius. They also have no DR, no resistances, and no defensive abilities that protect them if they get into melee or find themselves at the receiving end of enemy spellwork (aside from some meager Regeneration that's shut off by all the common elemental damage types), forcing them to be pragmatic in their swampy homes. They may not be smart, but they're wise enough to use terrain to their advantage.

Mobogo are unimpeded in natural territory thanks to Swamp Stride, something they should be making full use of among tangled roots and sticky mud. They CAN fly, adding another vector they can attack from, but they're unlikely to get a surprise round unless they attack from underwater or from behind a fog bank. More than likely, though, Mobogo will use their spell-likes to impede the party from afar before dragging them in one by one with its tongue, a massive appendage with a 45ft reach that deals 1d6+9 damage on impact before Grabbing the victim and Pulling them 5ft closer. Like most frog monsters, Mobogo don't become grappled if they have someone seized with their tongue, allowing them to continue making attacks against other targets while their tongue damages and yanks victims in round by round. Any creature dragged into a space adjacent to the dracotoad on its turn risks being swallowed whole, taking 2d6+13 damage a round while freeing up its tongue.

Fun fact: Mobogo can't use their tongue as part of their Full-Attack (they have to choose their slam+bite or their tongue), but they can use it to make Attacks of Opportunity alongside Combat Reflexes to fish for long-ranged grapples multiple times a round to severely impact a party's ability to do anything requiring concentration or uninterrupted movement, and they can use it alongside their Cleave or Awesome Blow feats to swat multiple foes in a round or send one foe flying into deep water, thick plants, or sticky mud. And speaking of sticky mud, Soften Earth and Stone is a spell which is only vaguely useful in most situations, but "being in a swamp" is one of those situations where it becomes downright encounter-defining, potentially entangling the entire party in mud that denies all actions for 1d2 rounds if they fail the Reflex save. Even if they get out, the Mobogo can use Gust of Wind 3/day to blow them right back in, or just use Awesome Blow to do it.

I mentioned a while back that they can initiate with Sound Burst, but there's actually two potential obnoxious noises they can make to begin a fight and/or to support their allies: Every 1d4 rounds they can unleash a Vile Croak, a maddening noise that staggers all non-boggards within 50ft for 1d4 rounds if they fail a DC 19 Will save. Any boggard or Mobogo (including the user) which hears the croaking instead gets +2 to attack rolls and to saves against fear effects for one round, letting the monstrous beasts sit back as their (literal) toadies do all the work, occasionally giving their foes a tongue-lashing from afar.

In a vacuum, Mobogo are much weaker than their CR suggests. In their swamps, they're truly awful foes to try battling against as they budge party members amount with their superior reach and knock or pull them into disadvantageous territory, and they almost always have whole clans of toad people at their beck and call to pick up whatever slack they have. When fighting in swamplands, the terrain itself is as dangerous as the encounters within, and Mobogo are born to take advantage of it!

You can read more about them here.

#Monster Spotlight #CR 6 to 10 #Pathfinder #dungeons and dragons

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lumosandnoxwriting · 1 year

Text

and he was maroon || George Weasley

Title: and he was maroon Pairing: George x Reader, Reader x Unnamed Male Summary: sometimes it’s the simplest things that take us back in time Warnings: mentions of alcohol/the drinking of alcohol. Also George is kind of an asshole but he’s young and lets be real he was probably a bit of a douchebag in his youth. A/N: welcome to the 2nd installment of midnights: an anthology! A little bit of a different take on the relationship between George and the reader. Tagging some of my mooties: @jenniweaslee @darthwheezely @lycanlupins @wandsandwheezes @pineapplesandpinas

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It doesn’t happen very often.

There’s really only one, maybe two days a year. Usually in the summertime, when the sunset is uninhibited by clouds and Y/N can sit on the back deck, letting the slight breeze send goosebumps across her arms as she watches the sky change colors. As those beautiful light pinks and oranges sink into a deep maroon, it’s only then does she think about him.

George Weasley.

There’s just something about that color, about the way it paints across the sky, that brings the distant memories of him back to the forefront of her mind. She’d been young when they met, only out of Beauxbatons a few years and back living in England for the first time since she was a little girl.

Her new roommate had introduced her to her former Hogwarts classmates, and it was at some social function or another that she’d met him.

“Weasley!” Someone shouts as the door swings open, a chorus of loud cheers following suit.

Y/N has no idea what a Weasley is, but she yells along anyway, whatever is in her cup making her drunk enough not to care about much. She’s been living in London for three months and is finally settling in. Her roommate has done a wonderful job of introducing her to a wide network of people and she’s starting to finally feel like they’re her people too.

It doesn’t take long for her to learn what exactly a Weasley is. In the next moment the crowd parts and two identical men come through, drinks already in their hands as they greet everyone they pass.

Y/N is immediately enchanted, and she can feel her cheeks redden as the boys land at the group of people she’s standing with. It’s striking how similar the two are in looks and in spite of this fact she finds herself drawn to the one on the left. There’s just something about him, about the way his hair has started to stick to the back of his neck from the heat of the room, the gleam in his eye and the easy grin on his face.

She’s too busy admiring him to notice that her attention has been returned, and the ginger man is stepping out from under the arm his brother has slung around his shoulders so he can come closer. It’s not until he’s right there, stepping into her personal space that she notices his presence and Y/N can feel her heart beating out of her chest.

“I don’t believe we’ve met before,” he starts, giving Y/N a bow. “George Weasley, and you?”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” she responds with a giggle, giving him some semblance of a curtsy. “Pleasure to meet you.”

George grins then, stepping even more into Y/N’s space. “Oh darling, the pleasure is all mine.”

It didn’t take long for her to fall head over heels for George. In the moment it felt like fate, like the world must have destined them to be together. It seemed to happen so quickly, so easily - how could it not be meant to be?

“You should have seen the look on her face! That miserable witch had no idea what hit her as Fred and I rode off on our brooms.”

Y/N falls into a fit of laughter as George regails her with another story of the things he and his brother used to get up to in their Hogwarts days. She’s on the last dregs of her second glass of wine, feeling warm and bubbly from some mixture of alcohol and her company.

Being around George is intoxicating, just his presence in a room has her drunk with happiness. She’s never felt like this before, and Y/N never wants it to end. The few boys she’d dated at Beauxbatons were nothing like George. They were boys she’d known most of her life, so there was never anything new or exciting to discover about them. It’s hard to be enthralled hearing about how your boyfriend fell off his broom and broke his arm during a Quidditch game when you were there at the game yourself.

But with George, everything is new and exciting. Y/N’s never even been to Hogwarts, so she hangs off every word that falls from George’s mouth as he details the school and his adventures there. Sometimes she wished she could just bottle up the feeling she gets when he talks, wanting to save it for later.

“Are you even listening to me anymore,” George teases. They’re sitting across from each other on the floor in her apartment, and he gets up on his hands and knees starting to slowly crawl towards her.

“Mhm, yeah, totally,” Y/N grins, stifling a giggle in the back of her throat.

“Oh yeah?” George goads as he creeps closer, a grin on his face. “Then what was I just saying?”

Y/N bites her lip as he gets closer and closer, anticipation tickling the bottoms of her feet as it starts to creep up her legs. Before she can even answer George is there, hand reaching for her ankle. She lets out a shriek before taking off, leaving her wine glass on the ground as she takes off across the apartment.

Their laughter mixes together as George gets up to follow, chasing Y/N into the kitchen and around the table. She leads him back into the living room, socked feet making her slide all over the place as she tries to get away. Just as she’s about to round the coffee table a strong pair of hands grabs her around the waist and a shocked gasp leaves her lips as George pulls her back into his chest.

“Got you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crook of her neck. George spins Y/N in his grasp, arms winding around her waist as he starts to sway them back and forth to the music playing forgotten in the background. “Didn’t think you’d get away from me that easily, did you?”

Y/N shakes her head as she wraps her arms around his neck, smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Definitely not.”

Looking back now she sees that ease for what it truly was, two kids who didn’t really know anything about what it really means to love someone. Y/N knows now that she wasn’t really in love with George, she was in love with the idea of being in love with him.

If only she knew then what she knows now. Certainly would have saved her some time - and a broken heart or two.

Sorry, working late again xx

Y/N crumples the note in her hand, tossing it to the ground as she shoos George’s owl away. This is the third night this week they’ve made plans to do something and instead of him arriving at her door it’s his owl, canceling yet again. Last week he’d canceled on her twice, and the week before he was so busy they’d barely even spoken.

She’d been understanding at first. It’s normal not to spend every day with your significant other, expected even. And of course Y/N had missed spending time with George, but work is work and that was okay with her.

But what’s not okay is his affinity for canceling plans at the last minute. Sure, sometimes things come up - but waiting until he’s supposed to be coming by to pick her up to cancel is just rude, and inconsiderate of her time. Especially with it happening almost every time they’ve planned to do something together lately.

If George doesn’t have the time to see her on a particular day Y/N would much rather he be honest and tell her that - rather than having her spend all this time planning something and getting ready for him to cancel at the last minute.

Y/N blinks away the few tears of frustration that are gathering in the corners of her eyes before taking the time to change out of her clothes and into the comfiest pair of pajamas she owns. Once she’s redressed, Y/N sulks out to the living room - taking the glass of wine her roommate has in her hand and taking a large gulp as she slumps on the couch next to her.

“Again?” Emily asks in disbelief.

“Mhm,” Y/N confirms with a hum, taking another sip from the glass.

Emily shakes her head, leaning forward to grab the wine bottle off the coffee table. She refills Y/N’s glass, both of them watching the dark red liquid swirl around the edges of the glass. “What a fucking ass.”

All Y/N can do is grunt in agreement as she brings the full glass back up to her lips, head tilting back as she drains the maroon liquid in one drink.

What an ass indeed.

Looking back now she realizes that was the beginning of the end of their relationship. They were seeing each other less and less, and neither of them were the best at communicating their feelings. But Y/N was so desperate to hold on to those fleeting good moments that she put up with all of the hurt and frustration that came along with them.

“I asked you for one thing, George! One! And you couldn’t even be bothered to show up for me.”

Y/N stomps into her apartment, not bothering to check and see if George is still following behind. Tonight was supposed to be the night, her parents are in town and George didn’t have to work - it was going to be perfect. Things between them haven’t been the best recently, and Y/N dreamed that this would be the night things started to turn around. George would show up for her, and prove that he means all of those things he says. That he’s sorry for not being around, that he is there for her. That he loves her.

But then he’d been five minutes late to dinner, so they ordered a round of drinks, And then he was twenty minutes late when they ordered round two with an appetizer to share. When it hit the forty minute mark rolled around and George still wasn’t there, round three showed up and they ordered their entrees.

It wasn’t until much later, when dessert was practically over and Y/N was polishing off her fifth drink did George finally show up. A profuse apology was tumbling from his mouth the second he approached the table, his desperation to save the evening apparent in the expression on his face.

But the damage was already done. Y/N’s parents had spent most of the evening switching between consoling her over George’s absence, and giving her a dose of tough love that George is not the man she should plan on spending the rest of her life with. Without even bothering to spare George a glance, her parents had given Y/N a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before they left.

Which brings them around to now. Y/N’s sadness had slowly morphed into anger as George followed her home, apology after apology intermixed with excuses falling from his lips. Because frankly, she doesn’t care if the Queen of England herself had been the one to hold up George - he knew how important tonight was and he still managed to fuck it up.

“I’ve said I’m sorry about a hundred times, Y/N,” George responds as he slams the door shut behind him. “I don’t know what else you want me to do.”

“I want you to give a shit!” she shouts, turning to face him. “You keep telling me you love me, and you care about me but you never actually show it! Words are meaningless unless you actually back them up with your actions. And so far all your actions have shown me is that you don’t give a nifflers ass about me!”

George huffs, throwing his hands up in the air. “I’m sorry I fucked up, Y/N. I really am. But work is important, you know that.”

“Yeah I know that,” Y/N responds defeatedly, anger quickly fizzling back into sadness. “But I should be important too.”

George had walked out that night, something that started to become quite the pattern. Something would happen, they would fight and George wouldn’t bother to stick around so they could work things out. He’d just give it a few days to calm down before showing up with a bouquet of flowers and an apology.

Y/N always made the mistake of letting him back in, telling herself that things would be different this time. Of course they weren’t, and the cycle would just start all over again.

And now, as she watches the sun sink closer and closer to the horizon, she feels bad for the girl she once was. The girl who didn’t know how to stick up for herself, the girl who was too optimistic, too caring - too desperate to be in love to know what love really is.

Now, with time and space and experience, she feels bad for the man George was back then too. At first she was angry, he was the villain in her origin story and Y/N was content to keep looking back at their time together that way. But she knows now, as an adult who has had her heart broken and broken a few herself, that George was just young and doing the best he could.

It had been easy to blame George that night things ended, when he walked away for the final time. But maybe there hadn’t been anyone to blame at all.

“I’m sorry.”

Y/N rolls her eyes as she opens the door to a familiar scene. Once again George Weasley is on her doorstep, bouquet of flowers in hand with a lame apology. It’s comical, almost, how easily she predicted that this would happen. It had been endearing at first, the flowers and the heartfelt apologies. But after so many times it’s just lame and disappointing.

“Are you?” she asks lamely, not even bothering to take the flowers from his outstretched hand. “Because you were also sorry last week. And the week before that. And about a dozen weeks before that as well. So it’s getting a little hard to believe you.”

“I’m doing the best I can, Y/N,” George pleads, exasperation coating his words.

Y/N shakes her head, tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes. “George, if this is your best, then I just don’t think this is going to work anymore. Clearly I need more from you than you’re willing to give. So I think it’s best if we just end things here. Before either of us gets hurt anymore than we already have been.”

It’s harsh to say, and Y/N feels sick as George flinches at her words. But they needed to be said. This relationship isn’t functioning, and she’s very quickly being pushed to her breaking point. She may love George, but she needs to love herself too.

“Fine, if that’s what you think is best,” George responds blankly. “Take the flowers at least, I made sure to get your favorite.” He thrusts the bunch into Y/N’s hands, giving her one last forlorn look before he’s gone. Heading off down the hallway and away from her for the last time.

Y/N shakes her head as she shuts the door behind her, a humorless laugh falling from her lips. It’s funny how this bouquet of flowers seems to be a metaphor for their entire relationship. Because roses happen to be her favorite flower - and yet in her hand is a bouquet of carnations.

Y/N used to once look back on that day as the worst of her life, the day she let her true love get away. But now those old thoughts make her laugh, because in reality she was making room in her life for her real true love.

The sun has nearly set now, leaving a chill in the air as stars start to light up the sky. She shivers, thinking about heading back inside when the door opens behind her. There’s a soft blanket draped over her shoulders, and a smile teases the corner of her mouth as she looks up at her husband.

“Thought you might be cold,” he explains, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead. “Kids are getting brushing their teeth, I imagine they’ll be looking for story time any minute now.”

Y/N laughs, shaking her head as if to rid herself of those thoughts. The ones that used to keep her up at night.

Thoughts of George.

“I’ll meet you up there.”

With a final kiss to her forehead, Y/N’s husband heads back inside to give her a few more minutes alone. As she looks back to the sky, the sun is gone and the deep maroon that once covered the horizon is pitch black.

#george weasley #george weasley imagine #harry potter #harry potter fanfic #george weasley fic #golden

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adachi-division · 22 days

Note

HAPPY B-DAY, RINKO! <3

"Dear Rinko, As the Aichi team, we wanted to wish you a happy birthday. We didn't really know what to give you as a gift, but Eiji suggested that we make a portrait for you together. Honestly the difference in talents became obvious to us, so we decided to make three drawings in one. The best one is Shouta's, clearly. It's not fair, he studied Arts. He spent hours drawing you and I even noticed him blushing. Eiji on the other hand, gave his best in that drawing… I think.... I hope you like mine, I really liked how I drew your hair!!! Kisses!"

Issey and CLOUD 9!

A ring tone sounded on Rinko's phone, a message had appeared on one of her social networks, she opened her eyes as wide as she could not believe what she had received, an illustrated birthday gift? She had never received anything like that in her life, and soon Rinko was on her bed, overturning with emotion.

OH MY!!!! I feel like the Mona lisa, I love this so much, maybe I have to take a trip to Aichi to visit such wonderful artists!

Rinko looks at the three portraits again, and is like a kid with a candy.

Omg this is so good god, I have to show it to the girls.

thank you for the gift! and damn I don't know how you managed to make a drawing so fast but AAAA it's so beautiful

#adachi division #hypnosis mic oc #cutie chaser #rinko #happy birthday 2024 #Rinko birthday 2024 #hypmic oc

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lydiablack-m · 1 year

Text

It’s Mihael... Mihael Keehl... |Mello x Reader|

Pairing: Mello x Reader

Warnings: Angst, heavy angst, hurt/comfort/hurt, reader is from Wammy's house, the story takes place the night before Mello's attempt to kidnap Kiyomi

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: yep, I did it again, posting for Death Note, while having a dozen fandoms to write for.

P.S. I don’t know, if anyone ever said this, but Mello OWNS the Leave My Body song by Fever Dreamer. The heavens said so, not me. Highly recommend to listen to it while reading as did I for about 5 hours in a row.

"This work can be considered as the second part of the storyline. The other parts you may find here"

Another sleepless night, full of endless calculations, checking maps and plans again and again. Another night that he spends alone, sending her to sleep and listening to the beeping of computer signals from the next room, where Matt is working on hacking city networks.

Another night... The air rings in the ears with increasing tension, the blood beats an uneven pulse in the temples, forcing to frown painfully and clench the fists, so that nails scratch the palms.

He heard a slight rustle at the door and turned around. A young girl stood in the doorway, rubbing sleepy eyes with her sleeve.

“Hey, are you okay?” His tired gaze, clouded from long work at the computer, began to clear up, and softness flashed across his face.

“I can't sleep,” you muttered, leaning against the door frame. “I’ve been thinking... Are you sure this is gonna work out?”

His face became serious and detached again, he turned back to the monitor.

“I'm sure,” he said shortly.

“I'm sorry ...” you guiltily lowered your eyes to the floor. “It’s just... I'm just afraid of losing you, you know...” You looked up at him and your lips trembled. “I'm afraid of losing you and Matt, I'm afraid to stand on your graves and mourn your short lives, cursing myself for not being careful enough, not being attentive enough. I'm afraid to go back to an empty dark apartment where your voice will never sound again. I'm afraid to be left alone...”

You gently put your hands on his shoulders, and buried your nose in the golden hair, inhaling the barely discernible scent of engine oil and heavy cologne. Memories flashed in your head of the day when, along with a bag of daily products, Mello brought an extremely expensive bottle from the store, which he stole from under the noses of the guards.

Over the years of working for the mafia, he got used to a luxurious life, got used to the fact that he could indulge his little weaknesses, get everything that he could not have in the Wammy's house. Now he no longer had the funds of the mafia, but no one could take away his skills and ability to get anything he wanted.

“Please... I beg you... Let me stay near you,” you whispered. “Please, let me help. If something happens to you, I will never forgive myself for inaction, when maybe I could have saved you. I beg... Please...”

You heard Mello sigh heavily and covered your hand with his palm, slightly squeezing.

“Y/n... You're everything I have, everything I've ever needed... I want you to be happy, I want Matt to be happy. I want both of you to live your long and happy lives. But mine... I lived long enough to make dozen mistakes and... I don't care anymore... If I'm going to die this time it will be just a part of the investigation, just a piece of puzzle for Near to solve. I already know, that I'm not the one to end this. I never was.”

The way he said it, the sharp bitterness and doom in his words made your heart sink. You felt like something broke inside you. For the first time he accepted his defeat. For the first time, you felt scared.

Your fingers gripped the fabric of his shirt as you clenched your teeth to keep from crying of helplessness.

“Please... Don't say it like you don't care about your death.” you wheezed. “I'll kill them all. I'll come to their fucking headquarters and kill everyone. I'll kill them for you. One of them is Kira, so I won't miss. I will kill everyone. I... don't want to live without you. If you die, I can't...”

Your hands were trembling and you shut your eyes to do not let the tears flow. You couldn't say it, as if the mere thought of the possibility of a negative outcome was a betrayal, as if you were giving up on him.

A quiet sob escaped from your throat, causing Mello to flinch and turn to you.

“I don't want to lose you again…”

You couldn't hold the tears anymore and covered your face with your palms. With every second it seemed to you as if reality was slipping away, as if everything was happening outside of your consciousness and you couldn't help it. Over the past few months, Mello has been distancing from you, completely devoting his strength, energy and rage to the investigation. You didn't interfere because you understand how important it was, but now... Everything had gone too far and you couldn’t fix it anymore.

You felt hands fall on your trembling shoulders and Mello pressed you to him, nuzzling the curve of your neck. You shut your eyes and pressed closer, clinging to him like a life-saving straw, holding together the fragments of your world falling apart, breaking at the seams.

“I love you,” he murmured into your neck. “I love you with all my fucking heart. If we were in another world... In another life... If we could be like this forever...”

“But we can,” you pulled away, looking into his eyes. “Mello, we still can do that. Let's quit the investigation, let's move somewhere unknown, buy a tiny cottage in a quiet village and do some shitty normal stuff other people do. Run a business, buy a dog...

Please Mello... I thought... I thought we could’ve become a family…” you timidly looked into his eyes. “You, me, Matt... What more could we want?..”

His long searching gaze seemed to look through you, into the very soul, laying out each of its components, studying and exposing all hidden fears, worries, hopes. You got scared that you said too much, that you could damage the fragile connection between you, that you disappointed him.

He quietly raised his hand and touched your cheek. His thin fingers weightlessly outlined the line of your cheekbones, descending to the lips. He touched the lower lip with his thumb and pulled softly.

There was still doubt in his gaze, but you saw how his eyes were filling with calmness and the heaviness of tension was fading away.

He gently lifted your chin and moved closer to your lips.

“You know... in the end every time you appear to be right,” he chuckled bitterly, shortening the distance between you.

You felt the metallic taste and the rough skin of the lips, bitten in moments of nervous tension. Your hand gently tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, softly stroking the place of the scar on his beautiful face. He deepened the kiss, pulling you closer by the waist and guiding your chin with two fingers.

Lately, when the investigation occupied all his thoughts, there was nothing but a brief kiss, fleeting sparks of feelings, unconscious hugs, when you happen to sleep together. Now he was kissing you sincerely, demanding, tenderly, as if begging you for something that you couldn't understand yet. As if he was speaking in another language, afraid to say out loud what he had to say long ago.

“I love you,” he whispered into your lips, pulling away.

Now you saw in front of you nothing but a boy from the Wammy's house, the one you remembered so well, the one that shared his dreams and achievements with you, the one that beat the walls and swore to win Near during the next test. The boy who came to your room and made a promise to find you, looking at you with a long wistful gaze, before leaving the Wammy's house forever.

“Y/n, I... I cannot change it anymore. We have to do it tomorrow. And we will. It's more than me, it's more than us. I know what I gotta do and I will do it. I'm sorry... I'm sorry that I cannot promise you anything this time... I will try my best for you, but... You have to know, no matter what's gonna happen tomorrow, I love you and I always will. Don't blame yourself, alright? You couldn't change anything. You're the best thing ever happened to me and I'll never be able to thank you enough for that.”

He once again pressed your hand tight and quickly headed back to the computer, as if he was afraid that at any moment, something in him could overpower, break his determination.

“I hid the rest of the mafia's savings in the basement. They will be enough to change documents and buy real estate in Canada. They're yours now, and... Take care of Matt, okay?”

You walked stiff-legged to the door, realizing this was the end. You failed. Your throat was dry, your tongue wouldn't obey you, there was a fog in your head, as if you could pass out at any minute.

“And... One more thing.” he said quietly over his shoulder. “I know, maybe it's stupid but... I want you to know my name. In the end... I don't want you to remember me as Mello...

It's Mihael...

Mihael Keehl.”

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zvaigzdelasas · 6 months

Text

The first shipment of products from the Baowu Liberia iron ore project arrived at Zhenjiang Port, and the project in neighboring Guinea is accelerating.

According to the latest news from China Baowu, the world’s largest steel company, on the afternoon of October 12, the “Changhai Binhai” ship, which had been sailing for more than a month, entered the river from the sea and successfully berthed at the No. 10 berth of Zhenjiang Port, Jiangsu. The “Changhang Binhai” ship is fully loaded with 45,000 tons of iron ore products from Liberia. This is also the first overseas self-produced iron ore product since Baowu Resources, a subsidiary of China Baowu, accelerated the development and construction of overseas resources.[...]

Liberia is only the beginning of Baowu Resources’ overseas strategy in Africa. Its neighboring country Guinea is becoming the next larger source of iron ore. The Simandou Iron Mine, located in Kairouane Province in southeastern Guinea, is the undeveloped iron ore with the largest reserves and the highest quality in the world. It has an initial annual production capacity of 120 million tons of high-quality iron ore.

Previously, on September 30, 2022, Baowu Resources and Win Alliance Simandou Holdings Company (Singapore) held cloud signings of the core terms of the cooperation agreement in Shanghai and Beijing regarding the cooperation on the northern block project of Simandou Iron Ore in Guinea. ceremony. This is also the official announcement of China Baowu’s “entry” into the northern Simandou project.

The project is also accelerating. On the afternoon of October 7, Baowu Resources and Simangdu Win Alliance signed a confirmation letter of shareholder agreement for the Simangdu Northern Block Project Mining Joint Venture Company at Baowu Building. Simandou Win Alliance (WCS) is a consortium formed by Singapore’s Winning International Group and Weiqiao Entrepreneurship Group. It holds the mining rights of the northern block of Simandou (Blocks 1 and 2).

The Simang Duying Alliance has an annual bauxite production capacity of 50 million tons in Guinea and experience in the construction and operation of the Dar-Saint-Saint-Saint-German Railway. It has unique advantages in ports, transfers, and ocean transportation.

Hu Wangming, Secretary of the Party Committee and Chairman of China Baowu, pointed out at the signing of the contract on October 7 that the security of ore resources is related to national strategy, and the Simandou project is of great significance to the security and resilience of the industrial chain and supply chain of China’s steel industry.

16 Oct 23

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indigostreaking · 1 year

Note

could you possibly do a head cannon of the guys getting upset with you jokingly flirting with the others? ;)

Yes absolutely! Thanks for the request, nonnie ☺️

Warnings: language, allusions to sex, and degradation/praise.

Josh:

He watched you from across the room, where he was ‘networking’ flawlessly. Jake returned to your side with a drink in each hand. “Here you are, love,” he said as he passed you a glass. The pet name was innocent, usually, but you decided to take advantage of it this time, in hopes that you could convince Josh to take you home. You reached over and touched Jake’s shoulder, squeezing gently as you smiled.

“I’m gonna pretend to flirt with you, mostly because I’m bored, but also because your other half is watching me like a hawk and—” you began, but Jake finished the thought for you.

“And you know if we rile him up, he won’t be able to get you home fast enough,” he giggled as he spoke, but he stepped closer, already joining in on your fun. You knew it didn’t matter what the two of you said since your boyfriend couldn’t hear you, but Jake was always game to play along, and for that you’d always be grateful. “Watch this,” he added with a smirk, stepping closer, letting your hips touch as he rested his hand on your lower back. He kept his eyes on you, trailing them down the plunging neckline of your dress before tossing back the rest of his drink. Within seconds, Josh had swooped in, separating you from his twin and dragging you towards the door. He pinned you against the wall, kissing your neck as he used his body to hold you in place.

“I know exactly what you’re doing, but you’re mine, aren’t you, baby?” His voice had dropped an octave, and the way his breath warmed your skin when he whispered against your ear had you trembling. You nodded wordlessly, chasing his lips with your own, trying to capture a kiss. He caught your chin with one hand and continued, “My pretty baby…I think I’ll take you right here. Would you like that?” You nodded again and he raised an eyebrow. “Is that why you’ve been misbehaving? You wanted me to fuck you like a slut here at the party didn’t you?” You didn’t even need to respond this time. He smiled wickedly as he opened the door beside you, finding an empty broom closet. Your breath hitched as you both stepped inside and the lock clicked behind you.

Jake:

One night, the guys came over to hang out, and despite all the fun, it felt never ending. Jake, Josh and Danny were all focused on each other and a sudden inspiration to write, and try as you might, you couldn’t peel Jake away. You spied Sam in the kitchen mixing drinks, and a devious plan clouded your mind. “Hey, Sammyyyyy,” you smiled as you leaned your elbows against the island counter across from him.

“Hey there, pretty,” he smiled back. “Do a shot with me,” he held up a freshly poured shot of tequila. You smirked and grabbed the salt, sprinkling some in the dip of your collarbone. Sam’s eyes went wide, but he licked his lips as he stepped forward. You held your hair to the side and craned your neck, allowing him easier access to lick the salt from your skin. He tossed back his shot and chased it with a lime slice. “Your turn,” he grinned, but you could see the pink in his cheeks. You glanced over to Jake, but he didn’t appear to be watching. Time to kick it up a notch maybe? You reached out and took Sam’s left hand, carefully pouring a bit of salt across the length of his index finger. His mouth fell open when you took his finger in your mouth, swirling your tongue to gather all the salt before releasing it and downing your own shot of tequila. You tried not to make a face as you sucked the lime chaser. “Fuck,” he muttered in amazement. You saw him quickly look over to Jake in almost panic, only for a wave of relief to wash over him when he didn’t see him looking. You tried pretending to loudly laugh at Sam’s joke, which keyed him in to your plan. “Oh fuck off, y/n! Just go talk to him..” he grumbled before turning and walking away. Whoops.

You took a deep breath and followed Sam’s suggestion, finally fed up with the game and determined to go get the attention you were craving so desperately. You sauntered over to where Jake sat on the couch, and perched yourself on the armrest beside him. “You done playing your little game, yet? I think you hurt Sammy boy’s feelings,” Jake said smugly as he sat his guitar down and pulled you into his lap instead. You pouted, not wanting to admit he was right. He wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling you flush against his chest. “Oh, kitten, you should know by now that won’t work,” he still sounded condescending, but he had lowered his voice to a whisper, just for you. “If you want daddy’s attention, all you have to do is ask..” he purred against the shell of your ear and you could feel his length hardening beneath you. “Meet me in our bedroom,” he commanded softly as he ghosted his fingers up your thigh. “I’ll fuck you like I’m jealous if that’s what you need, love,” he pushed you to your feet with a smile on his face, and quickly covered his hard on with his guitar. You narrowed your eyes at him and he wiggled his brows in response, cocking his head to the side and wordlessly sending you to your room.

Danny:

You didn’t get jealous often, but seeing all these beautiful girls giggling and hugging him was bothering you more than you’d expected. “You good, mama?” Josh asked, after his turn was over. You scoffed a laugh and shrugged. You overheard Danny complimenting one of the girls over their low cut shirt, and you lost it. The competitive and spiteful side of you took over, and you took this opportunity to scoot closer to Josh, batting your eyelashes at him as you smiled.

“I’m better now,” you purred, and Josh looked puzzled. “Will you walk with me to get drinks? I won’t be able to carry them all,” you asked gingerly, playing into Josh’s love of helping people. He smiled and agreed, walking beside you towards the concession stand. You playfully bumped into his side, causing him to laugh as his hands caught your waist. You turned to see Danny eyeing you both across the expanse of the bowling alley.

When you and Josh returned with a couple of buckets of imported beer and a pitcher of whatever was on draft, you saw that it was your turn. You picked up your ball from the rack, and took a deep breath when you felt a presence behind you. “Y/n,” he placed a hand on either hip as he stepped closer behind you. “Was someone jealous?” You could hear the smile in his voice and you groaned, trying to twist around to see his face. He held firm, draping himself over your shoulders now as he peppered kisses down your jaw and neck. “I saw you flirting with, Josh,” he admitted between kisses, “and I did get jealous for a moment…until I realized what I’d done.” You leaned into his chest, breathing in the scent of him as his curls tickled the back of your neck. “You’re the only girl for me, y/n, and I’ll prove it when we get back home,” you turned to see him smirking down at you, lighting a fire within you. “I mean, after I whoop your ass at bowling,” his smile widened as he backed away, slapping your ass before he jumped back out of your reach.

Sammy:

After shows, Sam typically gravitated to you, and you loved how clingy he got. You were lounging on the couch in the green room waiting on him to shower, but he was taking longer than normal. Danny came back first and plopped down beside you. “Hey, y/n,” he grinned as he leaned forward, combing through his wet curls.

“Let me braid your hair please,” you whined, causing him to laugh. He obliged, turning to face away from you and scooting back to be closer to you. You placed a hand on either of his shoulders, squeezing lightly. “Daniel Wagner, have you been working out?” You feigned surprise as you leaned forward to see his face light up. He giggled and touched your hand resting on his shoulder.

“Only while I’m playing drums,” he shook his head before you started to french braid his damp hair. You heard the door click, and saw Sam walk in out of the corner of your eyes. He sat down in the chair beside you and pulled out his phone. “I can’t tell if these new muscles help or hurt my golf game, though,” he snorted, throwing his head back laughing.

“Oh, I’m sure these help,” you trailed a hand down to his bicep, squeezing gently as you beamed at him. You half expected Sam to chime in or to get annoyed, but you got no reaction. You finished the braid and placed your hand in the middle of Danny’s back to push him out of your lap. “Your turn, Sammy?” You asked expectantly. He wordlessly moved seats and kept scrolling his phone as you began braiding his wet hair.

“I’m gonna go check on the twins, yell if you need anything,” Danny announced before disappearing out the door.

“Did you not see me flirting with Danny?” You asked in a moment of annoyance. He put his phone down and twisted to face you.

“Is that what that was?” His smile widened and he placed a hand on your thigh. You narrowed your eyes at him. “I was just waiting on you to invite him back to our room,” he shrugged and you couldn’t quite tell if he was kidding or not.

“Are you serious or…” you trailed off in confusion, and you were brought back to reality with a soft kiss.

“Anything for you, babe,” he booped your nose and smiled before turning away to let you finish the braid, still confused.

#gvf headcanons #greta van fleet #danny wagner #josh kiszka #jake kiszka #sam kiszka #gvf

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bones-and-whatnot · 3 months

Text

Worlds for a Hypothetical Mario Game

B’Rambling Fields

Grasslands + slight forest theme— Your standard world 1 grasslands, but with just a bit more of an edge. In the latter half of the world, thorn hazards start cropping up. This is foreshadowed by an abundance of roses and thistles in the first half.

Boss: Larry. When you defeat him, you cut through a final wall of thorns and move on to…

Sunset Shore

Beach/water theme— The sun is setting on this beach, giving everything a nice rosy (Wendy-like) color. The first half is a mixture of beach and underwater levels, and then in the second half you reach the place where the tide comes in and it’s all underwater from then on.

Boss: Wendy. When you defeat her, you swim onward and finally make it to the other side of this body of water, coming ashore in…

Beast Land

Forest/swamp + cave/mountain theme— A forest filled with dank caves, giant trees and craggy rock outcroppings. All the enemies here are animalistic; no Koopa Troopas, Lakitus, Shy Guys, or anything else that seems to have too much going on behind the eyes. It’s all Chain Chomps, Swoops, Spinies, Buzzy Beetles, Wigglers, etc. (Monty Moles are on thin ice.)

Boss: Iggy. You fight him at the base of a mountain on Beast Land’s edge, and continue up it to…

Quake Mountain

Desert + cave/mountain theme— The gimmick here is that you get no fire flowers or other “weaponizable” power-ups, and most of the enemies aren’t damaged by jumping (Thwomps, Bullys, that sort of thing), so you have to just evade them. In some instances, you must lead them off ledges, onto switches and scales, or into pits to be used as a platform. Shortcuts can be found in the secret cave system.

Boss: Morton. After defeating him, you climb higher and the air starts getting colder, until you find yourself in…

Sorbet Hill

Ice theme— A higher part of the mountain. Very whimsical, the snow is all multicolored and flavorful. There’s probably gimmick levels based around sledding, ice skating and snowball fights.

Boss: Lemmy. Fought at the mountain’s very peak. After defeating him, you stand there for a moment before suddenly being swept up by the…

Hurricanebow

Sky theme— Super stormy and gale-force, but with rainbow colors whipped up in some of the tornadoes and stuff. A lot of very fast paced and/or unforgiving levels.

Boss: Roy. When you defeat him, the storm dissipates, and out of the clouds comes…

Koop Deck City

Airship/technology theme— A giant, industrial-looking flying city built on a network of interconnected airships. Contains some maze-y and puzzle-y levels, as well as a lot of pipe and conveyor belt travel, some “riding” levels (a la DK mine-carts or NSMB spine coasters) and various Mechakoopas, Bob-Ombs and Bullet Bills.

Boss: Ludwig. After defeating him, you jump off the ship and plummet down into…

Smokeshadow Valley

Ghost/darkness + lava/fire theme— Smoke covers the sky, casting what isn’t on fire into darkness. Some smoggy, low-visibility levels, a few encounters with Boos and Bones, as well as fortresses, lava pits… everything you’d expect from the final world.

Boss: Bowser. When you defeat him, the smog clears from the sky and you go save/retrieve/thwart whatever needs saving/retrieving/thwarting. Thanks for playing!

#iggy’s land of wild beasts and ludwig’s land of technology are meant to have similar connotations to ‘giant’ land and ‘pipe’ land #without being too narrow of categories #roll the bones #super mario #koopalings #larry koopa #morton koopa jr #wendy o koopa #iggy koopa #roy koopa #lemmy koopa #ludwig von koopa #bowser koopa #super mario bros

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eggedbellies · 2 years

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A humanoid slime catches wind that you'll be taking the pills to becoming incredibly pregnant soon; they are absolutely thrilled and immediately make plans to find you. With a bit of networking, their biggest dream comes true.

They set you in a room with only a blanket to cover yourself, as it's humid and cold. Shivering, you notice that something is dripping from the ceiling. At first, you're not quite sure what. But it falls faster until a lime green blob is wiggling in front of you.

"Ah, finally! I, uh, I think you'd like a little more straight forward appearance, right? What are you into?"

They anxiously rise and twist into a humanoid shape, starting with a tall, muscular form. They are rambling nervously about what they can do, how they can make a soft, green, squishy version of what you like, but it falls on deaf ears; the arousal has been building ever since you've been locked in this room and you're starting to go into heat. Badly.

"-so if knots are more your thi-"

"Just fuck me," you interrupted with a moan," please?"

The translucent face seems shocked at first, but is quick to change gears, opting to grab you and roughly take you into it's body. The slime is up to your neck, your face the only thing left exposed as the rest of your body is massaged and constricted. A whimper escapes your throat when you feel it tease your entrance, the thick slime warm now and causing a tingling sensation.

Without warning, they force theirself into you with a hard thrust. Your scream of pleasure it cut short by them greeting your mouth with a kiss. When you open your eyes, a soft, smooth face is looking at you with a hunger that made your very core crawl in arousal.

They move fast and deep into you, pressing hard against your cervix. You can hear them muttering "you're mine.. I'm going to stuff that pretty, fat belly of yours.. no one's going to save you now, princess.." enraptured in fucking you.

Finally, they grunt and you feel something very warm push into your womb, quickly filling you. Waves of pleasure fill your body as your belly expands, taking them in. When they're done, they've left a thin coat of themself over your body- the rest of them is in you, wiggling and throbbing. As you lay on your back moaning and holding your stomach, the slime residue seems to move and crawl on your nipples, playing with them.

This sends you into further down the spiral of your arousal- it pushes you over and your body is rocked by a brain numbing orgasm. With a jolt, they slither out of your womb, keeping you cumming for what felt like eternity. When they finally leave your body completely, you aren't any thinner; in fact, your stomach looks even more swollen!

Coming down from cloud nine, you find the slime caressing you and your stomach, pressing gently to feel the marble sized orbs left behind. There were easily over a hundred, probably more. The cool floor feels refreshing as they leave one final kiss on your delicate lips.

"Thank you, princess. I hope you're okay with me calling you that.. if not, expelling the spawn will make you cum enough to forgive me," they chuckle. You have a lurking feeling they're right.

Slimes! This one - perhaps - more verbose than most. But you know, already, what it's like to be bred by these - is it any surprise how easily I end up pleading, desperate? And oh - was it worth it.

The complete consumption, being fucked like a toy, trapped in a skinsuit, like bliss - the weight, wobbling in my jiggly belly, every egg now visible through my thin stretched-skin - leaving me breathless and trembling, not just because of the white spots on my vision from how hard I came.

"Mmf." a low moan my only words, the gentle embrace on my swell absolutely blissful with how packed I was; even my tentacles limp and exhausted, spread out on the ground around me.

#also anon this was BEAUTIFULLY written #damn #breeding event #eggpreg #terato #slime fucking

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star1117-archives · 2 years

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𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 - 𝐂.𝐒

↳ Pairing : San x Fem!reader

↳ Genre : Angst + Suggestive

↳ W.C : 1058

↳ Warnings : Argument, Swearing, Jealousy, Accusations of cheating, Wooyoung in speedos (💀), Previous Y/N x Wooyoung, Crying, Reconciling, Kissing, Marking, Implied make up sex.

↳ Network : @cacaokpop-fics

When San awoke to the sound of your alarm blaring, he covered his ears with a pillow, groaning loudly as he reached for your phone. Switching it off, it was then he noticed a message on your lockscreen, his face of shock illuminated in the darkness as he read it. He was obviously hurt as he glanced over at you sleeping, jealousy clouding his usually cheerful eyes.

1 Unread Message From: Shortcake

{💌} Shortcake: Morning Princess

San’s jaw clenched tightly as he dropped the phone back onto the side table, not caring how loud it was. Surprisingly, the noise didn’t wake you, only making you turn away from San in your sleep. San took a deep breath in as he tried to compose himself, knowing he needed to face this in a calm and mature way. He knew you better than he knew himself, why would you ever cheat on him? Doesn’t make sense. He tried to reason to himself with these kind of thoughts, but little doubts kept coming back. Does he really know you that well? Does he really know what you’re capable of doing? Deciding he couldn’t wait any longer, San leaned over to you, shaking you awake.

“Y/N?”

You let out a little murmur in your sleep, swatting away San’s hand lightly and stretching. When he persisted, this annoying action woke you slowly from your sleep.

“It’s early, San. What’s wrong?”

Yawning and rubbing your eyes, you looked over at San, slightly tensing at his angry, stoic expression. What had happened now? You sat up and San followed, crossing his arms.

“Sannie? Babe? What’s going on?”

“Why don’t you tell me?”

You froze at his harsh voice, surprised to hear such a serious tone coming from such a loveable man. His petty words annoyed you however, making you raise an eyebrow before replying.

“Cut the bullshit and just get to the fucking point, San. What’s wrong?”

Letting out a scoff, San rolled his eyes before chuckling without humour under his breath. He then grabbed your phone off the table and showed it to you.

“Time to fucking explain and quick, Y/N.”

Your blank look as you looked at the message infuriated San, making him bite his lip in frustration.

“What about it?”

“What do you mean, what about it?! Some person is calling you Princess! Can’t i be a little concerned?!”

“This isn’t being a ‘little concerned’ San, you’re not my fucking mom! Why are you going through my phone?!”

You took the phone from San’s hands which were shaking with rage, unlocking it and shoving it into his face.

“It’s Wooyoung! Your best fucking friend! Did you seriously think i was cheating on you?!”

San growled and snatched the phone, opening the profile picture and sure enough, it was a picture of Wooyoung in a cowboy hat and speedos. He chucked the phone onto the bed, running his hand through his hair.

“Why is my best friend calling you Princess, Y/N?”

Gritting your teeth in frustration, you gave San your angriest glare before replying.

“You know Wooyoung, San! it’s just harmless flirting! You know he doesn’t even mean it!”

“I don’t care if it’s harmless, it shouldn’t be happening! He knows you’re mine!”

You got out of bed, throwing the sheet forward as you stood up, gesturing wildly at San.

“Since when did you own me?! Did you buy me?! How much did i cost, San?!”

San also stood up, walking around the bed towards you.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that! And we both know Wooyoung still has feelings for you!”

You threw your hands in the air, laughing sarcastically.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. It was a long time ago, okay?! I’m with you now San! I love you and it fucking hurts me seeing you like this!”

Tears formed in your eyes as San’s expression softened, coming closer and grabbing your shoulders before squeezing them lightly.

“I’ve never given you a reason to doubt me, but you still don’t trust me?”

When a tear fell and rolled slowly down your cheek, San sighed and wiped it away, cupping it tenderly.

“I do trust you Y/N, but can you see how I’m a little nervous that your ex is calling you princess? You guys still spend a lot of time together and i just freaked out. I’m sorry okay? Please don’t cry..”

San pulled you into his embrace as you hugged him tightly, your tears soaking his shirt as you sobbed quietly into it. When San started stroking you head, eventually you calmed down enough to talk, lifting your head up as your eyes still glistened. San smiled and stroked a stray hair away from your face, his hand resting on your cheek again as his smile widened, tears in his own eyes.

“I’ve never loved someone as much as i love you Y/N… So i’m always afraid i’m gonna lose you.”

Biting his lip, San tried to compose himself, blowing out some air before turning back to you.

“Y-You’re just the best l thing that happened to me, Baby.. I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry for shouting.”

Not able to take it anymore, you pulled San in for a kiss, tears mixing into it as you both let your emotions free. Your lips perfectly moulded together, as if the two of you were made for each other. Wrapping your arms around San’s neck, you deepened the kiss, opening you mouth when San nibbled your lip. When San grabbed your legs and hoisted you up onto his hips, the kiss became a lot more passionate, your mouths now moving wildly as San flexed his muffles before pushing you softly into the nearby wall.

His lips then strayed from yours as he started leaving bright, purple marks on your skin, relishing the sounds of your moans as you threw your head back in pleasure. When his mouth neared your sweet spot, you let out a needy whimper, needing to close the gap between the two of you impossibly more. San groaned in your ear at your sound, his thumbs rubbing circles on your hips before moving you away from the wall and to the bed. You then reconnected your lips as San lay on top of you, completely intoxicated by him.

He was yours, and you were his.

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#the archives ━━ [📚]#suggestive ━━ [⏳]#san ━━ [🧸]#fics ━━ [🎶]#female reader ━━ [🩷]#ateez suggestive #ateez san #san #san ateez #san suggestive #ateez #choi san

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