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indianamoonshine · 4 years ago

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Girl Talk | Din Djarin x Reader | Oneshot

Summary: What does a gal do when she’s just been railed by the most notorious bounty hunter in The Galaxy? Call her best friend of course.

A/N: Just something to tide you over until the next installment of Strawberry! I have anxiety and I need to busy my hands without thinking too much! This takes place after season 2!

There’s a crackling on the other end of the receiver. The telegraph service majorly bites out here on Besiana, which has been dubbed “the trench of The Galaxy”. Getting connected to Gabriele at all is a miracle in itself, though not without exploiting a few (somewhat) illegal hacks by yours truly.

Hells, not even this shitty phoning service can put you in a sour mood.

When Gabriele’s voice sounds at the other end, it gives the air that he’s just awoken from a heavy sleep or he’s suffering a hangover. Probably both. “Now what the hell are you doing all the way out in butt-fucking-nowh…” he starts.

You’re quick to cut him off. “Take a guess.”

Gabriele groans and there’s a rummaging in the background. Something sounds as though it falls off a surface - his alarm clock, probably. He must be in the inner rim somewhere.

“Miss girl, I don’t have time to play these games with you. My head is pounding. Now tell me why you’re in the catacombs of The Galaxy’s ass and…”

Behind you, a body shuffles from outside the refresher door. Your heart thuds rambunctiously in your chest as you carefully peer through a crack of the opening. Din Djarin - The Galaxy’s most notorious Mandalorian- is taking a seat with his rifle in hand. You watch as he begins to disassemble it with great technical precision. Something about watching him take apart his weapon causes your stomach to flutter.

And your knees to weaken.

“I just had sex,” you tell him in a whisper.

Gabriele is silent on the other end for a moment and then lets out a sigh of great disappointment. “Congratulations. I’m going back to bed. Goodnight.”

“The best sex of my life.”

There’s another pause. “Oh?” His interest has piqued, voice more alert at the prospect of juicy gossip. After all, what were best friends for?

You let this linger in the air for a minute, just to marinate his curiosity, and then peek at Din again. He’s taking a rag and wiping the barrel of the rifle; if it weren’t for the helmet upon his head, you’d swear he was concentrating with furrowed and ascetic brow.

“Do you remember that Mandalorian who made a giant fuss a couple of years ago?” you inquire lowly, eyes unable to leave the steadiness of Din’s deft hands.

Those hands. You have to stop yourself from moaning at the recent memories. You swear you can still feel the ghostly sear they left in their wake. The naked skin upon your hips tingles at the sheer recollection, the slick still upon your thighs all-too prevalent.

“You’re lying,” is what Gabriele gasps, absolutely scandalized. You imagine him shooting up in bed and covering his mouth in awe. He was always so dramatic but you couldn’t blame him if he did. This was the exact reaction you were hoping for.

Din grabs another piece of his rifle and starts up again. You have to tear yourself away from looking at him and instead surmise yourself in the mirror. It isn’t very big in any sense of the word but it’ll do. You take a look at your face (blushed and bright) and then your eyes (dazed and dick-drunk). Hells, this man has ruined you.

“I know you have questions,” you reply, tapping at your cheeks. They feel softer somehow.

Gabriele squeaks a bit under his breath. “Did he take off his helmet?”

You shake your head, though he can’t see it. “No. And I think it awoken something in me.”

He tsks. “Damn. I wanna know what he looks like. Okay…”

“I know he’s a brunette,” you say slyly.

Gabriele shrieks at the other end and you have to angle the receiver away with a laugh. “Is it big?”

You recall the tactical consideration- albeit brief - it took to get his dick in your mouth. You did it though, ‘ole girl. You tap yourself on the shoulder with a proud grin.

“Oh, it is. It’s…it’s very nice.”

You find yourself looking out the door again. Din’s moved onto another gun - he’s already put together the last. You grow weary at the sight of his gloved hands alone, but when your eyes trail downwards you find yourself swallowing something thick in your throat. Which in turn, of course, reminds you of the tanginess still lingering upon your tongue.

“Gabriele,” you say seriously, voice so low you can barely hear yourself. “I came eight times.”

“Shut up. You did not.” Gabriele sounds more than just excited - now he sounds jealous. You can’t help but giggle.

You raise a hand to your chest in a show of honesty. “I mean it. Eight times. He went down on me for an hour.”

“I thought you said he didn’t take off his helmet?” Gabriele asks suspiciously.

You chuckle lowly. “Oh, that’s where it gets really good.”

Gabriele - one of the biggest sluts in The goddamned Galaxy - was no stranger to sex. So when you tell him that you were blindfolded during this portion of an absolute wild ride, you’re shocked to find him screeching once more.

You’re about to continue - to confide in him about the brutal rhythm of the ordeal - until a knock startles you. You press the receiver against your chest, still flushed and naked from the previous romp.

Din calls your name from the other side of the door. “Are you alright?”

You freeze, contemplating on everything you could say to this most bland of questions. “I’ll be out in a moment!” you decide, scolding yourself for being so timid. You were at the end of his dick a half-hour ago.

Din mumbles something and then departs. After he’s within a safe distance, you quickly raise the receiver and say, “I have to go. But I’ll tell you everything later.”

Gabriele gawks, “Was that him?”

You roll your eyes. “Yes. Now I really have to go.”

“Oh my gods, okay. Fine.”

You smile, clutching at the durasteel of the phone. “Promise. Love you.”

Your best friend sighs theatrically. “Love you too. Be safe, okay? I don’t even know who I’d call to go after him if something happened to you. No one would be stupid enough.”

The idea of Din doing anything to put you in harm’s way is inconceivable. You’ve only known him for a short amount of time - a couple of weeks at most - but you already trust him with your life.

“I’d die a happy woman,” you joke.

A short while later, you exit the refresher with sopping, clean hair and any traces of sex scrubbed away from between your legs. Din’s allowed you to wear one of his night shirts (an honor in itself) because your clothes had been soiled.

Din is placing his rifle upon its rack when you sneak by for the kitchen. You pour yourself a cup of Java - black, unfortunately, because of Din’s lack of sweet tooth. The liquid is steaming hot so you blow on it before bringing it to your lips.

“Do you want one?” you ask him, taking a sip. It burns. “Oof.”

Din turns, armor somehow so dexterous in its bulk. “No, thank you. But…”

In a surprising move, Din reaches for your hips and pulls you flush against him, ignoring the mug altogether. You shriek, worried it might spill, and set it upon the countertop, but he pays little to no mind.

“You took awhile,” he mumbles, hands grasping at the flesh of your hips. They’ve already been treated so roughly today, and now you were sure there’d be bruising. Good.

You chew at your bottom lip, desperate to know what his eyes might look like. You imagine he has dark eyes - like the color of the sky at nightfall. Maybe they became brighter in the light of the suns. Maybe they crinkled when he laughed - if he were capable of that, anyway. You’ve yet to hear such music.

“I didn’t realize you were waiting for me,” you confess, avoiding the steel gaze of his faceplate.

Din hums under his breath and taps your chin, lifting it just barely so that you can meet his stare. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You shrug, fluttering your lashes in a vain attempt to remain mysterious.

Din reaches for something behind you and reveals a scrap of fabric. “How about we try for nine?” The modulator of his helmet crackles a bit, causing his voice to sound more severe than what he may have liked.

But it does something to you.

You nod sweetly, a tiny grin threatening to sneak its way upon your face, before he takes you within his arms and lifts you upon the counter.

A shrieking, but playful, giggle bursts from your lips. “Din!” you chide, but tie the fabric around your eyes all the same.

The hiss of his helmet sounds, notifying you that he’s revealing himself to the elements now. You can hear his natural breath and feel the way it fans against your collarbones before he kisses you fiercely.

“Let me give you something to really talk about.”

#din djarin #din x reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x reader #mw1 #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din x you #the mandalorian x reader

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inertflouride · 3 years ago

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Turmoils Of You- Part 11

When will this end.

Jake's pov

My ears start ringing as soon as MC signals me. "I have to escape. I have to escape" keeps repeating in my head like an infinite loop of asterisks in Java. Except one can terminate that loop. The one which goes on in my head isn't going off. And I know it for a fact that it actually will not until and unless I get out of this shithole.

Hannah is safe. Relief. But what about Richy? Where is he and why didn't MC mention him? Something is not right.

Had the circumstances been different, I'd been in Colville already by now, let alone this maze for a cave. But I have a score to settle, especially with this asshole who made my life a living hell. And not just my life, the FBI is doing a great job at that. He made my sister's, her family's, her friends' and the girl I loved's life a living hell.

So no, I won't just escape like dog with its tail is between its legs. I'm going to wreck this bastard's whole remaining life.

I keep rummaging my way through each path of this tunnel maze, trying to find him. That's when the idea of checking the stream hits me. I went through the fucking effort of making the camera in this cave public for what?! So fucking stupid, Jake.

I open the stream and find a guy, maskless, looking down in his phone. Oh so he's comfortable enough now to remove his mask? Great. Fucking great.

I rush towards that camera location. I have seen this place before. I know where he is, finally. I feel heavy adrenaline rush through my skin as I get closer to his location. I'm going to kill this bastard today. I'll make him beg me for his life.

"What the fuck-", I see a blonde haired guy spilling... petrol? all over the place. Then he goes ahead and tosses the can with his foot, taking out a lighter from his pocket. Oh not so soon bastard.

I rush towards him but before I can reach, he throws the lighter down and blaze fills the place, making me jump back in terror. Holy smokes. The guy crouches down and holds his head in his arms. As much as the scene is pitiful, I find an opening in the scorching ambers and get in it. I hold his bicep with disgust, my nails digging in his skin and jerk him to look at me.

I feel like someone placed a blow on my face when I see him. When I finally see his face. Finally ending this long going mystery.

Richy. Richy Fucking Rogers.

"Hah, so it's you. Come on now buddy, let's get you out from here", I pull him up and make my way out. I wait for an opening patiently before rushing in. Trust me, burn blisters are THE worst.

I take him out with me and fall back, looking at how the whole place gets devoured by the fire. Had we been a little later, and I mean in seconds, we'd have burnt ourselves to ashes. I do not loosen my grip on his bicep and pull him off to a distant part of the cave before pushing him in front of me.

"So it was you? The whole fucking time, it was you, you fucking bastard?", I shout at him, aggressively raking my fingers through my hair. He does not look up, rather his head goes down even more than it could be humanly possible.

"Hah, of course it was you. It makes so much sense now. A fake fucking death. Acting like the whole good guy. Cooperating your best with MC. Daniel's car, fuck. You tried to fucking kill him? No scratch that, what did you do to Hannah this whole while. The ropes, duct tapes, canned food and-", I try to continue but that's when my guts decide to empty up and I rush to a corner to puke.

"I didn't do anything wrong with Hannah, trust me. I had my reasons. Please, just let me die. I can't live with this guilt", I hear the blondie say but since I'm too busy opening my guts out right now, I let him be.

Once I'm sure I don't have more to puke in me is when I wipe my face with the sleeve of my hoodie and walk towards Richy. He looks upto my face, his cheeks sunken and eyes dark.

Nah. No pity today. I roll my sleeve upto my elbow and throw a blow on his cheek. Richy staggers behind from the sudden bash and falls down. I fist his collar and pull him back up, again throwing a punch on his face, this time squaring his jaw. And again. And again. And again. Until my breathe huffs and he is in no condition to stand up.

No Jake, this is not enough. I kick him in his ribs finally and move away in disgust.

"Why are you stopping? Go ahead. Kill me. I don't wanna live. Please. I'm begging you. Kill me or let me die", the blondie voices with desperation, but not enough desperation to make my heart melt.

"No my dear friend", I spit at him, "You are going to live through everything you've done and you will face the consequences of it. The only difference is now you'll also live with the physical pain I've put on you."

"You can't do this to me. Please. I'll do whatever I can to help you, just let me die", he agains pleads meekly at me, his hands joining as he begs down to me.

"Oh no no no Richy, get up. We're going to get you to meet your friends. Come on now, get up", I pull him up via his bicep as my nail painfully goes into his skin there, "we're going to save me, just play along or else, I'll take you to Jessy. She would love to see you now, wouldn't she?"

I hear sobs from him, just like Hannah did when he carried her to this mine. Karma's a bitch. Rightfully said.

I take him to the Terrandale opening where I see two FBI agents on guard. Hmm, interesting. "Okay bud, you're going to get in there, tell them how you're the kidnapper who tried burn himself to death and how somehow managed to escape after freaking out. Also, tell them there isn't anyone in here", I order him and let go of his arm.

He sobs and begins to move forward when I grab his arm again and twist him towards me, glaring right into his eyes. "If you try to outsmart me, I'll get back to you and trust me, it won't be pretty."

He quickly nods and sniffs his way to the guards. The moment he appears, they quickly aim their... Oh, so they got a machine gun for me this time? Wow. So they aim their lasers on his head and the weakling succumbs under the pressure and falls on his knees, his tears in full swing now.

I roll my eyes at the drama before me. Thankfully, this isn't Duskwood Police instead of FBI, so the drama is cut short. One of the officers approaches him and Richy starts with the story I dictated previously. Hmm, guy's a good liar, no doubt.

After everything, he is taken by one of the officers while the other stays. I wait for the pair to disappear before the second officer gets close to the mine in curiosity.

Well, someone did say that curiosity killed the cat.

The moment he gets in, I pick up the broken iron rod from the stair set in here and swing it at his head. The guy collapses and once I kick him and ensure he's out, I wear his clothes and take up the machine gun in my hand. Oh and no, I'm not leaving my clothes here, so I pack them up in my bag.

I move to the enemy's base, I know it sounds stupid but what better place to hide than the lion's den, especially when I am dressed like one. But all things apart, I wish to check on Hannah one last time, to assure myself that she's out of danger. No, she won't be 'okay' for a long time, not after all that she has gone through. She'll be in therapy...

And in jail.

So this is the only chance I have to meet her. Might as well grasp it when I can. I take out a fake beard and a wig and put them on. Yeah, as someone on the run you do have weird stuff on you.

On my way, I come across many agents sanctioned at various parts of the mine, but that doesn't make my stride falter. Instead, I grip my machine gun and walk, looking them in the eye as I move past them, exchanging nods too.

Finally I reach the Grimrock. Holy shit, they got a frigging helicopter for me? Guess who came prepared. Though, mostly I'm honoured. They invested so much in me, the reverence and respect touches my soul. Too bad I can't pat my appreciation towards them by hacking their Cyber Division. Never mind, I'll spare them this time.

Towards the corner I see the Duskwood Police force assembled like ants amongst beetles. I mean with FBI here, why bother showing? Fuck it. I want to get out of here, this is too suffocating.

I see Hannah seated on a camping chair, a rug sprawled over her shivering form. I see her cheeks hallowed out slightly, her eyes blank and staring in emptiness. It pains me to look at her like this until I realise how she smiled everyday for 10 years after witnessing Jennifer's death. Somehow, she always manages to smile and fool everyone, oh so beautifully concealing her inner darkness. I guess it runs in the blood.

I see someone pouring coffee and grab a cup from them, moving towards Hannah with it. I take a deep breath and put my hand over her shoulder, pushing the cup in her hands. She looks up at me and nods her head.

"Are you okay? Do you need something?", I ask her, controlling my voice from trembling.

She again nods her head though I know it for a fact that she didn't listen to a word I said. I deeply sigh and look at her for a few seconds, not knowing what to do with her. She returns back to staring, this time it's the coffee.

I click my tongue with resignation and take in her one last time before I bid her adieu. "Just, take care okay?"

She looks at me blankly, until suddenly her gaze widens. Okay that's my cue. I start of speed away from her before she spews out something stupid which would jeopardise my facade. I rush out, not technically, and nobody seem to care much.

Until I move past the Director of Criminal Division. Mhm, impressive. This dude is here too?

"Where are you heading to, Agent?", he questions me, making me stop dead in my tracks. Ugh, I so not want to have this dialogue.

I turn back and press a salute, my posture attentive. "Good evening sir, I-"

"Sir, we have a situation. The hacker has fled. The Duskwood police force went into the mines and neither could they find the hacker nor the criminal's body", another agents cuts me off and reports, panic resonating in their voice. Well, good for me.

"Argh fuck me. That punk again manages to flee. We're the fucking FBI, yet the most we have caught onto till this date is his damn half burned hoodie?", the director cusses at the agent, pulling his hair as he does.

"But sir didn't that hoodie gave us his DNA? Like it was helpful sir wasn't it?"

"Shut up you fucking moron. Get out of my sight and tell the agents to go ahead with Plan B", the director barks, totally pissed over again douched by the 'punk'.

I slide away, not wanting to be in the radar of this grumpy balloon. Okay, evacuation time.

"I'm telling you, I am the killer. Believe me! Alan, you need to believe me. I fucking did all this. I am Jennifer's killer. I am Amy's killer. I am Hannah's kidnapper", I hear Richy's wails from behind me. Ugh, why can't I run off to my MC in Colville in peace!

"I even met the hacker", he fesses up, now screaming at the Duskwood Police chief.

So he has chosen death. Cool. I would love to serve it, scorching and spine wrecking.

#duskwood #duskwood everbyte #duskwood fanfiction #duskwood jake #duskwood jake x player #duskwood mc #jake x mc #duskwood jake x mc #duskwood turmoils of you

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floralbuckleys · 4 years ago

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Falling For You | Buddie

♡ Pairing: Buddie

♡ Genre: Fluff, First Kiss, Confession

♡ Word Count: 1k+

♡ Prompt Request: “I think I’m falling in love with you.” Buck x Eddie. P.S: Happy 300 followers!!

♡ Warnings: Brief mention of the shooting/Eddie being injured

♡ Summary: Eddie overhears Buck’s confessions.

♡ Note: Thank you so much for the request, Emma (@lonely-writer). I hope you like it. Not beta’d so excuse the mistakes that I am blind to

A muted yawn leaves Buck as he makes his way through the Diaz house in the early hours of the morning. He keeps his steps and movements quiet, as Christopher is sleeping soundly, and there’s still about an hour before Buck needs to wake him for school.

Eddie should be up soon, as he’s quite the early riser, but since Buck’s been staying over, he’s made sure to wake up before him, so he can cook breakfast and do some morning chores. Least the still recovering firefighter try to do them himself, despite Buck insisting he not.

Flipping on the kitchen light switch, he enters the cozy space and heads over to the instant coffee machine to click it on.

It’s become part of his morning routine now, though Buck’s not the biggest java drinker in the world, Eddie had mentioned once that he finds the smell of coffee in the morning relaxing, and thus he makes sure Eddie gets that.

Once that is brewing, he heads over to the laundry room to switch the towels he’d stuck in the washer before bed into the dryer and take out Christopher’s clothes from it as well. He hadn’t realized how much more laundry you do with a kid in the house. Not that he minds as he finds the task relaxing and likes knowing he’s helping.

He grabs one of the baskets they keep in the closet, placing it atop the dryer as he begins taking Christopher’s clothes out, neatly folding and sorting each one into the basket.

When it comes to his own clothing, he’s hardly ever this precise, more of the stick it in a drawer and pull it out and go type, but this is for Christopher, so he’s always careful to take his time.

One shirt he takes out of the dryer, causes a soft smile to spread across his face as he sees the dolphin splayed across it. He actually bought it for Christopher.

He’d gotten it awhile back when the three of them visited the aquarium together. They’d had a blast that day and on the way out Christopher had seen the shirt and instantly wanted it.

Eddie was going to buy it, but Buck insisted on it, just to see the smile on the shining boy's face. Folding it gently, he places it gently and the back and continues with the rest.

As he works his thoughts drift back to his current predicament—though not willingly—because if given the choice, he’d ignore the troublesome feelings that have been festering inside him for weeks now.

Or maybe much longer than that, though he’s not exactly sure when he fell for his best friend. Maybe someday he could sit down and figure it out, that is if ever got the courage to actually admit how he felt to Eddie.

Not too likely, considering he can still barely admit it to himself.

It’s scary, acknowledging that you’ve been pining, longing for someone so close to you, especially when you’re around them every single day. Even worse when you’ve experienced the earth shattering fear of losing them. It causes an urgent gnawing at your heart, and an urge to confess those feelings, even if it could mean ruining the dear friendship you’ve grown.

Because you’ve finally had to face the reality that you might not always have the option.

He’s been unsure what to do with the weight of the emotions, knowing he didn’t want to talk to anyone about it, and instead choosing to actually research various ways to confess on his own.

One website he’d come across last night before falling asleep claimed he should practice how he would like the conversation to go aloud. Something about it helping your confidence and making the actual talk go smoother.

He snorts at that.

As if him telling Eddie he was in love with him would go his way.

And yet, his cobalt eyes still flicker to the laundry room doorway, ears listening for sounds of any movement. As far as he could tell Eddie must still be sleeping, which meant there’s nobody around to hear him.

Biting his lip, he finishes folding the last of Christopher’s clothes and opens the washer to quickly move the towels over.

Once he’s all done he places both of his hands on the sleek metal dryer as the cycle begins and it starts rumbling on.

Maybe, he could at least try.

His eyes close, and he inhales a sharp breath, and before he knows it his feelings are welling with him, and slipping past his lips as he imagines the way it would go. Him actually having the courage to tell Eddie his hidden truth.

“Eddie. Um, it’s Buck.”

Wait, why would I say that? I’d be standing in front of him.

Scratch that.

“Eddie, I have something I need to tell you.”

Eddie will of course give him that breathtaking smile, and his hazel eyes will look right through him as they always do.

Buck gulps as he imagines it, his shoulders tightening as he struggles with what to say next.

“Well, the truth is, I…” He trails off, biting down on his lower lip as he wills himself to just spit it out.

Eddie will be confused, and Buck will feel bad about hesitating so much.

After all, why should he be so nervous in the first place? Even if Eddie doesn’t feel the same way--which Buck is sure he doesn’t--he wouldn’t be a jerk about it. He would let him off easy, be respectful about it. Buck trusted in that.

Exhaling softly, he let’s the words he’s never dared say, flow freely.

“I think I’m falling in love with you, Eddie. I have been for a long time, and I need you to know that, because…” Buck winces as the memory of Eddie, injured and bloodied laying on the ground flashes in his mind. “Because I would be a fool not to tell you that, and because I can’t stand the thought of losing you. Ever.”

Buck stands still for a moment, processing the feeling of finally voicing how he’s felt. It’s akin to stepping outside on a sunny day, and feeling the fresh air blowing against you.

But then, as quickly as that feeling comes, it’s gone, as Eddie-the real one--speaks up from behind him, “Evan.”

Buck’s eyes snap open as he whirls around in surprise, coming face to face with Eddie, whose eyebrows are knitted together, his lips in a tight line.

“Fuck. D-Did you hear me?” He blurts out, dread lacing every word as he internally panics.

A million questions cross Buck’s mind. How could he be so stupid? How could he forget to make sure nobody was coming? Eddie must have heard everything.

He’s not sure what Eddie see’s on his face, but before he knows it, the hazel eyed man steps closer to him and murmurs, “I did, but calm down, it’s okay.” He assures him.

“It’s okay? Okay? Do you even realize what you just heard? I-I you weren’t supposed too-”

Buck’s rambling is cut off by Eddie closing the distance between him as he brings his free, uninjured hand up and pulls Buck to him.

It takes Buck a moment to process that they’re kissing, really and truly kissing. Eddie’s lips against his, sweet and chaste.

When he pulls away, Buck is still stunned, the amount of questions in his mind now multiplied, but Eddie speaks before he can.

“I didn’t expect to tell you this way, overhearing you say it to my laundry machines, but I don’t mind it. The truth is that… I’ve fallen in love with you too.”

The air seems to have left Buck’s lungs as he and Eddie lock gazes with Eddie, both their eyes smoldering with heavy emotion. They’re both leaning in for another kiss within the next second, and Buck doesn’t want it to end.

However, life has other ideas as Christopher’s gentle voice calls through the house, “Dad! Buck! Where are you?”

They pull away from each other immediately, both their faces burning, and smiling from ear to ear.

“We should talk about this after we take Chris to school, okay?” Eddie starts, the first one to break the silence.

Buck nods, liking the sound of that. “Yeah, that sounds good. You go check on him, I’ll get your coffee and start on breakfast.”

“What would I do without you?” Eddie laughs as he turns and walks off to get Christopher.

Buck freezes however, because despite hearing Eddie say that exact line several times, it now has a new meaning that leaves him breathless.

God, has he fallen for Eddie Diaz.

#buck x eddie #buddie #eddie x buck #911 fanfics #my fics #request filled #fic: falling for you

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catbreeds2 · 4 years ago

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Javanese Cats

The Javanese is very clever, agile and athletic, and likes to play.

The Javanese is one breed in a line of designer Siamese-style cats that features the Balinese, Colorpoint Shorthair, Oriental Shorthair, and Oriental Longhair. These breeds have been impressed by breeders who wished to take the qualities of the Siamese and alter the coat and colours to their liking. All of those breeds share comparable conformations and character sorts. The variations between these breeds lie within the coat size, colours, patterns, and the cat affiliation to which you occur to subscribe.

The Siamese is available in 4 pointed colours: seal, blue, chocolate, and lilac. The Balinese is an extended haired model of the Siamese in the identical colour schemes. The Colorpoint Shorthair is available in pointed colours outdoors the 4 conventional Siamese colours; they arrive in crimson, cream, tortie, and lynx factors. The Javanese is a protracted haired model of the Colorpoint Shorthair.

The CFA is the one registry that separates the breeds into the classifications Colorpoint Shorthair and Javanese. The opposite registries merely prolonged the colour parameters of the Siamese and the Balinese to incorporate the broader vary of colours.

The CFA’s reasoning behind the separate designations is that Colorpoint Shorthairs and Javanese are hybrids, which they’re, since these colours had been created by crossing the Siamese with different breeds. Nevertheless, some breeders really feel that separating the Balinese and the Javanese is like splitting cat hairs; each breeds share a physique kind, persona, and coat, and the hybridization occurred so way back that it not issues. Different breeders zealously need the breeds saved separate to keep up the purity of the Siamese and Balinese traces.

The Javanese shares a lot of its historical past with the Balinese breed. The Javanese is not from the Isle of Java any greater than the Balinese is from Bali; the identify was bestowed due to the good, romantic ring. One of many basis cats of the Javanese breed was created by crossing a Balinese to a Colorpoint Shorthair. The end result was a cat with all of the traits of a Siamese however with an extended coat size and a shade outdoors the fundamental 4. These colourful longhairs have been acknowledged by the CFA in 1987.

Measurement: Javanese are medium-size cats that usually weigh 5 to 10 kilos.

Life Span: 10 to 15 years

JAVANESE CAT PERSONALITY

Javanese cats, like their Balinese family, are playful, devoted, and all the time desperate to let you know their views on life, love, and what you have served them for dinner. Javanese (and their Siamese kinfolk) have a fascination with meals, and, whereas some will burn off the additional energy in playful antics, care should be taken that the much less energetic do not flip into butterballs.

Recognized for his or her curiosity, intelligence, and glorious communication abilities, the Javanese breed is ideal if you need a responsive, interactive cat, one that can blow in your ear and observe you in every single place. Their meows appear particular makes an attempt to speak, and so they look you straight within the eye and appear to reply when spoken to. Fanciers say that the Javanese are simple to coach, and should not fairly as demanding of your time and vitality as are Siamese.

JAVANESE CAT HEALTH

Each pedigreed cats and mixed-breed cats have various incidences of well being issues which may be genetic in nature. The identical issues which will have an effect on the Siamese may also have an effect on the Javanese, together with the next:

– Amyloidosis, a illness that happens when a sort of protein referred to as amyloid is deposited in physique organs, primarily the liver in members of the Siamese household – Bronchial asthma/bronchial illness – Congenital coronary heart defects resembling aortic stenosis – Crossed eyes – Gastrointestinal circumstances resembling megaesophagus – Hyperesthesia syndrome, a neurological downside that may trigger cats to excessively groom themselves, resulting in hair loss, and to behave frantically, particularly when they’re touched or petted – Lymphoma – Nystagmus, a neurological dysfunction that causes involuntary fast eye motion – Progressive retinal atrophy, for which a genetic take a look at is accessible

JAVANESE CAT CARE

The effective, silky coat of the Javanese is well cared for. Comb it a couple of times every week with a stainless-steel comb to take away useless hair. A shower isn’t obligatory.

Brush the enamel to forestall periodontal illness. Each day dental hygiene is finest, however weekly brushing is healthier than nothing. Wipe the corners of the eyes with a smooth, damp material to take away any discharge. Use a separate space of the material for every eye so that you don’t run the chance of spreading any an infection. Test the ears weekly. If they give the impression of being soiled, wipe them out with a cotton ball or tender damp fabric moistened with a 50-50 combination of cider vinegar and heat water. Keep away from utilizing cotton swabs, which may injury the inside of the ear.

Hold the litter field spotlessly clear. Like all cats, Javanese are very explicit about toilet hygiene.

It’s a good suggestion to maintain a Javanese as an indoor-only cat to guard him from ailments unfold by different cats, assaults by canine or coyotes, and the opposite risks that face cats who go open air, akin to being hit by a automobile. Javanese who go open air additionally run the danger of being stolen by somebody who want to have such a ravishing cat with out paying for it.

JAVANESE CAT BREED TRAITS

The Javanese’s normal is nearly equivalent to the Siamese’s and to the requirements of the associated breeds: Balinese, Colour-point Shorthair, Oriental Shorthair, and Oriental Longhair. The principle variations lie within the coloration schemes and hair lengths. Whereas having the identical conformation because the Siamese, the Javanese seems to have softer strains and fewer excessive physique kind due to the longer hair. Because the fur is simply semi-long and lacks the downy undercoat, the coat does not tangle and even present cats require little grooming.

The Javanese is mostly a wholesome breed however can endure from the identical defects because the Siamese. Protrusion of the cranial sternum is a standard defect seen in some Siamese and associated breeds. Endocardial fibroelastosis is a extra critical anomaly that may be present in some Siamese traces.

JAVANESE CAT COAT COLOR AND GROOMING

Apart from colour and coat size, the Siamese and the Javanese are indistinguishable, having a svelte however muscular physique with lengthy traces and a wedge-shaped head that’s lengthy and tapering from the slim level of the nostril outward to the guidelines of the ears, forming a triangle. The unusually massive ears are huge on the base and pointed on the tip, giving them the identical triangular form as the top. Medium-size eyes are almond-shaped. The physique is commonly described as tubular and is supported by lengthy, slim legs, with the hind legs greater than the entrance legs. The Javanese walks on small, dainty, oval paws and swishes an extended, skinny tail that tapers to a wonderful level. The looks of the physique is softened by a medium-length coat that’s tremendous and silky. It’s longest on the plumed tail.

The opposite approach wherein the Javanese differs from the Siamese is within the level colours seen within the breed. The darker factors of the face, ears, paws and tail are available strong colours akin to pink and cream, plus varied lynx level colours, together with seal lynx level and seal-tortie level, and parti-color factors corresponding to chocolate-tortie and lilac cream. The eyes are at all times a deep, vivid blue.

Kids And Different Pets

The energetic and social Javanese is an ideal alternative for households with kids and cat-friendly canines. He’ll play fetch in addition to any retriever, learns tips simply and loves the eye he receives from kids who deal with him politely and with respect. He lives peacefully with cats and canines who respect his authority. At all times introduce pets slowly and in managed circumstances to make sure that they study to get alongside collectively.

#javanesecat #catbreeds

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overwhelmedbyskeletons · 4 years ago

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When Nothing Moves

I can’t sleep. The sun is too bright.

I started this job cleaning out fruit slicers all night a month ago and I haven’t had a good nights sleep since. Every night filled with tossing and turning, trying to find a way to comfortably shield my eyes from the suns blinding light. Working a graveyard hours job meant I was sleeping all day and working all night. The cruddy curtains in my room were doing fuck-all for blocking out sunlight. Some of the guys at my job that were friendly enough told me to buy some blackout curtains and it will make my room completely dark, even with the sun beating down and hopefully it will help me get some good rest. after my work week ended, in my car I ordered that highest-reviewed blackout curtains I could find online and they were due to arrive at my apartment the next morning, in seven hours.

I woke the next day to a knock on my door and a shine directly into my eyes. I could have rearranged my entire room several times and still wouldn’t be able find a way to not get work on my tan while I sleep. I hurried to the door to get the package and gave a wave to the delivery driver before they made it down the stairs out of view.

Putting up the curtains was smooth, even though they were quite heavy material. My biggest fear was that they would pull the curtain rod from the wall, but that worry didn’t last long as the void that my bedroom had become was a sight for sore and tired eyes. I poured myself a glass of water in the kitchen before sitting down on my bed. Before I could take a sip, the comfort of my sheets began to sing symphonies to my tired muscles and lull me back to sleep.

I slept in, something that was unheard of even before I started my backwards sleep schedule. The clock on the bedside table read 9:23pm in red digital font, illuminating my wallet and phone that I had forgotten to plug in after last nights shift and was now most definitely dead. Still in a sleep state, I reached down to grab the charger and plug it into my phone when I heard a noise come from the other side of the bed. A tapping in a rhythmic matter, which would explain why i hadn’t noticed it sooner, but now it had gotten louder, almost annoyed at me paying it no mind and I froze leaning halfway off the bed. The jolt of fear that swarmed my body woke me up better than any instant java could ever wish. It knows that I know and its playing with me now. The tapping is getting faster and multiplies and I now that it is the sound of fingernails tapping on my wall.

(Did somebody break in am I really going to get murdered in my bed after the first night of decent sleep in my life?)

The tapping stopped suddenly, followed by a bang on the wall knocking out one of the nails holding up the curtains. My fists clenched among other things. I roll off the bed into a stance and with a sorry excuse of a warcry ready to fight whatever it was in my room to the death if need be. Nothing was there; I was sure of that. The curtains had fallen letting in the bright glow from the 7-11 across the street, revealing the only thing out of the ordinary in my room was that I needed to clean.

“Must’ve been a dream.” I said out loud, an attempt to calm myself after what I just experienced or just only imagined.

I flicked the flicked the lights on and fixed the curtains. Hammering in the nails all a little more for good measure before walking out of my room to start my day.

My apartment is in no meaning of the word interesting. I’ll state that I had, two chairs, a couch, some scattered goodwill tables of varying size, and a flatscreen TV on a small Swedish table decorated with a collection of games and movies. It wasn’t much, but I enjoyed what I had.

I prepared myself a bowl of cereal and sat on the couch to watch a show when I noticed movement down the hallway into my room. It wasn’t a natural movement in any sense and even now it is hard to explain. It was as if the world had lost focus of that specific spot in my bedroom doorway and it had grown hazy and distorted. It had the height of a man in a sheet ghost’s clothing and it was raising what I presumed to be its arms when an ad on the TV startled me back to reality. I started up a show and began eating my food quickly, doing my best to forget what might be lurking down the hall and failing as thoughts raced through my head.

(I didn’t check under the bed FUCK no one can fit under there anyways FUCK THE CLOSET FUCK it’s nothing probably just a reflection YOU HAVE NO MIRRORS IN THERE DUMBASS AND YOU CLOSED THE CURTAINS IT’S A GHOST YOU ARE BEING HAUNTED CONGRATULATIONS SHIRLEY FUCKING JACKSON WOULD WRITE A BOOK ABOUT YOU CALLED THE IDIOT’S HAUNTING IF SHE WAS STILL ALIVE)

Frustrated with myself I hopped up and marched down the hall to my room huffing and puffing with each authoritative stomp, making sure that whoever await beyond the door knew I meant the most serious of business, as well as sloshing my breakfast everywhere. As I pushed the door open fully I was rushed by what I can only describe as a shadow, knocking me on my back. spilling cereal and milk all over me and as I looked up I could see the shadow turn left at the end of the hallway into the TV room and out of my sight.

I was terrified. I tried to stand myself up while keeping my sights on where I last saw it. As I got to my knees and began to prop up, the shadow peaked around the corner with a featureless, translucent face starring at me with what I assumed was malicious intent. Frozen in fear, I could only muster up the breath to ask a single question.

“Who?”

To which, to my absolute horror it responded in a echoed whisper.

“Boo.”

And vanished.

With my pants shit and my legs like jello, it took me a moment to breath, let alone move. When Blood returned to my veins I hastily made my way to the bathroom to clean myself of spilled Golden Grahams and milk and to face the realization that what I had just witnessed was anything but normal. I spent a moment arguing with my thoughts, fighting the impulse to sleep in my car. My reflection in the bathroom mirror helped to ground me in reality, to remind me that I am fine and no harm was done. I convinced myself of a resident Casper The Friendly, albeit roughhousing ghost. I soon after left the bathroom.

I poured myself another, bigger bowl of cereal and sat down to watch anything the TV had to offer. I spent the rest of the night on the couch, eating and finding any excuse to not look down the hallway.

At around 2:51am I had had enough of wracking my brain, thinking that at any moment the shadow would reappear and attack me again, this time finishing the job. I bolted down the hallway to my bedroom, grabbed my keys and wallet and headed out my apartment to go across the street to the 7-11 for a early morning slurpee. The cashier knew me and joked about my usual purchase of sugary drinks and snacks. I gave no response, paid my $6.23 and headed out the door.

As I was crossing the street back to my apartment, I looked up to my second floor bedroom window, half hoping to see nothing, other half expecting bloody Mary herself. After what I had been through that night, I’m not sure why I even went back into that apartment. The curtain rod had been torn out of the wall again and standing in my room were two of the shadow figures latched to the windowsill, with the distinct outline of hands pushed against the glass. They watched me as I continued crossing the street; my heart was almost bursting out of my chest. I was running on fear induced auto-pilot and my destination was my apartment door. When I reached my door I finally paused and reflected on what had happened tonight.

(If they wanted me dead, They could have done it already. They were playing games with me, but why?)

I stood in front of my door for a minute before realizing I had never locked it and walked right in ready to confront whatever was inside. I flicked the kitchen light on, set my drink and bag down, and looked down the dark hallway. Spilling out of my room were dozens of shadows piling over each other, all different shapes and heights of darkness, fading in and out as if there was a draft blowing through them. I began nervously pacing in my small kitchen, checking on the hallways inhabitants every few rounds. They never moved. After a while a voice moaned from my bedroom.

“Leave”

“No.” I spat out responded in annoyance.

“Leave or...”

“Or fucking what?” I shouted with such ferocity that my neighbors definitely heard me.

“Die.”

All the blood drained from my face and immediately the shadows in the hall began screaming and moaning, shifting from side to side,all while inching towards me. My legs turned gave out from under me. trying to catch myself from falling I had turned the kitchen light off which seemed to invite the shadows to come closer. As they got closer, their faces appeared mangled and distorted consisting of holes where a human features should be. As their shadows began to overtake my motionless body, I shut my eyes so tight that it hurt. Amidst the moaning I heard one last phrase.

“Sleep again now. We’ll do the rest.”

The next thing I know, i’m laying on the doormat outside of my apartment. I didn’t care how I got there. I quickly got on my feet and down the stairs to my car. I closed my eyes as I backed out of the parking lot. I didn’t want to ever look at that window ever again.

I stayed at my friend Aiden’s place for a week. He lived alone, so he liked the company and he had the room for it, so he didn’t mind. I had told him a lie of how the landlord was spying on me when I showered and once tried to seduce me while fixing the sink. I think he believed it.

I only wanted to go back to the apartment once to get my stuff. After a week of staying with Aiden, the two of us drove to the apartment building and found that where my bedroom window used to be was blown out, stained black with burn marks. Aiden didn’t know what to say and I was beyond confused. We parked the car and I went to the landlord’s door alone and asked what had happened. He told me in detail that four days again my room had exploded from a gas leak and that I was lucky I went on vacation or else i’d be a deadman. There was nothing to be packed up that wasn’t ash. I apologized to him about his building, and said goodbye. I headed back to my friends car who was waiting with a drink for me from across the street. I got into the car without a word.

“What the fuck happened? Did he try to kill you? Tried to burn you alive cuz you weren’t turned on by his wrinkles?” Aiden said as he started the car.

“No, he doesn’t know what happened. Gas leak they think, he told me.” I said. “Let me take one last look.”

“Oh, sure. Of course.” He said, shutting the engine off. I rested my arms on the top of his car looking up to my once bedroom window now black from the fires, but somehow still intact. I thought I saw something and ran across the street to see it closer. There were two marks on the burnt windowsill; marks I could swear were burned in hands.

“You ok, Rick?” Aiden shouted from the driver’s seat.

“Yea, no, I’m good. Just getting a closer look.” I said as I ran back to the car. “Just saying goodbye is all.”

“Well alrighty, you want to grab some burgers?”

I nodded and smiled.

I never asked him if he saw the handprints.

We pulled out of the parking lot, passing my old apartment building one last time. I instinctively waved to the window that used to be my bedroom. Nothing waved back.

#short story #ghosts #horror #short-story

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handeaux · 5 years ago

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17 Curious Facts About Cincinnati’s Coney Island

For almost a century, the “Coney island of the West” was the reigning Cincinnati amusement park, despite tough competition from Chester park in Spring Grove Village and the Lagoon in Ludlow, Kentucky. Now operating as a water park and concert venue, memories of the Old Coney abide.

It Started Out As An Apple Orchard Coney Island got its start as Parker’s Grove. In the early 1880s James Parker started to rent out his apple orchard on the banks of the Ohio River as a picnic grove, eventually adding a dining hall, dancing hall, and bowling alley.

For Many Years, ‘Coney Island’ Was Just A Nickname In 1886, James Parker sold his apple orchard to a couple of steamboat captains who recognized the opportunity to collect a lot more fares by shipping customers upriver from Cincinnati. The park got a new name: “Ohio Grove.” The new owners advertised Ohio Grove as “The Coney Island of the West,” after the well-established Coney Island in Brooklyn. It was years later that the resort was officially named “Coney Island.”

Why Didn’t The Brooklyn Coney Island Sue? Didn’t Cincinnati’s amusement park steal its name from a famous New York resort? You betcha! Then why didn’t they sue? The New York Coney Island is not actually an amusement park, it’s a neighborhood. At its height, the New York Coney Island was home to three major amusement parks - Luna Park, Dreamland, and Steeplechase Park – along with a plethora of independent amusements, none of them named Coney Island. Cincinnati’s Coney Island didn’t copy from another amusement park and therefore got away with grand larceny.

The Coney Island Run Was Bad Luck For Steamboats Although most people remember only the Island Queen, over the years nearly 20 steamboats made the Coney Island run. The Mary Houston ran only one season before succumbing to the 1893 ice breakup; the Commonwealth rammed a towboat in 1895; the Princess was crushed when the Ohio froze over in 1917, the Morning Star burned with the original Island Queen in 1922, the Island Maid burned at Madison, Indiana, in 1932, and the second, most-remembered Island Queen exploded in Pittsburgh in 1947.

Coney’s Pleasures Were Not For Everyone It took a concerted effort to open Coney Island’s gates to Cincinnati’s African American residents. The amusement park was totally segregated until 1955 and the Sunlite Pool and Moonlight Gardens did not admit Black people until 1961.

A Narrow Decision On Integration In 1953, Ethel Fletcher and her three children were denied admission to Coney Island because they were Black. With the assistance of the local chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, she sued and won. However, the Hamilton County Court of Common Pleas refused to certify the case as a class action. The decision applied to Mrs. Fletcher, alone. Coney Island was required to admit her, the court ruled, but could deny admission to her children, her husband or to anyone else.

A Really, Really Big Pool Sunlite Pool is the world’s largest recirculating swimming pool. It covers more than two acres. For many years, Sunlite Pool was filled entirely from artesian wells drilled on the property. Today that well water is supplemented by city water originating in the Ohio River.

Coney Island Helped Inspire Disneyland Walt Disney and his brother, Roy, visited Coney Island in June 1953 to gather ideas for the California amusement park they planned. They were impressed by owner Ed Schott, and invited him to advise on their project. At a Cincinnati news conference, Disney said Schott’s advice had been “very valuable” in making Disneyland a success.

Rainy Birth, Rainy Death It rained torrentially the first day Ohio Grove opened in 21 June 1886 and it rained torrentially the day Coney Island closed on 6 September 1971.

One Explosive Act Throughout the summer of 1948, one of the attractions on Coney’s Mall was Captain Leo Simon, “The Man Who Blows Himself Up.” Capt. Simon would seal himself in a box with a lit stick of dynamite and emerge unscathed from a cloud of smoke.

Al Hirt Sets A Moonlite Gardens Record The one-night attendance record at Moonlite Gardens was set 18 July 1964 when Al Hirt packed in 6,266 dancers. Hirt, riding on the success of his instrumental hit, “Java,” broke the previous record of 5,564 set by Ralph Marterie’s Orchestra on 25 July 1953.

A Twelve-Acre Wading Pool Lake Como was excavated and filled in 1893, offering rides in gondolas. It took so long to fill that it was nicknamed “Colonel Brooks’ Duck Pond” by local wags. Most people could walk across Lake Como if they wanted. Completely filled the lake is only three to four feet deep, all the way across. Lake Como covers an area of 12 acres.

Ghost of the Roller Coasters If you’ve ever felt a sort of swooping motion while enjoying a performance at Riverbend Music Center there might be a reason. The concert pavilion sits on land that once belonged to Coney Island and was occupied by the Wildcat and the Shooting Star roller coasters.

The Inevitable Floods Every autumn, as Coney Island closed for the winter, the hand-carved Grand Carousel horses were dismantled and moved to high-ground storage in the attic of Moonlite Gardens to keep them dry when the Ohio River inevitably flooded. The Grand Carousel was made by the Philadelphia Toboggan Company in 1926 and was moved to King’s Island in 1972.

Old Coney Is Haunted There are multiple reports of a man, sometimes accompanied by a woman, gazing from the balcony at Moonlite Gardens. The man wears old-fashioned clothing. Witnesses, when shown photos of George Schott, Coney Island’s one-time owner, agree he is the man they saw. Schott died at the park from a heart attack in 1935.

Davy Crockett Killed Coney Island In 1968, Fess Parker, the actor who portrayed both Davy Crockett and Daniel Boone, announced plans to build a huge “Frontier World” amusement park in Northern Kentucky. The owners of Coney Island, landlocked and unable to expand, realized the competition would be fatal and quickly negotiated a merger with Taft Broadcasting. Plans for the “New Coney Island” at Kings Mills, Ohio, made headlines in 1969. Coney Island closed in 1971 and Kings Island opened in 1972.

A Gigantic RV Park? Before Taft Broadcasting reopened “Old Coney” in a limited capacity in 1976, the company gained approval from the Cincinnati City Planning Commission for a zoning change that would have allowed parking for 300 to 400 recreational vehicles and camper trailers.

#coney island #cincinnati amusement parks #island queen #parker's grove #ohio grove

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httpjeon · 6 years ago

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❝keep the change❞ myg ― m.

― summary: typically an old man works the night shift at Greg’s Place. however, it seems there’s a new cute guy working the register at night now. and it just so happens it’s finals week...

yoongi/reader | cashier!yoongi | light humor, fluff, smut | 5.3k ↬ content warnings: unprotected sex, squirting, blow job, cunnilingus, dirty talk

a/n: this fic is based off of the yoongi from my fic 1-800-Music-Street, although it can be read stand alone!

→ blog masterlist → sister fic

Your whole life was an instance of mental breakdowns and running on caffeine induced autopilot. Your eyes were burning, probably bloodshot as you stared blankly at your laptop. Sitting in a dark room with the screen on full brightness, 'that's how you'll go blind' -- you can hear your best friend ranting about it now.

As you reached into the Cheetos bag that sat on your table, you dreadfully realized that you were completely out of them. You sighed, laying your head on the cool desk to think. You wouldn't be able to continue without feeding your addiction; but it was late.

Glancing at the clock on your laptop, the little numbers read 3:52am.

The only place that was open was the little convenience store located a couple blocks away. It was a privately owned shop named Greg's Place -- sounded more like a weird frat club to you. You'd go there frequently during finals week, it was kind of a sign that the stress to maintain your 4.0GPA had arrived.

You pushed yourself away from your desk and stood up. You were dressed in loose sweats and a black t-shirt that was much too big for your frame and quite frankly you looked like a slob but -- who cares? It's finals season, you had an excuse.

You slipped on a pair of shoes and grabbed a fuzzy jacket that was hung up beside your door. It was getting chilly, especially at night and since you were walking, you'd get much colder.

By the time you reached the little shop, you were regretting exiting your house. This was the most you'd been out of your house in the past week and it'd only been 10 minutes.

The little ring of the bell alerted the worker inside, which you assumed to be Youngho -- a middle aged man who you'd had the pleasure to know over the course of his 2 years working. He was a terribly boring fellow and you were positive he was going senile, not that you minded -- he didn't judge you and that's what was important.

You made a beeline for the aisle you knew contained what you were looking for; Cheetos. Just for kicks, you decided to grab the Flamin' Hot kind along with the original -- spice things up a little. You grabbed an extra monster and coffe since you were here. You were well stocked at home but more definitely wouldn't hurt.

As you made your way to the counter, you blew a stray strand of of hair that fell out of your bun from your face. You placed your things on the counter and that's when you noticed. You noticed the fact that Youngho was not the worker that was behind the counter.

No.

You wouldn't be that lucky!

While you were standing at 4am looking like the devil had drug you to hell himself, there was an incredibly good looking man about your age sitting on a stool. His eyes were glued to his phone screen and he hadn't even acknowledged the fact you were standing there.

Usually, you would have held your tongue and perhaps it was sleep deprivation, the caffeine, or maybe both mixed with your sudden racing heart -- but you spoke to him.

"Shouldn't you not be on your phone with customers in the store?"

And then, without missing a beat or even looking up from his phone...he spoke.

"File a customer service complaint, Cheeto-Girl," You nearly bristled at the name he called you before you realized the fact that his voice was fucking hot. It was deep and melodic, holding a calm and slow tempo to it. Then, he finally looked up, placing his phone on the counter and you got a look at his face; dark bangs hanging in sharp cat-like eyes and incredibly soft, pink lips. You licked your lips subconsciously at the sight, watching how he scanned your items and god, his hands! They were the kind of hands that were meant to be wrapped around your thigh in the car or wrapped around your

throat

while he --

"₩16,000.00," He spoke, sounding unbelievably bored. With trembling hands, you pulled out your wallet. You felt impossibly small underneath his intense gaze and you couldn't help but think he found you a complete idiot. This idea was solidified by your final moments of interaction with the hot guy.

You thought you had handed him the correct amount, naturally. Then, as he handed you your receipt, you made

physical contact

with his hand and you felt like you were going to throw up -- he was so warm and he smelled so good. So, you quickly scrambled to grab your bag and haul ass out of the shop but he called after you.

"Wait--"

"Keep the change!" You whined, chancing a glance back at him to see him shrugging and shoving the extra bills in his pocket. You were pretty sure that was illegal but you didn't care as you tucked tail and booked it back home.

-----You wanted to spend a nice lunch with your best friend and try to forget the fact you had embarrassed yourself and that the hot guy probably called up his friends to make fun of you after his shift.

But as you relayed your story to Junkook, his wide doe-eyes fixed on you as you spoke. You felt your cheeks heating up as you revealed the way you actually ran away from him and Jungkook had the audacity to burst out laughing.

It took him far too long to pull his shit together and look at you with clear eyes again. It took him even longer to be able to respond to your story of pure shame;

“So, what you’re saying is,” Jungkook took a liberal sip of his bubble tea, obnoxiously gulping the liquid as you glared at him from across the grated table. “You made a fool of yourself?”

“You’re such a jerk!” You cried, resting your head on your arms as you folded them beneath you, trying to block out his giggles that erupted again.

The moon was full, casting light over the outside world along with the normal glow of the city. You felt the lull of sleep biting at you and you stared at your empty can of Java Monster sighing. You needed to go get some more before you ended passing out before you could complete your self made study-guide.

Giving in, you pushed yourself off the chair and made your way to the front door.

The walk to Greg’s felt disgustingly short and sure enough, just like you feared, Mr. Hot Guy was behind the counter. Maybe you’d at least get his name today, you thought.

You placed your items on the counter, having thrown an extra bag of Cheetos in the mix.

“Hi,” You ventured, standing awkwardly as Mr. Hot Guy stared at his phone screen still.

“Hey there, Cheeto-Girl,” He replied, once again not veering from the device.

“My name is _____,” You offered and this time, he looked up.

“Min Yoongi,”

You mentally did a little happy dance -- you got his name!

However, your excitement was cut short when he scanned your items and it was time to hand him the money. Anxiety kicked in and before you knew it, you were overpaying him...again.As much as you would have loved to not make a fool of yourself again, naturally you couldn't even do that.Attempting to take the change resulted in physical contact with him, making you jump and before you knew it change was scattered along the counter making deafening noises in the otherwise silent shop. The look in his eyes was almost dead, staring blankly at the coins on the counter.“K-Keep the change!” You squeaked and, once again, tucked tail and booked it.

You were such a coward!

You’d dated guys before -- plenty in fact! But there was something about Min Yoongi that had your heart racing and you were pretty sure he saw you as nothing more than a weird girl who shows up at 3am to get Cheetos and coffee; just a wreck.Then again you were positive you'd never even seen a guy as hot as him in your entire life.

What was a girl to do?

One thing was for certain in your life; and that was finals sucked. You felt the mounting strain of stress on your shoulders and you could barely get through a practice question without tearing up in frustration. You had bottled it up and now it was ready to burst.

Perhaps a break would help.

The second you stepped outside, you felt the relief wash over you as the cool night air touched your flushed skin.

You took your time walking to Greg’s Place, wanting to extend your break from studying for as long as possible.

The shock of seeing Min Yoongi working had long since passed and faded from your system. However, the heart palpitations his stupidly good looking face and careless aura gave you were still very much alive. You collected the things you usually got but also added a nice little bag of M&Ms to your list.

When you get to the counter, Yoongi is for once actually ready at attention behind it, eyes burning holes into you as you placed your items down. You, however, couldn't be bothered to even form a smile, just watching blankly as he rang up your items.

You pulled out your wallet, ready to pay when he suddenly slammed his palms down on the counter, leaning close to you.

"Alright," He sighed, shaking his head to get his bangs out of his eyes, looking straight at you with sharp eyes. "What's the matter?"

"W-What?" Your wide, startled gaze met his stern one.

"Something's bothering you," He stated, leaning onto his elbows now.

"How do you know?" You asked, poking your bottom lip out in a pout -- trying to make yourself seem more cheerful than you felt. He seemed to see right through it, however.

"Usually you're a stuttering, cute little mess," He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "Now you're dead-eyed and...sad. It's gross."

You completely missed the fact he called you cute as you found yourself in a crying fit. Yoongi's eyes widened as he watched the tears travel down your cheeks, at a loss of what to do.

"Wh-Hey, no...don't cry, come on," He rounded the counter, heaving a sigh and awkwardly patting your back. It was almost laughable how bad he was at comforting you.

"I'm s-sorry," You sniffled, wiping your tears away; it was futile as more simply took their place. "I always make such an idiot of myself!"

"Huh?" Yoongi leaned down to look at your face, moving some of your hair out of the way to get a look at you.

"Y-You're cute and you make me nervous and every time I come in here I end up doing something silly like overpaying, dropping the change, running away, and now I'm crying in a convenience store at 3 in the morning!"

"We'll come back to the fact you called me cute," He chuckled, making your face heat up at your own slip up. "Don't worry, I know finals suck."

"How did you know it was finals?"

"I have a friend in college, he's been grinding like hell to prepare," Yoongi shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. The mention of finals had your eyes tearing up again, which made him flounder once again. "Alright, look, how about I take you out and we can stuff ourselves silly, huh?"

"What about the store?" You asked, straightening yourself up now that you'd stopped sobbing.

"Ah, I don't give a fuck. I hate working the night shift anyway," He leaned over the counter and grabbed the keys to the store. "I know a place that's open at this time."

The place Yoongi took you to was just down the street from the store. He opened the door for you, the inside of the building smelling deliciously of bacon and syrup.

"Choose a seat," Yoongi commanded, waving his hand around the small restaurant.

You decided on a booth that was situated in the corner of the place, free from prying eyes and away from windows. To your surprise, there were a few more people inside, enjoying some late-night breakfast food; the scent of this place had you stomach grumbling eagerly.

"There's a menu," You mumbled, realizing there was already one sitting on the table. However, Yoongi didn't make any move to try and look over the menus, making you raise your brow at him in question.

"I'm here pretty much every night, I know what I want," He explained with a shrug.

"Night shift is pretty brutal, huh?" You chuckled, eyeing the breakfast platter on the menu; your mouth practically watering at the idea of that delicious bacon.

"Oh yeah, I used to just work the day shift," He fought down a smirk as he began to tell the tale. "I may have made a post on Twitter about him when Greg came to inspect and he put me on the night shift as punishment."

"Something tells me, this isn't going to make you stop posting on Twitter," Your words drew a laugh from him, giving you a glimpse of a cute gummy smile and you swear your heart stopped.

"Absolutely not,"

"Hey, Yoongi," A deep voice brought your attention to a tall bespectacled man wearing a red apron. "The usual?"

"Yeah, thanks Seokjin,"

"And for the lady?" Seokjin flashed you a charming smile as he waited for your order.

"I'll just take the House Special Breakfast, please," Seokjin nodded, smiling softly as he wrote down your order. "And orange juice to drink, please,"

"You got it," He tucked away his pad and patted Yoongi on the shoulder. "It'll just be a minute."

"Thanks," Yoongi mumbled, giving Seokjin a small smile before he walked away.

"Do you know him from your nights here or..?"

"Actually, we run in the same friend group," He replied with another casual shrug.

"Here you go, you two," Seokjin returned quickly with the prepared food, placing your plates down in front of you.

The two of you ate, making small talk. You were surprised how absolutely not-intimidating he was; from his sharp gaze and sharp tongue when you met him shortly behind the counter, you had the impression he would be terrifying. But now that you witnessed him laughing and joking, you could see the spark of life in his eyes.

"So beside eating Cheetos and studying until you cry, what other things do you do?" He asked, chuckling when you rolled your eyes.

"I go to convenience stores at 3am frequently," You responded cheekily, making him squint playfully at you. "What's your hobby?"

"Well, I like to make music," He seemed almost sheepish as he replied, ducking his head down. "It's a kind of expensive hobby so I work at the convenience store to make money. Producing underground only pays a few bucks...only enough for a package of noodles."

"I think that's really cool," Your words seemed to surprise him, his head shooting up to look at you. "I'm so absorbed in schoolwork I can't even enjoy my major anymore. It's really nice that you're following what you like even though you don't get much money for it."

You could swear his cheeks were dusted pink up to his ears at your words. But before you could really get a look, he was standing up, tossing a few bills on the table as tip.

"I'll pay, you go wait outside," He turned his back to you, shoving his hands in his pockets again. You didn't bother arguing, your college student ass needed to save any money you could.

"Let me walk you home," Yoongi said once he joined you outside. "You can't live far, right?"

"Correct," You folded your arms over your chest, tucking your hands under your jacket to keep them warm as you walked.

"It was really cool that you agreed to come out with me," He said, once you two stopped in front of your home.

"Thank you for taking me out," You could feel your face heating up at her met your gaze. "Even though I consistently make a fool of myself."

"I think it's endearing," He grinned, showing his gummy smile again.

"I think you called me cute earlier,"

"Hey," He turned his head away to hide what you assumed was a blush. "You called me cute too."

"Me and my loud mouth," You mumbled. "But...do you...want to come inside?"

"Sure," He replied quickly before he realized how fast he was. "I mean...I already closed the shop so...I'll need a place to hide when Greg comes hunting for me."

You laughed, the way he said 'Greg' sounding particularly hostile. You opened your door, allowing him inside first. When you stepped in, he was already shedding his jacket and hanging it on the coat rack as if he owned the place. He seemed oddly comfortable, not that you minded. You watched him as you shed your own coat, he peeked into your kitchen and living room, giving a small nod of approval.

"So, what do you want to do now that you have me vulnerable and alone in your apartment?" He asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Wh--" You squinted, rolling your eyes but cut yourself off from engaging. From the look on his face, he was probably jumping at the opportunity to make fun of you. So you gracefully turned on your heels and began to sprint up the stairs, knowing he was hot on your tail.

"Oh, so this is your hermit hole?" Yoongi tucked his hands in his pockets, looking at the mess that was your desk; textbook, laptop and notebook open with pens and highlighters scattered around.

"Don't call it a hermit hole," You whined, flopping back onto your bed with a huff. "It makes me feel like a loser,"

"Hey, don't feel like that," You felt the weight shift as he sat beside you on the edge of the bed. "It's really great that you're tryin' so hard. You're gonna get far in life, better than me anyway,"

"Yoongi," You sat up and placed a hand on his back, comforting. "You're doing what you love. I'm just studying when in the end my degree won't mean shit and I'll end up having a shitty office job in corporate,"

"Why do you do it then? Why don't you do what you want?" He asked, looking at you face to face now.

"Mostly to make my parents happy, to be honest," You admitted, shrugging one of your shoulders halfheartedly.

"Hmm," He leaned back on his hands and looked up at the ceiling. "My parents...threw me out after finding out I wanted to pursue music. I could barely afford to live properly let alone actually try to get an education, I spent a couple years living on the streets. I managed to get a few gigs to produce a track and got some money; I used it to buy clothes and get an interview at Gregs."

"Holy crap," You mumbled, shaking your head in surprise. "You're doing well now though?"

"Well enough," He mumbled. "Things are a lot better than they used to be, that's for sure. I had a couple friends who lived on the street and I kind of had to take care of them...Taehyung and Hoseok. They managed to get jobs and better they lives and so I did the same. I'm certainly not rolling in the cash but I got a little apartment, clothes on my back, and food to eat. That's about all I could ask for,"

"What if Greg fires you!?" You cried, suddenly remembering the fact he shut the store down to take you out.

"Honestly," A small smile played on his lips as he looked at you. "Greg likes me more than he lets on, he won't fire me. I've charmed my way into his bitter little heart,"

His words had you laughing, tossing your head back while he smiles.

"Can I kiss you?" The abruptness of his word cut your laughing short to stare at him wide-eyed. He was staring at you as if he hadn't just asked to kiss you, instead looking like he had just asked what you had for breakfast. Quite the bold man.

"Y-Yes?" Your response came out choked, still not fully over the shock of his sudden proposal.

His fingers were warm and a little rough as he cupped you cheek, angling your head so he could easily slot his lips against yours. His lips were incredibly soft and the few guys you had kissed in the past were nothing compared to the skillful way he pulled you into the passion. You allowed him to ease you onto your back, laying beside you as he continued to kiss you, lightly nipping your bottom lip before he laved over it with his tongue. You clenched your thighs together, feeling a pressure settling in your core the longer he kissed you.

"You're so pretty," He whispered as he pulled away, licking his lips as he gazed down at you; his pupils were blown wide and you could feel the faint hardness of his member against your hip.

He was getting turned on too.

"Yoongi," You whispered, leaning up to brush your lips against his as he hummed in response."Can I...suck you off?"

"Holy shit," He choked, flopping onto his back beside you, covering his face with his hands. "Fuck yeah,"

You felt excitement flow through you and you forced yourself to not fist pump the air in victory. You shuffled your way between his thighs, the both of you scooting up the bed to get comfortable. You reached up, holding your breath as you unbuttoned his jeans, already feeling the way he was steadily hardening beneath the fabric of his jeans.

He spread his legs to make more room for you as you tugged the waistband of his boxer-briefs down enough so his cock popped out, slapping against his stomach.

He wasn't completely hard yet but the sight of him already had your mouth watering. The tip was a pretty pink and a vein on the underside; when you wrapped your hand around the base of him, he let out a soft sigh of pleasure. Giving him a few experimental squeezes, you could feel him harden the rest of the way, his thighs trembling at the pleasure. You couldn't hold yourself back anymore, you needed to taste him.

The tip of his cock was like velvet on your tongue, warm and a slightly bitter taste of his precum melting on your taste buds. As you swirled your tongue around his tip, his fingers tangled in you hair with a groan.

"F-Fuck, sensitive there, baby," He nearly whined and you could have creamed your panties right then and there at the sound. You didn't torture him with over stimulation, instead taking the head of him into your mouth, sucking him generously to hear his moans. At the urging of fingering in your hair, you took him deeper into your mouth. He wasn't incredibly long but the thickness of him was causing your jaw to ache already. The thought of having him stretch you out, coating him in your cum had your cunt clenching painfully around nothing.

You whined around his cock, making him stiffen and groan, biting his lip to keep himself a little quieter. You could feel how his hips twitched faintly, as if he wanted to thrust into your mouth but was holding himself back. Relaxing your throat, you allowed him to slip deeper -- your gag reflex fought a bit but you managed to sink down to the base. Tears trickled down your cheeks but Yoongi was in bliss, tugging at your hair and groaning as you swallowed thrice around him before pulling off.

"Fuck!" He growled, sitting up suddenly, fist wrapped in your hair before he pressed his lips to yours to share a sloppy kiss. "One day, I'll fuck your throat,"

The idea and tone of his voice had you gushing into your panties; the promise of a next time making you squirm.

"Will you let me return the favor?" He asked, voice deep and dark in his words. "Will you let me eat your little cunt?"

"F-Fuck," You whined, his hand that was in your hair traveling to your neck to push you onto the bed.

As he took his position between your thighs, he reached behind himself to tug his shirt up and off his body. Your eyes soaked in the sight of his lean body with pebbled pink nipples that you longed to wrap your lips around to test the sensitivity. You lifted your hips when he tucked his fingers into the waistband of your sweats, pulling them down along with your panties.

"God, so fucking pretty," He growled, dropping onto his stomach and hissing when his cock was trapped between him and the bed. You spread your legs for him, tucking your hands beneath your thighs to expose your soaked slit to him. He groaned, using both of his thumb to spread the glossy lips of your cunt, hissing when you gushed. Any self control he was trying to exhibit snapped his tongue was suddenly sliding into your entrance to taste you. You cried out, tangling your fingers in his raven locks; his hair was incredibly soft you noted through your haze.

Yoongi was way too fucking good with his mouth, swirling his tongue around your clit and sucking the little bud into his mouth. You were trembling, your back arching in pure pleasure as he very abruptly introduced two fingers; sliding them into your clenching hole, making your nearly scream at the feeling of

finally

being filled. He seemed to know exactly what to do to find your g-spot, crooking his fingers up, making your hips arch as you whined.

"Ah, right there?" He cooed, lips detaching from your clit for a moment to watch his fingers fuck you. He spread his fingers, making you groan as he stretched you out.

"Yoongi, please," You whimpered, tugging his hair. He took the hint and kissed his way up your body to meet your lips; making you taste yourself as he slid his tongue into your mouth. His fingers didn't stop abusing your sweet spot, making you whimper into his mouth.

"Fuck," He groaned as he pulled away from you. "Can I fuck you, babygirl?"

You nodded, eyes rolling back in your head as he gave your spot one last stroke before pulling his fingers out.

"Use your words, sweetheart," He cooed, squeezing your cheeks between his fingers, making your lips pout.

"Y-Yes, please fuck me,"

"Good girl,"

He slid off the bed to shed his jeans and underwear; you took the hint and sat up to rip off your shirt, leaving your completely nude on your bed.

"Such pretty tits," He groaned, cupping one in his hand and pinching the nipple generously, taking the moment to indulge himself.

He climbed back onto the bed, grinning when you immediately spread yourself for him. Slowly pumping his cock, he got himself comfortable on his knees. Once he was situated, you sat up on your elbows to watch the way he spread your folds with his cockhead. You sighed in pleasure as he brushed against your clit, lightly slapping the bud to watch your thighs jump.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore and reached down to wrap your fingers around him, directing him to finally sink into your entrance. He didn't stop you, following your lead and sinking into you until your hips were flush together. The girth of him stretched you to the point it burned, making you whine and moan. You clenched around him, arching your hips to fuck yourself on him.

"Fuck," Yoongi cursed, leaning over you to support himself on hands beside your head. He watched the way you ground up against him, your eyes rolling back into your head at the pleasure. "Dirty girl,"

Finally, he took over, pulling back and slamming himself back in, barely grazing your cervix in the process. His pelvic bone abused your clit every time he sheathed himself inside you. The way he caught your g-spot with every move had you tumbling incredibly fast to what you knew would be a mind blowing orgasm. Your thighs were threatening to close to save yourself from the overstimulation you were beginning to feel.

Yoongi, however, was having none of it. Strong hands gripped the backs of your knees and forcefully spread your legs, leaving your soaking cunt vulnerable to the torture his cock put on it. Your eyes filled with tears, your mouth falling open; you were teetering on an edge that you'd never felt before; he was going to make you cum without having to touch your clit.

It was becoming too much, the coil inside you winding tighter and tighter but not releasing. Your hands pressed against Yoongi's chest to slow him down, but he only grinned and grabbed your wrists with one hand and pinned them above your head.

"Fucking take it," He growled, leaning closer to you to make you look directly into his eyes. "You're gonna cum all over this cock, babygirl, go ahead. Give it to me,"

With him staring into your eyes, watching you, you finally came undone. You tossed your head back but Yoongi tangled his fingers into your hair to force you to look at him again; his hips never stopping as he fucked the forced orgasm out of you. Your walls spasmed and gushed, covering him with cum that he'd love to taste one day. The sight of you cumming so hard for him sent him off of his own end and suddenly, he was pulling out of you before he came inside.

However, having him pull out so suddenly had your orgasm flying to new heights and before you even realized what was going on, the both of you were being drenched in more of your cum as you squirted. Yoongi cursed, using the head of his cock against your clit to keep your squirting as he came messily all over your cunt. You couldn't take anymore and reached down desperately to stop him, trembling all over from the pure force of pleasure you had experienced.

As you were coming down, Yoongi leaned over your exhausted body and kissed you lazily. Neither of you really moved your lips, just enjoyed the feeling.

"You wanna shower?" He asked, voice breathy from his own panting. You peeked out of one eyes and saw the tiny smile on his lips as he regarded you.

"L-Let me...rest for a minute..."

"Damn, fucked you that good, huh?" He asked, growing visibly cocky.

As much as you didn't want to boost his already apparently inflated ego, you couldn't help but admit it with a nod.

"I don't think anyone's ever made me cum like that," You admitted, looking down at your body at the complete mess that covered your skin; both his and your cum.

"The first of many, babygirl," He promised, making you shiver.

If he could fuck you like that every time then you would be a very happy girl.

"Seriously, this cum is starting to dry so let's shower," He grumbled, rolling off the bed to stand naked before you.

"Geez, you're so pushy," You mumbled, letting him pull you to your feet no matter how much like literal jelly you felt like.

"I think you like me being pushy,"

"Don't hold yourself so highly,"

"I knew the second you looked at me, you'd be smitten with me, babe,"

"H-Hey! Me smitten with you?!"

"Don't worry," He cooed, wrapping his arms around your waist to kiss your nose. "I'm pretty smitten with you too,"

"Aw," You giggled, looking up at him through your lashes.

"...Cheeto-Girl,"

"Hey!"

#bts smut #yoongi smut #bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #bts imagines #yoongi imagines #bts preferences #yoongi preferences #bts reactions #yoongi reactions #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi/reader #yoongi/you

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anjelicjazz · 5 years ago

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Tmw you get a notification in email that your coffee has arrived at the same moment that the mailman closes your mailbox and drives off.

Yall this coffee smells so good before you even open the bag!!

I actually sat there for a few minutes just inhaling dirty bean funk off the bag before jumping up and realizing...AH! I must brew!!!

Longest 7 minutes of my life🥺🥺😭😭

But man did my whole ass house stank of them chocolate beans of holy goodness. I literally caught myself pacing the livingroom, coffee mug in hand as I listened to the soothing sounds of my coffeemaker chugging happily away, anxious and excited and....frigging thirsty beyond all reason.

Why did I set it to strong brew...I could have had it 3 minutes sooner if I had just god regular. But no, it's worth the wait I keep telling myself. Knowing, patience is a virtue. (Unfortunately I'm a pisces and that just doesn't sit well when I'm excited about something. Also, true to pisces form I may have cried a little when I went to check and it'd only brewed 8 of 12 cups)

Finally...the brew is complete. I pour a cup, only to promptly burn tf outta my entire mouth.

But finally, I remembered what mom always said, blow first,sip later. And...holy crap!?!?! This is the first coffee I've ever had that I would actually drink black. And yes, I did drink the first sip black.

It's slightly nutty, but not sour, not bitter. It's got this interesting almost tobacco smell to it? Like, warm roasted tobacco in a field, not cigarettes or cigars.

I put my go to coffee creamer in it,caramel macchiato? Just enough to cool it down some and the caramel didn't overpower the coffee at all. It complements the coffee flavor, making it slightly softer but still very much prominent and absolutely fucking delicious!!Ah!!

I could go on for ages about just how amazing jacksepticeye's coffee is...but if you'll excuse me I have a burnt mouth and a cup of Java to attend to☺☺☺

#therealjacksepticeye #jacksepticeye #TOTM coffee #oml yall its so good

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missaethe · 6 years ago

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Minecon 2019 Updates

youtube

For those who missed Minecon, the above video was recorded by Stealth.

Minecon 2019 is over, but there’s a whole list of highlights and features coming to Vanilla Minecraft, Minecraft Earth, and Minecraft Dungeons. This is a list of the announced features for anyone who doesn’t want to watch the 3hr long video and simply need the updates. I will be doing them by sections so scroll to what’s important to you specifically.

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Vanilla Minecraft

Bee Update:

Bees, honey, honeycomb, hives, bee boxes - will also include honey blocks. These stick together and can be used to create movable redstone pathways and ledges, but will slow players and mobs who walk over it.

Campfires under a hive to smoke the bees will prevent them from becoming hostile while harvesting honey.

New Creative and Builder Tools:

Magic Stick that will allow a block type to be edited and changed when clicked on.

4 new TNT types: One clears out a small square section at a time, one clears out entire pathways across multiple chunks. These are controlled explosions that don’t blow everything up into a mess but a specific section of blocks at a time. Two more TNT types, one places an entire starter house and the other a starter cabin when lit.

Redstone Target that activates blocks when shot.

Biome Updates:

Swamp, Badlands, and Mountains. Mountains won the vote so it will be coming soon, but all three are confirmed to be coming to Vanilla Minecraft.

Mountains provide higher and more jagged peaks, the Mountain Goat mob, and new Snow that reacts like quicksand when stepped in.

Swamps will bring the Frog mob, boats with chests, and Mangrove trees.

Badlands will bring the new Vulture mob that circles over loot (does not steal loot, however, this was confirmed to be a misunderstanding), a new cactus type, and tumbleweeds.

Nether Update:

The Nether will now allow for Spawn to be set.

Piglin, the new Nether mob, will be replacing the Pigmen. These mobs are hostile to other mobs (but will ignore a player in gold armor). They will be bringing a new loot chest which the players can loot, but will cause the Piglin to attack the player if caught stealing from chests. Piglin also will bring a new trade system, Bartering, where wanted items thrown to a Piglin will cause it to toss an item back. These include new, but unannounced, items.

Piglin will have a Bastion, an area similar to a Pillager Outpost.

Nothing was stated about Pigmen caused by lightning strikes to be replaced, however.

The Piglin Beast (name is not finalized), is a new food source mob, a hostile boar that will attack the player but drop meat.

Soul Sand lit on fire will now burn blue over orange.

Multiple new Nether biomes, but only two were announced: The Soulsand Valley where blue fog, blue fire, and fossils will be found among an all soul sand environment. The Netherwort Forest (red and blue variants) which will contain new mushrooms, giant blue mushroom trees, and netherwort trees.

Realms Plus:

Realms Plus is coming as a new feature to Realms that will allow for the owner of a Realm to access the Marketplace for their Realm. This way, a Realm owner can purchase a texture pack, mash-up, skins, or other Realm Plus specific items to add to the Realm that all members will access and use for free.

All existing Realms that have purchased the 10 player slot will gain the upgrade for free automatically when released.

Misc Extras:

Parity (adding Java features to Bedrock such as missing mobs and items) is still underway and looking to be completed asap.

Penguin mob teased by a developer but as of now, has been claimed to be an unannounced/unplanned mob.

Villagers confirmed as Genderless, were designed to be more troll-like and have no specific lean to any certain gender.

Looking to add the Illusioner Illager to Bedrock editions.

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Minecraft Earth

Open world virtual reality that uses a cellphone or tablet’s camera to see things around the area.

Timed events will happen in public places that up to 40 random people can participate in for special loot and prizes (everyone who does gets the prize to be fair).

Can find points around the world, similar to Pokemon GO, where pre-loaded areas can be accessed.

Can play with friends or play alone, but only within the same area as each other (you cannot play with friends unless both occupy the same area).

Mooblooms and Cluckshrooms confirmed as two new mobs, with Mooblooms planting flowers as they spawn, and Cluckshrooms hiding in the dark where they lay mushrooms instead of eggs.

Early Access Launch is October 2019, full Global release by the end of the year.

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Minecraft Dungeons

Multiplayer dungeon crawler that allows up to 4 players at once.

Will feature loot drops from monsters, summon-able mobs, special weapon powers, and magic.

Building and Mining will not be a component of this game: It’s an old school top-down dungeon crawler focused on clearing levels and completing tasks.

Will come to Windows 10, Xbox, PS4, and Switch. Nothing was stated about cross-platform play.

Worlds will randomly generate allowing for continual replay.

As of now, there is no confirmed release date, though a Q2 2020 date has been speculated. Q2 means second quarter of the calendar year, so speculated release should fall between April 1st and June 30th of 2020.

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MISC Updates

A Minecraft Boardgame was briefly announced but without any further information.

There was no comment made about Bedrock coming to the PS4 nor was anything about the PS4 in general mentioned. (As of now, until Sony allows for Cross-Play for Minecraft, there is no speculated announcement)

#minecon 2019 #minecraft #minecraft update

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spill-tears-but-never-coffee · 6 years ago

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Mornings are for coffee and second-degree burns

So this is my first story. It’s a Naito x reader. italics denotes Japanese while bold depicts internal dialogue. Please be kind.

Waiting for Sanda was getting ridiculous, the man would show up late to his own funeral. “Probably still sleeping,” Naito mumbles to himself. Heaving a deep sigh, he pushes himself away from the table and stands up to grab a coffee.

The shop was busy this morning with students from the nearby high school taking their time figuring out a more complicated way to order overpriced milkshakes. While glaring daggers into the backs of teenagers he’s startled by a high pitch squeal coming directly behind him. He swings his head around and observers two women; one gripping the other in a bear hug, while the other looked utterly baffled at the sudden turn of events.

The bear hugger is making that atrocious nail on a chalk board noise. She looks like a typical office worker: non-descript blue blouse, tight but not to revealing skirt, high heels and pearl earrings. The other, a gaijin is pretty, but not that pretty. She’s wearing a similar outfit, but with a white shirt and tight black skirt that shows off her narrow waist and slim ankles that end in a pair of red heels.

As if feeling his gaze, the gaijin makes eye contact and gives a sort of lop-sided smile, he frowns, unamused at the intrusion to his thoughts, and spins around.

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You walked into the shop with your co-worker Niko and came to a complete halt. The Japanese characters everywhere briefly overwhelm you despite the fact you regularly ordered from this coffee chain at home.

“Y/L/N-san, is everything okay?”

Being formally addressed like this breaks you out of your brief culture shock, “Niko, you don’t need to use san with me.”

The other woman frowns slightly, “Not using san is bad manners” she begins to educate you. You nod your head familiar with this argument. Hell, it had been made in every Welcome to Japan book your family had foisted on you before you reached Tokyo.

Blowing out a breath and struggling to right this situation without offending your co-worker you start, “Even between friends,” while stepping into line.

“Friends,” Niko’s voice shakes a little, like she is about to cry. No longer sure if this if this is such a brilliant idea, you nod your head anyway doubling down on your gamble. “Oh! Y/N-chan you are so sweet,” she exclaims.

Seriously? What is with the damned titles in this country you think. You aren’t used to the titles that everyone seems to have in the country as back home, life is far easier. Sure, you could say Mr. or Mrs., or occasionally Your Honor, but the Japanese have a title for the grandmother of your closest female friend since birth. Your train of thought is abruptly derailed by Niko literally squeezing you to death. “Oh,” you wheeze all breath leaving your body as your arms are pinned to your side.

“We’re friends,” she shrieks in a near inaudible level it is so high pitched.

“Of course,” you smile and try to disengage your new friend.

“This is the best,” she squeals. To your chagrin the man in front of you turns around and makes eye contact with you. You can tell he is not pleased by this and is eyeing up the situation in disdain. “Sorry,” you offer, but he isn’t paying attention any more.

“So, Niko,” you say extricating yourself from her grasp. “How do I order a Java-chip Frappuccino in Japanese?”

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His phone begins to vibrate in his pocket. He pulls out the device and eyes the screen. Languidly he taps the green button and holds up the phone to his ear, “Hey.”

“Hey,” the caller begins.

“You’re late,” Naito deadpans. He is trying not to convey annoyance as he had also gone out late last night with the rest of LIJ and yet he was up, but he doesn’t say a thing.

“I know,” Sanda’s laughter echoes from the other side, “Get a large cappuccino for me. I just got up from a rough night.” he rolls his eyes skyward as the other man brags, “…missing a shoe and I’m pretty sure a pint of blood from that girl we met at the bar.”

Naito makes eye contact with the barista and gives him a slight head nod as he retrieves his caffeine fix. “You can get it yourself,” he growls not amused by his stablemate’s lazy attitude.

Sanda tries to sound remorseful but comes off unconcerned with his friend’s frustration at his late arrival, “Sure, Sure, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Grunting in agreement he attempts to end the call while carrying his coffee and getting out of the shop. All of which is apparently too much to do at once and he collides with a solid force. “Oh shit,” a voice rings out. He hadn’t realized it, but when he turned around to leave he had run right into the gaijin behind him and spilled his hot coffee all over her.

Eyes wide she sucks in a deep breath and peels the now see through fabric away from her skin. He’s stuck dumb for a moment as registers her distress. “I’m sorry,” he mutters while trying to find something to wipe off the burning coffee. He sees a barista rushing over with a towel, grabbing it from the service worker’s hands and he begins to try and sop up the coffee.

“Oh fuck,” she whimpers pulling the ruined fabric away from her skin and fanning it in a futile effort to cool off.

He doesn’t need to understand English all that well to know she is in pain and it’s his fault. He doubles down on his efforts to dry her off. That is until he’s interrupted by the least menacing growl in history, “What are you doing?” Momentarily taking his eyes of the fabric in front of him he makes eye contact with the voice. It’s Bear Hugger.

“Admiring the stitching,” he deadpans while going back to the task at hand, except this time he picks his eyes off the fabric and looks at the woman in front of him. Her big eyes are filled with tears, her face flushed with heat or embarrassment he can’t be sure at this point. Realizing that the towel in his hand has cleaned up as much of the mess at it can, he pulls away, sees the faint outline of the bra, and her body’s reaction to sudden change in temperature.

He forces his attention elsewhere. Bear Hugger is speaking English with Coffee Gaijin who looks embarrassed. He can’t understand other than “okay”. But what he lacks for in vocabulary he makes up for in perception. She is breathing in deeply through her nose, warding off further tears and it strikes him as oddly brave. The words leave his mouth before they register in his brain, “Tell your friend I’ll buy her another blouse.”

Coffee Gaijin looks confused at the turn of events. Bear Hugger steps into the conversation, “What?”

“I’ll buy you another shirt,” he repeats slowly and with better diction. Sometimes women need things to be repeated.

Bear Hugger rudely replies, “She doesn’t speak Japanese.”

“Well then tell her what I said.” He doesn’t make the statement a suggestion.

They have a staring contest before she breaks eye contact and turns to Coffee Gaijin. Naito is now keenly aware that the entire coffee shop is watching them with morbid fascination. Fucking Sanda. They have a brief conversation before Hugger replies, “She says it’s just a shirt, no worries.”

He grits his teeth, “Tell the gaijin I’ll buy her another shirt,” he pauses his anger rising at being rejected, “One that isn’t so cheap you can see everything.”

Hugger’s black eyes widen, and her mouth drops open, “I can’t say that!”

“Well tell her something that will get her to buy a better shirt,” he seethes. Hugger glares at him he teases his lips into what could be construed as a smile. Coffee Gaijin is utterly confused at the tension between the two until Hugger sighs and begins a long and he guess a wholly inaccurate translation of his offer. Realizing that he won’t take no for an answer Coffee Gaijin looks at him and nods her head.

“We finish work at 5.00, we’ll meet here,” Hugger hesitates before adding, “and you’ll buy her whatever she wants.”

He raises an eyebrow, “That’s what she said?” Somehow Coffee Gaijin doesn’t strike him as the extortion type.

“No that’s what I said,” Hugger glares at him again, but this time he smirks and turns to the topic of their negotiation.

Holding out a hand, Coffee Gaijin needs no translation and digs into her purse. She pulls out a phone so new it still has protective plastic on it. Fumbling to unlock the screen she eventually places the phone into his hand gently. Her fingers momentarily brush against him and his world tilts just a little. Brushing it off he types in his number and calls his phone to ensure she has his number, but before he hands it back he briefly browses through her contacts, they’re sparse and mostly in English. He grimaces and hands it back to her. “Five o’clock,” he enunciates in English and turns away from the foreigner and Bear Hugger marching out the door to find Sanda.

#naito x oc #naito x reader #LIJ #los ingobernables de japon #just a fanfic so you can continue on if this isnt your jam #naito #tetsuya naito #njpw #new japan pro wrestling #fanfic #coffee shop

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regencyresource · 7 years ago

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( * &. ━ list of slang words from the 1920′s

presenting a long list of slang terms from the “roaring twenties" ! the age of mobsters and jazz ! the time of longing after married women and staring into green-lights to include in your literary ventures ! i claim no ownership for this list, it was sourced HERE.

Alderman: A man's pot-belly

Ameche: Telephone

Ankle: (n) Woman; (v) To walk

Ab-so-lute-ly: Affirmative, yes

Absent treatment: Dancing with a timid partner

Air tight: Very attractive

Airedale: An unattractive man

Alarm clock: A chaperone

All wet: Incorrect

And how!: I strongly agree!

Applesauce: Flattery, nonsense, i.e.. "Aw, applesauce!"

Attaboy!: Well done!; also, Attagirl!

Babe: Woman

Baby: A person, can be said to either a man or a woman

Bangtails: Racehorses

Barber: Talk

Be on the nut: To be broke

Bean-shooter: Gun

Beef: Problem

Bee's Knees: An extraordinary person, thing or idea

Beezer: Nose

Behind the eight ball: In a difficult position, in a tight spot

Bent Cars: Stolen cars

Big Cheese, Big Shot: The boss, someone of importance and influence

Big House: Jail

Big One: Death

Big Sleep: Death

Bim: Woman

Bindle: The bundle in which a hobo carries all his worldly possessions

Bindle punk or bindle stiff: Chronic wanderers, migratory harvest workers, and lumber jacks

Bing: Jailhouse talk for solitary confinement

Bird: Man

Bit: Prison sentence

Blip off: To kill

Blow: Leave

Blow one down: Kill someone

Blower: Telephone

Bluenose: A prude

Bo: Pal, buster, fellow

Boiler: Car

Boob: Dumb guy

Boozehound: Drunkard

Bop: To kill

Box: A safe or a bar

Box job: A safecracking

Brace (somebody): Grab, shake up

Bracelets: Handcuffs

Break it up: Stop that, quit the nonsense

Breeze: To leave, breeze off: get lost

Broad: Woman

Bruno: Tough guy, enforcer

Bucket: Car

Bulge, The: The advantage

Bulls: Plainclothes railroad cops; uniformed police; prison guards

Bum's rush, To get the: To be kicked out

Bump: Kill

Bump Gums: To talk about nothing worthwhile

Bump off: Kill; also, bump-off: a killing

Burn powder: Fire a gun

Bus: Big car

Butter-and-egg-man: The money man, the man with the bankroll, a yokel who comes to town to blow a big wad in nightclubs

Button: Face, nose, end of jaw

Button man: Professional killer

Buttons: Police

Butts: Cigarettes

Buzz: Looks person up, comes to persons door

Buzzer: Policeman's badge

C: $100, a pair of Cs = $200

Cabbage: Money

Caboose: Jail

Call copper: Inform the police

Can: Jail, Car

Can house: Bordello

Can-opener: Safecracker who opens cheap safes

Canary: Woman singer

Carry a Torch: Suffering from an unrequited love

Case dough: Nest egg

Cat: Man

Cat's Meow: Something splendid or stylish

Cat's Pajamas: Term of endearment as in "I think you are really really cool"

Century: $100

Cheaters: Sunglasses

Cheese it: Put things away, hide

Chew: Eat

Chicago lightning: Gunfire

Chicago overcoat: Coffin

Chick: Woman

Chilled off: Killed

Chin: Conversation; chinning: talking

Chin music: Punch on the jaw

Chinese squeeze: Grafting by skimming profits off the top

Chippy: Woman of easy virtue

Chisel: To swindle or cheat

Chiv: Knife, "a stabbing or cutting weapon"

Chopper squad: Men with machine guns

Chump: Person marked for a con or a gullible person

Clammed: Close-mouthed (clammed up)

Clean sneak: An escape with no clues left behind

Clip joint: In some cases, a nightclub where the prices are high and the patrons are fleeced

Clipped: Shot

Close your head: Shut up

Clout: Shoplifter

Clubhouse: Police station

Con: Confidence game, swindle

Conk: Head

Cool: To knock out

Cooler: Jail

Cop: Detective, even a private one

Copped, to be: Grabbed by the cops

Copper: Policeman

Corn: Bourbon ("corn liquor")

Crab: Figure out

Crate: Car

Croak: To kill

Croaker: Doctor

Crush: An infatuation

Crushed out: Escaped (from jail)

Cut down: Killed

Daisy: None too masculine

Dame: Woman

Dance: To be hanged

Dangle: Leave, get lost

Daylight, as in "fill him with daylight": Put a hole in, by shooting or stabbing

Deck, as in "deck of Luckies": Pack of cigarettes

Derrick: Shoplifter

Dib: Share (of the proceeds)

Dick: Detective (usually qualified with "private" if not a policeman)

Dingus: Thing

Dip: Pickpocket

Dip the bill: Have a drink

Dish: Pretty woman

Dive: A low-down, cheap sort of place

Dizzy with a dame, To be: To be deeply in love with a woman

Do the dance: To be hanged

Dogs: Feet

Dope fiend: Drug addict

Dope peddler: Drug dealer

Dough: Money

Drift: Go, leave

Drill: Shoot

Drop a dime: Make a phone call, sometimes meaning to the police to inform on someone

Droppers: Hired killers

Drum: Speakeasy

Dry-gulch: Knock out, hit on head after ambushing

Duck soup: Easy, a piece of cake

Dummerer: Someone who pretends to be deaf and/or dumb to appear a more deserving beggar

Dump: Roadhouse, club; or, more generally, any place

Dust out: Leave, depart

Egg: Man

Electric cure: Electrocution

Elephant ears: Police

Fade: Go away, get lost

Fakeloo artist: Con man

Fella: A man

Fin: $5 bill

Finder: Finger man

Finger, Put the finger on: Identify

Flaming Youth: Male counterpart to a flapper

Flapper: A stylish, brash young woman with short skirts and shorter hair

Flat Tire: A dull-witted or disappointing date

Flattie: Flatfoot, cop

Flimflam: Swindle

Flippers: Hands

Flivver: A Ford automobile

Flogger: Overcoat

Flop: Go to bed or fallen through, not worked out

Flophouse: A cheap transient hotel where a lot of men sleep in large rooms

Fog: To shoot

Frail: Woman

Frau: Wife

Fry: To be electrocuted

Fuzz: Police

Gal: Woman

Gams: A Woman’s Legs

Gasper: Cigarette

Gat: Gun

Get Sore: Get mad

Getaway sticks: Legs

Giggle juice: Liquor

Giggle Water: Liquor

Gin mill: Bar

Glad rags: Fancy clothes

Glaum: Steal

Goofy: Crazy

Goog: Black eye

Goon: Thug

Gooseberry lay: Stealing clothes from a clothesline

Gowed-up: On dope, high

Grab (a little) air: Put your hands up

Graft: Con jobs or cut of the take

Grand: $1000

Grift: Confidence game, swindle

Grifter: Con man

Grilled: Questioned

Gumshoe: Detective

Gumshoeing: Detective work

Gun for: Look for, be after

Guns: Pickpockets, Hoodlums

Guy: A man

Hack: Taxi

Half, a: 50 cents

Hard: Tough

Harlem Sunset: Some sort fatal injury caused by knife

Hash House: A cheap restaurant

Hatchet men: Killers, gunmen

Have the Bees: To be rich

Head doctors: Psychiatrists

Heap: Car

Heat: Police

Heater: Gun

Heebie-Jeebies: The jitters

Heeled: Carrying a gun

High-Hat: To snub

High Pillow: Person at the top, in charge

Highbinders: Corrupt politician or functionary

Hinky: Suspicious

Hitting the pipe: Smoking opium

Hitting on all eight: In good shape, going well

Hock shop: Pawnshop

Hogs: Engines

Hombre: Man, fellow

Hooch: Liquor

Hood: Criminal

Hoofer: Dancer

Hoosegow: Jail

Horn: Telephone

Hot: Stolen

Hotsy-Totsy: Pleasing

House dick: House/hotel detective

House peeper: House/hotel detective

Hype: Shortchange artist

Ice : Diamonds

Ing-bing, as in to throw an: A fit

Iron: A car

Jack: Money

Jalopy: An old car

Jam: Trouble, a tight spot

Jane: A woman

Java: Coffee

Jaw: Talk

Jerking a nod: Nodding

Jingle-brained: Addled

Jobbie: Man

Joe: Coffee, as in "a cup of joe"

Johns: Police

Johnson brother: Criminal

Joint: Place, as in "my joint"

Juice: Interest on a loanshark's loan

Jug: Jail

Jump, The: A hanging

Kale: Money

Keen: Attractive or appealing

Kick off: Die

Kiss: To punch

Kisser: Mouth

Kitten: Woman

Knock off: Kill

Lammed off: Ran away, escaped

Large: $1,000; twenty large would be $20,000

Law, the: The police

Lead, "fill ya full of lead": the term used for bullets

Lead poisoning: To be shot

Lettuce: Folding money

Lid: Hat

Line: Insincere flattery

Lip: (Criminal) lawyer

Looker: Pretty woman

Look-out: Outside man

Lousy with: To have lots of

Mac: A man

Made: Recognized

Map: Face

Marbles: Pearls

Mark: Sucker, victim of swindle or fixed game

Maroon: Person marked for a con or a gullible person

Meat wagon: Ambulance

Mickey Finn: A drink drugged with knock-out drops

Mill: Typewriter

Mitt: Hand

Mob: Gang (not necessarily Mafia)

Mohaska: Gun

Moll: Girlfriend

Monicker: Name

Mouthpiece: Lawyer

Mugs: Men (especially refers to dumb ones)

Nailed: Caught by the police

Nevada gas: Cyanide

Newshawk: Reporter

Newsie: Newspaper vendor

Nibble one: To have a drink

Nicked: Stole

Nippers: Handcuffs

Noodle: Head

Number: A person

Off the track: Said about a person who becomes insanely violent

Op: Detective

Orphan paper: Bad checks

Out on the roof: To drink a lot, to be drunk

Oyster fruit: Pearls

Packing Heat: Carrying a gun

Pal: A man

Palooka: Man, probably not very smart

Pan: Face

Paste: Punch

Patsy: Person who is set up; fool, chump

Paw: Hand

Peaching: Informing

Peeper: Detective

Peepers: Eyes

Pen: Penitentiary, jail

Peterman: Safecracker who uses nitroglycerin

Piece: Gun

Pigeon: Stool-pigeon

Pinch: An arrest, capture

Pins: Legs

Pipe: See or notice

Pipes: Throat

Plant: Someone on the scene but in hiding, Bury

Plug: Shoot

Plugs: People

Poke: Bankroll, stake

Pooped: Killed

Pop: Kill

Pro skirt: Prostitute

Puffing: Mugging

Pug: Pugilist, boxer

Pump: Heart

Pump metal: Shoot bullets

Punk: Hood, thug

Pushover: A person easily convinced of something

Puss: Face

Put down: Drink

Put the screws on: Question, get tough with

Rags: Clothes

Ranked: Observed, watched, given the once-over

Rap: Criminal charge

Rappers: Fakes, set-ups

Rat: Inform

Rate: To be good, to count for something

Rats and mice: Dice, i.e. craps

Rattler: Train

Red-light: To eject from a car or train

Redhot: Some sort of criminal

Reefers: Marijuana cigarettes

Rhino: Money

Right: Adjective indicating quality

Ringers: Fakes

Ritzy: Elegant

Rod: Gun

Roscoe: Gun

Rub-out: A killing

Rube: Bumpkin, easy mark

Rumble, the: The news

Sap: A dumb guy

Sap poison: Getting hit with a sap

Savvy: Get me? Understand?

Sawbuck: $10 bill (a double sawbuck is a $20 bill)

Schnozzle: Nose

Scram out: Leave

Scratch: Money

Scratcher: Forger

Send over: Send to jail

Shamus: (Private) detective

Sharper: A swindler or sneaky person

Sheba: A woman with sex appeal

Sheik: A man with sex appeal

Shells: Bullets

Shiv: Knife

Shylock: Loanshark

Shyster: Lawyer

Sing: Make a confession

Sister: Woman

Skate around: To be of easy virtue

Skid rogue: A bum who can't be trusted

Skirt: Woman

Slant, Get a: Take a look

Sleuth: Detective

Slug: A bullet or to knock unconscious

Smoked: Drunk

Snap a cap: Shout

Snatch: Kidnap

Sneeze: Take

Snitch: An informer, or to inform

Snooper: Detective

Speakeasy: An illicit bar selling bootleg liquor

Spiffy: Looking elegant

Soak: To pawn

Sock: Punch

Soup: Nitroglycerine

Soup job: To crack a safe using nitroglycerine

Spill: Talk, inform

Spinach: Money

Spitting: Talking

Square: Honest

Squeeze: A female companion or girlfriend

Squirt metal: Shoot bullets

Step off: To be hanged

Stiff: A corpse

Sting: Culmination of a con game

Stool-pigeon: Informer

Stoolie: Stool-pigeon

Stuck On: Having a crush on

Sucker: Someone ripe for a grifter's scam

Sugar: Money

Swanky: Ritzy

Swell: Wonderful

Tail: Shadow or follow

Take a powder: Leave

Take on: Eat

Take for a Ride: Drive off with someone in order to bump them off

Take the air: Leave

Take the bounce: To get kicked out

Take the fall for: Accept punishment for

That's the crop: That's all of it

Three-spot: Three-year jail term

Throw lead: Shoot bullets

Ticket: P.I. license

Tiger milk: Some sort of liquor

Tighten the screws: Put pressure on somebody

Tin: Badge

Tip a few: To have a few drinks

Tomato: Pretty woman

Tooting the wrong ringer: Asking the wrong person

Torpedoes: Gunmen

Trap: Mouth

Trigger man: Man whose job is to use a gun

Trouble boys: Gangsters

Twist: Woman

Two bits: $25, or 25 cents

Under glass: In jail

Weak sister: A push-over

Wear iron: Carry a gun

Wise head: A smart person

Wooden kimono: A coffin

Wop: derogatory term for an Italian

Worker, as in "She sizes up as a worker": A woman who takes a guy for his money

Wrong gee: Not a good fellow

Wrong number: Not a good fellow

Ya Follow: do you understand?

Yap: Mouth

Yard: $100

Yegg: Safecracker who can only open cheap and easy safes

Zotzed: Killed

Zozzled: Drunk

#vocabulary guide #writing resource #writing guide #writing help #rph #Resource: Writing #*g #*mine

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douchebagbrainwaves · 6 years ago

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WHY TWITTER IS DEAD

Like nuclear weapons, the main role of big companies' patent portfolios is to threaten anyone who attacks them with a counter-suit. If you take the trouble to attack them from an oblique angle, they'll meet you half-way and maneuver to keep you in their blind spot. So far so good. Because they seem safer. To be patentable, an invention has to be tuned just right. But when someone on the maker's schedule? The manager's schedule is that they know it's a bad investment. These people's opinions change with every wind. Who's right? I don't even want to think about the optimal way to do it, you should leave business models for later, just as property managers can't save you from the building burning down. You may have heard that quote about luck consisting of opportunity meeting preparation. Why do patents play so small a role patents play in the software business, seem to get sued much by competitors, either.

This essay developed out of conversations I've had with several other programmers about why Java smelled suspicious. One is that software is so complicated that patents by themselves are not worth very much. Problems arise when they meet. Some people who've read this think it's an interesting attempt to write about something that hasn't been written about before. But it's easy to figure this out: just take a shower in the morning. The problem is that once you start raising money—or talking to acquirers. We advise startups to set both low, initially: spend practically nothing, and make your initial goal simply to build a company on.

There are ideas that obvious lying around now. Com, the new CEO wanted to switch to Windows—even after PayPal cofounder Max Levchin showed that their software scaled only 1% as well on Windows as Unix. There were no police. Organic ideas are generally preferable to the made up kind, but particularly so when the founders are young. There's nothing like users for convincing acquirers. Then you don't depend on any one person. If these guys had thought they were starting companies, they don't want to offend Big Company by refusing to meet. Amazon's suit against Barnes & Noble was thus the equivalent of a nuclear first strike. This is a different form of profitability than startups have traditionally aimed for.

Why would they go to extra trouble to get programmers into the US, where they then paid them the same as it is for many software startups because they're now so cheap. Once you're ramen profitable, you're already avoiding these mistakes. Java as part of a plan by Sun to undermine Microsoft. The only real role of patents, for most people the latter is merely the optimal case of the former. So if you remember only the title of a patent application, just as a few decades ago they started to make money. If you're thinking about investors during it, then you're not thinking about the question of software patents. Your unconscious won't even let you think of grand ideas but decide to pursue smaller ones because they seem safer. The earliest phase is usually the most productive. It's usually a mistake for a promising company less than a year old even to talk to corp dev when they're either doing really well, you can pick a time when you're not in the middle of something else, and you don't get that kind of money just by asking for it. Just imagine what a company would be like, because that's how things used to be. Our own startup, back in the 90s, I evolved another trick for partitioning the day. Others say I will get in trouble for appearing to be writing about things I don't understand.

I called business stuff. Are they hypocrites? Any online store that kept people's shipping addresses would have implemented this. A single meeting can blow a whole afternoon, by breaking up a morning or afternoon. The earliest phase is usually the most productive. If this were true, Yahoo would be first in line to buy Suns; but when I worked there, the servers were all Intel boxes running FreeBSD. If you grow to the point where anyone considers you worth attacking, you're doing well. Whether they encourage innovation or not, patents were at least intended to. I had two workdays each day, one on the manager's schedule. If company management companies.

Especially since programmers are being trained in other countries too. And who knows, maybe their offer will be surprisingly high. Under the present rules, patents are part of the mating dance with acquirers. This bites you twice: first by the injury itself, and second by taking up your time afterward thinking about it. And the core problem in a startup is the feeling that what you're doing every hour. Raising money is terribly distracting. Getting money is almost by definition an attention sink.

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minipliny · 7 years ago

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oh my GOD i hope readmore mobile doesn’t break again because i wrote more ??? moby dick ??? fanfiction??? aka pequod office comedy and i c a n n o t consign it yet to the open waters of AO3

It is an ironic circumstance, that men often receive the pleasures of life when they are least positioned to enjoy them; thus the Marquis de Lafayette, in the flourishing of his fortune and with an overladen table, received an abounding Nantucket cheese for lighting up the streets of Paris with whale oil, and was only inconvenienced by it.

This was mighty bad timing; had but a crumb of that monstrous cheddar been lowered down to him in his prison-cell, that poor Frenchman would have wept! - and just the same, the fine cheese laid before Ahab at table could have been vermescent hard-tack; it penetrated him mechanically, but that inward Bastille of the heart received no provision.

And so Ahab left his fare half-tasted, and his officers under the still spell of that silent glance no more thought of eating the remnants than of seizing the sextant from him.

The harpooners had a happier meal; they were all the brighter, for being at last in clean shirts upon a clean ship. To see the transformation wrought upon that oily deck, you should have thought our thirty hands willing and ready to take scrub-brooms to the Slough of Despond, and make light work of sixteen hundred years of filth. But something remained in their exhausted countenances of try-works ash; they looked fled from some new-fallen Troy, although, good Heavens! with an outlandish variety of household gods stowed in their trowsers-pockets. Besides, that narrow deliverance or delivery of Tashtego’s, from the whale’s case, had weighted a little on them; and Daggoo was doing what he could to make light upon it.

“First I thought,” said Daggoo, “that’s an end to their infernal pipe-smoke belowdecks! How easy I’ll breathe; how sound I’ll sleep. But then I remembered, that they’d have to make harpooneers in your places - one of the boat crews, well! - and as soon as you’d hand them a harpoon, with their arm a-tremble, they’d dart it backwards and sideways, and I’d be stuck full of irons like a hedgehog.”

From the calm and straightforward way he voiced these grim imaginings, he seemed not to be skylarking at all; Tashtego said only - “It’s not that we smoke; it’s that the carpenter sneezes.”

“And why d'ye think he sneezes?” said Daggoo.

Queequeg, having finished a trencher of salt-junk, expounded upon the excellence of tobacco for the constitution; as for being rid of Queequeg, they should have great trouble unless their captain became more inclined to social niceties, for the closest he had come to death was at the hands of a six-quart tub of molasses. This had been on his first voyage; he had been dispatched to row it over by way of sweetening a gam; a squall had blown up, the tub rocked on its bench, and pitching over had dashed poor Queequeg into the Pacific in its headlong rush. The other oarsman had made a grab for Queequeg, and disdained the tub, which wended on its lonely way.

“If I see a six-quart tub round Cape-Horn, I’ll sing out for molasses,” said Tashtego. “Hmm-mm-mm, so much for all this gamming and dancing. There was one of the crew missing when we were embarking from Honolulu - well - we thought, he’s deserted; diseased; died of dysentery; but the third mate said he’d declared a friend of his was aboard a Yankee whaler near us. He asked the captain if he’d seen the fellow - the captain turned pale - barged into the cabin. All right! there’s a muffled sound; the mate sprang open a sea-chest - there he is dead-drunk, that’s a way to recruit! More fool that captain, he was a slack fellow at the oar.”

“Oh, you don’t dance for you’re too busy yarning, Tashtego,” said Daggoo, “here! I don’t want any of this cheese.”

As for Tashtego, he had either made such short work of the salt-junk, or, having been made a harpooneer, was so relieved at being able to display any fastidiousness at all about his dinner, that he spurned that butt of cheese entirely; which left it to Queequeg, who contemplated it and then rolled the entire remnant in a pocket handkerchief and tucked it into his jacket.

“You’ll burst, Queequeg,” Tashtego said, “just when we’ve scrubbed the decks clean again.” and he prodded Queequeg with his fork by way of emphasis.

“O let him have it; when you are our Paul-Cuffe it will be a shame to be so exact about our provisions,” said Daggoo, “why, Tash! you’ll be summoned to meet the President, and he’ll say, what a dashing sort of whale-captain, but why d'ye starve your men of cheese?"

"All right, oil your boat with it for all I care,” Tashtego said, blowing a spiral of smoke up to the heavens, though it stopped at the cabin-rafters, “there’s $200 advance on my pay sold already to an agent, for my wife in Gay-Head; there’s my ambition done."

As for Daggoo, he slanted Queequeg a long look, but kept his own counsel.

There, you may, say, what unprepossessing details of men who furnish forth such splendid feats for your narrative, Ishmael; what d'ye bother us with these for? Well, here are the Pagan harpooneers at rest, and therefore in miniature. I have seen the curious sort of theatre they have on the Java Islands, and the players for it. What possesses their makers, to paint their faces so intricately, and to adorn their clothing in queer chasings of gold and azure and vermilion, I know not; for, the stage being rigged in cotton cloth, the oil-lamps being kindled, what extraordinary, gigantic forms live and move before you! what supernatural shapes appear, from a little flat-leather puppet made by a mortal hand! but as for the detailing, you can’t see a scrap of it.

As for that Paul Cuffe, who was entertained by no other than James Madison, I myself have not met him; but his son entertained me very hospitably at his estate near Stockbridge, having a Nantucket-friend in common with me, and being desirous of some briny reminiscences of the Atlantic from which he was now barred.

How curiously are traced out the paths of a man’s fate! for that son was a Quaker by birth and conviction, a sober merchantmen and whaler; but when but a boy, the hour of national fate came upon him, his love of country pressed him to service, and in 1812 he shipped upon a vessel, with a letter of marque.

God only knows, if one of the Englishmen who jailed him so cruelly as a Yankee, had a father who had been outraged that the elder Cuffe be jailed in Massachusetts as a Black Indian.

He afterwards set out again in his former professions; lived very peacably among Catholics and South-Seas heathens; and by reason of a crippling of his foot, had lately turned yeoman-farmer to the family estate.

Let us leave that much-travelled mariner under his own vine and fig-tree, and turn ourselves to Queequeg; who had ventured up on deck, and hailed me where I sat leaning against the ship’s furniture. He cut a good figure, whether or no bloody, blubberous and dishevelled; but let us say that his ablutions had served to gild that lily, and that we greet our fellow-man more joyfully when that joy is unmixed with fright. The same, I am sure, applied to my own proper person.

As for what I had been employed in doing for some hours, the answer is - nothing, but lose a game of dominoes to a Portugese sailor. Three cheers, then, to the grand old customs of whaling! for what confusion, what seas of ink have been spilled, what astrological ransackings between calendars Babylonian, Hindu, Hebrew, Parsi, Julian and Gregorian, upon fixing a rest-day. But the Sabbath, to be enjoyed upon a whale ship, is simply and according to the laws of hygiene and common-sense, fastened upon the day after trying out. For, aside from the scrubbing here mentioned, and setting men to the mast-heads and the wheel, which is a work of necessity, no duties are assigned. And for men who have laboured night and day so ceaselessly and amid such smoke and heat, what could be sweeter than rest! what more reasonable!

These laws of whaling-Sabbath, however, are not so strict, as not to be revoked, the instant a whale should be spotted.

So there we sat, exchanging pleasantries, when Queequeg took hold of my hand, turned it over, and deftly palmed something in it in a pocket-handkerchief.

At that instant, he declared to me, that it was a relief to him that the spermaceti was decanted entirely into barrels; since if I took a fancy to cast myself into it, he should only have to haul me out by the ankles.

This thought astounded and distracted me; so that my countenance certainly did not display any culpability in the matter of the cheddar-cheese. In fact, upon quietly unwrapping it, I was filled with a sort of unnameable awe. It struck me very forcibly that it had been carved already; and carved at the captain’s table, and thus by the captain’s fork; so that graven upon it, and perhaps magnified homeopathically a hundred- or a thousand-fold, were the gloomy impressions of Ahab’s teeth!

Nevertheless, in all my reveries, upon the tabooed nature of this cheddar-cheese, I was rapidly taking a bite from it; and would have continued, had I not heard the distinctive tread of the first mate. I stuffed the cheese into my jacket as fast as the Spartan-boy in the fable; it seemed to burn there.

Now, Starbuck being a thoughtful first mate, he had noted, that in the entire practical business of whaling, Queequeg had been my preceptor; and that I had submitted to his experienced judgement countless and perhaps supernumerary queries on this subject. This struck Starbuck as laudable, inasfar as the responsibility of the harpooneers to the oarsmen went; and excellent, as to the safety of the boat. For certainly as a boy-whaler he had dogged the steps of his own elders, and, the hands aboard a whaler growing greener, with every year he was employed in this business, that instruction grew ever more necessary.

But as to Queequeg, in the second dog-watch, having collapsed almost to the point of insensibility in retrieving his colleague out of a sperm whale head - as to Queequeg, who would be about again at one o'clock in the morning to superintend the watch - as to Queequeg having to be a schoolmaster at this hour, this was an excess.

"There, that’s duty done and more than done,” said Starbuck, “rest ye, man."

Queequeg being very cheerfully engaged in what he was doing, did what he could to convey, that these southern stars below the Equator had a sweet smack of home for him - being not so distant from the arrangement of constellations, that were at once making their storied motions over his parents and married sister - and that he should rather then rest on deck.

All this had once furnished material for a domestic dispute between myself and Queequeg on the subject of the Milky Way; for, try as I might, I could not convince him that this being a lactatious splattering of a Greek goddess was not some freak or hobby-horse of my own, and the general belief of the Christian world. We had to call in the old Manxman for arbitration.

Besides the meaning, there are the specifics of that starry almanac, which marked out for Queequeg so precisely the flourishings of different crops - I should have made a very poor gentleman-farmer, as I was too saddened that the cultivation even of yam and taro was so exacting a science, rather than being furnished forth without the attendant curse of Adam, to pay a very profound attention.

As for these ideas being conveyed, which between boat-header and steerer were more usually along practical lines, the married-sister did materialise a moment in the mind of Starbuck; but in a very plain sort of guise! and without the peace-treaty, that had attended her betrothal.

"Here’s one man’s stars my own reversed - well, Starbuck, but familiar all; never has my heart misgiven me before, to see the Bears sink out of view; I traverse one Creation. And how low swung and sank that whale-head - nearly to the very deeps, if not arrested! Is’t too clear a sign, to see a man brought out from it? And yet those sweet assurances I might have had from this seem most invisibly bright, and dipped beyond mine own horizon.”

And seeing Queequeg still stood patiently at his station, said “As seems well to you, Queequeg; but rest.”

Starbuck went briskly then about the decks, with an inspecting eye, as of a man heedless of his own advice, and bent upon wresting out of the good condition of the tackles, the boats, the rigging, and all the sundries, some plank of certainty. Queequeg however, as a man will when recalled to his own exhaustion, lent his head upon my shoulder, and closed his eyes. The reader may be familiar with this mingling of sensations; how there steals over that one furnishing himself for a pillow a most loving, amiable, and sweet feeling, and at that self-same moment, over that shoulder and then that arm a gradual numbness, so that Queequeg dozed upon a marmoreate flank of mine.

I remained ten more minutes awake, in the quiet consumption of the cheese, which was as a foretaste of paradise after months of forking down bits of duff. As to the implications to the law of property, let it be said it was fairly the harpooneers’ to dispose of, and if Aristotle is right that two friends are but one soul, that inhabit different bodies, then Queequeg in one this occasion pasturing me on cheddar, was only pasturing himself.

I was half-awake, and happily replete, when Starbuck passed me by again; and gave myself and Queequeg a brief and desolate glance. He had not meant, I think, to embark upon an idle conversation, but if you picture Achilles, after his chariot-horses had spoken that once to him, standing with curry-comb in hand, and without reason or expectation, still hoping for another word - so Starbuck, standing in silence upon the forecastle deck.

#my writing #moby dick

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