#Chess learning for beginners

[chesstrainer24]

Explore the pros and cons of Chess Training Apps vs. Live Coaching to determine the best approach for enhancing your chess skills and achieving mastery.

Do Visit: https://chesstrainer.com/chess-training-apps-vs-live-coaching-what-works-best/

[garygoldenbignaturals]

sometimes i forget i know how to 3d model

[talentgum1]

Discover the world of chess with online lessons designed for kids. Unleash their strategic potential and boost cognitive skills while having fun!

[manasastuff-blog]

"International Chess Day"#trending#viral#chessday

The Secret to Strategic Thinking! Chess is more than just a game; it's a powerful tool that sharpens your mind and enhances strategic thinking. Celebrating International Chess Day brings to light the myriad benefits of this ancient game. From boosting cognitive abilities to improving problem-solving skills, chess offers something for everyone. we delve into the significance of International Chess Day and explore how chess can transform your mental acuity, whether you're a student looking to improve academically, a professional seeking better decision-making skills, or someone aiming to keep their mind sharp. Join us as we uncover the hidden benefits of chess and share tips on how you can incorporate this fascinating game into your daily routine.

Call: 77997 99221

Website: www.manasadefenceacademy.com

#InternationalChessDay#ChessImportance#StrategicThinking#BrainBoost#MentalFitness#ChessBenefits

#CognitiveSkills#ChessForAll#MindGames#ChessDay2024#trending#viral#manasadefenceacademy#chessday

[withbroombefore]

I saw a poll earlier about participation in regular in-person activities, with numbers that make me wonder if a lot of people don't know what the options are or how to find them. Here are some that I have always found welcoming to new people; for me, these are ways to leave my apartment and get some human interaction without having to make much conversation (there is a reasonable amount of that if you want it, but since it's understood that you are there to do an activity, the thing you are doing is the point rather than pure socializing). A search for "[activity] [location]" should tell you what's available in your area.

Contra dancing: This goes at the top and gets explanation because it's my favorite. I grew up doing this and love it very very much; I always look for local dances when I move somewhere new. Most dances are very beginner-friendly (though there are some exceptions), and zero dance experience is required to participate. Many will include a lesson for beginners in the half-hour before the main event starts, and there are always instructions throughout the evening. You truly do not need to know anything going in. The convention is to switch partners throughout the night, and it's completely okay to attend alone and ask people you don't know to dance. Try Contra Dancing has a search tool by zip code. Typically $8-15.

Community theatre tech: Acting is an option if that's your thing, but in my experience, tech is easier if you're looking for an activity because there's not usually competition--you often can just volunteer without needing to worry about auditions or casting. Roles like run crew (where you move set between scenes and such) don't require any prior knowledge, and plenty of the other tasks can be learned with a little training. If you turn up reliably, the word will spread--good techies are invaluable. Free to participate.

Community band or chorus: Prior experience in playing an instrument is necessary for the band; for singing, it depends on the type of chorus. Some are auditioned, others are just thrilled by any participation. May require dues.

Shapenote singing: A more niche one and another of my personal favorites (I ignore the religious lyrics and treat them as poetry). This can take some time to pick up, but many places have a small monthly sing that is very welcoming to new people. fasola.org has lots of information about the tradition and where to sing. Free, optional donations accepted.

Library events: Find your local public library's website and look for a calendar or events page to see if anything appeals. Typically free.

Crafting groups: Yarn stores and other craft supply places often have regular open gatherings (typically free) and/or classes (may cost money for teaching and supplies).

Games: If you have a local game store, check their website for events. Or search "[location] [chess club]" or whatever is your thing. Usually free.

Dance: Depends on what is available in your area. A studio where I am has a monthly swing dance, with beginner lessons before, for $10.

Sports: I don't really do these but they presumably exist and can be found like the other things.

The important thing is to just go do the thing. It will probably feel awkward the first time--that's normal! These are all spaces where the point is for people to show up and participate. They want you to be there, and they want you to come back! Otherwise they can't keep existing. Several of these (contra dancing, shapenote, a lot of crafting groups) are especially excited about new people and younger participants and will be thrilled to teach you how to do the thing. And the only way to make it feel comfortable is to plow through the first awkwardness and go back until you decide if you actually enjoy it or not. When you find a thing you like, keep going, and after a little while you end up with a community of people to see regularly who share your interests. This is what humans are supposed to do.

[patchworkcuddlebug]

Good Dolls Play Pretend

The doll knew about this store since it was a person, but it never bothered coming before it became. Now, it stopped by every time it was in the city to collect some authentic Asian tea. The mall was a little out of the way, but its witch didn't mind! So it sipped on some boba tea it ordered from a specialty cafe just a floor down while it decided on what flavour to-

"Woah, [XXXXX]?"

It froze as it turned to face whatever just spoke. It was a person, a man that was once the same age as it, a man that it tried and failed to date before it became. "Oh my god, it's been so long, how've you been?" He seems genuinely excited to see this one again.

This one learned to cover its joints with sweaters and longer skirts. This one knew how to talk to make people less mad or confused. This one knew how to play pretend.

"No way! Oh my god, I totally didn't expect to run into you." it said, forcing away its usual eager docility for normal human surprise.

The conversation continued as it would. The man went back to finish his undergrad after the hotel job didn't work out. This one bent the truth just enough to say it found a job as a maid for a normal upper-class woman. It was working, he believed this one! Such a good doll. It was so polite too, nodding along, encouraging him to talk, even accepting his party invitation!

. . . . .

This one finally left the store with a friendly wave as the person went in a different direction. It held the bag of tea as it waited for the bus, finding stillness as it alwaIT ACCEPTED HIS PARTY INVITATION.

Jeans, plain black t-shirt, thin grey zip-up hoodie. Normal person clothes.

Human, it reiterated to itself, waiting for the man to unlock the door to the university's dormitory building. This one... I am a normal human. I have normal human hobbies, such as... chess. I don't smoke but I occasionally drink. I own a computer... no, a laptop, and use it a few hours a week. No, a few dozen. I sometimes order fast food with an app on my cell phone.

The door opens and this one begins to pretend. It is not politely standing at attention, awaiting orders. It has a relaxed demeanour and a casual regard for most things. It smiled at those sent to great it and lead it to the on-campus pub, with the amount of demureness that is normally expected from a human person.

This one can hear the music from all the way down the hall. It is intentionally showing a normal human reaction, which is neutrality.

This one hasn't been contributing to the conversation as much as it thinks it should. The people have been talking at it, explaining what a pub crawl is and what kind of alcohol it should order. It really, really, really shouldn't ask if they serve tea.

The people take a seat at one of the tables, and it joins. The others ask what it would like to order for an appetizer. It says the pizza seems tastiest. It doesn't say it seems the least messy.

The waitress arrives. The others are ordering drinks. They're saying names the doll doesn't recognize, and maybe never did. The doll asks the waitress what drinks they have, and the others look at it with amusement. The waitress suggests an apple cider for beginners, and the doll accepts, not caring how she knew.

It sat still. This one was great at sitting still. But it didn't feel any stillness at all. This doll's purpose is ease the burden on others. To help them relax by taking care of something they would stress about or be annoyed by, by helping them talk through their emotions, or even just by staying out of the way and leaving people alone. The closest it could get was by remaining seated with three other partygoers. At first they occasionally deferred to this one for input on a conversation, but it seems something told them not to do that anymore as the night went on. Did they... find out?

"[XXXXX]?"

The doll is startled, realizing its attention is needed. It didn't catch the first time it was said. Everything is so loud. It holds no animosity towards its old personhood. Just the same hazy disconnection one feels towards a half-remembered dream.

"You don't look too hot. Did you drink too much?"

The doll looked at its half-finished drink. The doll looked at the exit. The doll nodded.

He escorts you out the building's closest exit. He leans forward on the railing, lighting a cigarette. He offers it one, and it refuses.

The person apologizes for inviting the doll, saying that he could tell it was upset. The doll asks him if he knows, and he says he only assumed until it asked that.

In an instant, the doll's thin veneer of humanity fades away. It fixes its posture, its face slackening into a much more natural empty expression. Its arms rest together, hands wrapped in each other.

The person hesitates, seeing such a shift. He looks back out over the railing he leans on, taking a drag as he looks out into the city.

He asks if it misses its witch. It says that Miss gave it full permission to spend the night out. He says that's not what he asked. The doll says it would much rather be home.

The person sighs. He apologizes again and thanks the doll for doing its best tonight. He puts out his cigarette and turns to face the door, leaning his back against the railing. He looks over to the doll, and it hasn't moved.

He asks if it wants the others to know, and it says no. He says he'll make up a lie, something about a family emergency. That way it can go do... anything else.

The doll thanks him. It didn't even consider refusing.

The relief is nearly instant. There's a melancholy in its chest as it walks away, after giving the person a formal goodbye. It's very happy to leave such a... restless situation, but there's a lingering sense that it's been a bad doll. It's hard for it to articulate why. It didn't do anything that Miss says makes you a bad doll, except maybe do a bad job at pretending.

But it couldn't be sure. Maybe that was what was making it so restless? It couldn't defer to Miss right now. It didn't have that external solidity, the confirmation of purpose.

That made it very happy to be a doll again.

[compressedrage]

You know what could have been a really cool AvEducation episode?

Animation vs Chess.

We've got Yellow on one side, playing the black pieces. He's the expert, all confident, technically the antagonist of this episode.

And on the other side, we have Blue. Blue knows the rules of chess, enough to play, but he is still a beginner. He will play against Yellow, learning bit by bit as the game continues.

They're in the void, and I think it would be cool if the pieces start out maybe the size of those games of "big chess", you know the ones. For the lawn or whatever. But as the game goes on and Blue falters, the pieces grow until they tower over him and it becomes much harder to get around.

I don't think Yellow would take it easy on him per say, but he might pause, maybe give little hints ("don't move or I'll be able to get you, quick take that pawn", that kind of thing)

Blue not only takes his advice, but actually learns, observing Yellow's own moves and imitating it. Maybe at one point, Yellow would give him a hint that was meant to trip him up a bit, but by now Blue knows enough to not fall for it.

In the end, I don't think Blue would be able to beat Yellow. You don't go from being a beginner to beating a master in one game. But Yellow is a good sport, and Blue wants to get better, so they settle in for another game.

[sugarphoric]

personal zayne hc is that he does not know how to solve a rubix cube AT ALL like hes watched so many tutorials on youtube, reddit, you name it- and not only that, multiple times. hes even gone onto master cubist (?) champion forums to learn their tips and tricks but for some reason he can never solve it except for completing one face??

and its even worse knowing that he can easily win chess and checker games (not to mention both the chinese and japanese equivalent), nth number piece puzzles, and more as if it were second nature to him.

in highschool whenever hed have some free time, hed be completing minesweeper and tetris, breaking records nonchalantly. and in college, when his classmates would drag him out for the monthly department night out, he picked up tricks to winning poker, soon becoming the king of gambling making the night worth it (his stoic expressions were finally an object of envy (not to mention his fattening wallet, but we already knew that))

but damn that rainbow cube- one day he'll get it, but for now, he has to deal with a mini one stored somewhere in his desk to practice when he gets the chance, pulling up that same damn youtube tutorial for beginners on 0.25x speed, where 50% of the view count is from him.

[illiviestrations]

[TANGLED EVENT SPOILERS] pt.2

(After a bit of teasing, Riddle explains that the hair growth is because of a successful potion. Deuce takes the opportunity to praise Riddle as if he’s boasting for his Housewarden.)

♠️“Heh, what do you think. Housewarden Rosehearts is amazing, right.”

GAHHHHH DEUCE YOURE ADORABLE I LOVE YOU

YES KEEP ON FANNING RIDDLES EGO PRAISE HIM MORE

(Riddle has a bit of an introspective moment)

🌹“It might be that… the princess didn’t want to make the witch [Gothel] sad…”

Oh buddy. Ohhh buddy.

We all know that he’s thinking about his relationship with his mom. Right.

🥺🥺🥺

(The tweels show up! Floyd comes to cause mischief with Riddle, mainly. And Jade follows soon after, surprising/scaring those trapped in the library with his mask.)

‘Paper mache, a bit of ballet and chess. Pottery, ventriloquy, candle making’

Floyd asks about the mask, and Jade replies :

🐬“Somewhere on school grounds, that’s all I will answer. Fufu, isn’t it befitting of the Princess of the Tower?”

(Azul appears, stating that he brought along Jade and Floyd to be role models for Riddle and co. to follow as they are both good at ‘mischief’)

In the Japanese version of ‘When Will My Life Begin’, instead of ‘paper mache’, the lyric is changed to ‘いたずら/mischief’. Which is why this might seem sudden to an EN observer.

(Sebek appears! With a Malleus in tow! Sebek brought beginner friendly clay, and Malleus offers to heat the finished works.—he ends up burning part of the library down, and smoking their pottery)

☀️“Woah, it’s still pretty hot from here.”

YOU KNOW ITS HOT when the guys who lives in a literal desert says it’s hot.

Ruggie and Leona appear! After a bit of butting heads with Malleus, Jack finds a moment to get a word in.

🐺“To have even [the] Housewarden come by broomstick… Thank you for coming!!”

Jack says that he’ll return the chessboard after they finish one game, and Leona buts in:

🦁“Everything the Princess of the Tower did was a way to kill time. (Referring to how the effort they were going to put in) There’s not much point [in trying that hard.]”

Rook immediately starts praising everyone’s outfits!

🏹“Grown-out hair, shimmering chiffon… beaute! Fufu, I’m overjoyed that I get to witness your new found charm!”

(Rook brings them the ballet shoes!— and educational videos with a playback function)

🏹“I used these educational videos because I when I was still learning ballet. I’ve also prepared [a device] with a playback function.”

ROOK DID BALLET

ITS CANON

(This was definitely when he first got into Pomefiore.)

[theweepingangelofcas]

Hi ,I hope your health is great ! I just discovered your writing and I really liked it! I was wondering if I could request something, I'm a chess player so I always thought what it would be like to play with Albert Moriarty, or teach him how to play (though he's so smart and he must know how very well) so can you write about that ? thank you so much for your time ! ( i hope it's not much trouble) <3.

Have a good day/night .

This was so fun to write! But I will warn you now, though I can play chess, I am terrible at it lol

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

Beginner's Luck - Albert Moriarty x Reader

This man has been raised as a noble.

He's had a stellar education. Hours upon hours of studying. And, par for the course of his upbringing, he's quite the brilliant chess player.

But, when you misheard him and thought he'd never played before, he didn't have the heart to correct you.

When you'd asked him if he played chess, he had answered fairly simply.

"Yes. I have." But, between the chatter of the nobles around you, you must've misheard him. You were dragging him to the nearest game room within moments, squealing at the idea of teaching him how. How could he correct you? Neither of you had wanted to go to this event. The nobility of the area had arranged it once you two got married, something of a wedding party that neither of you wanted. You hadn't been this happy all evening. He couldn't tell you the truth. He couldn't tell you how he'd almost always won every single match. That's what had him here, sitting across from you with a chess board set up. You were going over the rules, starting your own plays and "guiding" him on how to retaliate. And though you were by no means bad, he did have to hold his tongue on other, better plays that could've been made. "And the pawn can only go forward and diagonal, right?" He prayed that his confused tone sounded convincing enough. You nodded, clapping your hands in delight, "Yes, Albert! You're learning so quickly, I'm so excited for you! This can be our new game." You moved your knight to take his pawn, and he faked a scowl. But, before he could stop himself, he saw where you had made a fatal flaw. The moving of your knight had left your queen open to attack. He didn't even think before he moved his bishop over, winning the game. One problem. You hadn't explained what a bishop did yet. You looked up at him, an eyebrow raised. Chuckling awkwardly, his hand wiped a nervous bead of sweat from his brow, "Uh... Beginner's luck?"

[chesstrainer24]

Chess Training Apps vs. Live Coaching: What Works Best?

Chess is a game of deep strategy, patience, and continuous learning. Whether you are a beginner or an advanced player, choosing the right method for improvement is crucial. With technological advancements, players now have access to chess training apps vs. live coaching, but which one is better?

Some argue that live chess coaching advantages make it the superior choice, while others believe that best chess training apps offer more flexibility and affordability. In this blog, we will compare chess training apps vs. live coaching, analyzing their pros, cons, and effectiveness in different scenarios.

FIDE Instructor Dhanesh Shrikhande, a seasoned chess coach, shares his insights on how players can maximize their learning through both methods.

Understanding Chess Training Apps vs. Live Coaching

Both chess training apps vs. live coaching aim to improve a player’s skills but offer different learning experiences.

Chess Training Apps: The Digital Revolution

Best chess training apps like Chess.com use AI-powered analysis, puzzles, and interactive lessons to help players improve. These apps provide convenience, affordability, and access to world-class learning material anytime, anywhere.

Live Coaching: The Traditional Approach

Live chess coaching advantages include direct interaction with a trainer, personalized feedback, and structured learning plans. This method is ideal for serious learners who require mentorship, real-time feedback, and a customized approach.

1. Convenience and Accessibility

Chess Training Apps: Anytime, Anywhere Learning

One of the biggest online chess coaching benefits is accessibility. Best chess training apps allow users to practice at their own pace. Whether commuting, on a break, or at home, a chess training app makes learning easy.

Available 24/7

No need for scheduling

Can be used on multiple devices

Live Coaching: Structured Learning with a Mentor

Personalized chess lessons with a live coach require scheduling but provide a structured approach to improvement. This method is better for students who struggle with self-discipline and need a coach to guide them.

Customized lesson plans

Direct interaction with an expert

Real-time corrections and explanations

Verdict: If flexibility is your priority, chess live coaching is are the best choice.

2. Effectiveness in Skill Improvement

How Apps Improve Chess Skills

Modern interactive chess training tools analyze every move with AI, highlighting mistakes and suggesting better alternatives. AI-driven platforms enhance chess strategy improvement by:

Offering real-time move analysis

Providing a vast database of opening and endgame lessons

Helping with pattern recognition and tactics training

Why Live Coaching is More Personalized

FIDE Instructor Dhanesh Shrikhande highlights that personalized chess lessons allow deeper understanding:

“Apps are great for quick practice, but they lack the depth of human interaction. A coach understands a student’s weaknesses, thought process, and emotions, providing guidance that no AI can replicate.“

Coaches provide custom feedback

Lessons are tailored to the player’s unique style

Emotional and psychological aspects of the game are addressed

Verdict: Apps provide rapid chess strategy improvement, but live coaching ensures long-term growth through personalized feedback.

Continue Reading: https://chesstrainer.com/chess-training-apps-vs-live-coaching-what-works-best/

[hismercytomyjustice]

Fuck, this is so dumb but it was so much fucking fun to write.

Excerpt from my Radiodust WIP below! Pre-canon, set less than a year after Angel arrived in Hell!

Still needs an editing pass, but please forgive! I’m just very excited about it and really wanted to share a snippet! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝

More below the cut since it’s a little long.

—

“I got a suggestion, but ya gotta promise not to laugh me outta the room.”

“I will make no such promises!”

Angel gave him a flat look. “Fine. But just remember I don’t do refunds.”

“Suggest away, my good man!”

“Ya said ya liked chess, didn’t ya?”

Alastor tilted his head, frequencies fluctuating as he tried and failed to see where this was going.

“Ever played strip chess?”

It took him a moment to register just what the poor fellow was talking about. When he did, his eyebrows slammed down. “Pardon?”

Angel shrugged. “Might help ya get outta your head a lil’.”

Hmm.

Alastor waved his hand, the chess set from the sitting room appearing to hover in the air beside them. Angel’s eyes widened at the casual display of power, but he didn’t comment on it.

“As the guest, why don’t you go first?”

He snorted, reorienting himself behind the board. “Can’t believe I’m fuckin’ doin’ this,” he muttered to himself as he made his opening gambit, moving one of his center pawns two spaces up.

Alastor smiled, moving his own pawn to meet it.

The spider pursed his lips, moving one of his knights to the third row next. He mirrored that move too, smile widening. Angel moved his other knight to the third row and Alastor mirrored him there too.

He knew this opening all too well. The Four Knights Game. So Angel did have some familiarity with chess after all! At least at a beginners level. It was a solid enough opening, albeit rather dull. Still, he was certainly doing better than Alastor had expected.

Angel proceeded to take his pawn with one of his knights, leaving it open. Alastor’s brow furrowed as he studied the board. Had he only memorized the first few moves? This might be more disappointing than he’d feared after all…

He cleared his throat and he glanced up as he wiggled the captured pawn at him.

“How’s about ya take off that coat?”

Alastor rolled his eyes, but did as requested, using his powers to send it to hang on the coat rack in the corner of the room.

He proceeded to take Angel’s knight with his own.

“Your shoes.”

Angel grinned, toeing his boots off and letting them fall unceremoniously onto the floor beside the bed.

At this rate, Angel would be bare before he’d made it to his undershirt…

They traded a few more moves, with Alastor sending his bishop out onto the field, when Angel proceeded to take one of his knights with a pawn.

“How ‘bout your shirt this time, handsome?” Angel drawled, looking far too pleased with himself.

He was alarmed to feel a hint of genuine doubt creeping in as he unbuttoned his dress shirt and slid it off his shoulders. He folded it with military precision while he studied the board.

“Where did you say you learned to play?”

Angel propped his chin in his hand. “I didn’t. My nonna taught me.”

“Oh?”

He smiled, all teeth. “She liked to go ‘n make the players in Central Park cry when she ran errands.”

Alastor’s brow furrowed. “Oh? And how did she learn?”

“Family friend!”

He quietly waited for the other shoe to drop.

“Who happened to be a chess master. Ranked one of the best in the world at the time.”

Well, shit.

[abby118]

There is one thing that I didn't quite understand about Loki in Thor 1 and that I don't think has been addressed enough. when she sent the "destroyer" to Midgard, I know she intended to stop the 3 sif warriors/ladies who even committed treason. she however was actually pushing herself to kill them. and he had even gone so far as to kill Thor. This seems extreme to me though since we know he loved Thor more than anyone else. and even though he had been abused by him and his friends for a tho

To start this off, let's focus on Heimdall - I think his treason didn't come as a surprise to Loki (it wouldn't be the first time after all, and that instance had happened under Odin's rule), though he might have hoped it wouldn't come so quick. Heimdall allowed the W3/Sif to pass and thus broke his oath to the throne. They were off to end Thor's banishment and bring him back to Asgard.

This is where Loki's plans start faling apart and I've seen someone in the fandom refer to it as him playing speed chess which I found rather fitting. He no longer has the time to think his decisions through the way it would be needed. Naturally, he opts for the action that would buy him the most time - stalling the W3/Sif/Thor and cutting off their access to Asgard. However, Heimdall attacks him and attempts to behead him. I believe Loki expected this as well; you can see that he came prepared. He used the Casket to freeze Heimdall and I take it as proof that he didn't aim to kill him. He could've used Gungnir but instead went for the relic he must've held significant resentment for, given that it is from Jotunheim. That wasn't a random choice.

In the meantime, the W3/Sif arrive to Midgard and find Thor.

Loki knew Thor would hear of his lies once reunited with his friends and he wasn't wrong. They told him the truth and were ready to take him back. Then, the Destroyer showed up and did what it was supposed to do - it stalled them.

Now, whether Loki was or wasn't trying to kill them is up for debate but he was certainly familiar with the extent of their abilities and knew they were no beginners. He had to send something that wouldn't be defeated easily. It worked up until Thor decided to intervene and the plans had to shift once again.

I don't think he wanted to kill Thor; he realised that despite everything, he did seem to change. He paused and took that into account but it wasn't enough to soothe the built up tension and hurt he felt. Yes, Thor did apologise but for once in his life, Loki wanted to be the winner.

He puts out the fire within the Destroyer but strikes him anyway. It did almost kill him and I do think would Thor have actually died, Loki would've regretted it later, once the chaos would've died down. Again, this has been brought up before, but we don't know how familiar he was with the degree of injury mortals can handle. That could've played a part. Thor becomes worthy and is able to wield Mjölnir again, which restores his powers and heals him. He defeats the Destroyer and eventually returns to Asgard.

I especially like the parallel between their situations. Both of them experienced their losses and were broken by what happened to them except for the fact that Thor regained what he'd lost whilst Loki kept falling further. I think it reflects their overall experience in life in which Thor is allowed to make mistakes and learn from them whilst Loki's attempts to prove himself, to equal, fall unseen because he was the spare, the tool to keep around would Thor need him.

[schalotte]

hi! i am learning german and was wandering if you have any favourite german-speaking media (podcasts, music, films etc.) that you would recommend? thank you :-) sending you lots of love!

hi!!! turning 2 my partner for recs here as i (sadly) don't engage w a ton of german media, some things that immediately came to mind were the ZEIT podcasts, they have them on a ton of topics like art culture contemporary happenings politics etcetc and they're very bite-sized episodes. also the band "element of crime", fun lyrical storytelling that i think would be good to learn from. ok here's e's recs:

Lesen ist schwul - they talk about the books they've read while being cute

Einschlafen mit Wikipedia-technically a podcast to help you fall asleep where they read Wikipedia articles but therefore slow and probably easier for beginners

too many tabs- they talk about weird/funny rabbitholes

talk ohne gast- two comedians just talking about whatever

scambit- a 6 episode podcast about the chess world and it's controversy

springerstiefel- mostly interview based about far right violence and the people affected by it

toast hawaii- interview podcast with various people of the public talking about their favorite food and how it connects to their biography

[jamneuromain]

Hello, beauty! Congrats on your follower milestone 🥳

A prompt for you: Ransom + 😌😏

Hi Siri😌❤️

Thank you for your love and support :3

ksjsjskskskks 😏 ←that lil smirk is so Ransom! Hoe-kay, for this I present to you:

Payback Time

Ransom Drysdale x Reader (you)

Summary: Ransom is getting his payback for you, public enemy No.1.

Warning: Step-cest tendency (Cousin!Ramson x Cousin!Reader), not blood related, they are both grown-ups, Ransom is being vengeful, Harlan is very much alive.

Harlan is going to kill him.

Not now, obviously, but when Harlan finds out about what he is doing to you.

Harlan is going to murder him and write this story into a book.

But it doesn't matter. Ransom hums in content, snuggling further under the covers, sighing due to the warm and softness of the bedding.

That old man grows fond of you by day, ever since you came to this mansion on your own with a suitcase of books and clothes. Ransom huffs in annoyance. If there's one thing he cannot stand, is a random person (aka you), materializing out of thin air, completely unrelated by blood or marriage, and sets out to snatch a portion of Harlan's property.

According to the old man, you were the daughter of the adoptive child from Harlan's sister. His sister took care of your mother as her own, and before both of them died of illness, Harlan's brother in-law kicked you out of the house. Which is why Harlan's sister called before your arrival, asking her brother to take care of you. While Harlan and his sister wasn't on best terms when she married her husband, Harlan was far too kind and agreed for you to stay as long as you wish, paying off your college loan and medical bills that his brother in-law kicked out of the house along with you.

You are a pre-med student in your junior year, which means getting up early and going to bed late, spending few hours in the mansion. Even so, you manage to find the time, either learning how to take care of Harlan like Marta, or chatting with Harlan and play chess.

Ransom huffs again, not only were you a kiss-ass, but also stupidly quick learner at chess - Harlan asked Ransom to play against you one night, and you won. But only out of sheer dumb beginner's luck.

So, he's getting his payback.

Ransom tightens the thick duvet around his body - his almost naked body, and listens carefully to the soft creaking in the stairs.

He knows it's you, with your cautious steps up the screeching floor, while you don't want to wake any living soul in this house at 11:30 pm, dragging your tired ass - you have a good ass, by the way - up two floors, and rest in the room, which apparently became yours rather than his, even though every family in this house knows this room was originally his, and that Harlan asked Fran to clean up his room, RANSOM'S ROOM, for you, which Harlan announced that it would make you feel more like home if you were not living in one of the guest rooms.

Oh, so Ransom will feel more like home if he lives in one of the guest rooms when he drops by every holiday?

Harlan is probably charmed by you, some voodoo shit, or drugged by that idiot-brain Marta.

He holds his breath and closes his eyes, pretending to be sound asleep, as the door squeaks open, leading to your small gasp.

"Ransom!" You hiss in the smallest voice you manage, "Ransom! What are you doing in my bed?!"

After he yelled at his mother, calling her an "old hag", changed the lock to this room, and cut holes in your sweater, you know he wants his room back.

Not that you intend to sabotage his plans, being a guest in this household, how on earth can you give the room to him when Harlan has specifically told you that he would find a way for Ransom to stop bothering about which room belongs to whom?

"Ransom!" You hiss again, "I can see your body trembling under the covers! I have a class at eight and I need to sleep!"

Smiling brightly, Ransom pulls the cover down, revealing his - almost - naked body.

"Ransom!" You cover your eyes with a squeal, "Are you- Why- You are naked!"

"Come on, Cousin. You wanna tell me that you are not interested in this?" He gestures down his body as if displaying an exhibit. Cocking an eyebrow, he challenges your sanity with every word that comes out of his mouth, "One good fuck in exchange for my room?"

Silence. Dreadful silence fills the room.

Ransom has that annoying smirk up on his lips, looking down at his grey boxers, "...no? Shame." He swings the thick cover back on, muttering to himself, "Okay. Nevermind. I guess I will just ... enjoy this soft cushy bed on my own..."

"Hugh Ransom Drysdale!" You tear the heavy duvet from his body, "GET OUT OF MY BED!"

Okay fine. He looks like a living Adonis with his abs and biceps. So what?

You avoid looking at his God-like body and his eyes, whisper-yelling, "Get off or I swear I will wake up everyone in this house and tell them about how awful you are!"

Ransom yawns, completely oblivious to your weak threat, which he knows it is the last thing you will do - make a fuss about your living condition in front of all these Cold-blooded creatures.

"Ransom!" You huff at his attempt of grabbing the duvet, "If you insist on taking up my bed, at least you can tell me where the empty guest room is."

"Nope." Answers Ransom, popping the "p" between his wickedly seducing lips, "You got two options here. The floor," he points at the small space between the mahogany desk and the four-posters, "or here." He pats on his bed - wait that's your bed! - softly, "With me."

You clutch the edge of your sweater tightly, a small movement that did not missed Ransom's eyes.

"Or good luck finding Franny in this god forsaken house and 'waking up everyone' to tell them about how I mistreated my cousin." Ransom grins, "So, what do you think?"

It doesn't surprise Ransom when you take the duvet completely and roll up some of your clothing for a makeshift pillow on the floor. You are too tired to argue and too scared to disturb a family you barely know.

You turn off the light and lie down on the ground without another word.

... he may have gone a little too far.

His heart skips a beat when he hears a soft sigh of yours. Why should he feel weird about this? You are the one who is about to be part of Harlan's will and snatch Harlan's adoration. Taking up your bed - his bed, whatever whose bed seems childish. It bothers you, sure, but he never wanted for you to sleep on the ground.

Christ, why couldn't you be a kiss-ass for him like how you treat Harlan? That way he'd feel much more comfortable about making you sleep on the cold, hard, creaking floor - ugh!

Ransom cannot bear the thought any longer of you sleeping on the ground, which is why he gets up from the bed, swings his sweater and pants over his shoulders, and kicks your foot condescendingly, "Your bed sucks." Before strolling out of the room, stepping on the staircases loudly so the entire house could hear.

You suck. He thinks, setting foot on the creakiest spot he could find for these wooden planks. And if he cannot sleep at almost 12 o'clock, neither will the rest of the house.

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[fleet-of-fiction]

Jake Kiszka // Female Narrator

Part Three

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

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

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

Day 410 ~ Jake

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Everything was ok.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I clocked the bottle and it was already half empty.

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

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

"Maybe the climate is changing."

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

"What is it?" I dared to ask.

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

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

"What do you hope?" I asked.

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

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

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

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

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

"Josh was your brother?" She ventured.

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

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

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

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

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

And just like that, the fire went out again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Where's your guitar now?"

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

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

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

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

Day 413 ~ Amelia

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was pleasure.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"There you are."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Amelia..."

He would have one kind word from me.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He meant it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His face washed over with realisation. "Oh."

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

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

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