#WHEN I CATCH YOU ARTHRITIS

[adeadcreator]

I’ve come to the point where I have accepted that I will have to let go of my dream of working in a forensic laboratory, it’s a shame but it can’t be helped :(

[sapphalo-pod]

bought ultrakill yesterday, both of my wrists are decimated and screeching for mercy after intense gameplay. absolutely worth it 10/10 would ultrakill again

[bialvindraper]

my ankle and knee have been so bad today it's been hell doing anything 😭😭

[wileys-russo]

in the blink of an eye (5) II a.putellas

series masterlist in the blink of an eye (5) II a.putellas

"-it happened again? usted no es serio?" you laughed in disbelief, the empty takeout cups of your coffees empty and long finished on the table in front of you.

"de nuevo. they must have a whatsapp!" alexia joked awkwardly as you grinned, the sight sending a very strange feeling through the blondes stomach which she rapidly pushed down and away.

"her new girlfriend leaving her for her ex girlfriend, different girls but twice now. we are sure she does not just find all of these chicas in the same bar?" you joked back as alexia chuckled, lips curling with amusement.

"sí sí, está maldita!" alexia shook her head, picking at the piece of banana cake she'd insisted the two of you split since it looked so good but you'd both been so busy talking you'd barely had a second to get a bite in, the icing now a little hard and crumbly.

"alexia you cannot call your own hermana cursed!" you laughed a little louder, throwing your head back and missing the soft smile which curved into the features of the girl across from you who covered it up by placing a forkful of cake into her mouth.

"por qué? she is!" the catalan insisted as you playfully rolled your eyes and sliced off your own mouthful of cake. "alba is unlucky, not cursed." you chuckled, covering your mouth with your hand as you pushed the fork past your lips causing alexia to snicker.

"qué?" you frowned once you'd swallowed and she wordlessly shook her head, small smile still playing on her face as you quirked an eyebrow. "no, tell me." you urged, twirling the fork between your fingers as your ex chuckled.

"you still do the eh, the mouth thing, when you eat." the girl gestured to her lips as you looked on confused, cutting off more cake and once again holding your hand over your mouth as you shoveled it inside.

"eso!" the blonde laughed as you did, pointing her finger at you accusingly as you realized just what she was referring to, feeling your cheeks heat up a little.

"i cannot help it, blame my mami for always telling me i looked ugly when i eat!" you rolled your eyes, alexia worried for a moment she'd offended you before your upper lip quivered as you tried not to smile.

"well you did like to talk with your mouth full." alexia teased as your eyes widened and she felt you kick her lightly under the table, mumbling that she was a dirty liar under your breath as the blonde grinned and snaked another bite of cake.

"cómo está ella?" the midfielder asked, tone softening just slightly but as hard as she may have tried you couldn't miss the ever so subtle hint of pity behind her question, and knowing exactly what it was about.

"ella está bien. she still grieves, cries, mourns, she thinks she hides it well but..." you trailed off with a sad smile, one which alexia mirrored as she hummed to show she was listening, giving you her full attention.

"i think having posie around is sometimes difficult for her even if she will never say so. mariposa is a reminder of natalia in ways that can be so beautiful, but also so hard." you mused honestly, not really having had anyone to talk to this about for some time now.

"she is also getting older, and that shows in her body more than she wants to accept. it is also why she is not able to take posie full time, she struggles to pick her up and hold her with the arthritis." you added on, realizing you were rambling a little more than you intended and stiffening, clearing your throat.

"lo siento, no quería seguir. cómo está eli?" you asked swiftly, alexia's eyebrows knitting together into a frown. "you do not need to be sorry. we got a coffee to catch up, no? that means actually talking about things." the girl reminded firmly but not unkindly as you nodded, flashing her a smile.

"it is nice, talking." you spat out honestly, the words leaving your mouth faster than you could take them back as surprised flickered across the blondes face but she was quick to mask it.

"sí, gracias por preguntarme." the older girl smiled sincerely, both of you mumbling a thank you to the waitress who collected your empty cups and plate, both of you praising how good they were.

"that cake was not as perfect as your mami's, but still it was good. i missed barcelona!" you sighed quickly diverting topics before an uncomfortable silence could build at all.

"i missed you." alexia spoke without thinking, her cheeks blushing pink as she realised her words and was quick to sit up a little straighter. "it missed you, barcelona, i am sure it missed you." she was fast to correct herself, both of you knowing that was not what she meant but alexia was grateful you chose to move on to save her any further embarassment.

and without her little slip up, the next question may not have tumbled out of your mouth quite so loosely.

"would you like to come over for dinner? to meet posie properly." you asked quickly, hesitating for a moment if you should retract the invitation, doubt swirling angrily through your head as you fiddled nervously with your fingers in your lap, hands well hidden beneath the table.

"i do not know if-" you didn't even let her fiinsh before humiliation and regret washed over you and you interrupted. "lo siento, eso fue una idea terrible." you apologised, stammering a little and alexia jolted as you stood clearly about to leave.

"oye oye! no no no, please sit." alexia stood as well, gesturing for you to sit down as you paused but none the less slowly lowered yourself back into your chair and she did the same.

"if you let me finish, i do not know if i can tonight. but i would like to, really, if you are okay with it?" alexia now hesitated, playing with the hem of her shorts as she awaited your reponse.

"sí, si está seguro." you echoed her question as you both exchanged a somewhat awkward smile. "sí, two friends having dinner." alexia confired with a curt nod.

"si, two friends who almost got married." you blurted out, hand smacking over your mouth once you had and cursing yourself over and over in your head.

"oh dios mío alexia, estoy-" you started, stopping abruptly when much to your surprise a belt of laughter left her mouth instead, the blonde locking eyes with you as your lip twitched and before either of you could help it the air was filled with your amusement.

"too soon?" you finally managed to get out once the pair of you had calmed yourselves, earning a few dirty looks from other cafe goers on the tables around you at both of your boisterous outbursts.

"sí, for some, not for us." alexia assured as you both exchanged a shy smile, looking away from one another and taking a beat. "so maybe uh, friday? for dinner." alexia asked, clearing her throat as you nodded.

"sí, friday."

~

"-pink tía?" posie questioned, balanced on her knees as your arm lay in front of her like a canvas, none of her coloring books peaking her interest today and to save yourself a tantrum you'd just given in and offered your arm up as an alternative.

"mm pink is nice nena." you mumbled tiredly, having only just gotten home from work and hardly sleeping last night since posie had been wriggling and kicking until eventually she seemed to find comfort draped across your head, the hot evening air not helping.

you tried hard not to let it happen, but without meaning to and with the rhythmic humming of your niece paired with the scratchings of the marker against your arm and you must have dozed off.

a sharp knock at the door jolted you back awak, sitting up so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash, wincing at the sharp bolt of pain which shot through your neck as you did.

"mierda!" you cursed when you realised you were alone now, the three year old who had once been curled into your side nowhere to be seen as a few more loud knocks echoed through your apartment.

"posie? dónde estás? mariposa? posie!" you shouted, rushing through the house and sighing in relief when you finally found her in the kitchen, but that relief dissapeared and the air sucked from your lungs as if you'd been kicked in the chest by a horse.

"mariposa baja eso ahora mismo!" you shouted, sprinting over and scooping up your niece who somehow had wound up with a steak knife in hand, one of the drawers pulled out and cutlery scattered all over the floor.

she hadn't thought she was doing anything wrong but your stern reaction had the girls eyes welling up in tears and before you knew it she was full on sobbing as you carefully pried the knife from her hands, setting it down on the counter.

"hey hey hey no bebita do not cry! i am not mad at you promesa promesa. i am not mad at you, i love you posie. you just scared me a little that's all! siento haberte gritado." you cooed softly, stepping over the cuterly spill and bouncing her gently up and down on your hip, feeling her tears create a small wet patch on your shoulder.

a glance back had you wincing, you thought you'd done a good enough job at baby proofing since you made all the changes ana required but clearly you needed to make a further effort if a three year old could get a knife in her possession so easily.

the guilt of it all washed over you like a shower would, your eyes squeezed shut for a moment to stop the tears which threatened to leak out, inhaling sharply and composing yourself.

how could you be expected to calm a wailing three year old if you couldn't even keep it together?

but right as posie's sobs started to melt down into wet sniffles, there came the knocking again and off she went, causing you to wince and your blood to run hot as you continued to mumble gently to her, rubbing your hand up and down her back.

right as you touched the door handle the knocking sounded again but thankfully this time posie just continued to sniffle and you cringed at how much snot and tears were crusting on the collar of your shirt.

as you yanked the door open and began to speak someone beat you to it with a click of their tongue. "so you are alive? you can tell your ex that you are back but not even call me after i-" mapi's words fell short as she took you in, disheveled, half asleep and with a sniffling toddler on your hip.

"not a good time maría." you replied curtly as the shock was still engrained in her features you weren't even sure if she'd heard what you said, too fixated on posie who was hiding herself in your neck as you protectively shifted so she was as out of sight as possible.

you were overwhelmed, overstimulated and quite frankly as much as you held no ill will toward the spaniard hers was one of the last faces you wanted to see right now.

"but-but who is-where did-" mapi began to stammer, eyebrows furrowed together with confusion as you sighed, utterly exhausted despite the fact it was barely past midday.

"lo siento, i will call you." you softened your tone slightly but before the tattooed defender could utter another syllable you were closing the door again, back thumping against it as you exhaled slowly and shakily.

"ven aquí nena, let us get cleaned up eh?"

~

once you'd gotten posie cleaned up, calmed down and settled in front of one of her cartoons you could breathe again, smiling at the way her eyes drooped despite the fight she'd put up that she wasn't tired.

you let out a chuckle and swooped in to grab the little container of cut up peaches out of her hand as you watched her eyes close and her grip loosen, setting it on the coffee table and smoothing her hair out, pressing a tender kiss to her forehead and tucking her bear under her arm.

you'd sat her on the counter and as calmly as possible explained knife safety best you could to a three year old, who adorably had explained she was trying to make you a snack after your nap, just like you did for her.

once again you had to stop yourself from crying knowing that wasn't what your niece needed, instead wrapping her in a tight hug and murmuring how much you loved her, unable to tell the tiny human just how much you needed her as well.

with posie down for her afternoon nap and still under your now hawk eyed supervision it allowed you to flutter about tidying, determined to make a better impression on your ex girlfriend than when she'd last visited your home.

you cursed under your breath as you finished and checked the time, two and a half hours somehow flying past as you needed to get posie up as well as start dinner so it was mostly done by the time alexia was set to arrive.

only you knew the girl well enough that for alexia early was on time, on time was late and late was unforgivable.

so you weren't caught off guard at a knock at the door sounding twenty minutes early, already having seen her car park ten minutes prior and checking in amusement every few minutes to see if she'd left it yet.

a quick check in on posie and you found her on the floor of her room playing with a few of her stuffed animals, another check confirming there wasn't anything she could swallow, choke on or hurt herself with before you ducked out and headed for the door.

"hola." you greeted the girl with a smile, not missing the obvious nervous tension in her shoulders as she repeated the greeting and you stepped aside to let her in.

"it is uh, cleaner, than last time." you chuckled a little awkwardly, closing the door after her as she looked around. "don't do that, people live here, of course it will looked lived in." alexia assured with a nod as you squeezed her arm appreciatively, stepping past her as she slipped off her shoes.

"oh! for you." she seemed to remember her hands weren't empty, holding up a bottle of wine, the label sparking memories that hadn't hurtled to the surface in years, a laugh of surprise leaving your lips.

"i know it is cheap but-" "but it is my favorite. i have not seen it in years!" you grinned happily, alexia seeming a little relaxed now as her lips curled upward, clearly content with your reaction.

"tía?"

and just like that any and all sense of calm alexia once felt was sucked away in an instant, the tiny brunette peeking out of the bedroom looking her up and down as you moved to stand beside her.

"remember i said one of my friends was coming over for dinner posie? well, this is alexia." you squatted down, nodding encouragingly to your niece who curled herself into your side.

"oye who is this shy chica? where is my posie mm? mi pequeño parlanchín." you teased, poking your fingers into her side as she giggled and alexia suddenly felt her knees go weak at the sight, clearing her throat lightly trying to pull herself out of it.

"tía i'm here!" your niece squealed, wriggling out of your hold as you grinned and poked her a few more times until she looked up at alexia again and shuffled closer to you.

alexia suddenly realizing she was a lot taller than a three year old immediately squatted down to seem a little less intimidating as you flashed her a soft smile, whispering something to your niece who nodded.

you stood again and offered her your hand, her tiny fingers wrapping around yours as you lead her over to where alexia was. "me llamo mariposa." the small girl spoke shyly before ducking to hide behind your leg as alexia glanced up at you and you nodded encouragingly.

"encantada de conocerte mariposa, me llamo alexia." the footballer introduced herself softly, holding out a hand as you had to stifle your laughter at the sheer size difference between hers and your nieces as posie slowly shook her hand.

"did you know the name mariposa means butterfly?" alexia smiled as posie seemed to perk up a little more, stepping out properly from behind you.

"sí! i have butterfly wings, from abuela." posie nodded eagerly as alexia gasped. "muy chulo." the blonde smiled as posie seemed to regain her confidence. "i show you after dinner?" posie offered as alexia instantly agreed and your smile grew even wider watching their interactions.

your niece letting go of your hand stepped forward now with a slight frown, alexia tensing up again as a tiny finger traced her cheeks. "mami and papi's video." the three year old spoke as you now frowned, squatting down and gently pulling her hand away from where her fingers continued to prod softly at alexia's face.

"bebita we already watched mami and papi's video this morning before you went to abuelas, remember?" you started gently, knowing the topic was an incredibly touchy one as the small girl shook her head.

"see you, in mami and papi's video!" posie pointed to alexia and looked to you expectantly, but before you could say a word she was taking off, racing away as tiny footsteps thumped through the house.

you took off after her and alexia was quick to follow, finding her in the living room with the remote in hand which she shoved at you, babbling away to press play on the video and ignoring anything you said in response.

alexia stumbled a little as posie tugged on the hem of her shorts, clearly trying to drag the much taller girl toward the couch as she sat down, posie climbing herself up to join her as with a sigh you gave in and clicked play.

you took a seat on posie's other side and for the first few minutes the three of you sat in a somewhat uncomfortable silence, though right as you were ready to attempt to put your foot down and turn it back off, it happened.

"mira! mira, mira, mira! alexia!" your niece stood to her feet, clinging onto alexia's shirt to steady herself as she pointed to the tv and sure enough, there she was, and a tidal wave of emotions overcame you and suddenly it was as if you could still remember the very day.

"estás muy guapa." the brunette hummed in your ear as you returned from the dance floor, settling yourself down on her lap as her arms tightly encircled your waist.

"muy muy muy preciosa, mi preciosa novia." your girlfriend showered you with compliments as you leaned back into her, your head craning backwards to rest on her shoulder.

"deberías ver a mi novia." you smiled teasingly, the older girl leaning down to press her lips sweetly against yours. "mmm, i hope she can fight?" the footballer whispered mid kiss as you laughed, hands finding her cheeks and deepening it slightly.

you were both pulled from your little love bubble at the sound of wolf whistles, your very drunk sister waving at you from the dancefloor as her newly elected husband caught her before she fell, sending you a knowing wink as he whisked her away.

"do you want to get some air?" you asked, pushing back up off of alexia who nodded, joining you as you stood, her fingers interlocking with yours as the pair of you made small talk with a few people on your way out.

you exhaled into the crisp night air, closing your eyes and soaking in the fact the pair of you were finally alone, ears ringing from the sheer contrast of how quiet it was out here compared to how loud the music was thumping inside.

"this could be us one day cari." you were consumed by the scent of your girlfriends perfume, turning at the sound of her voice and moving to wrap your arms around her torso.

"too drunk to walk?" you teased with a grin, your sister having been far from sober out of nerves nearly all day, quite the anxious bride from the moment she'd been proposed to.

"tal vez, we could be married mi amor." alexia was too tipsy to notice the way your body tensed up in her arms, playing it off with a laugh and hoping she would change topics.

"is that something you want?" no such luck.

"i have had too much tequila mi amor, i think i want to go back to our room soon." you looked up with a smile, reaching up to push a loose strand of hair behind her ear and not missing the odd look which flashed across the older girls face.

but before she could say another word the two of you were once again pulled from your little bubble at the sound of loud retching, letting go of one another and spinning around.

"oh dios mío....is that my mami?" you groaned in realization at the woman hunched over, throwing her guts up into the flower beds. "who is holding her hair?" you questioned with a frown, squinting to try and work it out but your girlfriend clocked it first.

"dios mío i think that is my mami!"

"tía? tía?" you crashed back down to the ground as a hand touched your cheek, blinking a few times and meeting your nieces little gaze which looked up at you.

"mira! alexia." she tugged on the sleeve of your shirt, pointing to the tv where again there was another clip of a much younger alexia spinning you around on the dancefloor, a quick glance to your right showing the girl in question watching the tv avidly with an unreadable look on her face.

thankfully it seemed someone somewhere had your best intentions in mind as the oven pinged signalling the timer was done and you breathed a sigh of relief you hadn't realized you'd been holding in.

"vamos! time to eat."

you stood with a soft tender smile on your face as you packed up the leftovers from dinner, posie twirling around the living room after she'd made you and alexia push the couch and coffee table out of the way.

she had her little butterfly wings on and you had to stop yourself from laughing aloud at alexia's own wings, which were two little blobs of purple and orange vaguely resembling tacos which posie had drawn and insisted be taped to alexia's back.

you'd tried to talk her out of it but much of your sister was in her daughter, especially natalia’s often hard headed stubborn tendencies as of course alexia assured it was fine and you'd given in, somewhat relieved you’d manage to avoid any sort of meltdown or tantrum.

it seemed posie was trying to teach her a dance of some sort and you had to hide a snicker into your hand as the footballer awkwardly tried to copy her movements, rigid and stiff and you'd always teased her that she danced with two left feet.

placing the last container in the fridge you had to interrupt, a glance at your phone showing it was nearing posie's bedtime and she still hadn't even had a bath yet.

"vale! beautiful dancing chicas, but i think it is time for a certain little butterfly to have her bath." you smiled as alexia exhaled in relief, dropping her arms from the position posie had insisted they be in, rolling her shoulders with a slight wince as you bit your lip to hide your smile.

"five more." you felt a small body hurtle into your leg nearly knocking you down as you chuckled and brushed her flyaways away from her forehead which was prickled with sweat from her dancing.

"no nena, bath and bed, or else you will be a grumpy butterfly tomorrow." you honked her nose gently as the three year old huffed, scowling and making a point to stomp her tiny feet all the way to her bedroom.

alexia jumped hearing the door slam and you chuckled with a shake of her head. "who says it is only teenagers who have attitude? mentirosa." you tutted as alexia's face softened, a snicker sounding from you as she tried to awkwardly crane her arms to pull off the paper wings.

"aquí, date la vuelta." you nodded for her to turn around as you carefully peeled off the paper, brushing a few loose pieces of fluff off of alexia's t-shirt and tapping her shoulders gently to signal you were done.

"tía! stuck again!" you heard posie holler out from her room, alexia now the one to chuckle as you explained your niece had a habit of somehow winding up tangled in her clothes when left to pull them off of her body herself.

"i should go..." you trailed off and nodded behind you with a small smile. "i should go too." alexia was swift to reply as you swallowed your disappointment at her words.

"or i stay? help with the uh dishes and to move things back?" she quickly offered, rubbing the back of her neck with a signature awkward smile. "oh no you do not need to help with those!" you assured as posie yelled out for you again.

"but if you want to stay, i will not be long?" "bien, but i am doing the dishes." "do i have a choice?" you began to walk backwards with a smile as alexia grinned and shook her head.

"tía ayuda! stuck!"

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Ad-tech targeting is an existential threat

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me TORONTO on SUNDAY (Feb 23) at Another Story Books, and in NYC on WEDNESDAY (26 Feb) with JOHN HODGMAN. More tour dates here.

The commercial surveillance industry is almost totally unregulated. Data brokers, ad-tech, and everyone in between – they harvest, store, analyze, sell and rent every intimate, sensitive, potentially compromising fact about your life.

Late last year, I testified at a Consumer Finance Protection Bureau hearing about a proposed new rule to kill off data brokers, who are the lynchpin of the industry:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/16/the-second-best-time-is-now/#the-point-of-a-system-is-what-it-does

The other witnesses were fascinating – and chilling, There was a lawyer from the AARP who explained how data-brokers would let you target ads to categories like "seniors with dementia." Then there was someone from the Pentagon, discussing how anyone could do an ad-buy targeting "people enlisted in the armed forces who have gambling problems." Sure, I thought, and you don't even need these explicit categories: if you served an ad to "people 25-40 with Ivy League/Big Ten law or political science degrees within 5 miles of Congress," you could serve an ad with a malicious payload to every Congressional staffer.

Now, that's just the data brokers. The real action is in ad-tech, a sector dominated by two giant companies, Meta and Google. These companies claim that they are better than the unregulated data-broker cowboys at the bottom of the food-chain. They say they're responsible wielders of unregulated monopoly surveillance power. Reader, they are not.

Meta has been repeatedly caught offering ad-targeting like "depressed teenagers" (great for your next incel recruiting drive):

https://www.technologyreview.com/2017/05/01/105987/is-facebook-targeting-ads-at-sad-teens/

And Google? They just keep on getting caught with both hands in the creepy commercial surveillance cookie-jar. Today, Wired's Dell Cameron and Dhruv Mehrotra report on a way to use Google to target people with chronic illnesses, people in financial distress, and national security "decision makers":

https://www.wired.com/story/google-dv360-banned-audience-segments-national-security/

Google doesn't offer these categories itself, they just allow data-brokers to assemble them and offer them for sale via Google. Just as it's possible to generate a target of "Congressional staffers" by using location and education data, it's possible to target people with chronic illnesses based on things like whether they regularly travel to clinics that treat HIV, asthma, chronic pain, etc.

Google claims that this violates their policies, and that they have best-of-breed technical measures to prevent this from happening, but when Wired asked how this data-broker was able to sell these audiences – including people in menopause, or with "chronic pain, fibromyalgia, psoriasis, arthritis, high cholesterol, and hypertension" – Google did not reply.

The data broker in the report also sold access to people based on which medications they took (including Ambien), people who abuse opioids or are recovering from opioid addiction, people with endocrine disorders, and "contractors with access to restricted US defense-related technologies."

It's easy to see how these categories could enable blackmail, spear-phishing, scams, malvertising, and many other crimes that threaten individuals, groups, and the nation as a whole. The US Office of Naval Intelligence has already published details of how "anonymous" people targeted by ads can be identified:

https://www.odni.gov/files/ODNI/documents/assessments/ODNI-Declassified-Report-on-CAI-January2022.pdf

The most amazing part is how the 33,000 targeting segments came to public light: an activist just pretended to be an ad buyer, and the data-broker sent him the whole package, no questions asked. Johnny Ryan is a brilliant Irish privacy activist with the Irish Council for Civil Liberties. He created a fake data analytics website for a company that wasn't registered anywhere, then sent out a sales query to a brokerage (the brokerage isn't identified in the piece, to prevent bad actors from using it to attack targeted categories of people).

Foreign states, including China – a favorite boogeyman of the US national security establishment – can buy Google's data and target users based on Google ad-tech stack. In the past, Chinese spies have used malvertising – serving targeted ads loaded with malware – to attack their adversaries. Chinese firms spend billions every year to target ads to Americans:

https://www.nytimes.com/2024/03/06/business/google-meta-temu-shein.html

Google and Meta have no meaningful checks to prevent anyone from establishing a shell company that buys and targets ads with their services, and the data-brokers that feed into those services are even less well-protected against fraud and other malicious act.

All of this is only possible because Congress has failed to act on privacy since 1988. That's the year that Congress passed the Video Privacy Protection Act, which bans video store clerks from telling the newspapers which VHS cassettes you have at home. That's also the last time Congress passed a federal consumer privacy law:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Video_Privacy_Protection_Act

The legislative history of the VPPA is telling: it was passed after a newspaper published the leaked video-rental history of a far-right judge named Robert Bork, whom Reagan hoped to elevate to the Supreme Court. Bork failed his Senate confirmation hearings, but not because of his video rentals (he actually had pretty good taste in movies). Rather, it was because he was a Nixonite criminal and virulent loudmouth racist whose record was strewn with the most disgusting nonsense imaginable).

But the leak of Bork's video-rental history gave Congress the cold grue. His video rental history wasn't embarrassing, but it sure seemed like Congress had some stuff in its video-rental records that they didn't want voters finding out about. They beat all land-speed records in making it a crime to tell anyone what kind of movies they (and we) were watching.

And that was it. For 37 years, Congress has completely failed to pass another consumer privacy law. Which is how we got here – to this moment where you can target ads to suicidal teens, gambling addicted soldiers in Minuteman silos, grannies with Alzheimer's, and every Congressional staffer on the Hill.

Some people think the problem with mass surveillance is a kind of machine-driven, automated mind-control ray. They believe the self-aggrandizing claims of tech bros to have finally perfected the elusive mind-control ray, using big data and machine learning.

But you don't need to accept these outlandish claims – which come from Big Tech's sales literature, wherein they boast to potential advertisers that surveillance ads are devastatingly effective – to understand how and why this is harmful. If you're struggling with opioid addiction and I target an ad to you for a fake cure or rehab center, I haven't brainwashed you – I've just tricked you. We don't have to believe in mind-control to believe that targeted lies can cause unlimited harms.

And those harms are indeed grave. Stein's Law predicts that "anything that can't go on forever eventually stops." Congress's failure on privacy has put us all at risk – including Congress. It's only a matter of time until the commercial surveillance industry is responsible for a massive leak, targeted phishing campaign, or a ghastly national security incident involving Congress. Perhaps then we will get action.

In the meantime, the coalition of people whose problems can be blamed on the failure to update privacy law continues to grow. That coalition includes protesters whose identities were served up to cops, teenagers who were tracked to out-of-state abortion clinics, people of color who were discriminated against in hiring and lending, and anyone who's been harassed with deepfake porn:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/06/privacy-first/#but-not-just-privacy

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/20/privacy-first-second-third/#malvertising

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[unintentionalseductress]

When The Snow Melts

Warnings: MDNI, soft sex, virginity loss, angst, and some spoilers for those who aren't familiar with Zayne's lore. A/n: Curiosity got the best of me. I wasn't playing LaDS when the Master of Fate card came out so I went to YouTube and immediately regretted it. Like can this man not catch a break? He sacrifices himself again? I couldn't leave it, so this me, correcting the wrong. A fix-it fic if you will. Because I need Zayne to win, at least once. Also, since Zayne appears according to how MC perceives him, I do believe he will have aged exactly as she has.

The night is bright, and the small cobbled lane you walk on is lit with lamps. The streets are bustling with life. The feeling of excitement, togetherness, and aromatic food graces the air as you wander closer to the town square. Another festival, similar, yet not similar, to the countless ones you’ve seen with your keen eyes. 

You’d wanted to be in company, maybe see the world when you were young, and the curse that was also a blessing was granted. Your body, now wispy and weathered from the years spent wandering cannot move as quickly as you used to, the ever-reminding aches in your joints, the beginning of arthritis weighing down in your bones. Yet you still had a zest for life. Because what else could you do but seek, and take in everything that life had to offer? How could you not? Because it was the grace of the god that allowed it and the terrible price that was paid for you to experience it.

It had been decades since you had last seen the god. You had traversed as far as you could, carrying your umbrella with the everlasting snow coating it like wool on a freshly birthed lamb. The things you had witnessed! Ships with sails as tall as oak trees, strangely flavored meats and delectable sweets, festivals where people had danced, music from instruments brought in from faraway strange lands. You had eaten, traveled, danced, and sung, picking up small jobs to afford simple pleasures. You were a quick learner. Once you were a seamstress helping a small garment shop, another time a jewel polisher. You had even worked as an errand maid for an elderly couple who were profuse with their thanks and offered you a roof over your head for a short while. But staying in one place wasn’t an option. You had to keep looking after all. How else would you find him again?

As your feet carried you into the square, a burst of light and color filled your vision. It’s so lively, as the people flock to the different food carts, admiring the small handicraft booths, and singing folk songs well known to all those who grew up in this region. Children joyfully chased each other, dressed warmly in bright clothes. A hint of winter was already in the air. Based on what you had observed, this festival was celebrating the end of the harvest season, probably one of the last for this year until the harsh snowfall of winter faded. The breeze, not quite chilly enough to make you shiver, felt comforting on your face. 

You supposed you could work as a midwife again. Midwifery was good work, reliable since winter did not stop the delivery of children into the world. It could also guarantee a place to stay if you played your cards right, though you hated staying in one place. The nomadic lifestyle you had adopted suited you. And the winters made you nostalgic. 

It made you long for those days before you had picked up this umbrella and set off to see the world. Of amber eyes flecked with green, like the jars of whiskey at the inns when the early morning sunlight brushes against them, bringing forth colors hidden in the dark glass. Or of soft hands, covered in scars, and whispers in your ear of sleep, of priestesses calling gods down to earth to make love to them. Sometimes the memories consume you to the point of anger.  How dare he leave you? With no explanation as to what his blessing was. 

You vaguely recall those days, back when your fingers weren’t gnarled and wrinkled, your face unblemished by the years in the sun. All spells have limitations, he had said. But he also said he had taken care to make the spell extra strong since you were particularly clumsy. The snow had to melt sometime…didn’t it?

A drum begins to pound in the distance, and the crowd gathers around the stage that had been set up at the far end of the square. You halt at one of the carts to buy some fried chicken skewers. The vendor looks curiously at your umbrella, something you have grown accustomed to over the years. After all, snow that doesn’t melt was bound to bring questions. You had woven a different story for each city you had passed through, sometimes recycling them when you didn’t have the creativity to spin a new one. Initially hesitant to reveal how the umbrella with the everlasting snow had come into your possession, you had tried to pass it off as a novelty accessory, crafting tales of snowy mountains and how it was all the rage in those areas.

As the years passed by, your tongue had loosened. Or perhaps the indignation of him disappearing had made you reckless. Although you still hadn’t said the full story, you’d managed to finally say it was a blessing from a god, shocking the non-believers by letting them touch the snow, their gasps of awe as the cold, wet, powder clung to their fingers falling satisfyingly on your ears. Tonight, however, you were in no mood to entertain strangers. You smile politely as you hand over your coins to the vendor, take the food, and walk away towards the stage. 

The sounds of a flute and an erhu accompany the drum. Elaborately dressed dancers are swirling in coordinated grace on the stage, enacting a scene from an old tale; the common man sending off the goddess of harvest, thanking her for her blessings that year, and praying to the god of winter, that he be merciful to them and allow them to live to see another spring.

You were skeptical if these rituals really worked. The first autumn after you had been gifted the umbrella when the air started to show signs of change, you had danced, danced amongst the trees that were close to shedding their vividly colored leaves of red, mustard, and yellow. You had prayed your heart out, prayed so hard, danced so long that the soles of your shoes had almost worn out. You had danced till you had collapsed with exhaustion, falling asleep on the leafy floor. You had been so sure that it would work, that he would show himself, and when you awoke, it was with a heartrending pang that you realized you were alone. It hadn’t worked. Wherever he was, the god of the snow wasn’t visible to your eyes. It was the first time you had allowed yourself to cry in all those months. Had he really believed this was the better choice? That to leave you behind without telling you what was going to happen to him would make you happier? That was the worst part; not knowing if he was alive, existing somewhere you couldn’t journey to, or if he had given all his power into making the snow that had fueled your existence, and lost himself with it. 

The music becomes faster and the dancers move until the stage is a blur of color. The audience claps as their movements become sharp, with an artistic precision that only years of practice could hone. The last note quavers from the flute and rises into the night air. Cheers and whistles erupt all around you. It was a beautiful performance no doubt, but despite finding it captivating, it also left you feeling hollow. Finishing the last of your fried chicken, you begin to wander amongst the townspeople, enquiring about work that could be had for the winter.

By the time the square had cleared up, and the last of the festival-goers had returned home, you had secured a job; a bakery was in desperate need of an extra set of hands. The pay wasn’t much but the woman had offered food and board and you had accepted graciously. As you sit on the stone steps of your latest lodgings, you gaze at the moon. 

You want to not blame him, to not feel this heavy weight that you’ve carried inside your chest. You know you should be grateful for his sacrifice which enabled you to see so much of the world, and at the least, you weren’t alone. The incident with the people in your village was a distant memory, replaced with so many more pleasant rememberings. Plucking apples from an orchard with trees growing as far as the eyes could see. The feeling of a newborn baby, screaming with the rage of life and the mother wiping tears of joy while offering you her thanks. The herbalist with his toothless smile as he showed you which plants were medicinal and which were poison as you plucked various flowers and leaves and dug the earth for rhizomes of turmeric and ginger. 

You were a well-traveled woman, knowledgeable in all aspects, a rare luxury during this time, you knew. Yet for each memory that stayed clearly in your mind, there was a sense of loss. Everything tied back to him, and you couldn’t bring yourself to forget him, even in your old age, and even with the passage of time. 

The spicy bun the baker had offered you was good. You savored its flavor on your tongue, naming the constellations visible in the sky as you did so, the short astronomy lesson from a young scholar in some past time proving useful. It must be close to midnight based on how still the night is, the whispering rustle of dead leaves as they skitter across the ground audible in the background. With a sigh, you carefully get to your feet, your joints creaking as you rise. As you reach for your umbrella, you pause, fingertips hovering over the handle.

Surely you were imagining it? It must be a trick of the moonlight. The last of the lamps were dying, the faint light casting shadows across the walls of the dwellings. Yet your aged eyes couldn’t shake off the feeling. You stare intently at the umbrella, more so, at the snow perched on its upper slope. A fine sheen of condensation coated the umbrella, surrounding the powdery snow. Had you somehow gotten the umbrella wet? You kneel, observing with fascination as some of the condensation gathers, becoming fat droplets of precipitation, and rolling off the sides.

You’re awestruck. In all your years, the snow had never melted. It had never lessened nor increased but always stayed the same. But now you can see how the powder was turning watery, steadily dripping down into the cold ground. You trace a fingertip on the trails of moisture along the sides of the umbrella, and that’s when you hear it; the unmistakable twang of a guqin. 

You had never encountered a guqin again, not since the night he had played one while you danced for him. The unmistakable notes now begin to form a melody. You look out into the empty street and see nothing. But the song was filling your body like the warmth of a fireplace. Your limbs involuntarily stretch out as your eyes close, remembering the movements you had learned so long ago and sworn to never repeat after the failed attempt to call down the god. Your legs feel unsteady, your hands clumsy, a far cry from the controlled accuracy of the stage dancers. Your joints begin to sear as you move, unable to stop the actions. Oh how sweetly the instrument sang to you!

There’s a sharp pain in your heart, not from the ache of moving your tired extremities, but from the grief bottled up, adding on year after year. There’s resentment, but underneath it all, there’s a strong yearning you’re unable to put into words. How do you describe it? The loss of the only person who seemed to understand you, who helped you control your power?

You knew he did something when he placed his spell because, since that day, you hadn’t been able to harness your powers ever again. He had ensured you could live your life as a normal human being. Before knowing him you would have done anything to not have the power. But the cost that came with it was too much to bear. You weren’t alone, yet you were alone. So of all the days, why was the guqin playing now?

Tears roll down your cheeks as you dance, letting loose your sorrow to the crisp night breeze. You feel like each nerve in your body is frayed, all consumed with the bits of memories you had of him. It takes you a moment to realize you’re not dancing anymore. The guqin has stopped playing. You’re standing in a pose, your head lowered, facing the steps you had been sitting on, and the umbrella leaning against them. Shock passes through you. 

The umbrella was completely devoid of snow. The only evidence it was there was the puddle of water that had gathered beneath it, muddying the grass. 

“Why are you so surprised?”

Your heart skips a beat, then begins to hammer in your chest like a frantic bird trapped in a cage. The deep baritone voice tinged with a hint of sarcasm calls out to you gently. You can’t seem to be able to move. 

“It can’t be.” You murmur, gripping your elbows, trying to calm yourself. “It can’t be. I’m dreaming.”

“What are dreams if not another reality?”

It takes all the effort in your body to not collapse to the ground as a sobbing mess. You turn slowly, as though giving the voice a chance to admit it was a figment of your imagination but it doesn’t happen. Your breath catches in your throat as you see him, at last.

His dark hair has tinges of gray in it, and crow’s feet are visible near the corners of his eyes, but the gentle upwards curve of his lips, the broad shoulders, and his pointed chin are all recognizably familiar. 

“Zayne?” You let his name fall from your lips, sounding like a strange word, lost to your vocabulary from the years of disuse. 

He nods, then stretches out a hand to you. At first, you’re at a loss about what you should do, then, with as much speed as your wizened knees allow, you run to him. He’s solid and grounding, his arms wrapping around you tightly. A brief lick of rage crosses through you, but when you open your mouth to let loose your diatribe, all that comes out is a sob. Your tears flow freely, staining his robes, and you feel his gloved hands gently combing through your hair.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmurs, his chin resting on top of your head.

“Why not tell me?” Your words are choked, your body shivering as you cry. 

Zayne leads you to the steps and helps you sit before occupying the space next to you. He leans you against him, your head resting comfortably on his shoulder as he takes one of your hands between both of his. He sighs deeply and his voice, though calm, is filled with regret as he speaks. 

“How could I tell you? What would I have said? How do you tell someone special to you that their life was in danger?”

You blink back tears. “Danger?”

“There was a powerful entity after you. I did what I needed to do to protect you.”

“Why was it after me?”

Zayne pauses, as though considering how to word his response. “It was convinced you would bring about a cataclysm, and the only way to prevent it was to take your life.”

“But… I don’t understand. How did your spell prevent this? Now that it’s worn off, won’t it come after me again?”

“No.” Zayne wraps his arms around you, his body bringing warmth into yours. “Even cataclysms go away if given enough time. But the harder part was figuring out how to suppress your abilities until that time passed.” He sighs deeply, gathering you close. “The spell on the umbrella was the only solution I could think of, without restricting your freedom. Regrettably, sealing your power meant taking away your ability to perceive me. I never intended to make it permanent.”

“Why not tell me?” You repeat the question. Zayne raises an eyebrow.

“If I had told you the spell would wear off, would you have left the mountain?” He brushes your cheek with his thumb as he takes in your face, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “I know you. You would have spent all these years in isolation, waiting for me. I didn’t want you to miss the opportunity to live. A normal life seemed like the best option I could give you until enough time had passed.”

You’re silent as you let his words sink into you. After a gap, you whisper, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” His thumb caresses each of your fingertips in turn. “But know that I watched over you every day. I saw the world through your eyes and felt your sense of wonderment in my heart. The day you danced so hard for me that you almost fainted from exhaustion-” Zayne draws in a breath and his voice quivers as he continues. “I was in tears. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and comfort you. I was there, separated by a veil, but I felt your pain.”

“That was the year the frost came early.” You recall the memory. 

“Indeed. I couldn’t control my grief. I didn’t know how else to let you know I was there, except to cover the world with snow.”

You glance over at the umbrella. “Will you disappear again?”

“Not unless you want me to.” One of his large hands rests on your knee. “I understand I’ve angered you by acting without telling you everything. Is it enough that you don’t want me around?”

You shake your head no. Your momentary anger with him had faded, like the night giving way to the sunrise. “There’s nothing that could keep me from wanting you. I made many acquaintances throughout my life, but the one person’s companionship I yearned for was yours.”

“My beloved snowflake.” Zayne embraces you tenderly. “It was fate that led you to me on the mountain that day. And It was fate that finally broke the spell. We’re all bound by it, even me.”

“Are you?”

“Yes. Otherwise, do you think I would have kept you sealed for so long? Even gods must play by fate’s rules.”

Silence falls between you both,  the breeze ruffling your clothes. You become acutely aware that he’s gazing at you, and when you turn to look at him, there’s such tenderness in his eyes that it makes you blush, even at this age. 

“You’re beautiful,” he utters, tucking strands of stray hair behind your ears. The amber in his eyes glows as you stare back, captivated by how handsome he is. Your memory didn’t do him justice. You cup his cheek. 

“Is this our happily ever after?”

“It can be if we choose it to be.”

“I do. Wholeheartedly.”

Sparks fly between you and almost as if the both of you are following a rhythm, your lips find each other in the darkness. It’s odd because, in the passing years, you hadn’t imagined what his lips would feel like against yours. You had fantasized about lying next to him, listening to his heartbeat, about taking long, leisurely strolls while holding hands, and about the possibility of letting him rest on your lap while you played with his thick locks of hair.

Now you’re glad you hadn’t tried to imagine it because the reality was sweeter than any dream you could have conjured, the warmth and softness of his mouth, the taste of his tongue as it slips past your lips, the possessiveness in his grip as he molds your body against his, as though silently claiming you. There wasn’t an inch of you that didn’t ache for him. When he pulls away, there’s desire flickering in the depths of his eyes.

Wordlessly, you take his hands and get to your feet, quietly pulling him inside your new quarters. You’re careful to not wake the baker; it was quite improper to invite a man into your room, but you didn’t care. You lock the door and allow Zayne to sweep you away.

Clothes slide to the floor, a whisper lost to the dark. There’s no shame as you reach for each other, hands relishing the feeling of skin, enjoying the contact between your bodies as he gently pulls you onto the bed. His lips leave trailing kisses on your skin, no longer supple like the young woman you once were, but worthy of being worshipped irrespective. You wonder if this moment would have felt different if you had consummated this relationship when you were younger but realized you had little choice in it. If the Master of Fate couldn’t control when things happened, then what good was it to think about what could have been?

Instead, you focus on him, on his skin flushed with vitality as you nibble his ear, shyly running your tongue down his neck. He suckles at your nipple, and pleasure, unlike anything you’ve ever experienced radiates into every part of your being. You feel his erection graze your belly as he patiently kisses you, moaning into his mouth as his fingers stroke your sex, finding the little knot of nerves that makes you close your eyes in ecstasy.

It’s all slow and unhurried, and when you finally gasp out your climax, he eases his body into yours. There’s pain, but only for the briefest moment, then as your body stretches around him, you feel a powerful sense of intimacy as he thrusts, his movements passionate and loving. He gathers you tightly against him whispering the same thing over and over as he empties himself. 

“I love you. I love you I love you I love you.”

A weak ray of sunlight peeks through the window when you wake up, and you panic for a moment when you see the bed is empty. 

“I’m here my love.” Zayne’s voice immediately reassures you and you see him stoking the fireplace. The small flames crackle merrily as he makes his way back to bed, pulling you against him and stroking your skin. It had snowed overnight, and the landscape was now unrecognizable, covered in a fresh coat of it. 

“It appears grief isn’t the only thing that can cause the god of winter to make it snow,” you tease and Zayne good-naturedly smirks at you. 

“Indeed. All thanks to you.” 

You giggle, a soft sound that fills him with joy. 

“I suppose we’re stuck in this village until winter ends. Makes no sense to wander for now.”

“Agreed. I suppose I can set up shop as a fortune-teller, or maybe as a herbalist.”

“We’ll decide what to do when spring comes.” You settle against his chest, finding comfort in the scent of his skin. 

“The snow has to melt sometime. But we’ll survive. Together.”

“Together.” You agree, and lay your lips over his. 

© unintentionalseductress original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating support banner by @/ cafekitsune

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[lxcke]

My Hancock Headcanons

Some of these are a little OOC from the game but I'm rewriting the Commonwealth to have darker and more realistic overtones. 1.9k words.

Can't bring himself to take Daytripper anymore. The euphoric effects hooked him hard for a while and it's one of the reasons why he used to do benders so much.

Doesn't wear the red frock coat while out adventuring because he can't bear the thought of getting it burned up or ruined.

Some hair follicles survived on the top of his head and there are tiny tufts of platinum silver hair that grow in. He lost his hair pigment in the ghoulification process, and they fall out or break off before the strands can get very long as it's very brittle.

Tries to one-hand his double-barrel shotgun like a flintlock pistol and regularly messes up his wrist joint because of the kickback.

His eyes appear pitch black, but if you look closely or shine a light on them, you'll notice that his eyes are actually just a really, really dark red from burst blood vessels (radiation poisoning side-effect). In some areas where the black hasn't taken over, there are broken flecks of grey in there.

Hancock is a caffeine junkie.

He deals with fatigue and arthritis from ghoulification (his bones did not take kindly to the radiation.) The pain lessens during radstorms, where he feels incredibly rejuvenated, and often hyper.

Favors Mentats and Jet because they're "less heavy" chems. He takes the Mentats to help himself properly fulfil the role as a responsible mayor. Long-term use has led to him learning a lot in a short time span, leading to his extremely high INT stat.

He favors Jet because it helps sooth the fire in his brain after overdoing work on Mentats. They balance each other out.

Used to wear a lot of jewelry and had piercings in his youth but found out the hard way that they snag during a fight, so they had to go.

Keeps his switchblade(s) in his boot.

Was taught how to sew by his mom as a kid and is now the guy everyone goes to when they end up with holes in their clothes. He keeps his John Hancock getup in good condition.

Isn't a huge fan of swimming. He can swim but it makes him feel incredibly uneasy. He needs his boots on the ground.

Bad temperature regulation. He gets cold at a slight breeze and hot on a sunny day. His tricorn hat keeps the sun off of him.

Some people headcanon that he has heightened senses, but I beg to differ. The dude has bad vision. He uses a shotgun so it's harder to miss. You'll often catch him squinting at documents and terminals. He knows the smell of specific chemicals like the back of his hand, but he doesn't necessarily pick up scents "better."

E.g. you'll both catch a whiff of something weirdly metallic, and he just pops off with, "ah, yes, Psychojet with a little too much jet saturation and a smidge of black mold in the container. Feelin' bad for whoever just took that; that's some low-quality stuff."

Back in his human days, he was a degenerate junkie back in Diamond City. He was a sleazeball with high charisma; let's just leave it at that.

DC guards would regularly sweep him off the curb near the Dugout Inn or bust him selling chems to the locals behind the stands.

As alluded to in the game dialogue, Hancock would go on benders in Goodneighbor and would often shack up with the locals. He used sex as an escape almost as frequently as chems. He has a lot of experience due to this, but he also has his fair share of "horror stories."

He's now a lot pickier about who he shares a mattress with, but whoever gets lucky with Hancock? Say goodbye to your dignity because he will systematically destroy that shit just because he feels like it.

Gave the player character chems so they'd get hooked and be dependent on him to provide. He was buying insurance so they wouldn't betray him if push came to shove. He also just wanted a smoke buddy for the road.

Hancock is a selfish person. He wears the "easygoing helpful stoner friend" persona to try and make right for his previous sins. "Hancock" is the good guy face. "John" is a cynical bastard.

Only his closest, most trusted friends will ever call him John or see that side of him.

Often can't sit still and has sensory-seeking tendencies (just a smidge touch of the ADHD. Could be a side effect of chem-usage as well.)

As a young child, he grew up in a waterfront cabin with his older brother and mother. His father was a drifter and was rarely seen. John can't remember his name or face well, but his mom is a shining star in his memory.

John falls back into the Daytripper habit after finding out his brother was replaced with a synth. The player character pulls him out of it if they're close enough. If not, he keeps it quiet. Nobody will notice, right?

His eyes are very mirror-like and have that "red-eye glow" effect when a bright light is directed at him. Sometimes, in the heat of battle, one can literally see the fire reflected back in his eyes. It's high-key freaky.

Has the subtle air of inhumanity about him. He sometimes moves in a way that makes you question if he's real or not (e.g. standing way too still, movements too rigid or too fluid.) He's probably just really high when this happens.

Riffing off some dialogue from the game, Hancock has been dealing with hallucinations all his life. He blames it on the chems, but he's too afraid to admit he's probably just a tad psychotic from wasteland living. This is also a known PTSD symptom, which he won't touch on the subject of with a ten-foot pole.

"You see 'em, too?" he says jokingly whilst sweating bullets.

When he gets particularly high, one might catch him listening to some very strange experimental jazz. He'll never admit to this.

Riffing off of Danny Shorago's beautiful musical performances, this dude can absolutely slam out vocals like a pro. Isolation in the wasteland leads to completely useless talents. He absentmindedly sung along to Diamond City radio to himself one too many times and well, one thing led to another...

Took over for Magnolia at the Third Rail on one of her off days. Never did it again. Will never mention it happened.

Attention whore and heavily ashamed of it. He stabbed a guy in the first ten seconds of meeting the player character, but if you tell him he was showing off, he'll deny it.

Will happily bum a preserved cigarette off of the player character if they have any.

He has nine toes and walks a little funny because of it. Jack Sparrow with a limp.

Was not raised in the era of soap. Due to the game labeling soap as junk, Hancock will ridicule the player character for picking it up. He doesn't understand what it is; it just looks like a stick of lard to him.

Doesn't use soap (dirty wastelander behavior.) He keeps two pine-scented car fresheners hanging on the inside of his coat. He calls them "coat fresheners."

The sweat glands in his skin were burned off so he doesn't smell incredibly bad, there's just this weird dusty ozone smell to him... he'll take a dip in the river to get the grime off, but he doesn't like how cold it makes him afterwards.

Standard sex-education does not exist in the wasteland. It's incredibly rare to meet a wastelander who views sex as recreational, and not a clinical way to make as many babies as possible. It's also incredibly rare to meet a wastelander with any kind of clue of what they're doing in bed. This makes Hancock a literal gem, and it's probably why he has so much sway with the people. Per Bobbi No-Nose: "Everyone is so damn afraid of him or so damn in love with him. He thinks he is invincible."

Slams Dirty Wastelanders like they are water. He has a specific taste for mutfruit and sweet drinks.

Fahrenheit is indeed Hancock's daughter, but she was a bastard "oopsie baby" he didn't find out about until she was well in her adulthood. She's not inclined to tell him, nor does he want to acknowledge it. He was never a father to her, and she knows he doesn't want to be... not that she cares. They stick together out of an awkward unspoken need to make sure the other stays alive, though. Neither of them have the willpower to bring it up to each other.

Her mother was a fling situation with a cute ginger in some small settlement miles from Goodneighbor back before he was a ghoul. Count on his surprise when a particularly fierce ginger girl shows up on his doorstep many years later sporting his bright grey eyes looking for a job. What was he supposed to do, tell her to get lost?

Has an under-the-table deal with the Railroad and allows them to operate in Goodneighbor. Has a disdain for Deacon though, because his first language is bullshit, and Hancock's first language is "rooting out bullshit."

Food of choice is wherever the munchies lead him. The few things he can't stomach usually fall into the category of "200 years old." He'll eat bug if it's cooked well enough; anything that can be hunted or picked as a crop is on the menu. Salvaged food, though? Like the dusty remains of Sugar Bombs or unrefrigerated Salsbury Steak? He couldn't be paid to eat those.

Leave it to the player character to introduce him to spices and seasoning. Like any wastelander would, Hancock sort of turns into a rabid, frothing dog at good cooking.

He spends his leisure nights at the Third Rail among his people.

Reliving his memories at the Memory Den has led to some rather intense experiences. His frequent usage of Mentats has led to a rather interesting side-effect of being able to hyper-analyze what he has seen while using one of the machines. He has used this to his advantage by going over encounters he's had with various gang leaders or political interactions with settlement leaders.

He's able to catch details using this method that many others fail to. He is frequently one step ahead of the game.

Liver failure was beginning to catch up to him before he went ghoul. Now, the symptoms have miraculously vanished... he takes full advantage of this.

In a particularly bad moment in his life, Hancock once seriously considered cannibalism. It's made him weary of the dangers of hunger, so he always has some sort of snack on-hand or at least nearby. He's a very, "you do what you gotta" person, but it personally scares the shit out of him when the scarcity of the world corners him.

He made a pact with Fahrenheit to shoot him if he ever showed the warning signs of going feral. It gives him a little peace knowing he won't end up wandering the streets in a confused, violent stupor one day, but the looming deterioration from his ghoulish nature keeps him up at night, sometimes. He knows the day will come eventually.

"No warning, no fuss. Don't tell me, just do it. Got a plan to keep your name clear in the event my peeps want to know why you eighty-sixed their beloved mayor."

[multi-fandomedfreak]

Morning in Bed // Spock

Authors note: Just wanted to write a soft Spock fic with my favorite headcanon: Spock purrs :P

Summary: A lazy morning in bed during shore leave has you and Spock not wanting to get out of bed. (Spock might be a little bit OOC but I tried my best not to do that)

⚠️ Warnings ⚠️ : none

————•————-•————-•—————•———

The sound of water sprinkling against your window rose you from your deep sleep. One of the first things you notice is just how stiff you are. Probably because of how you fell asleep cuddled up against Spock. A smile graces your features at the memory and your arms rise above your head to give your body a good stretch.

You hear your bones give a satisfying pop as you crack them, starting from your neck to your back and ending at your knuckles.

As you twist and turn in bed, you accidentally nudge against a certain someone one to many times and soon hear a small huff paired with an arm wrapping around your torso.

“Cracking your knuckles can increase the risk of arthritis, T’hy’la.” Spock murmurs in your neck, his warm breath spreading goosebumps along your skin. You let out a small giggle at his remark.

His statement is a bit out of place, yet so undoubtedly Spock that you can’t help but find it adorable. "Good morning to you too."

You roll over and place a hand his pale cheek, thumb rubbing over the small stubble. You pull your head back to kiss his pink lips softly and you feel his hand trail up your arm, fingers barely ghosting over your skin.

His fingers gently encircle your hand, slowly tugs it off his cheek, and then pressed his finger tips to yours.

The familiar butterflies flair up in your tummy at the combination of both the human and Vulcan kiss.

You press firmly against his fingers as he presses against your lips. For a moment, you are in bliss—and you let yourself get lost in the taste of him.

The kisses are rather short lived when he pulls away rather suddenly—like he just realized something—and you were met with the cute sight of his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "Am I to understand that you think increasing the chance of a medical condition is humourous to you? If so, I implore that you to take your physical health seriously, T'hy'la. It can have a negative effect on your everyday life."

You once again giggle at his cute behavior and lean in to give him a kiss on the tip of nose. Of course he would misinterpret your amusement.

“No I wasn’t laughing at that, love. I just find you adorable.”

The combination of getting a kiss on the nose along with your compliment makes him freeze for a moment, and even in the dim morning light, you manage to make out the light green color that dusts his cheeks. He stays looking at you like that for a second before burying his face back into your neck, probably at an attempt at hiding his flustered expression.

You smile fondly at this and roll your eyes in amusement. Your hand naturally finds its place on the nape of his neck, playing with his short black hair. You feel him practically melt into your touch and he let out a quiet sigh of content into your neck—making the pleasant goosebumps appear once again on the surface of your skin. The sound of the gentle rain, the warmth of Spock’s breath, the steady thumping of his heart against your abdomen, all made your eyes begin to droop.

You are sure you almost fell asleep when a small rumbling sensation catches your attention. At first, you think it’s Spock’s stomach rumbling—something you find insanely adorable for some reason—but then you realize it was too close to your ear to be his stomach.

Your face breaks out into an surprised smile and you have to put your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from squealing in delight. Spock is purring.

He rarely ever did, so the fact that he’s purring while cuddling with you makes you want to squeeze him as tight as possible like a big teddy bear. But you knew he’d get embarrassed and you don’t want this moment to end.

You just settle for smiling widely and snuggling your face into his hair, giggling as quietly as you could. Eventually, the calmness of the morning serenity catches up to you. You allow the purring of your lover to soothe you back into your previously sleepy state—and soon it lulls you back into a peaceful sleep.

[rottenmeatsack]

Melatonin || Welt Yang x AFAB Reader (NSFW)

Prompt || You can’t sleep, you’re out of melatonin, so this is day 4 of fucking that old man until he crumbles to dust - NSFW UNDER THE CUT / MINORS DNI

Warnings: Unprotected sex, implied age gap (inevitably, again), not letting Welt pull out, fucking someone ot the point of exhaustion (literally), top Welt, messy kisses, light breeding kink if u squint, good lord someone get grandpa his arthritis pills he’s gonna be sore by the morning

***

“Mr.Yang?” She asks, and he looks surprised to see her up although he’s guilty of the same crime.

“___,” He says her name in question, she’s still in her sleep wear, her hair is disheveled, and she looks down-right fatigued. She'd been working with the rest of the Astral Express Crew for some time, after everything was said and done Welt had expected her to want to rest the second they got back. He presses his lips into a fine line, glancing at the clock hung just above her head before turning back to her. “It’s rather late, did something happen?” he asks her, standing up from his desk and going to meet her at his door. She shuffles uncomfortably in front of him, “You know those really good supplements we got from the Xianzhou? The ones that help me sleep?” she asks, Welt’s shoulders slacken in realization, she doesn’t need to finish her sentence. “You’ve run out?” he asks her, and she nods her head in a miserable response. "We can ask Himeko to order some more if they help, but they probably won't arrive until a few days. Delays in shipping have become all too common." he tells her.

“Well, I was hoping you could help me sleep,” she says, looking up at Welt with her tired gaze. Welt perks up, a small smile graces his lips, when he grins it makes the wrinkles on his aged-face more pronounced and known. “Of course,” he agrees rather quickly, reaching one gloved hand up to adjust his thick-framed glasses before turning to his desk. He opens one of his drawers, rummaging around the small snack-bin he kept hidden away in the privacy of his office. Small goodies and some sweets hidden well from the others who might have prying hands (Namely March 7th) but he's sure he has a spare box of tea tucked away somewhere in the depths of his desk. “I believe I still have some tea from our last expedition, how about I make you a cup and then—”

He’s interrupted as she curls over his back, her arms wrapping around his torso and gripping onto his jacket. She’s hugging him from behind, he can only catch a glance at her from over his shoulder. He calls her name out again, and she peeks up at him with those same tired eyes. “I want you to help me sleep another way,” she mutters into the crook of his back, and only then does Welt notice that her hands have wandered closer to his belt, it clicks while her fingers are already working to unbuckle it from its hold around his slacks. 

Welt knows what she means now.

-

Welt took her back to her room on the express.

His glasses are folded on the nightstand beside them, his clothing long forgotten and abandoned on the floor. The bed creaks and groans, although she’s trying their best to be quiet in fear of waking the others, it’s hard when Welt’s cock feels so damn good inside of her. He presses her down into the bed with his hands on either side of her head, her legs are on either sides of his hips, dangling and bouncing by his waist each time he drives down into her. He rests his forehead against hers, his eyes closed and sweat speckling his skin. It’s hot in the room, even warmer underneath the covers, to the point it’s near suffocating and she’s stealing the breath right out of him. She leaned up, catching his lips in a brief kiss, but he followed after her and slants his mouth over her own.

The kiss is longer, more intense, and it’s mostly teeth and tongue. He groans low in his throat, his gravelly voice catching itself at the end of a soft moan while his tongue rolls and twists over her own. He pulls away for air, trying to catch his breath through his teeth. He’s already close and he knows it, maybe if he were a younger man again he’d last longer, but he's much older and time had long eroded away his stamina. Right now all he could think about was how good and warm she felt around his throbbing dick. He really is close. He knows he should pull out, this was a hasty decision and he’s not wearing a condom, there’s nothing here on the express that could serve as a preventative— Aeons, he should really pull out. He’s already seeing stars, he knows he’s so close and it’s just a matter of time.

He calls her name, “I’m close,” he warns her, “I’m too close,” he sounds absolutely breathless, and despite her whines and protests he begins to draw his hips back. She frantically claws at his shoulders, her arms wounding tighter around his torso until she scratches up his back. “N— Nooo—” she protests with a reedy little whine, and before Welt can pull out he’s shocked as her legs wrap around his waist, her heels push on his lower back and it drags him deeper into her tight little cunt. He gasps, his hips once again pressed flush against her own all while he is dangerously close to his high. “Please,” she practically sobs, “Please, please don’t pull out— want you— I want you to cum inside.” she pleads with him, and Welt practically trembles atop of her. He’s never been so aroused in his life, but he knows he shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.

No condom, no protection, no preventative, the rational part of his mind repeats, but deep down something inside of him wants nothing more than to bury himself as deep as he can go and give her what she wants. “___,” he says her name through a tremble in his voice, all while she’s kissing his face, lips, and jaw, desperately and greedily rocking her hips up into Welt’s in an attempt to get him to start moving again. “I— I shouldn’t—” 

But he’s already moving his hips.

He’s already fucking her again, he’s already balls-deep inside of her, the sound of skin on skin is flooding his ears and he knows it’s already much too late for him now. Her nails scrape the arch of his back, leaving hot pink streaks in his pale skin while she sobs with delight into the crook of his shoulder. “Mmf— yes, yes, keep going, cum, cum inside me—” she pleads, and Welt can’t refuse her. He's given in a long time ago. Foregoing self restraint and abandoning his common sense he's determined to give her exactly what she's begging for. Her hips roll and buck into every thrust with fervor, showing just how eager and ready she is. She wrenches her eyes shut as she bites into his shoulder, once again sinking her heels into Welt’s lower back and dragging him down to the hilt as he reaches his end. Any attempt to muffle his voice is futile, he finds himself moaning with his weight falling over her. They’re chest to chest in the bed now, with his cock buried deep in her soaking wet cunt and his pelvis is flush against hers. 

His face is flushed red while he fills her, he’s left speechless and absolutely consumed with how good it felt to spill everything he had inside of her. Rope after rope of his cum stains her deepest part, the sensation was almost so overwhelming that he doesn’t even notice that she’s cumming too, not until he feels her legs tense and tremble around his midsection. He gives a few pathetic little thrusts, barely leaving her warm cunt but instead grinding against her. 

By the time he’s done the bed sheets feel unbearable, the fabric clinging to his back that’s tacky with sweat and becoming near suffocating. Yet he doesn’t move off of her, he remains atop of her with his cock buried to the hilt inside of her, not letting a single drop of his cum leak out of her pussy. It takes him a minute to catch his breath and when he does he sighs, leaning back until he’s able to hold his weight on his forearms and gaze down at the wrecked woman beneath him. 

“Well?” he mutters to her, “Feeling like you can sleep now?” he asks her. He stills when she shakes her head, “I think I’ll need another round, I think I'll be able to sleep after one more.” she emphasized with her ankles locking behind his waist.

Welt knew it was going to be a sleepless night for the both of them now.

- Himeko stares at Welt's slouched over body in the Express's bright red passenger chairs, if they were going by time in Penacony then it should be mid-afternoon but the old man is absolutely knocked out and napping out in the parlor car. He has one hand still grasping his cane while the other is slack by his side, Himeko's never seen him so worn out. Pompom looks at Himeko from where they stood beside her calf, "He's been sleeping all day," they said in a whisper. "Huh," she mutters as she makes an effort to walk past him slower than before, if only to muffle the click of her heels against the ground. "I guess Welt isn't sleeping too good," she wonders to herself, she wondered if ____ still had those sleeping supplements from the Xianzhou, maybe that could help Welt get some rest if he was feeling so tired. 

[andy-15-07]

Joel Miller x Reader who is older than him, Reader being old enough that she could be considered a GILF. Joel being in love with older reader. Reader and Joel comforting each other, taking care of each others joint pains... joel having knee pain that's been bothering him since his 30s and working in construction. Reader just general arthritis in their hands from working and general joint pain just from getting older.

Comfort in Every Ache

PAIRING: Joel Miller x reader

WORD COUNT: 798| requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

The kettle whistles gently in the kitchen, and you turn off the stove with a sigh. Your fingers ache from the way you'd gripped the gardening shears earlier that morning,arthritic stiffness setting in like an old, familiar friend. You flex your hands slowly, wincing when your knuckles pop.

"Didn't I tell you not to prune those damn hedges?" comes Joel's voice from the living room.

You smile, soft and fond. "And let them grow wild? I don't think so, Mr. Miller."

Joel shifts on the couch with a grunt. His bad knee clicks when he gets up, and you hear the way his breath catches when he walks into the kitchen, rubbing at the spot like it's been biting him again.

"Still hurts?" you ask gently, handing him a mug of chamomile tea.

"Been hurtin' since I was thirty-three and thought I could jump off scaffolding like a damn superhero." He pauses. "Didn't know I'd still be limpin' into my fifties."

You chuckle, reaching for his hand. "Didn't know I'd be icing my wrists every night, but here we are."

Joel brings your hand to his lips, kissing the crooked knuckles. "Still beautiful."

"You're biased."

"Damn right I am."

You both sit on the couch, the late afternoon sun painting the living room gold. Joel sighs as he lowers himself slowly, groaning as his knee locks up before finally settling.

You prop your feet up on the ottoman beside him. "Want the heating pad?"

He nods. "Only if you use it after. I see the way you hold your hands like they're made of glass."

You shrug. "They just ache."

"And yet, somehow, you're still baking pies, pruning hedges, knittin' scarves for Sarah,"

"She's cold!" you protest.

"She's also twenty and owns six hoodies," Joel laughs, then quiets, his eyes soft. "You do too much."

"So do you."

He shifts closer and gently takes your hands into his, his thumbs massaging the swollen joints like he's learning each one with reverence. "Let me take care of you."

"You already do," you whisper, voice breaking just a little.

Joel rests his forehead against yours. "I used to think love was all fireworks and heat. But this... this is the kind that lasts."

You nod. "We've both burned a little to get here, haven't we?"

He kisses you gently,nothing rushed, nothing urgent. Just the solid, slow love of two people who know exactly what they have.

You sit together like that until the sun dips low. Joel stands up first, groaning again as his knee protests.

"Come on," he says, offering you his hand. "Bath's runnin'. Got the eucalyptus salts you like."

You let him help you up, leaning into the strength of his frame. He kisses your temple on the way to the bathroom.

Later that evening, you're curled in bed, joints slathered in ointment, heating pads warm against sore spots. The TV hums low in the background, forgotten. Joel's hand rests over yours under the quilt, fingers warm and strong.

"Remember when we danced in the kitchen last week and you almost threw your back out?" you tease.

He chuckles. "I remember you laughin' so hard you nearly peed yourself."

"I did not!"

"You did a little."

You swat at him, but it's soft, your strength less than what it once was. Joel catches your wrist, kisses the inside. "You're still everything to me."

You smile, brushing his hair back from his forehead, where lines of worry and time have carved themselves into permanence. "You know what I used to worry about? That you'd want someone younger."

Joel blinks at you like you'd said something ridiculous. "Why the hell would I want someone else?"

You shrug, suddenly shy. "I'm old enough to be a grandmother."

"You'd be the hottest damn grandma Texas ever saw."

You laugh, but Joel doesn’t. He turns serious, holding your gaze. "Listen to me, darlin'. I don't love you despite the years on you. I love you because of 'em. Because you're wise. You're kind. You're strong. You make me feel like home."

You tear up, reaching for him. "You're my home too, Joel. Even when everything else aches, I still got you."

He wraps you in his arms. "Still got you," he echoes.

Outside, the world may spin faster than your bodies can keep up. But in this room, wrapped around each other in the soft hush of evening, the two of you are still, rooted deep like old trees.

And in the morning, when the stiffness returns and Joel's knee clicks again and your fingers feel like they're made of stone, you'll groan and laugh and hold each other through it.

Because age has stolen many things. But not this. Never this.

You still got each other.

And that's more than enough.

[judebelle]

gavi having intense back pain after all the matches he has to play and trying to hide how exhausted he is from reader and trying his best to put efforts in the relationship so he doesn’t hurt reader but reader realising and trying to comfort him both physically and mentally just a lot of fluff thank youuuu

you’re right - p.g. x reader

a/n : you guys are rlly sending in hella gavi reqs! 😭 but dw i will try to do as many as i can but i write for more players so pls don’t be shy to send a request! all the players i write for are in my pinned post or masterlist!

cw : miscommunication, fluffy asffff

pairing : pablo gavi x reader

wc : 1.1k

---

the front door creaked open and your head perked up from the sofa. your boyfriend was home from his latest match. it wasn’t an important one so you stayed home and watched it on the tv.

barcelona won, and you had been waiting for him to come home. a smile spread across your face upon pablo’s return, but it fell when you saw his hunch and eyebrows knitted together in discomfort.

“hey baby.” he grunted out as he dropped his bag on the ground, kicked off his shoes, and tossed his keys onto the table near the door.

he walked slowly to you, trying to straighten his apparent hunch.

“what’s wrong, pablo? are you feeling okay?”

he finally made eye contact with you, his eyebrows softening at your concerned expression. “i’m feeling better than ever.” he smiled at you softly before approaching you on the couch.

you were genuinely concerned about his well-being since he was starting so many matches recently, but you let it go. if pablo was anything, he was dramatic. if he was hurt you would definitely know.

he shifted to sit next to your legs on the couch. he lowered himself with a pained grunt. that’s what concerned you. he sounded like he was fifty-six and had serious arthritis.

“oh my god- pablo..”

he sat himself down on the couch with a sigh, turning to you with a smile. “i missed you, y/n.”

he leaned forward to kiss you on the forehead.

“are you certain you’re okay? you look like you’re in pai-“

“don’t worry about me, okay, darling?” ignoring the question, he stretched his arm across your shoulders and diverted his attention to the tv in front of you.

you let it go again. he’s smart enough to know when something is wrong with him and not leave it in the air.

you thought.

---

you both fell asleep on the couch watching whatever was on.

you woke up to the smell of popcorn and some bottles opening. squinting, you looked over into the bright kitchen. he had made a bowl of popcorn and was carrying drinks with him. he only had two hands, of course, but had wedged the drinks in the crease of his elbows, holding them to his side.

his tongue was stuck out slightly as he focused on not dropping anything. you giggled at his effort to not take two trips.

“what? work smarter, not harder” he joked as you made room for him on the couch.

he sat next to you and placed the food on the table in front of the couch. “why are you doing this, pablo? we need to eat dinner! and what about your diet? what- mmm!-“

he shut you up with a kiss.

“just wanted to spoil my favourite girl..”

he smiled and kissed you again, his hands raking into your hair. “i feel like there’s a catch.. you’re gonna do something ba- STOP”

pablo had completely switched up and started tickling you. he knelt and trapped you between his legs. he started tickling and pinching your sides. you couldn’t help but laugh, of course.

you were laughing so hard that it hurt. “pablo stop! serious- seriously stop it- ah!-“

he was also laughing as he continued annoying you, pinning you down with the weight of his body alone. you opened your eyes and saw him looking down at your waist, his hands still attacking your sides.

you twisted to the side in discomfort as he proceeded to tickle you. when you twisted, his body froze. he let out a groan and hissed as his back was caught in a weird position.

he stopped tickling you to fix his posture.

you took that opportunity to catch your breath before sitting up.

“pablo, what’s wrong? you look like you’ve been in pain all day! i’m seriously getting concerned.”

he looked up at you sheepishly. “nothings wrong, mi amor. i promise i’m fine, argh-“

he grunted as he tried to sit down, his hand flying to his back. he pressed down and gritted his teeth.

“okay, that’s enough. lay down.”

you got up from the couch and pointed to it, your expression stern.

“y/n, i’m fi-“

“lay. down.”

he bit his lip in defeat and lowered his body slowly onto the couch, stomach down. he rested his head on his hands and turned his head to the side to look at you.

“what happened, pablo?” you straddled his lower back and pulled up his thin shirt so you could see his back.

there were no visible injuries, but you could tell that he was tense and in pain.

“just… just tired. there’s so many matches and- ohh..”

pablo let out a long moan as you pushed your hands gently down onto his sore back. you moved your hands up and down the middle of his back, applying some pressure.

“my god! you’re so tense, baby..” you continued rubbing his back, listening to his groans and hisses. “this isn’t healthy. you need to talk to your coach.”

“i’m fine.. it’s just, a lot right now. once i get back into the groove of things- mmpgh, oh god-“

every time you pressed into one specific part of his mid back, he wouldn’t shut up. “does it hurt here?” you whispered, and he nodded against the fabric of the couch.

you smiled softly and continued kneading at his muscles. he hummed softly, his hums gradually getting less and less frequent as you continued massaging him. “does that feel better?”

he grinned into the couch and turned his head back to look at you. “so much better. thank you, mi amor.” he placed a grateful kiss on your lips and you giggled against his.

after pulling his shirt back down, you laid down on his back and wrapped your arms around him from under his armpits. “glad i could make you feel better, but you need to take a rest day, pablo.”

you reminded him sternly, and he looked down at the couch in defeat. “i think so too. i just don’t want to let the team down.”

your eyes widened at his words. this stubborn man was agreeing to what you were saying? pigs must be flying. and let the team down? he’s done everything but that.

“pablo, if you think you’re going to let the team down, you’re stupid. you’ve done nothing but help barcelona excel and you’re a huge asset to the squad. don’t beat yourself up over this.”

he sighed under you before turning to kiss your hand that was near his face. he smiled softly against your hand before whispering out.

“you’re right.”

[megpricephotography]

It's so tough watching dogs get older... Flynn's had to start a new medication today & oh boy, I'm stressing out about it - hopefully unnecessarily! More under the cut - discussions of blood tests, urine samples, kidney issues, medication...

*UPDATE* 20th Dec also under the cut!!

Longtime followers may remember Flynnie only has 1 kidney. The other one was removed when he was 2.5 yrs old but it'd been effectively non-functional from when he was around 5 months old (due to an abscess forming in it). So for the vast majority of his life, Flynn's had 1 functioning kidney & it's worked like a champ! But. At 11.5 years old, age is perhaps catching up with him. Flynn's last blood test was done a couple of weeks ago & overall, his kidney function is, to use the vet's description: "great". However... for over a year now, we've been monitoring an issue with Flynn's urine. He has protein in his pee & that's not great - it means the fine structures in his kidney aren't filtering properly & as this issue continues, it will inevitably cause kidney damage. So, while Flynn does not currently have "chronic kidney disease"... it's a concern, particularly given at best his kidney function is 50% of a normal dog.

Unfortunately, Flynn's UPC level (the measurement of protein in urine) has risen recently. Not scarily high but vets feel drugs are now needed - especially as, although bloods were generally good, Flynn's blood albumin level (protein in the blood) was really quite low - indicating the loss in his urine is having an impact. He's already on a renal diet, so trying meds is the next step.

Anyway, the drugs are ACE-inhibitors - same stuff as humans take for high BP. The hope is they'll lower blood pressure in the kidney & that will help reduce protein loss. Sadly, meds won't fix the problem 100%, the aim is just to slow things down. I do think starting Flynn on the meds is for the best but I'm stressed because there's a small chance it could actually make things worse. Very occasionally dogs don't react well to ACE-inhibitors & the meds actually cause kidney damage. I'm going to monitor him closely & he'll be having bloods/urine rechecked in a couple of weeks but it's scary! Also... we've had to stop giving Flynn regular NSAIDs for his arthritis pain. He can take paracetamol (tylenol) but regularly combining ACE-inhibitors with NSAIDs increases risk of kidney damage. Once he's hopefully stable on the ACE-inhibitors, I'll ask about trying alternative painkillers - but I don't want to start him on multiple drugs at once. It's tough trying to juggle multiple different factors! I'm aware I'm more twitchy than I used to be about all this because in May 2023, Flynn had an appalling reaction to Librela (actually, that was when we picked up on the issue with his pee). Librela is a new-ish medication & usually a safe way to treat arthritic pain in dogs. It's given as a monthly injection. Flynn had 1 dose & unfortunately, it made him very sick. His bloods were checked a week prior & everything looked good - but within days of the injection, his kidney, liver & pancreas were struggling & he suffered kidney disease type symptoms. Luckily, everything - except the high protein in his urine - fully resolved within 2-3 months but the entire ordeal was awful & logical or not, I felt so guilty about it. I do not want to go through that again!

Anyway, if you've made it this far - thank you! I just needed to write my thoughts down really! For now all I can do is monitor Flynn until he has his next blood test, hope the ACE-inhibitors work well & help his kidney stay relatively healthy & that we can then also find a safe, effective way to keep him physically comfortable for a long time to come. It's just hard because there are no perfect solutions...

*THE UPDATE* Soo… Flynn's been on the new ACE-inhibitor for about 2.5 weeks now. He went in for a blood test on Tuesday & we also checked his urine this week. I got the results today (Dec 20th)… Good news is that his blood work is OK & his worryingly low blood protein level has risen. However… we started him on the new meds specifically to LOWER the amount of protein in his urine & unfortunately, his UPC level has actually gone UP!!! It's higher than ever… It's possible this is a blip, or the meds haven't had time to improve this issue but very occasionally, dogs react badly to it & it can actually reduce kidney function (& increase protein in urine) instead of helping. Anyway, physically, Flynn seems to feeling alright in himself, so that's something. He's actually coping very well off the NSAIDs - paracetamol/tylenol is keeping him comfortable enough. We've been told to carry on with the ACE-inhibitors for now & Flynn's got to go have his blood pressure checked on Dec 30th & I will request they check his pee again then. Guess if he's got worse, we may need to change the type of meds he takes at that point. I am just so stressed - really hoping things have improved by the time we go back to the vets!Gah!!! Pets… why do they get problems over the holidays?!! Think good thoughts for Flynnie!

[freyito]

happy 1K!! I've been a huge fan of your writing since the fics u wrote in march/may last year and I'm so so happy to see you get the recognition you deserve!! 💜 may i please order a tiramisu and soft drink for boothill? ><

✭ pairing(s): boothill x gn reader

★ in which: boothill decides that perhaps laughter is the best medicine... among other things.

✩ tiramisu + soft drink w/ boothill!

✦ entry for my 1k follower event, Freyito's Maid Cafe! check out the link to figure out how to send an order!!

✧ a/n: AUGHHHH the idea that someone has been reading my fics for near a year still cant make sense in my brain CAUSE WHAT DO YOU MEAN PEOPLE HAVE BEEN HERE FOR THAT LONG!!!!!!! THANK YOU REGARDLESS IT MEANS A LOT AHSGDHAGJD

ALSO!! thank you everyone for all ur requests!!!! i am working on them (as well as working on requests outside of this event, my plan is to (hopefully) drop 2 maid cafe fics and then a regular request and then repeat... hopefully...) as fast and as best as i can teehee... i must warn you that with monster hunter wilds in a week i will most likely not be writing that much... BUT IM TRYING I SWEARRR!!

🗒 cw: gn reader, you try to undress him but its not even suggestive, id say ooc but i wholeheartedly believe hed do this, not proofread

✎ wc: 2.3k

ᴛʀᴜᴇ ᴅᴇᴅɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ꜰʀᴇʏɪᴛᴏ'ꜱ ᴍᴀɪᴅ ᴄᴀꜰᴇ !

When you were sick, you were downright miserable. Gone were the days that sick days meant you could stay at home, play video games, read, and do anything that wasn’t school. No, now you have to take care of yourself, and cook, and clean… What a cruel world we live in. Not just that, but you could’ve sworn being sick never came with such lethargy and body aches as a kid. You could barely find someone to cover for you at work, and there was still so much to do at home.

You, with achy bones for no reason at all and the desperate want to stay in bed, chose to complain. To Boothill, of course. About the loads of laundry you had to do, about the dishes you had to clean, all of it. He was sympathetic, offering all sorts of ‘sorry’s like he was the one who got you sick, before offering to come over and take care of you. As much as you wanted him to, you decided to tell him it’s no big deal. He ends up leaving you on seen, which is normal, considering his occupation. But for once, you can’t help but complain internally about this, wanting nothing more than to text your boyfriend all day. Of course, you can’t get what you want, but no one can blame you for wanting to talk to your boyfriend a little more, especially when you’re sick.

This cycle was broken, however, by a knock at your apartment door. Part of you really, really wants to just ignore it, roll over and continue your ‘nap’. Still, you’d rather not waste away, so you choose to answer it.

With a groan, you sit up, your head feeling all too heavy. Slowly, like an old dog ridden with arthritis, you slide out of bed, making your way out of your room and to the door. Even with how much care you took to get up, your vision blacks out for a moment, feeling a sudden wave of lightheadedness. You lean against the wall to catch your breath, looking down while your vision and strength (or, what little you had) return to you. As you finally wander over to the door, the one and only thought on your mind is ‘apple juice…’

Opening the door you are met with a fever dream. What you see has barely registered in your mind, before you decide just closing the door and going back to sleep would be much better than facing the problem in front of you. You start to close the door, but the man at the door pushes it back open.

“Awh, darlin’, don’t be so surprised!” He chimes, his voice so eerily energetic and carefree, especially considering what he was wearing.

“Boothill–”

“Ain’t I pretty? C’mon now, it ain’t that bad…” He hums, before his shoulders slump a little. “... right?”

“You are,” You utter, finally allowing yourself to process what he was wearing. It’s not that he was hard to look at, quite the opposite, really. Granted, you thought he was handsome in whatever he wore.

He was dressed in a rather classic maid outfit, not too many frills. A simple black, ankle-length dress, and a white apron. He had put his hair back, leaving it in a low braid. Of course, he left his bangs alone, still hiding his other eye. What a shame, you can’t help but think to yourself. It’s always a treat when he shows you his other eye, damaged as it was.

Apparently, your gaze had lingered for a little too long. While you were simply trying to formulate your thoughts, he took this as a sign that you were quite enamored with his getup. Perhaps if you were more lucid, you would be. He strikes a little pose for you, hand on his hip, other hand raking through his bangs, tilting his chin up with a smile.

“Say it like ya mean it, sweetheart! I know I’m rockin’ this fit, and I know you know that,” Boothill flaunts, shaking his head a little to let his bangs down once more.

All you can do is stare back up at him and sniffle a little, while one of your neighbors walks behind him in the hallway. They are stunned for a moment, their stride slowing for just a moment to take in the spectacle of the maid cyborg at your door. They chuckle, then continue on down the hallway. Boothill’s cheeks flush at this, his previous bravado whittled down.

“Okay, c’mon, lemme inside. I wanna help you out,” He ushers you back inside, quickly following you and closing the door. “Gonna make you some soup and then get some cleanin’ done.”

You blink, then shake your head, putting your hands up. “No, you don’t have to–”

“I want to–”

“– I can do it myself. Just wanted to complain, that's all.”

He deflates a little, shoulders slumping. He pouts, and stares at you with sad eyes, like a puppy. Now, it’s not that you didn’t want him to stay over, you’d be more than happy if you did. But you don’t exactly want to burden him with your chores, no matter how badly you didn’t want to do them. However, that look he gave you was hard to ignore. So, you turn your head away to avoid it.

“Please, darlin’? I got dressed up ‘n’ all…” He pleads, taking a step closer. Goddammit, he did, and he chose to be here– “You don’t look too good, and I don’t want you to overwork yourself–”

“Fine. Fine.” You relent with a huff, finally turning your head back to him.

“Oh, sugar, you’re really warm,” He pulls away all too quickly, like you zapped him. Before you can say anything else (like tell him he’d get sick– which, you realized that perhaps he couldn’t considering he is a cyborg after all), he leans down and scoops you up into your arms. You don’t even argue, knowing all too well how it will end. He places you down on the couch, patting your knee before pulling back. “Need anything before I start?”

“Mh, water… and my blanket, please,” You mumble, allowing yourself to settle back into the couch, practically melting into it. 

Boothill walks off to your bedroom to fetch your blanket, before draping it over your legs, too afraid that he’d accidentally bake you if he had placed it any higher. Then, he walks over to your kitchen, grabbing a cup from your cupboards, and knocking a couple of icecubes out of your ice tray, before pouring some water into it. He tops it off with a straw, before placing it on your coffee table. He places his hand on the back of the couch, leaning back down and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Alright, I’m gonna start cookin’. Holler if you need anythin’, darlin’,” He smiles, lingering for another moment, before pushing himself back up and walking back to the kitchen.

With that, you reach out for the glass of water, taking a sip before placing it back down. The cold water feels like pure heaven against your sore and raw throat, and for a moment, you feel fine. If you were to ignore the pains in your joints and the heat beneath your skin. You fall back into the couch, pushing yourself up so the arm could act like a pillow, even though it was uncomfortable. Despite the sound behind you every now and then, you find yourself falling back asleep. You fight it for a bit, keeping your eyes open but squinting, before ultimately allowing your eyes to close and eventually falling back into that half-awake, half-asleep state again.

Every time you opened your eyes, you swore Boothill somehow found his way in front of you. Or, at least, in your living room. The first time, he was standing across from you, wiping down the coffee table. The next, he was vacuuming the carpet. At some point you rolled over, only getting peaks of Boothill over the back of the couch, either walking around or working on the soup. At some point, you ended up actually falling asleep.

An hour later, Boothill watches you over the back of the couch. The soup is done, and he feels as if he’s done most of what he could. He had vacuumed, cleaned the countertops and the table, and done the laundry. As of now, your sheets were in the dryer. All that was left to do was the dishes, which he’d save for after you had your soup, and the blanket you were laying under. He didn’t want to take it from you, and he also didn’t want to wake you.

He stands awkwardly in the kitchen, messing with the hem of his apron as he weighs his options. He doesn’t want your soup to get cold, but he also doesn’t want to wake you up. Sure, he could always put it in the fridge and reheat it over the stove for you, but wouldn’t it taste better if it was fresh…? He chews at his lip, before making up his mind. He grabs your bowl, heading over. He places the bowl down gently on the coffee table, before reaching over to you and placing his hand on your shoulder. He pauses for a moment, as if regretting his decision, before shaking you lightly.

“Darlin’...” He hums softly, earning a soft groan from you.

You open your eyes for a moment, rolling over to your other side to mumble something at Boothill, but all you succeed at saying is utter gibberish. You close your eyes again, like he was your alarm. There’s an odd taste in your mouth, and some drool gathered at the corner of your lips. Boothill reaches out and wipes it away with his thumb, chuckling softly.

“C’mon, wake up. Soups ready and I want you to eat it hot, at least,” He pulls back, before pushing your legs up so he could sit down at the end of the couch. You allow him to do so, only to put your legs over his own once he's sat down.

Slowly, you sit up, opening your eyes to a squint, looking over at him. Ah. He really is in that dress. You really thought it was a fever dream, almost hoped for it. Kind of. Perhaps if you weren’t feeling so icky you’d get a laugh at it, then ask him to wear it more. You did, however, quite like it when he braided his hair.

You lick your lips, realizing just how dry your mouth was. You reach forward and grab the bowl, bringing it up closer so you wouldn’t have to hunch over to eat it. Boothill smiles, placing his hand on your shoulder. The chill of the steel is so soothing for once, welcome against your heated skin. You sit criss-cross applesauce, placing the bowl of soup in your lap, making sure it won’t spill, before grabbing his hand and placing it on your forehead. You can’t help but groan at this feeling, leaning your head back.

“Feels that nice, hm?” Boothill coos, reaching over with his other hand to brush a strand of hair away from your face.

You can feel the steel warming up against your forehead, but can’t really bring yourself to care. You feel your head clear just a bit, enough to utter out a ‘thank you’, which earns you a low chuckle and a warm, compassionate look from him.

“You want me to feed you your soup?”

You think for a moment, closing your eyes and basking in the fading coolness of his hand. It’s almost enticing, but you didn’t want to feel like a helpless kid. “God, no, just please don’t move your hand.”

He throws back his head with a heart laugh, ending with an ‘alright’, as he simply watches you, feeling all warm simply at the thought of you enjoying his cooking. You two sit in silence for a couple minutes while you eat. He had replaced his hand with his other, so you could soak up the cold from there, as well. It’s a perfect combination, the soup chasing away the feverish chill within your body and the steel helping to keep your temperature regulated somewhat. At least, it helped you feel that way.

After you place your empty bowl back on the coffee table and leak back, Boothill gestures to his outfit with his free hand. “So, tell me, should I dress up again, sugar?”

“No. Yes. Maybe,” You can’t decide on an answer, but you do know one thing. His hand has become warm and you feel as if you can’t live without the cold. “I want you to take it off, though.”

“Excuse me?”

“I want you to take it off cause your hand is warm now,” You reach for the collar of his dress, trying to get him to unbutton it and take off the dress.

“Hey! Hey! Slow down,” He half laughs, half warns. “Stop itt! C’mon, darlin’, I know your sick but I gotta keep my decency!”

You raise your eyebrow as he pulls your hand away. “You don’t have anything, though.”

“Doesn’t matter! Still wanna keep my decency in tact! Just wait for my hand to cool down again. You’ll be fine.”

“Ugh.”

“The dress is startin’ to get kinda stuffy though.”

You look back up at him, with pleading eyes, hoping he’d just take the damn thing off.

“No, sugar!”

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[miraculouslbcnreactions]

You know, Zoe's comment about Adrien's lack of reaction to Lila slandering Ladybug and your comment on Lila's potential to be a rival to both protagonists led me thinking of Lila going "Hel hath no fury like a Rossi scorned", and going on trying to destroy Adrien's reputation first (He rejected me when I was so great! How dare he?), and Ladybug second (Oh, he likes her so much that he wouldn't even let me say she's not that great? Well, no nobody will like her!).

Marinette in this case? More of an afterthought. A tool, another target to turn against Adrien and Ladybug (poor Lila, she doesn't know how hard she's gonna fail).

Pros:

+ gives Adrien a rival

+ a rival for LB, too, but not for Marinette. Marinette has enough rivals already.

+ greater freedom for Lila while still allowing for episodic format: she's not deceiving the class, she's deceiving Adrien's fans. Online communities can be VERY fickle, so "Adrien's fans turn against him because of an outrageous claim, but this gets resolved during the same episode, Lila gets away with it because of anonimity and gossip spread" is actually believable

+ a wealth of lessons for the kids about dealing with gossip, popularity and notoriety, lies, personal boundaries, dealing with rejection, etc.

Cons:

— May be a bit too dark/mature for a kids' show (that said, Gravity Falls pulled off the Gideon plot without it getting too dark, so this one may work as well)

— Another case of a girl falling for Adrien and not taking rejection well. That said, 1) this time it is at least "girl vs Adrien" instead of "girls vs each other" and 2) I personally think Chloe's crush on Adrien is redundant and she works well enough as a needy, toxic friend. But that's a story for another time.

What do you think of this idea?

Once again, thanks a lot for all your work! I learned a lot about writing because of your blog, it is really enlightening!

(Post this ask is referring to)

I don't think that's too dark for a kids show. Kids deal with the rumor mill all the time! You just have to keep the rumors TV-kid-friendly (which will be much nicer than real kids).

Beyond that, I like this approach. Lila's hatred of Marinette never made much sense. It's too extreme! Until Marinette starts dating Adrien, Lila shouldn't care about Marinette. There's nothing Marinette can give Lila and Marinette has done nothing to effectively stop Lila's power or mess with her plans. Lila's Marinette hatred would only makes sense if Lila knew that Marinette was Ladybug, but she doesn't.

Meanwhile, Lila actively wants to be close with Adrien because he's a rich popular guy who can give her access to power (I do not think she has ever had any actual feelings for him). His denials of her approach are actually messing with her plans! Just look at the two conversations we get in Chameleon. This is what happens with Adrien:

Adrien: Hey, Lila. Lila: Adrien, we'll have to figure when you're gonna help me catch up on all the schoolwork I missed. I also heard you play piano, my uncle's the great pianist Chuch Boroughchuck. He wanted to teach me when I was little, but I had to stop playing because of arthritis. But when my wrist gets better, I'd love for you to give me some lessons. Adrien: Lila, I'm perfectly happy being friends with you, and I'll gladly help you catch on your schoolwork, but please don't lie to me like you did last time with Ladybug. Adrien: (in flashback) So I'm guessing you're not a descendant of a superhero, either. Ladybug: (in flashback) She's more like a super liar. Lila: Ladybug's the liar. Adrien: I'm not judging you, Lila, but instead of making friends you're going to turn everyone against you. You can tell me if there's something bothering you. I can help. But you need to be honest with me. Lila: Are you trying to be some superhero lecturing me just like Ladybug did? Well thanks, but no thanks. Ugh. (storms off)

Meanwhile this is what happens with Marinette:

Lila: Don't tell me it's because of this new seating arrangement in class! (Marinette turns away from Lila) It is! Of course, you're jealous because I'm sitting next to Adrien, because you would've given anything to sit there yourself. You know what? It's really not worth fighting over a boy. You and I could be friends, and who knows, I might even be able to help you with Adrien. Marinette: You and I will only be friends the day you stop lying, Lila! (Lila gasps) I can't prove it, but I know for a fact that you don't have tinnitus, that your wrist is just fine, that you don't know Prince Ali because you've never even stepped foot in Achu, and despite what you got Alya to write on her Ladyblog, Ladybug has never saved your life! Lila: I only tell people what they want to hear. Marinette: It's called lying! Lila: (Unconcerned) There's nothing you can do about it, anyway. People can't resist when they hear what they like to hear. If you don't want to be my friend, fine! But soon you won't have any friends left at all. And trust me, I'll make sure you never get close to Adrien in class or anywhere. You seem a little less dumb than the others, so I'll give you one last chance: You are either with me or against me. You don't have to answer right away. I'll give you 'till the end of class today.

One of these conversations angers Lila, the other barely phases her. If there's a character that she should be out to punish, it's Adrien. He's the one who keeps denying her in ways that actually matter. For her Marinette hate to make sense, Marinette needs to actually have someone believe her when she points out Lila's lies or she needs to actually stop Lila from getting what she wants. That never happens in canon. The way their relationship is written in canon, Lila should see Marinette as pathetic and no real threat. Basically just nothing but this moment from Oni-chan:

Outside the Agreste mansion. Lila spots Marinette inside a pile of trash bins. Lila: I could take a photo right now and post it online, but that would be too easy. (walks away. After she leaves, Marinette becomes furious and jealousy that Lila kissed Adrien.)

How does Lila go from this to a hate campaign? Why does she care? It seems like a massive waste of her time, especially now that we know the kind of grand plans she has going on! Someone who is making multiple identities does not have time to hyper focus on petty school drama. Her season five actions would actually make more sense if she was going after Marinette to punish Adrien for picking the "wrong" girl.

Don't get me wrong, Lila should enjoy tormenting Marinette right from the start, it should just be a bonus thing and not something she does without a larger benefit because the show totally failed to make Marinette feel like a real threat to Lila. Why risk exposure for no real benefit but the removal of a non-threat? Getting Marinette expelled in Ladybug would make so much more sense if it was a calculated move to make Adrien do something. Like Lila would only undo the lie if he took her to a gala or went on a date with her. As-is, Lila had no grand plan. She just wanted Marinette expelled for the crime of not believing the lies and that's it. How boring and petty.

The Adrien antagonist route could also make Lila feel like she belongs in the story. As-is, she's just a bigger, badder Chloe who has no business being on screen while Chloe is still around in her petty bully form. Story wise, they are the same character with the same goals (antagonizing Marinette for no good reason).

Making Lila into Adrien's Chloe would at least somewhat fix that issue by changing her target and giving her an actual motivation. As-is, even if Lila properly replaced Chloe, there's still the issue that Lila is nothing more than another petty mean girl. Lila really should be more than that if you want her to feel different from Chloe or even just work as a character. Like I said above, petty mean girls generally don't have multiple identities. It's a total mismatch that makes the character hard to buy. Chloe is well designed. Lila is a disaster on ever level.

And thank you for the kind words! I'm honored that the blog has been useful to you. That is the goal, after all!

[n0t-evenhere]

I just came into contact with this game. I like the plot you wrote very much, and I also like Ray very much. Before asking this question, I also read a lot of relevant questions and answers (but not all of them). I hope no one has asked this question repeatedly.

I'm curious about how MC will react when MC cries because of the scars on Ray's body (MC feels sorry for him)?

Especially when I think that Ray has so many abilities, but he is getting older and older, what will happen to his health? When I think of this, I will cry sadly 😢 (Finally, I am using a translator, hoping that there will be no problem with grammar)

Hello new friend! To start off, I’m not sure if you are referring to the game as in my writing. I did not write or make the game. That would be concreteparisite here on tumblr. I’m just a fellow lover of the game and create content for it. If you are referring to my actually writings I appreciate that!

As an emotional person myself, I think I’d definitely cry at all of his scars. That’s means someone or something hurt him and that hurts. Ray would feel endearment. How sweet of you that his physical scars make you feel sad that he was hurt. How sweet of you to feel the weight of his scars. He’ll hold you tight, comfort you. Tell you that the scars aren’t all that bad. That he’s fine today. That’s scars don’t matter to him. (Granted he’d be lying. He is very much insecure of his scars so, he’d just be telling you that to make you feel better. However, your sweetness to them might make his heart beat a little better.)

In regards to his health, I think he will have a long while before his age actually start to show and his body starts to catch up with all the physical aspects of hero work. He’ll get older like any other person, but he’ll fall hard. I think his powers and make up of his genes, cells, and other body changes will keep him healthy for a while. He was designed that at way. Adding on to that, the NAHA definitely keep their hero’s healthy looking, medical treatments and such. The NAHA will use him until he’s used up and unable to perform. Only then, when he’s retired, and not apart of the hero world anymore will he start to decline. Definitely arthritis of all kinds, back pain, constant popping bones. His body will stop constantly changing itself to make way for the new powers because he won’t be gaining hmmm anymore. Granted he’ll be happy I think because he gets to stop. The rest. To live out the rest of his life. The way to put this simply, Ray doesn’t get to be old. Not until the NAHA says so.

As I always say, i don’t care about translators, im just happy you are coming to me. I can read just fine and not worry about grammar. ❤️ Hope you come back!

[fourstarsoutofnine]

I was wondering if you could do something with reader yeeting a weighted blanket at the chain and their reactions? I got reminded of that weighted blanket trend and thought it’d be funny

A/N:HAHAHA ABSOLUTELY OMG this ask made me actually laugh out loud😭 I have a weighted blanket I use sometimes bc it helps with chronic pain(I have arthritis) and anxiety and such—also I’ve always wanted to do that trend w someone but I’ve been to scared bc I don’t wanna hurt anybody :( anyway enjoy!

The chain and a weighted blanket!

(For simplicity’s sake, we’ll say they have weighted blankets in Hyrule lol)

Time:

Is a bit confused with the initial throw(I’d be struggling if I tried tbh) like—why is a blanket being thrown on him, but once it hits him, he stumbles back with a groan and a laugh

“What’s wrong with this thing, great goddesses!”

Totally thinks it’s funny

Will be buying a weighted blanket as soon as possible to get Malon with it…also just cause it feels nice.

Twilight:

Catches it

“Hylia, this is heavy, why is this blanket heavy???”

When you(albeit shocked, cause how did he freaking catch it) explain to him that it has sand(?) in it, and what it can be used for, he’s pleasantly surprised.

“Oh wow! Who would’ve thought of such a thing!”

He accompanies you to go get Wild with it.

Wild:

Body folds like a lawn chair

“OGH-“ and a thunk on the ground 💀

But he’s laughing!

Pokes his head out and just kinda lays there. Twilight’s cackling his head off behind you.

“Why?” He asks with a laugh and you just

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Funny is funny, and it’s nice to have a few pranks here and there, both to keep you on your toes and have a laugh.

Sky:

Also folds like a lawn chair

Except he doesn’t like his head out like wild. When there’s no movement and you peek under, he’s asleep

Mans can fall asleep anywhere anytime in a short amount of time. Sleeping is like second nature to him.

“Sky???”

Nothing. Dead silence. You’re actually beginning to wonder if it knocked him out, but no. He’s snoring, and seems perfectly fine. It’s just comfy and he decided it was time to honk his shoos. Go night night for a bit.

Wars:

You throw it at him from behind and he stumbles forward into the stump he was using as a table for planning their next route.

“Agh! Hey!!!”

Was originally upset but when he saw how hard you were laughing, he can’t seem to make himself stay mad

You were too cute, and far too happy. He didn’t want to ruin that.. and it was a little funny

“Alright Alright, You’ve had your fun…. Now go get the vet.” He said with a soft smile. The effect you had on these boys was remarkable

Legend:

Get ready to run, and run fast

Yeah—he’s… pretty much the only one that didn’t take it well.

You threw it on him and he fell forward and cursed

“Y/n what gives?!”

Though when he saw how upset his yelling made you, he softened.

“It was just a joke, I didn’t mean—“

“No. It’s whatever.” He drops the blanket to the ground with a thud and crossed his arms. “It’s fine. Stop looking like that, though. All…sad. You look like a wet dog… or wet blanket, more appropriately..”

That made you crack a smile, and he huffed and rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth turning up as he turned away.

You can’t figure out if he said the pun with the intention of making you laugh or not, but it worked. (Spoiler alert, yes he did. He’s a softie whether he likes it or not and he has a particular soft spot for you.)

(Totally got the blanket to sleep under it for comfort, but if you told anyone or asked him about it he’d deny everything.)

Hyrule:

“AAH!” He yelled as he flew forward when you threw it on his back.

He’s laughing, which is good.

Like time, he just laughs and holds it out to you, only he’s doing it with a touch of struggle to keep his arms out until you take it.

“That’s so heavy! What the heck! How did it get like that???”

After a long winded explanation, he really likes it!

Definitely asks for it one night, especially after a particularly rough battle.

Four:

Like Wars, he’s a bit upset but laughs it off, because at the end of the day, it is funny

Just make sure to pay attention to when you’re throwing it on him. Make sure he’s not working on any weapons—that’s dangerous ground both in injury and messing the weapon up.

Then, he’d actually be upset(but not for too long. He can’t stay mad at you.)

“Oh cmon!” He laughs, shoving you once he’s out from under the blanket.

Once he gets over his small upset, he’s laughing louder. It starts being real funny to him.

“That’s so dumb, that’s so dumb.” He says through laughter.

Wind:

He goes FLYING

“Hey y/—WAH!”

When you pick it up he’s got the biggest mischievous grin

“THATS CRAZY! LETS GO GET THE OTHERS!”

Thinks it’s the funniest thing known to mankind