#git-remote

[vegnuli]

No se puede negociar: no se encontró ningún tipo de clave de host coincidente

SOLUTION SOLUCION #SSH o #GIT A Unable to #negotiate with localhost port 22: no matching host #key type found. Their offer: ssh-dss

Este es un problema con dispositivos más antiguos… y algunos hosts (aquí encontrará la solución y por qué sucedió):  No se puede negociar con el puerto 22 192.168.8.109: no se encontró ningún tipo de clave de host coincidente. Su oferta: ssh-dss o en ingles Unable to negotiate with 192.168.8.109 port 22: no matching host key type found. Their offer: ssh-dss El problema es que dicho algoritmo…

[irradiate-space]

I want a git remote that's private, but accessible from the Internet in case I'm away from home and want to sync stuff.

Do all the non-GitHub git remotes these days do free private repos, or am I going to have to look at self-hosting?

[ohproserpine]

v. deer dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, heavy warning for violence and bloof, graphic descriptions of injuries, manipulation, allusion to death, grey morality, references to alcoholism, twisted view of love, gorey descriptions of love, murder

"THAT SLAG!"

Velvette's piercing scream echoed through the meeting room, slicing through the air. Vox and Valentino jolted, turning their gazes toward the source of the disturbance.

"Good-for-nothing piece of shit twat assistant!" Velvette paced the room, her movements agitated and frantic as she angrily tapped away on her phone.

In a sudden surge of anger, she flung her device across the room, sending it flying above Valentino's head. A crash punctuated the air as it collided with a window, the impact shattering the glass into shards that rained down onto the floor.

"Velvette, darling," Vox raised an eyebrow, his voice calm as always, "What's got you so worked up?"

He took a sip of his coffee, the rich aroma wafting up from the steaming cup as he idly scrolled through his laptop. "Is it that showgirl situation again?"

"Oh, bloody hell!" Velvette rolled her eyes. "Of course, it is, you git! It's been literally the ONLY thing I've been banging on about this week!"

Valentino's sigh cut through the conversation as he adjusted his sunglasses. Holding his glittering firearm up to his face, he pressed rhinestones on it with tacky glue, unfazed by Velvette's anger.

"It's just some performer, babydoll. We can find a replacement."

"Are you out of your mind?!" Velvette seethed as she stormed toward them, her heels clicking loudly with each step. With a forceful slam of her hands against the table, it shifted forward, jolting the items on its surface. With a hiss of pain, Vox recoiled, his hand jerking back from the scalding coffee he had spilled on himself.

"The boutique opening is in three days! How on earth am I supposed to find a girl who's got the looks and a set of pipes in time?!" she exclaimed.

Valentino looked up from his bedazzling, a raised eyebrow visible above the rim of his sunglasses. "Have you tried one of my models? I got a lot of pretty little chicas who can charm the socks off anyone. No need to stress yourself out."

"Your models? Do you have any idea how much time and effort it's going to take for me to wrangle those little amateurs into something remotely resembling a professional performance?" Velvette scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Sod off!"

Valentino snarled in response but turned away with a huff, muttering under his breath, "Have it your way."

"If I may," Vox spoke, wiping his hand with a grumble, the sting of the burn still lingering. He tilted his head slightly, raising a single brow. "Have you tried scouting?"

"Have I tried scouting?" Velvette mocked, her hands waving around in frustration. "Of course I have! All I've come across are bloody singers around here, and they all look like they've been dragged through the dirt backwards!"

"Well, have you tried the back district?" he offered, tapping his claws on the long glass table. He watched as Velvette pulled out a pocket mirror from her purse, visibly cringing at his suggestion.

"Why in bloody hell would I go there?" Velvette grimaced as she re-applied her dark lipstick. "I'm not about to waste my time scouring the back district for some dime-a-dozen talent. I need someone who's got class, not gutter scraps."

"Well, there's this performer," Vox insisted, snapping his fingers. A screen materialized with a whiz, displaying a video of a figure in a sparkly silver dress singing and dancing. As the video drew to a close, the camera zoomed in, capturing a close-up of the woman's face. Her features were radiant, a smile gracing her lips as she gazed out at the audience.

Velvette snapped her mirror shut with a flick of her wrist, interest sparking in her eyes. She leaned in closer, studying the performer's features.

"Who's this?" she quipped.

"Dolly, at least that's what they call her," Vox hummed, sliding the screen over to Velvette. "She works at Mimzy's Lounge."

Velvette's expression darkened, strands of hair falling over her eyes as she took the screen in her hands, leaning down to view the image again. The glow of the projection illuminated her face, casting shadows that danced across her steely expression.

"Mimzy?" she uttered the name slowly, her lips dripping with venom. "That's the cunt who tore up my best showgirl!"

"Drama," Valentino chuckled, spinning his bedazzled gun around his fingers.

"Well, this Dolly girl is her biggest star, and she's been making quite a name for herself there," Vox drawled, gesturing toward the screen. With a tap of his claw on the screen, he zoomed in closer. "She's got the looks, the voice, and the stage presence you're looking for."

"And she's managed to shine even in the shadow of that cesspool," he added with a sardonic grin as he sipped from his coffee.

A flicker ignited in Velvette's eyes as she straightened. "Then it's settled. I'll pay her a visit."

"Sounds like you've got a plan brewing, my dear. Care for some company?" Vox spoke with a smirk playing on his lips.

Velvette shot him a knowing glance before a grin tugged at the corner of her lips. "Why not? I could use some of your charm."

.

"Cher? Dearest? It's time to get up," the radio atop your bedside table rumbled, your husband's voice crackling through the air.

Grunting in protest, you burrowed deeper into the warmth of your blankets, seeking refuge from the harsh bite of the morning. But Alastor's persistent calls refused to be ignored.

"Mon cœur? Cher? W̷A̴K̶E̴ ̶U̸P̷!̶" it blared, the words amplified by hissing static, demanding attention like a toddler throwing a tantrum.

With a heavy sigh, you reluctantly peeled yourself away from the cocoon of comfort that had enveloped you. Sitting up, you felt the blanket slip from your shoulders, pooling around your hips. Memories of last night flooded in, and the remnants of Alastor's romantic gesture still adorned your room. The bouquet sat atop your dresser, with scattered white roses delicately strewn across your bed like whispers of affection.

Despite the tender atmosphere, a throbbing headache reminded you of an unwelcome guest that accompanied you into the morning—the hangover.

Dragging yourself to the side, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and sat for a moment, rubbing your temples in a futile attempt to ease the discomfort. Then, pushing yourself to your feet, you padded across the room, the cool floorboards sending a shiver through your bare skin. You picked up the radio, its incessant blare akin to an annoying alarm clock, with Alastor's voice still grating on your nerves.

"Alright. Alright. I'm up, love," you grumbled, rubbing at your eyes which still felt thick with sleep.

The radio rumbled with delight at your response.

"Hellish morning to you, my dear!" Alastor's voice boomed through the speakers, his jovial tone slicing through the early morning gloom. Despite your grogginess, a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips at the sound of his voice.

"Hellish morning to you too, darling," you returned, laced with affection.

"I trust you had a restful sleep?" Alastor questioned.

"As restful as one can get with a noisy radio blaring in their ear," you sighed, already feeling the weight of the day bearing down on you.

"Hah!" Alastor laughed, the sound making you roll your eyes. "But where ever would you be without my dulcet tones to serenade you awake?"

"Probably catching a few more precious minutes of sleep," you muttered, already regretting the start of another day. “You are insufferable, you know that?”

"Ah, but that's why you love me."

Back in his hotel room, Alastor chuckled to himself as he shrugged on his suit jacket. From his microphone, he caught the rustling of your clothes, followed by the gentle rush of running water.

With a flick of his wrist, Alastor summoned a gramophone, its boxy form materializing atop his dresser with a soft thud. Soon enough, the needle gently descended onto the spinning vinyl record, releasing a soft, nostalgic melody that filled the room.

I'll never smile again Until I smile at you I'll never laugh again What good would it do?

As Alastor began to sing along, his smooth voice seeping through the rusting speakers of the radio, you paused in the middle of washing your hair, caught off guard by the unexpected serenade.

"Stupid, stupid man," you muttered under your breath with a shake of your head. And yet, despite yourself, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips, warmth creeping into your heart.

For tears would fill my eyes My heart would realize That our romance is through

Exiting the bath, you toweled yourself off and approached your wardrobe, humming softly as you selected your attire for the day. After scanning through the hangers, you settled on a vibrant red hooverette dress. With matching stockings and white heels, you completed the look, the final touch being a few roses plucked from the bouquet Alastor had given you, tucked behind your ear.

I'll never love again I'm so in love with you I'll never thrill again To somebody new

Dressed and ready to face the day, you returned to the radio, the soft strains of music and Alastor's voice still lingering in the air. As the final notes faded into silence, you stood for a moment, savoring the fleeting illusion of domestic bliss for a moment longer.

With a pang of sadness, you glanced at the clock, realizing that it was time to go.

"I have to head out now, darling," you spoke into the radio, feeling a tug at your heartstrings. "My shift starts in a while."

"Ah, until we meet again, mon cher," Alastor's voice replied warmly. "Do take care of yourself."

In response, you leaned down to press a kiss against the speakers, a gesture of your affection. The soft sound of the kiss was barely audible, but Alastor's ears perked up and caught the gentle touch against the metal surface. He chuckled softly, then, with a soft click, the radio fell silent.

As you slipped your purse over your shoulder, a thought crossed your mind—should you bring the radio along? The temptation to have Alastor's voice with you throughout the day was strong, but the risk of further damaging the precious device gave you pause. With a sigh, you decided against it, opting to leave it safely in your room, where it would patiently await your return.

Heading out of your room, the lounge was already buzzing with the hustle and bustle of customers and staff. Although no singer graced the stage yet, the speakers blasted with the familiar tunes of Hell’s Top 10 Hits.

"There you are!" Mimzy's voice cut through the lively atmosphere, her smile failing to reach her eyes as she bounded towards you.

"Mimzy," you greeted flatly, acknowledging her with a nod.

"How are ya doin', doll? Just the person I was looking for," she purred with a bat of her eyes. "Alright, listen, I've got a marvelous idea for a performance."

You sighed inwardly, bracing yourself for whatever scheme she had cooked up this time. Mimzy's requests were as extravagant as they were challenging, always pushing the boundaries to maintain her club's "reputation" and squeeze every last dime from these sinners' wallets.

"Let's hear it," you replied, mustering a polite smile.

"So, I was thinking," Mimzy began, tapping her finger along her chin, "how about a duet? A throwback to the good ole days, sharing the spotlight. It's bound to be a performance these wayward fools are going to talk about for ages!"

You raised an eyebrow, surprised by the relatively tame suggestion. The blonde wasn't exactly known for her subtlety or restraint when it came to showmanship. At most, a duet with Mimzy was sure to be a spectacle, for better or for worse.

"And when is this going to be held?" you grinned tensely, hands at your hips. There was bound to be a switch somewhere.

"When else? Prime time tonight!" Mimzy giggled as she threw up her hands with a flourish.

And there it was.

"Tonight?" Your eyes widened, shoulders squaring in shock. "Miss Ma'am, that's cutting it a bit close, don't you think?"

"Bushwa! We'll make it work," Mimzy replied dismissively, waving off your concerns with a flick of her hand. "And I've already got the perfect song in mind. It'll be a real humdinger, mark my words."

"Alright," you sighed, hoping for the best but bracing yourself for the chaos that was sure to follow. "Tonight it is."

"That's the spirit! Hell, why don't you take the morning off?" Mimzy grinned as she hurried off down the hallway to make preparations. "I'll see you tonight! Make sure to be here by sunset!"

Standing by the stairs as stiff as a pole, you watched her skip off with an unusually chipper air. It struck you as odd, but you pushed the thought aside, eager to have the morning to yourself. As you turned away, however, your head throbbed once more, the reminder of your hangover cutting through the moment.

"Looks like a ciggy is in order," you muttered to yourself, rubbing at your throbbing temples. Making your way outside, hoping to smoke away the edge of discomfort.

Trudging along the filthy backstreets, you did your best to avoid the muck and other questionable liquids that lined the roadside. The stench of decay hung heavy in the air, assaulting your senses with each step you took.

No one spared you a glance as you passed; the citizens of hell were absorbed in their own pursuits or concerns, and you blended into the backdrop of the grim landscape. 

Finally reaching a clearer stretch of street, you took a seat on one of the benches, the worn wood groaning under your weight. The city bustled around you, a mix of sounds and movements that seemed to blur together.

With a weary sigh, you reached into your bag in search of company—nicotine.

Fingers fumbling through the contents of your purse, you felt the familiar shape of the roll, and with a hum, pulled it out. However, as you continued to rummage through your belongings, a sinking realization settled in.

Your matchbox wasn't there.

Dropping your head into your hands with a scowl, you could feel the stress mounting within you, bubbling up like a simmering pot ready to boil over.

Wallowing in your misfortune, you failed to notice someone approaching you from behind. A sudden tap on your shoulder jolted you, and as you turned, you found yourself face to face with a tall and slender spider-like demon. His frame was practically drowning in a plush white fur coat, the color almost blending into his skin. It contrasted sharply with the sleekness of the black bodycon dress clinging onto his curves underneath.

"Need a light?" he asked casually as he held up a pink-colored lighter.

You eyed him skeptically for a moment.

In hell, kindness often came with a price. Whether it was a favor owed, a debt to be repaid, or simply a hidden agenda waiting to be revealed, nothing came for free. However, when your head throbbed again, you sighed and relented with a nod, accepting the offer despite your reservations.

Angel Dust ignited the lighter, the flame pirouetting gracefully and flickering in the wind. Drawing closer, you leaned in, offering the tip of your cigarette to the flame. With a gentle hiss, the tobacco caught fire, wisps of smoke curling into the air like ethereal dancers. As you took a deep, shaky inhale, the saccharine poison of the smoke flooded your lungs, leaving a bittersweet taste lingering on your tongue. Shutting your eyes, a sense of calm washed over you as you leaned back, letting yourself be carried away by the fleeting tranquility of the moment.

Remembering you had company, you grounded yourself and opened your eyes. "Thank you ever so much, dear. Can I have your name?" you asked, tilting your head up at him. The stranger moved to sit down next to you, the worn wood of the bench creaking under his weight.

"Angel Dust," he said, and your eyes shot wide open, lips forming an 'O' shape.

"The porn star?" you blurted out before you could stop yourself.

"Didn't take you as the type to watch my shit, toots," Angel laughed heartily as his grin widened from ear to ear in response, his golden tooth gleaming at you like a wink.

"Well, I may not be your typical fan, but your name does tend to make its rounds in conversation," you chuckled, shaking your head in amusement. Taking a drag from your cigarette, you gestured with it casually. "I saw you in my husb—erm, the Radio Demon's commercial. Hazbin Hotel, was it?"

"Yeah, and don't worry, I know. Dolly, was it?" Angel Dust replied smoothly, his demeanor surprisingly nonchalant given the situation. Extending his hand for you to shake, he continued, "Nice to finally put a face to the name."

His confession caught you off guard, but you shook his hand firmly nonetheless. "How did you—did Alastor tell you about me? You two must be close."

Angel Dust hesitated, a grimace crossing his features. His crimson eyes darted away briefly, as if weighing his words carefully.

"Let's just say... word gets around in our circles," he replied vaguely, tugging his coat closer around himself.

"I don't know him that well, though," Angel Dust admitted with a shrug, his gaze drifting off momentarily. "Sometimes he can be a bit..."

"A pompous dick with a sadistic streak?" you suggested, exhaling smoke as you raised an eyebrow at Angel Dust, testing the waters.

Angel Dust laughed genuinely, throwing his head back. "Something along those lines, toots," he grinned, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Well, it's good to know I'm not the only one who sees it," you remarked, a wry smile playing on your lips.

"Believe me, ya ain't alone in that," he agreed. "So, ah—What brings ya out here? Aside from the obvious need for a blow."

"Just needed some fresh air," you admitted with a shrug. "Plus, I may have indulged a bit too much last night and woke up feeling like death warmed over."

"I hear ya," Angel Dust replied, nodding sympathetically as he raked his eyes over your worn-out form, noting the slump of your body and the dark circles under your eyes. You looked so different from the sparkly performer he had seen on stage days ago.

"Hey, I actually caught one of ya shows the other night," he piped up, attempting to shift the conversation to a lighter topic.

"Did you?" you cooed, surprise evident in your voice.

"Yeah," Angel nodded, stretching out on the bench, spreading both his arms across the back of the wood. "Gotta say, ya put on quite the show up there. I mean—ya had the crowd eating out of the palm of ya hand."

A faint smile crept onto your cheeks at his praise, a swell of pride rising within you.

"Well, thank you," you bowed your head in gratitude, momentarily forgetting your fatigue in the warmth of his words. "It means a lot coming from someone like you."

Angel Dust waved off your thanks with a casual flick of his hand, lips jutting out in a playful pout.

"Ah, c'mon. I call it like I see it," he grinned with a shrug. "N'trust me, I've seen my fair share of performances."

Lost in the easy flow of conversation, you surrendered to the comfort of the moment, finding solace in the presence of your spider companion. Hours passed, and before you knew it, the sun dipped below the horizon,  painting the park in hues of golden warmth.

A jarring ringtone shattered the moment, causing Angel Dust to glance down at his phone with a whistle. His brows furrowed as he scrolled through a flurry of notifications, irritation flashing across his features.

"As much as I'm enjoying our little chat, duty calls," he sighed, flicking away ash from his cigarette. "Can't keep the boss waiting."

You nodded in understanding, offering a wave as he rose from the bench. "No worries, Angel. Catch you later."

"Looking forward to it, dollface," he replied with a wink before sauntering off into the city streets, leaving you to enjoy the peace alone. After a few minutes of watching the sunset, you decided it was time to go. You stubbed out your cigarette and rose from the bench, making your way out.

As you approached the streets leading to the lounge, the neon lights of the city burst into life, casting vibrant reflections on the pavement. Climbing the stairs to the entrance, you were enveloped by the familiar sights and sounds of the establishment. The air was thick with the scent of perfume and cigarette smoke, mingling with the pulsating rhythm of the music from within.

Mimzy was nowhere to be seen, which came as a welcome relief. And with a last scan to ensure she wasn't lurking anywhere nearby, you made a beeline straight to your dressing room, eager to ready yourself for tonight's performance in peace without a certain blonde talking your ear off.

Taking a seat at the vanity, you began to prepare for the evening ahead, carefully applying your makeup and fixing your hair into place.

A sudden knock broke your routine, prompting you to rise from your seat and stride over to the door. With a quick twist of the knob, you swung it open, revealing an imp demon. White blotches adorned his skin, and he sported sunglasses perched high up on his nose. In his hands, he held up a box, his expression expectant as he waited for your reaction.

"May I help you?" you murmured, tilting your head at him, curiosity coloring your tone.

"Yeah. Are you Dolly?" the imp asked, his tone curt and impatient.

"Yes?" you replied, a brow raised.

"Great. This is for you, lady," he said, thrusting the box of jewelry toward you. "If you could just sign here so I can get the hell out of this shithole, that'd be great."

You accepted the box from the imp demon's outstretched hand, eyeing him warily as he thrust a pen and clipboard in your direction. With a resigned sigh, you reluctantly took the pen and scrawled your signature on the dotted line, handing the clipboard back to him with a curt nod.

"Thanks," he muttered, barely sparing you a glance as he turned on his heel and hurried away, disappearing into the crowded hallway of the club.

Interest piqued, you turned your attention back to the box in your hands. With a gentle touch, you ran your fingers along the surface and lifted the lid of the box. Nestled amidst folds of satin lay a pearl necklace, the orbs gleaming as if moonlight itself was captured and trapped within. At its heart, a rose pendant bloomed, its petals of silver. 

Taken aback, you reached for the small card tucked within the box. Gently retrieving, you turned it around to see the words "From Al" penned gracefully in elegant script.

"Oh, you cheese…"

With a soft smile pulling at the corners of your lips, you delicately lifted the necklace from its satin-lined cocoon, feeling the cool weight of the pearls in your palm. As you draped it around your neck, the pendant nestled against your collarbone.

Feeling as giddy as a teenager in love, you turned away from the vanity, your heart fluttering with excitement. With a skip in your step, you crossed the room to the wardrobe, fingers dancing over the array of neatly hung dresses.

Before your fingers could grasp onto a dress, a sudden deafening explosion tore through the air. The sound was thunderous, shaking the walls and causing the ground beneath your feet to tremble violently. The shockwave slammed into you with palpable force, knocking you off balance and sending you crashing to the floor amidst a cloud of dust and debris.

Alarm flashed across your features as your heart pounded in your chest, the adrenaline coursing through your veins like a raging river. With trembling hands, you pushed yourself up from the ground.

What in hell was that?

Staggering to your feet, you ran out into the lounge. As the dust settled, you could see the entrance of the lounge now reduced to a gaping maw, the doors blown open by the force of the explosion. The familiar sights and sounds of the club were replaced by a scene of utter devastation, with debris strewn haphazardly across the floor and smoke billowing out into the night air.

Two ominous figures cast dark shadows amidst the panicked frenzy of staff and customers.

Struggling to discern the figures amidst the chaos, you squinted, trying to make out the details. One of them was a slender demon, dressed immaculately, with cedar-brown skin and long, fiery red curls tied into neat pigtails.

A sinking feeling settled in your chest as you recognized her as one of Hell's infamous overlords. Your heart plummeted further as you caught sight of Mimzy, ensnared in Velvette's vice-like grip, fear twisting her features as she struggled against her captor.

But it was the presence of the figure behind Velvette that truly sent a shiver down your spine.

The TV Demon, Vox.

His gaze swept over the room with a detached coldness, as if the pandemonium were of little consequence. Suddenly, his icy eyes locked onto yours, freezing you in place.

"Mimzy, dear," Vox's voice buzzed with deceptive sweetness as he addressed the shaking blonde. "Why don't you go and have a little chat with your esteemed employee about our... conditions?"

Wide-eyed with fear, Mimzy frantically nodded, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps.

"Make it quick," Velvette scoffed, releasing her grip on Mimzy's throat. The blonde stumbled toward you, her movements shaky and unsteady.

"What is—" you started, but Mimzy cut you off, panic evident as she began to drag you backstage. Without a moment's hesitation, she pushed you into your dressing room, swiftly locking the door behind you.

"Mimzy, what in hell is going on out there?" you demanded, leaning down to her height and shaking her by the arms.

Mimzy's breaths came in ragged gasps as she leaned against the door, her eyes wide with terror. She struggled to find her words, her entire figure trembling as she tried to compose herself.

"It's Velvette," she finally managed to choke out.

"Why is she here? What does she want from us?" you pressed, urgency creeping into your tone as you searched Mimzy's face for answers. But her response only added to your unease.

"You need to go with them," Mimzy decided abruptly.

"Go with who? What are you talking about?" you asked, your voice turning breathless with disbelief.

"She's out for payback, see? And she won't stop until she gets it," Mimzy explained, her tone grave yet determined, like she had some ace up her sleeve. "I gotta level the playing field, doll. She wants a replacement, and she's chosen you."

"I can't just go along with this!" your voice rose to a shout as you began to shake her again, nails digging into the chiffon of her glove. "My contract with you ends in a year. If I go with them, I'll be their pawn for all of eternity!"

"I can't just risk Velvette destroying everything I've built!" Mimzy defended herself, her tone devoid of remorse. "Do you have any idea how much work it took for me to get this place running?!"

Anger surged within you, fueled by betrayal and fear. "What about me? What about Alastor?"

"Oh, him again!" Mimzy shook her arms away from your grip and pushed herself off the door. "You've been so obsessed with that radio fool, you've forgotten who's been with you since the very start! Ever since you got hitched to him, you stopped caring about a damn thing!"

"I cared! And I still bloody well care, Mimzy!" you shot back, your voice rising with anger. Your eyes blazed with fire, cracks beginning to form on your face as your demon form threatened to break free. "But you were an empty, hollow shell of a woman with naught in her head but money! You'd sell out anyone, even me, to get what you want!"

Mimzy recoiled slightly, her façade momentarily cracked by your words. "You-You think you're any better? Running off with your precious Alastor, pretending like he's the savior of your life. But I know you've heard his broadcasts. I know you've seen the news. He's no better than me, playing you like a puppet while hiding behind his façade of being a good man!"

Enraged, you lunged forward, tackling her against the wall. As fury consumed you, your form contorted and twisted, taking on a monstrous semblance. Your features morphed, sharpening into angular lines, while cracks spiderwebbed across your skin like shattered porcelain. Limbs stretched and warped, turning jagged and broken, resembling the joints of a marionette. Teeth elongated into razor-sharp fangs, and as you bared them in a snarl, your lips curled back in a grotesque mockery of a mouth. "Say that again! I fucking dare you!"

"I'll say it as many times as I damn well please!" Mimzy spat, her voice trembling as she locked eyes with your hollow gaze. "Until you get it through your fucking thick, cracked skull!"

The blonde's hand darted to a nearby object, seizing hold of a picture frame within reach. With sudden, fierce motion, she swung it, the weighty wood and glass connecting with your transformed flesh in a sickening thud.

"Mph—!" Biting your lip to stifle a scream, you staggered backward. Thick blood dripped from the wound, pooling on the floor and mingling with the cracks in your porcelain-like skin.

"You've got some nerve!" Mimzy's voice thundered as she stood over you, her pale face flushing crimson with anger. "You wanted that fame, and I made it happen. Now you don't?! Fuck! Some ungrateful brat you are! Willing to throw it all away for some man! Do you really think what he feels for you is love?!"

As Mimzy's tirade continued, her words cutting through the haze of pain and anger, a sense of disorientation washed over you. Her words struck a nerve, stirring up memories that you had long tried to suppress.

.

Rain poured down, drenching your hunched form. The world around you blurred into a chaotic whirlwind of colors and shapes, disorienting and suffocating. 

Beneath the fabric of your dress, your knees throbbed painfully, raw from the harsh scrape against unforgiving concrete. Your hands desperately fumbled in the darkness, searching for something to anchor yourself to. Then, finally, your fingertips brushed against the familiar texture of rusting metal.

With a ragged sigh of relief, you realized you had found the gate of your house. Summoning all your remaining strength, you clasped both hands around the cold, wet metal bars and attempted to pull yourself up.

Through the haze, you felt rough hands sneak around your waist, and as your vision cleared slightly, your husband's face emerged from the blur. His once impeccable suit now clung to him like a second skin, soaked through by the downpour. Strands of his usually neat hair stuck to his forehead, dampened and dripping onto his glasses. Cursing like a sailor under his breath, he scooped you up into his arms, expression turning tense as he felt the icy chill of your body against his own.

If you weren't moving he would have thought you a corpse.

"Cher?" Alastor's voice cut through the fog in your mind, but your response was sluggish, your gaze glassy and dilated. "Merde. Did you drag yourself here all alone?"

Without waiting for an answer, he moved, cradling you in his arms as he hurried back toward your house. Once inside, he wasted no time in laying you down on the sofa.

"Al," you finally spoke, whimpering softly as you raised a shaky hand towards him. Alastor immediately moved towards you, hushing your cries as he pressed a deep kiss on your lips.

Your husband moved to cradle your face in his rough hands, and what he saw shattered whatever fragments of his heart were still intact. Bruises and dried blood stained your body, your skin clammy and pale. Streaks of mascara carved paths down your tear-stained face, and your limbs twitched involuntarily. The taste of whiskey still lingered on your lips, and the fearful haze in your eyes mirrored the terror of a rabbit cornered by a wolf.

"Who did this to you?" he growled, his pupils dilating with anger as he knelt before you, gently slipping your torn stockings and muddy heels off your feet.

"Mimzy," you sobbed out, curling into yourself, the weight of it all feeling too heavy on your shoulders.

"I tried to quit. She didn't let me. The bar. She gave me a drink. More and more. I couldn't stop. I was just so upset." Your words were fragmented, broken by the wrenching sobs that shook your fragile form, vulnerability laid bare before him.

"Mon cœur," Alastor hushed, rubbing circles into your ankle with his thumb. "Calm down. Take your time."

You made an effort, though the first few attempts were shallow and rushed. Eventually, you managed to draw in a deep breath, releasing it in a rush before taking another. And another.

"That's it, my dear. Now, what happened?"

Summoning all your strength, you opened your mouth and began to recount the harrowing events of the night.

Earlier this evening, you had mustered up enough courage to hand in your resignation letter to Mimzy. However, her reaction was far from pleasant. An argument erupted, filled with less than savory words being thrown around like daggers.

Before you knew it, Mimzy's rage boiled over, and she tackled you, raining blows upon you with a fury that bordered on madness, beating you with an inch of your life. And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.

Her demeanor shifted drastically, morphing from a raging storm into a gentle breeze. With a sickening sweetness, she offered you a hand up, as if nothing had happened. Weak and disoriented, you allowed her to lead you to her private bar, where she poured drink after drink, urging you to indulge.

As per habit, you found yourself consuming the alcohol with reckless abandon, the burning liquid dulling the pain and blurring the edges of reality

Alastor's heart clenched at the anguish in your voice, his expression darkening with a mixture of concern and simmering anger. Slowly, he rose from his seat and lifted you onto his lap, cradling you gently in his arms.

Taking your hand in his, he leaned in close, his voice a soft murmur.

"Let me take care of everything, doll," he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. "She won't ever bother you again."

The tenderness in his voice caused your breath to hitch, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to fall into the reassurance of his presence. It offered a fleeting sense of security amidst everything surrounding you. Yet, slowly as the puzzles fell into pieces, a gnawing sense of dread clawed at your insides.

"Alastor, no," you whimpered, withdrawing your hands and pressing them against his chest, pushing him away with trembling fingers. "Please don't tell me it means what I think it does."

Your gaze pleaded with him, searching his eyes for any sign of reassurance, any glimmer of hope that what you feared was not true. However, your husband's smile remained unchanged—comforting yet chilling—as he pressed another kiss to the corner of your lips.

"I would kill for you," Alastor murmured against your skin, his thumb tracing the contours of your wedding ring. Bending down, he pressed a tender kiss against the golden band, sealing his vow with the promise of bloodshed, lips lingering against the cool metal. As he drew back, you found yourself ensnared by the intensity of his gaze, pools of brown reflecting a manic fervor.

"Please let me kill for you."

Tears blurred your vision as you bowed your head, the weight of his words sinking deep into your soul. You knew Alastor's devotion knew no bounds. Whether it meant causing pain, shedding blood, or delving into the darkest corners of his being, he would do it for you without a moment's hesitation.

A warmth trickled down your cheeks with each blink, tracing a path along your skin. Your eyes burned fiercely, tears cascading down your flushed cheeks and silently dripping from your chin like dewdrops. As you attempted to draw deep breaths, your body shook with a desperation to escape, though you couldn't quite grasp what it was you were fleeing from.

A ragged sound echoed through the room, grating against your senses. It took you a moment to register that the noise came from your own lungs, your breaths torn and jagged as they struggled to find a rhythm.

"Okay," you whispered, the weight of that single word heavy with the burden of guilt and a future tinged with blood.

There was a soft chuckle, accompanied by the gentle touch of a hand moving to caress your cheeks. "Good girl."

.

Snapping back to the present, you found yourself staring at Mimzy as she raged around the room, her fury unleashed on the surroundings, wrecking anything and everything in her path.

A man who kills for you. A man who dirties his hands for you. Is that not love?

A kick from her sent your vanity toppling over, causing bottles of your perfume and whiskey to crash from its surface. The glass shattered upon impact, releasing splintering sounds that pierced your ears. As the bottles broke, the air filled with the pungent scent of flora, mingling with the rich aroma of spilled whiskey.

It must be love.

With a hand trembling from adrenaline, you ran your fingers through your hair, the sticky feeling of blood staining your palm. Rising unsteadily to your feet, you turned to face Mimzy, strands of damp, bloodied hair falling over your cracked porcelain face.

"You ornery washed-up bitch," you rasped out in a laugh, voice breathless and laced with venom. "I should have left you to rot in that forest."

Mimzy froze, her wide eyes locked on you.

"What did you say to me?" she seethed, her voice trembling with anger as she extended her hand toward the shattered liquor glass and the spilled liquid, her fingers curling into fists.

With a flick of her wrist, the whiskey began to swirl and solidify, forming chains that snaked around your limbs, binding you in place. Your muscles tensed against the restraints as Mimzy manipulated you like a puppeteer. Slowly, you reverted back to your regular form, forced to your knees before her.

The blonde bent down, her grip firm on your face, nails digging deep into your skin as she pulled your head up to face her. "You're here because of me! Everything you've ever achieved was because of me! I made you a star, and this is how you repay me?!"

You recognized the anger in her tone, but beneath it lurked a deeper pain and desperation. The poor gal was fighting to reclaim control over a situation slipping through her grasp.

A sudden knock at the door startled Mimzy, causing her to tense. The door creaked open to reveal the imposing figure of Vox filling the doorway. As he entered the room, a wave of static filled the air, crackling and sending goosebumps cascading over your skin. His gaze swept over the scene, taking note of your restraints and bloodied head before settling on Mimzy.

"What is the meaning of this?" 

Under Vox's gaze, Mimzy's confident demeanor faltered, replaced by a nervous tremor in her voice. "I-I was just… settling some unfinished business, mistah," she stammered, attempting to regain her composure.

"You've just damaged the merchandise, sweetheart," Vox stated matter-of-factly, gesturing to you with a wave of his hand. "And we can't have that, now can we?"

With a casual snap of his fingers, the wires from the stage lights above writhed and twisted, tearing free from the ceiling with a deafening creak. They snaked through the air like serpents, wrapping around Mimzy's torso and dragging her away from you with a forceful yank.

With Mimzy taken care of, Vox then turned his attention to you.

"Dolly, was it?" he smiled, voice disarming. "I've got to say, I have always wanted to see you up close."

"You've seen me," you replied with a cold edge to your voice, slowly backing away and pressing yourself against the wall. "I'm here."

"Charmed," Vox smiled, his gaze heating as he drank you in, every detail of you like candy to his eyes. As Vox strode towards you, you instinctively curled into yourself, shrinking back deeper against the wall. He chuckled softly, noticing your reaction, and halted his advances. Instead, he took a seat on the cushion by your toppled vanity, glowing eyes locked onto you.

Pretty Dolly Heart.

Your lips were painted a vivid red, pouting slightly in a frown. Damp, glossy curls framed your face, shimmering in the light and tempting him to reach out and run his fingers through them. Rivulets of blood marred your temple, staining the delicate white flowers nestled into your hair.

The TV Demon was interested in you, and he wouldn't let go until he went home with you tonight, that much was clear.

"I have a deal in mind," Vox turned to Mimzy with a look in his eyes that screamed trouble. "Are you willing to trade your soul for hers?"

Your blood ran cold with fear.

"As Velvette and I are business partners, our souls contracts are intertwined. I'm sure there would be no issue if you signed the deal with me instead," he added with a chuckle, his eyes swirling with a dangerous allure.

Panic clawed at your insides, urging you to flee from the impending doom that loomed before you. But rooted to the spot by fear, you found yourself unable to move.

"Yes! A-Absolutely!" Mimzy's words shattered the heavy silence, her voice trembling with desperation as she nodded frantically. Her eyes remained nervously glued to the crackling electricity of the torn wires still wrapped around her, the fear in her gaze mirroring your own.

With a clap of his hands, Vox conjured a new contract and a strong burst of wind swept through the room, ruffling curtains and causing objects to tremble on their surfaces. Blue light flooded the walls, casting eerie shadows and filling the room with an ominous glow. The atmosphere crackled with electricity, every hair on your body standing on end as if charged with static energy.

A tablet materialized and floated before you, its screen pulsing with a faint, golden glow.

"Make her sign here, and it'll be done," Vox instructed, his voice carrying an air of finality as he handed Mimzy a stylus, tapping his clawed finger along the screen of his tablet.

With a trembling hand, Mimzy took the stylus and held it out for you, the strings of her magic wrapping around your limbs once again. You attempted to shout out, but Mimzy's magic stitched your lips shut, leaving you unable to utter a sound.

Helpless, you watched as your hand was forced to reach out and take the pen into your grasp, your fingers moving against your will as Mimzy guided them to sign the contract. With each stroke of the pen, a wave of despair washed over you, a muffled sob bubbling from your throat as your name appeared on the screen, sealing your fate.

Vox's grin widened, a glint of triumph dancing in his eyes as he held up your old paper contract with Mimzy, the words now rendered meaningless. With a swift motion, he tore it to shreds, the sound of paper ripping echoing through the tense silence of the room.

"Welcome to VoxTek, Dolly."

[arahdow]

BE CAREFUL WITH YOUR QUILLS !

Pairing. Sonic x reader, Shadow x reader, Silver x reader, Knuckles x reader

Content. fem!reader. fluff, tiny silly argument in shadow’s, cuddling, overall soft stuff.

Word count. 1.6 k

A/N. writing sonic was the hardest thing i’ve ever done aH idk why!! i’ll make sure to write him more often to get used to his personality aH anywaaay, again, not beta read, i’m really sacrificing my sleep hours for this one sjdjs hope y’all like it!!

SONIC

making you run and accidentally crashing with him.

“Come on! You’re being too slow!” Sonic screamed as he kept on running, his feet moving way too fast for her liking. 

Just a few days ago, the blue hedgehog encouraged his partner to go out for a run together, and she knew he was an athletic man, but this? This was torture.

“Sonic… Wait… I can’t” her feet were moving so slow compared to his, especially when she wasn’t used to running this much. 

“One foot in front of the other! Come on!” Sonic said laughing, as he ran backwards, looking at the girl. She huffed with annoyance, the hedgehog still winning even when running like that!

After a while, the blue animal ran faster and almost disappeared from her sight. The girl took a deep breath and started running faster. Somehow, the fear of getting lost in the forest making her move, helping with adrenaline. Suddenly her body was moving faster than before. Way faster! 

Her body, sadly, started to grow tired quickly because of the energy she was using. Her lower limbs suddenly getting wobbly, but somehow kept running. Out of instinct, she thought.

That was until she realized she was about to crash into a stone wall at the end of the road, it was getting dangerously close!

The girl stretched her arms to cushion the blow. A violent ‘Hey!’ was all she could hear as she crashed, not on a stone wall, but rather a soft body. Sonic’s body to be clear.

He used his own body to soften the crash, but something was wrong.

“Ouch! Wha-”

She looked down and saw one of Sonic’s blue quills stuck on her shoulder. “Damn… Ouch.” 

The animal was sprawled upon her, but quickly recovered to take a look at his injured girlfriend. “Oh, I’m sorry darling,” he said with a sheepish smile, helping her stand up, careful not to mess with the quill. “but it’s kinda your fault to run that fast, thought you were about to destroy time and spac- Ouch! Why are you hitting me!” He said with a pained laugh.

“You’re an asshole! Help me get this out!” She complained, annoyed that the man was making fun of her.

“Aw, don’t be all grumpy, I promise not to make you run again.” He said, pushing her slightly to take her to the infirmary. “Hey, maybe next time you can try Shadow’s air shoe-”

“Don’t even finish that thought.”

SHADOW

silly old couple argument

“Move.” The girl didn’t reply, her gaze focused on the tv. “Get up.”

“Git ip.” she mocked.

The black hedgehog grumbled, sitting really close to her, almost on her.

“Hey-”

“This is my side of the couch, you know that.” He said as he crossed his arms. “I don’t like this channel.”

“You don’t like anything, Shadow.” She complained, not giving him the remote.

They’ve been living together for a year, two years being a couple, and they still bickered like an old couple. It became something usual between them, and it got even worse when speaking of the sofa. There was only this purple sofa in the living room, both her and Shadow liked it, but there was just something about the spot on the far left that was perfect. For both of them.

So if they were together in the house, it was usual for them to fight over the sofa spot, like they were doing now.

“I’m feeling hot, you need to get off of me!”

“I’m not on you, you’re the one occupying my place!”

“Shadow!” she pushed the hedgehog with her shoulder, as he pressed even harder on her.

With a huff, she turned and put her hands on him to push him again, when a quill suddenly pinched her hand. 

“Ow!” She exclaimed, looking at the dark quill stuck on her. “You can have your stupid place on the couch!” the girl said as she stuck her tongue and got up to the kitchen, looking for some tweezers to take the quill out.

Not many long after, the man got into the kitchen, following her, taking her arm in his hand. “Hey-”

“I’m sorry.” He said, looking intently at the sensitive red spot on her hand. Pressing his lips, he brought her hand under the faucet to clean the wound. “It wasn’t my intention to hurt you. Please forgive me.” 

The girl snorted. “It’s alright though, I was just messing with you, but you were seriously pressed, huh? Pressed enough to hurt me.” She said with a fake tone of hurt on her voice.

Shadow rolled his eyes. “You’re not gonna let this down, are you?”

She gasped and whined, putting on a pouty face, “Ow! It hurts! Please! Why are you so mean to me?”

“Alright alright, you can have the couch for today.” He sighed, shaking his head with humor.

The girl smiled, her face expression going back to normal. Turning happily, the girl kissed his cheek before running to the couch. “Love you, Shads!” 

SILVER

cuddling after a long day but uh oh…

After a tiring day outside, he wanted nothing more than to be at home, eat the food his girl made for him and spend time with her. It was a simple plan, and the cherry on top? Cuddling with her on bed, his face pressed on her stomach as she threaded his quills.

It was a usual occurrence, both of them lying down in silence, sometimes him laying on her lap, sometimes her on his, but they spent most of their time cheek to cheek.

“Silver…” She whispered, afraid of disturbing him. But he didn’t reply, instead, a soft snore broke his silence.

The girl giggled a bit as she kept on caressing his face and quills. It was times like this where she found herself falling once again for her hedgehog lover. She was actually reading a book on her other hand, so her attention was mostly directed to it.

Being immersed on the story, she got really focused on the sentences, suddenly drifting off from her task on her other hand. She unconsciously made her limb move in erratic ways, as she tried to keep on doing both things at the same time.

That was until she felt a slight sting on her hand. Jolting, she yelped as she retreated her hand from his body. The movement was so sudden, Silver opened his sleepy eyes, sensing something wrong.

Leaning back enough so he could see his partner in the eye, he found instead a look of slight pain as she held her hand in front of her face, a silverish quill stuck on her palm.

“Oh chaos, dear, your hand!” He expressed, incorporating as he held her hand for a bit. Using his telekinesis, he brought the aid kit to bed. Doing a careful procedure, he took the quill out from her hand, making her hiss at the feeling.

“I’m sorry…” He said.

“Don’t be, it was my fault, I was completely distracted by the story.” She replied, looking at the book beside her.

Silver took a look, as he kept patching her hand. “Hey! That’s the book I recommended the other day!” 

“It is! And it’s so good! I really loved it when the protagonist saved the kids from the falling building.” 

“That was my favorite part too!” He said. Both of them laughed and kept on talking about the book. He was really happy to have her in his life.

KNUCKLES

It’s shedding season! And your roomie-bf is in the house!

Cleaning after an echidna warrior was difficult, especially when he kept bringing his dirty shoes inside her home, her food taken, and her bed occupied. But she honestly loved Knuckles company, so she carried on with it.

It was starting to get a whole lot colder outside, as the temperature began to cool down. It was that time of the year where the island became a little snowglobe, so the echidna spent more time at her partner’s home than anywhere else.

Today she needed to do the laundry, piles of dirty clothes started to form, and even though Knuckles tried to convince her to stop using clothes like him, that still wasn’t on her plans, at least not on a short term.

Sighing, she started to walk towards the laundry room, a pile of white clothes on her arms, making seeing the floor almost impossible. Knuckles was sleeping in her room, so she let him. She’ll make him fold the clothes afterwards either way. Sure, she’d let him crash whenever he needed it, but it came with a price.

Opening the door of the room, the girl stepped inside. But she wasn't ready to feel an electric pain coursing from the bottom of her feet to her core. A scared scream left her throat as the pile of clothes fell from her hands. Tripping, the girl fell on her butt with a thud. Not a second later, the echidna was already punching the laundry’s room door, breaking it. His breathing agitated as he saw his significant other on the floor.

“What happened?” He asked, worried that someone might have come into her home. 

The girl crawled, starting to search in between the clothes as she stumbled upon a red quill. Taking it in between her fingers, she showed it to the animal, furrowed eyebrows on her face.

Knuckles saw the quill with curious eyes. “You stepped on a quill of mine?” 

She threw the quill at him, half annoyed. “Of course I did! Don’t go around shedding your stuff please. Look! Now my foot hurts because of it.” She said as she looked at her now destroyed door. “And that too!” The mammal listened to her words, and before she could complain for anything else, he got closer to take the girl in his arms, an easy task for him, and brought her to the sofa. Laying her down, he put a gloved hand on his own chest.

“I’ll take care of the laundry to compensate for it.” He oathed, the girl surprised for his serious face, snorting in the process.

“That’d be nice.” She said, as she looked at her foot, not swollen or anything. “I could help you though-”

“No, you stay there.” He demanded as he strided to the laundry room.

A moment later, he came back stomping to the living room again. 

“Uhm… How does the machine that washes clothes works?”

[lactose-intolerant-nihilism]

Okay, I'll give it a shot; git is a program. You use it to make a git repository (which is in practice just a folder with some metadata).

The repository stores series of commits. Each commit stores a series of changes made since the previous one - files which have been added, files which have been removed, and changes which have been made to existing files.

(It stores them in branches, which have separate histories, but to begin with you'll just be dealing with one 'main' branch.)

You can then 'push' commits from this local repo to a remote repo, often on a service like GitHub, so the commit history can be shared between different devices, people, etc.

Doing any of this directly with git itself in the command line involves giving it a complicated series of commands in a specific order, often starting with the most complicated stuff before you can get to the simple stuff. In practice, you'll generally be using another program as a wrapper over git; which git client you use is mostly a matter of preference. On Windows good places to start could be the GitHub desktop client, which abstracts a lot of the more complicated bits away, or the default Git Gui which comes with Git for Windows, which maps more directly to whats happening on the command line (but with clearly laid out buttons instead of hard-to-memorise syntax). You shouldn't need to drop down to the command line until you're needing to do more complex stuff.

Start with the basics of getting something versioning, then you can work up into branches and all that if and when you need to. Each step is much easier once you've got a firm footing in the previous one.

Can someone explain to me in like five seconds how to use git, assuming that I know basic shit about coding/command line/whatever but don't know any of the specific terminology related to git. Like every tutorial online is at the same time both over my head and also vastly too basic. Just like. Tell me what it is.

Uh. First tell me its ontology. Is it a program, a standard, a language...? I know that it's for version control. Suppose I wanted to do version control at a piece of code. What do I do. What buttons do I press, on my computer? Tell me these things.

[mockerycrow]

SAFETY (Roommate!Gaz x GN!Reader)

gaz photo is by the wonderful @yumethefrostypanda

summary; you went out by yourself whilst gaz is home, and you aren’t answering your phone.

roommate!gaz masterlist

[WARNINGS; slight angst, vague description of deaths, paranoid militaristic thinking, anxiety, gaz is just anxious </3]

KYLE COULD not get himself to calm down. He swears in the back of his mind that his feet are burning holes into the wooden floor of your shared apartment as he paces back and forth in the living room, even circling around the couch a couple of times. There’s horrible worry eating away at his gut, tearing through his stomach like a lawn mower cuts through grass. Kyle isn’t.. used to being anxious like this. He’s used to being on edge, alert; ready for the next attack or target to appear. Kyle’s used to waiting around, but not like this at all. Kyle’s used to be waiting in thick bushes, laying down in his ghillie suit with his Captain by his side, waiting for a convoy to ride down a road he’s looking at through his sniper’s scope. He isn’t used to waiting at home with zero contact with you, waiting for you to get home.

He felt unbelievably useless because he’s texted you multiple times, called you—neither of them went through, meaning something is wrong with your phone. Are you okay? Are you hurt? You insisted on taking a walk which he didn’t want to go on, so did you get hit by a car? Did you get kidnapped? Kyle groans and he rubs his face, lightly slapping his cheeks in an attempt to get his bearings. “They’re fine, you git.” He whispers to himself, even though he doesn’t believe what he’s trying to tell himself. There’s so many damn possibilities that could be wrong that Kyle can’t help but torture himself with. Kyle sits down on the couch for a moment, his fingers resting on his thighs and taps against them, muttering that you’re fine a couple of times. 

Kyle grabs the TV remote from the table in front of the couch and he tries to lean back to relax. He doesn’t stop his leg from bouncing as he switches the TV on, and he knows he shouldn’t watch the news, it’ll make it worse; but he can’t help it. Kyle goes to switch to the news but he pauses—what if there was a terrorist attack and you’re there? What if there was a bomb, and you’re trapped under rubble, just like what happened in—

The front door opens and Kyle whips his head around to look, holding his breath. He lets out a shaky breath as he watches you shuffle inside, grumbling as you’re holding a closed, but wet red umbrella. “Bloody hell.” Kyle curses as he gets up from the couch, and he begins to approach you. “The fuckin’ rain is terrible,” You begin to ramble, unzipping your rain coat that Kyle bought for you last year. You’re looking down at your soaked pants and shoes, and luckily you’re standing on top of a mat you had half a mind to buy before the rainy season began. “My goddamn pho—”

Kyle wraps his arms around you, ignoring the way the water on your coat soaks into the gray long sleeved shirt he’s wearing. “You’re a fuckin’ arse.” Kyle grumbles loudly, the anxiety finally settling in his gut, his mind no longer shouting at him the warning signs. You huff, your hands trying to pry Kyle’s from your body. “I—Huh? I didn’t do anything, Kyle, you’re getting wet—“ You insist, but Kyle’s grip doesn’t budge. “I don’t give a fuck,” He says, tightening his arms. You sigh, your eyebrows furrowing in worry. “What’s happened?”

Kyle doesn’t respond for a moment; he knows it’s illogical. He knows it’s because he only came home from deployment about two days ago—where the mission was grueling mentally and physically. Kyle knows it’s because he watched a building collapse with the knowledge people were inside, civilians. You’re a civilian, and he’s terrified something will happen to you. He knows his fears are just agitated because he hasn’t calmed down from everything that had happened; so he doesn’t want to share—

You managed to squirm your arms from under his and your hands grab his head, forcing it back and then forward to make him look at you, causing him to blink rapidly. “Hey,” You utter. “What’s wrong?”

Kyle presses his lips together as he reluctantly lets go of you, but he doesn’t ignore the way your hands stay on him, drifting from his head to his shoulder; likely to keep him grounded. “You didn’t answer your phone.” Kyle breathes out, his eyes scanning yours. You blink and his stomach twists a bit at the way you laugh. “Oh, sorry, Kyle. It was raining, and some fucking asshole splashed me.” You respond, fishing your damp phone out of your pocket. “Phone’s dead forever.” His eyes flicker to your phone and he feels so unbelievably stupid. How the fuck did he think of you dying from a bomb before some other mishap with your phone?

Kyle groans and rubs his eyes with the palms of his hands as he curses under his breath, embarrassment flowing through his veins. At least you’re alright, that’s what matters.

[codingquill]

Welcome back, coding enthusiasts! Today we'll talk about Git & Github , the must-know duo for any modern developer. Whether you're just starting out or need a refresher, this guide will walk you through everything from setup to intermediate-level use. Let’s jump in!

What is Git?

Git is a version control system. It helps you as a developer:

Track changes in your codebase, so if anything breaks, you can go back to a previous version. (Trust me, this happens more often than you’d think!)

Collaborate with others : whether you're working on a team project or contributing to an open-source repo, Git helps manage multiple versions of a project.

In short, Git allows you to work smarter, not harder. Developers who aren't familiar with the basics of Git? Let’s just say they’re missing a key tool in their toolkit.

What is Github ?

GitHub is a web-based platform that uses Git for version control and collaboration. It provides an interface to manage your repositories, track bugs, request new features, and much more. Think of it as a place where your Git repositories live, and where real teamwork happens. You can collaborate, share your code, and contribute to other projects, all while keeping everything well-organized.

Git & Github : not the same thing !

Git is the tool you use to create repositories and manage code on your local machine while GitHub is the platform where you host those repositories and collaborate with others. You can also host Git repositories on other platforms like GitLab and BitBucket, but GitHub is the most popular.

Installing Git (Windows, Linux, and macOS Users)

You can go ahead and download Git for your platform from (git-scm.com)

Using Git

You can use Git either through the command line (Terminal) or through a GUI. However, as a developer, it’s highly recommended to learn the terminal approach. Why? Because it’s more efficient, and understanding the commands will give you a better grasp of how Git works under the hood.

GitWorkflow

Git operates in several key areas:

Working directory (on your local machine)

Staging area (where changes are prepared to be committed)

Local repository (stored in the hidden .git directory in your project)

Remote repository (the version of the project stored on GitHub or other hosting platforms)

Let’s look at the basic commands that move code between these areas:

git init: Initializes a Git repository in your project directory, creating the .git folder.

git add: Adds your files to the staging area, where they’re prepared for committing.

git commit: Commits your staged files to your local repository.

git log: Shows the history of commits.

git push: Pushes your changes to the remote repository (like GitHub).

git pull: Pulls changes from the remote repository into your working directory.

git clone: Clones a remote repository to your local machine, maintaining the connection to the remote repo.

Branching and merging

When working in a team, it’s important to never mess up the main branch (often called master or main). This is the core of your project, and it's essential to keep it stable.

To do this, we branch out for new features or bug fixes. This way, you can make changes without affecting the main project until you’re ready to merge. Only merge your work back into the main branch once you're confident that it’s ready to go.

Getting Started: From Installation to Intermediate

Now, let’s go step-by-step through the process of using Git and GitHub from installation to pushing your first project.

Configuring Git

After installing Git, you’ll need to tell Git your name and email. This helps Git keep track of who made each change. To do this, run:

Master vs. Main Branch

By default, Git used to name the default branch master, but GitHub switched it to main for inclusivity reasons. To avoid confusion, check your default branch:

Pushing Changes to GitHub

Let’s go through an example of pushing your changes to GitHub.

First, initialize Git in your project directory:

Then to get the ‘untracked files’ , the files that we haven’t added yet to our staging area , we run the command

Now that you’ve guessed it we’re gonna run the git add command , you can add your files individually by running git add name or all at once like I did here

And finally it's time to commit our file to the local repository

Now, create a new repository on GitHub (it’s easy , just follow these instructions along with me)

Assuming you already created your github account you’ll go to this link and change username by your actual username : https://github.com/username?tab=repositories , then follow these instructions :

You can add a name and choose wether you repo can be public or private for now and forget about everything else for now.

Once your repository created on github , you’ll get this :

As you might’ve noticed, we’ve already run all these commands , all what’s left for us to do is to push our files from our local repository to our remote repository , so let’s go ahead and do that

And just like this we have successfully pushed our files to the remote repository

Here, you can see the default branch main, the total number of branches, your latest commit message along with how long ago it was made, and the number of commits you've made on that branch.

Now what is a Readme file ?

A README file is a markdown file where you can add any relevant information about your code or the specific functionality in a particular branch—since each branch can have its own README.

It also serves as a guide for anyone who clones your repository, showing them exactly how to use it.

You can add a README from this button:

Or, you can create it using a command and push it manually:

But for the sake of demonstrating how to pull content from a remote repository, we’re going with the first option:

Once that’s done, it gets added to the repository just like any other file—with a commit message and timestamp.

However, the README file isn’t on my local machine yet, so I’ll run the git pull command:

Now everything is up to date. And this is just the tiniest example of how you can pull content from your remote repository.

What is .gitignore file ?

Sometimes, you don’t want to push everything to GitHub—especially sensitive files like environment variables or API keys. These shouldn’t be shared publicly. In fact, GitHub might even send you a warning email if you do:

To avoid this, you should create a .gitignore file, like this:

Any file listed in .gitignore will not be pushed to GitHub. So you’re all set!

Cloning

When you want to copy a GitHub repository to your local machine (aka "clone" it), you have two main options:

Clone using HTTPS: This is the most straightforward method. You just copy the HTTPS link from GitHub and run:

It's simple, doesn’t require extra setup, and works well for most users. But each time you push or pull, GitHub may ask for your username and password (or personal access token if you've enabled 2FA).

But if you wanna clone using ssh , you’ll need to know a bit more about ssh keys , so let’s talk about that.

Clone using SSH (Secure Shell): This method uses SSH keys for authentication. Once set up, it’s more secure and doesn't prompt you for credentials every time. Here's how it works:

So what is an SSH key, actually?

Think of SSH keys as a digital handshake between your computer and GitHub.

Your computer generates a key pair:

A private key (stored safely on your machine)

A public key (shared with GitHub)

When you try to access GitHub via SSH, GitHub checks if the public key you've registered matches the private key on your machine.

If they match, you're in — no password prompts needed.

Steps to set up SSH with GitHub:

Generate your SSH key:

2. Start the SSH agent and add your key:

3. Copy your public key:

Then copy the output to your clipboard.

Add it to your GitHub account:

Go to GitHub → Settings → SSH and GPG keys

Click New SSH key

Paste your public key and save.

5. Now you'll be able to clone using SSH like this:

From now on, any interaction with GitHub over SSH will just work — no password typing, just smooth encrypted magic.

And there you have it ! Until next time — happy coding, and may your merges always be conflict-free! ✨👩‍💻👨‍💻

[empress-simps]

Tulips & Moony

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem! Reader CW: Sirius and Remus' banter and language (around 700 words) Summary: Remus tries to crochet you a tulip. Note: Hi darlings! I hope you like this mini fic; I love to crochet so why not make a fic out of it, right? Also, my uni's third term is about to end so I'll have more time to finish my WIPs! Hope you enjoy!

Remus loves knitted things— he considers the “unfashionable” grandpa sweaters that Sirius always complains about to be his prized possessions, not forgetting to mention how he’s got every neutral and earthy tones of cardigans arranged neatly in his trunk.

Yes, Remus is an avid fan of those things, but he doesn't really express any interest in making them from scratch.

So, imagine Sirius' surprise walking in on Remus who’s red in the face as he fumbles with a ball of yarn.

“Now Moony, when did you suddenly become a grandma?” Sirius asked, raising an eyebrow at the poor bloke who’s struggling looping a yarn.

“Since he learned Y/n loves to crochet.” James quipped from his bed, eating a chocolate frog that he most likely stole from Remus�� stash who was too busy to notice.

“He’s been at it for a good hm… three hours or so?” Peter shrugs, working on his charms essay in the corner of the room and trying to block out the strings of curses Remus grumbles out every now and then.

“Can you all be quiet? I’m trying to concentrate, you sods.” The werewolf grumbled, furrowing his brows and sticking his tongue out the side of his mouth in concentration. The sight was quite amusing. James lets out a laugh, getting off his bed. “Alright then, I’m getting quite tired watching you fail miserably,” Remus grunted, “Yeah, go bother someone else.”

Sirius plopped next to Remus, looking closely at his creation. “That’s a nice square you got there, Moony.” He hummed, nodding in approval at the wonky shape.

“It’s a bloody circle, you git.”

Sirius didn’t even try to stifle his laugh, “What are you trying to make anyway?”

“A tulip.”

“Doesn’t look like one though.”

“Thanks Pads, really. You’re such a great friend.” Remus rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his tone as he repeats a certain stitch a couple of times. “Geez Moony, that’s alright now.”

“No, it’s not, the stitch looks weird and much looser than the others,” Remus complained.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, “You call that a stitch? Doesn’t look like it.”

"Yeah, the next time you'll see Poppy is because of the stitches you're gonna get because of me-"

Safe to say they both were kicked out to the common room by a very annoyed Wormtail.

It took about a week full of wonky, weirdly shaped tulips, and sleepless nights for Remus to successfully make a single red tulip.

Remus gripped the wrapped tulip tightly, the familiar feeling of nervousness eating up his system seeing you with your friend hanging out in the corner of the common room. He was pulled out of his thoughts by James showing him lightly.

“Look, now’s your chance, Moony.”

Sure enough, your friend left you on one of the couches to go Godric knows where, Remus didn’t really care that much if he’s honest. He even silently thanked your friend as his feet lead him to where you’re sitting. “Oh, Remus!” You looked up to see his tall frame, standing quickly as you could and offering him a smile. “Hi.” He grinned nervously before stretching his arm out that’s holding the crocheted Tulip to you, albeit a bit awkwardly but you on the other hand, find it endearing. “Erm… Is it for me?” You asked, chuckling nervously. “Ah, yeah! I made it, I heard you like to crochet so…” He trails off, scratching the back of his neck as blush dusted his cheeks. He saw how your eyes lit up, and your smile widening as you gently took it from his hand. “Woah…” You let out a soft gasp, examining the flower carefully. “Since when did you learn how to crochet?” “Just last week,” “Just last week?! Remus, you are gifted. I couldn’t even make something remotely similar when I was a month in crocheting.” You told him, hugging it close to your cheeks. “Thank you, Remus.” You smiled shyly, going on your tippy toes to place a kiss on his cheek before waving shyly to him and heading off to girls’ dormitory, leaving Remus who was still trying to process what just happened.

“Another one? I’ve already told you leather is much better!” Sirius threw his hands up in the air, entering their room to see Remus smiling to himself as he wore the cardigan you crocheted for him. “I wouldn’t say that if I were you, Pads.” Peter looked up from his and James’ game of exploding snap. “Why? It’s not fashionable!” “It’s made by Y/N, you wanker. Now shut your mouth before I hex you out of this room.”

[siyurikspakvariisis]

LET'S FUCKING GO I HAD A RECENT COPY IN AN USB STICK

FUCK ME GENTLY WITH A CHAINSAW

turns out that Obsidian has a bug on Linux

It deletes files permanently instead of sending them to .local/share/Trash/files

Guess who has accidentally deleted all their bg3 wips

(I could rescue A Bludgeon to My Shrines and a Lakrissa/Nocturne/Alfira one thanks to the Obsidian version history, at least)

I hadn't updated the backup repo in 5 months, I think something in the git plugin broke and I didn't worry too much since, well, if I accidentally deleted them there was always the trash right?

WELL, TURNS OUT THAT I HAVE BEEN BETRAYED AND BACKSTABBED

[serinemisc]

So I came across this recently.

It's funny, because I think I exactly half agree with it. I do rebase-heavy workflows in Git mostly because every single Git client makes merge-based workflows ugly and hard to use. If GitHub simply displayed merges the way it displayed squash-merges, that would eliminate so much of the need for squash-merges.

But I don't think this covers everything. So let me go through every use-case for rebase separately:

git merge --squash

The squash-merge is one of the most popular ways to merge pull requests on GitHub, and it's an abject failure of the Git ecosystem that it's so popular.

When you do a regular merge on a pull request, you are essentially taking a bundle of commits from somewhere else, and putting it on top of your own main branch. It's an extremely linear thing to do.

But if you do that, GitHub's commit log just gets a bunch of commits interspersed throughout, with zero indication where they're from. And the nicer clients, if they do, visualize it as a tree (pronounced "DAG") (pronounced "a huge tangle of curvy lines"):

This pic is from an article telling you to rebase, and, like, sure, rebasing sure is one way to work around a UI that displays your merges as a huge tangle. But Fossil makes a really good point. Why not instead display your merges as, like, not a huge tangle? git log --first-parent does this (and that's clearly an option in that Git UI), but it should be the default everywhere. And even when expanding the "bundle", the bundled commits should still be grouped together, not interspersed with other commits at essentially random.

The other issue is that, when showing the "tangle of commits", the reason it's so tangled is because it's showing the commits in chronological order of when the commits were made. Which is a completely useless sort order, compared to, say, chronological order of when they arrived in the current branch (i.e. grouping the merged-in commits together). This is why GitHub's rebase-merge is also such a popular alternative to merges.

git pull --rebase

Okay, so. Now you've fixed commit log visualization of merged pull requests. But that's not the only use of rebase! Here's another one: if you're working on some code, and constantly keeping it synced with remote, you'll generate tons of merges that are complete useless noise. Unlike a merged PR, these should ideally be hidden completely, or at least nearly-completely.

Anti-rebase people say that these merges serve the functionality of, like, preserving history. You made one commit when the remote was in this state, and another commit when the remote was in that state, and this is sometimes important history to preserve.

I think they are way overestimating how important that history is (judging by how many people use pull-rebase). I'm fine preserving that history if you can declutter the UIs, but it does require your UI to be able to distinguish between "important" merges (of new features from feature branches) and "unimportant" merges (keeping branches in sync with remotes).

The linked post doesn't talk about this problem at all, so I don't know how well Fossil handles this.

git commit --fixup

That leaves the amend/fixup commit. The link does mention that Fossil supports editing past metadata (e.g. commit message). But sometimes you want to edit the actual changes of a commit.

Now, for a sufficiently published commit, this is a bad idea. But if you have a habit of "commit early, commit often", having 50 bugfix commits makes a commit log really cluttered.

I frequently, like, have to weigh stuff like "is it worth cluttering the commit log to fix one typo in one comment?" for old code. And it would really suck to also have to do that for unpublished code, instead of going in with my trusty rebase scalpel.

git that's all I wanted to say

In conclusion. git rebase is a solution to a number of things that could also be viewed as UI problems, and fixed in other, better ways, and Fossil sure sounds like it's fixed some of them. But some of those UI problems are legitimately hard, and I'm not convinced Fossil fixes all of them, and GitHub extremely has not, so I'm gonna keep rebasing.

[letstrythisout4]

Hey, if you take requests, can you do series (bcz one-shot would be too short hehe), where reader is female and is really cocky, sassy and whatnot, basically giving off female Sirius Black vibes and she is very close with the golden trio, which makes them golden quartet. Anyway, I absolutely adore book Harry, because he is so SASSY!! So, could you make long imagine/series where book Harry and reader are both so sassy and stuff, but then Harry likes her and asks her out, but that is long time after, kinda semi-slow burn.

If you don’t like the idea or just don’t want to write it, it’s completely okay<3

♡︎✩⁂✽

Part 1:

“Shut up Malfoy.” an annoyed voice rang, interrupting Harry’s conversation with the pale sharp looking boy. 

Harry looked to where the voice came from and saw you. Leaning heavily on the right arm of the armchair, one hand pulling at your hair, the other holding a book that you appeared to be reading. “Don’t listen to him, this git has been told his whole life that it's Slytherin or nothing. None of the house are bad or good, they’re just places to sleep and anyone who says otherwise has a stick up their-”

“Enough. I know your parents wouldn’t be very happy to hear either of you speaking like that. Keep it up and I’ll have no choice but to tell your mothers.” Madame Malkin cut you off before you could finish your rant. 

“Yes ma’am.” the two tweens said politely, looking properly reprimanded despite the way you stuck your tongue out at the boy when the seamstress' back was turned. The woman finished her measurements and sent the boys to sit in the corner with you with instructions to “play nice”.

You decide to introduce yourself, shaking Harry’s hand with an air of self-importance that unlike Malfoy didn’t make Harry cringe. Harry watched as you interacted with the blonde boy, quick jabs were thrown at each other but they lacked the malice that Harry and Dudley had. A couple moments of ongoing debate later a haughty looking woman came over, “Draco, it’s time to leave.” She said your name kindly, “It was wonderful to see you, you must come by the Manor before school begins. Your mother is on her way, she said she won’t be long.”

You rolled your eyes as you let the woman kiss your forehead, “Thank you for everything, Mrs. Malfoy.” 

The woman waved away your thanks and turned expectantly to her son, “It was lovely to see you.” Draco said politely. After ten minutes of watching your verbal sparring , Harry couldn’t help but smirk at how the boy behaved in his mothers presence.

“Bye Draco.”

The moment the pair left the shop Harry had to ask, “Why are you friends with him?” The two of you hadn’t agreed on a single thing, only conceding briefly, most of your arguments had ended in ‘believe what you want to believe, and stay out of my way’. 

You flopped back in your seat stretching your arms upwards and yawning, “He’s not all that bad.” Harry gave a flat frown. “No seriously. He’s… we grew up together and we are distantly, distantly, related so it’s kind of an obligation. Also I’m not really allowed to talk to people, he’s one of like four kids our age I’m allowed to talk to. So better have an acquaintance I disagree with than nobody, you know.”

Harry actually didn’t know. He had never had the option, Dudley had always scared off anyone who remotely looked like they’d want to be his friend. His face must have shown his skepticism as you shrugged, “I don’t agree with him but pureblood circles are limited.” 

Before Harry could even begin to ask what that meant, a stoic looking man and woman entered the shop calling your name, “Well that’s my cue. It was nice to meet you and I’ll see you around, yeah?” You pushed out of your seat and waltzed into their eye-line before he could answer.

—

The next time Harry saw you was right before the sorting, you stood beside Malfoy looking disappointed at the boy’s behavior as he taunted Harry and Ron. He could vaguely hear you reprimanding Malfoy as the first years walked into the Great Hall. He watched as you walked up to the hat, back straight, head high, fist clenched as McGonagall placed the hat on your head. There was a long pause as the Hall waited, growing curiouser and curiouser as the minutes passed. Harry heard students turn to each other and whisper “Five minutes.” and later “Nine minutes!” Eventually the Hat called, “GRYFFINDOR!” and the table broke out into applause. 

You swiftly walked to the table, sitting beside Neville introducing yourself with a smile when the boy was visibly taken aback that you were speaking to him. “I was thinking this could be a fresh start for us, what happened on the outside is on the outside. What do you think?” you asked, looking hopeful. 

Neville’s mouth opened slightly in shock but quickly shook your hand, “Sounds brilliant.”

The sorting continued and the newly sorted Gryffindors ate to their heart's content. You introduce yourself to almost the entire table, smiling freely and brightly. Talking about classes and teachers you were excited for and how you dreaded the winter, despite it only being September. 

You only spared Harry a smile and a shoulder nudge as you walked up towards the stairs of the girl’s dorm. 

—-

“What did you idiots say to Hermione?” you snapped, strutting up to the pair's Herbology table. 

Harry and Ron shared a look.

You had quickly established yourself as young royalty at Hogwarts. Even those that didn’t like you, respected you. Ron said it was because you came from an old family, like the Malfoy’s and the Nott’s. Hence why none of the Slytherin’s messed with you, even though you were friends with most of their targets. 

Harry thought it was more than that. It was hard to not like you. You had the majority of the staff charmed, and completed tasks with an easy smile. Always one of the first to achieve a charm or potion. Plus everyone admired your loyalty, it had only been a month and everyone already knew not to get caught messing with Neville, Hermione and Dean. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Dean and Seamus had been innocently horsing around in a corridor when Seamus had shoved Dean a little too hard and he had knocked into a burly boy.

“Watch where you’re going Mudblood-”

CRUNCH!

If it wasn’t for the fact that apparition was impossible at Hogwarts, the student’s in the corridor would have sworn that was how you appeared. 

A strong punch right to the bridge of Marcus Flint’s nose had left the boy bloody. “Don’t ever talk like that again! If I ever hear you say that word again, I will personally make sure you never make it anywhere, Flint!” You grabbed Dean’s arm and pulled him away from the older boy before he could retaliate.

^^^^

The story spread like wildfire, the Hogwarts gossip mill adding its embellishments here and there. But the heart of the story changed the same, don’t fuck with your friends.

Hence why Ron looked ready to bolt at the sight of you, “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh so it was you then huh? I already told you nicely to leave her alone, Weasley.” You said crossing your arms. “Tell me what you said and don’t lie.”

Ron appeared to find his courage saying, “I said she was a nightmare and that no one could stand her.” Your mouth contorted in shock and fury. “But! But, I mean it’s true isn’t it? I mean she’s only got you.”

You smacked the red-head upside the head, “That’s so rude, Ronald! I mean, really!”

“It’s true!”

“I don’t care if it’s true! That’s a terrible thing to say about someone! She’s already getting bullied by Snape and some of the purebloods, she doesn’t need to be bullied by you too. Go apologize to her now, and then leave her the hell alone.” You walked away, linking arms with Neville who had also fallen under your protection after you hexed Pansy Parkinson into a week stay in the hospital wing. (Well technically no one knows it was you, Snape couldn’t find any evidence no matter how hard he tried, but…let's be real it was you.)

Ron looked at Harry for reassurance, but he could only shake his head. Honestly he had been working up the nerve to say something similar for the past few hours. Hermione had been missing for the past couple classes and it didn’t sit well with Harry.

This feeling was only amplified when Quirrel fainted, bursting into the Hall yelling something about a troll in the dungeon. Harry saw you, head bobbing through the crowd of Gryffindors searching for Hermione. He could hear you yelling at Percy, that he didn’t  understand, that “Hermione is missing! We have to go find her!” 

Percy grabbed you by your shoulders shaking you as the other prefect herded the Gryffindor students towards the dorms. “I’ll notify McGonagall immediately. But we “ he pointed to two of them “we can’t go looking for her.”

You made to sprint past him but Percy caught you by the arms, shoving you into a sixth year, ordering that they bring you to the common room.

Harry and Ron shared a quick glance before slipping away to find Hermione.

—

“I see that you’ve been developing some new friends.” Hermione heard your voice sing as you jumped onto her bed. 

She couldn’t help but chuckle at your theatrics. You batted your eyes at her, silently asking for details.

Hermione quite liked you, you were the first person to have ever stood up for her. Her entire life she’d dealt with bullying but nobody had stood beside her through it, so she was pleasantly surprised at how you took her under her wing. The first week had been hell, purebloods of all houses jinxing and hexing her but you had noticed. 

^^^^^^^

Hermione had been sitting alone at a Herbology table when you waved at her upon entering the room. You had set your stuff down briefly beside Malfoy (you were the only Gryffindor to routinely cross the unwritten house divide) “Why are you waving at her?” she heard Malfoy ask, sounding genuinely disgusted. “Do you even know who she is?”

“No but I’m not going to let her sit alone, that’s not nice.” you replied simply, picking up your things and moving beside Hermione. 

^^^^^^^

From then on you and Hermione had been thick as thieves. Hermione had always thought she needed to find her perfect match, someone who was more introverted, more studious, more rule-following; then she’d finally make friends.

And yet she didn’t mind you. Hermione had had her fair share of cocky kids being placed next to her in class. Growing up she was frequently the victim of teachers unofficially assigning her a talkative kid in an attempt to shut them up.

But when you sat next to her, self-assured and cocky beyond measure, she didn’t hate it. She wasn’t annoyed. Perhaps it was because you could back it up, easily being one of the best students. Perhaps it was because you aren’t a bully. Perhaps it was because you didn’t get offended when she asked you to stop talking so she could focus, only smiled and said “Of course.” and actually shutting up.

…Yeah that was a big part of it.

Either way, you had grown on her. (If she was being honest she was a little jealous of your confidence, even if it could be a bit much.)

“You’re the one who told me I should branch out.”

After the troll incident Hermione, Harry and Ron had become close. No longer relying on you as her person, her go-to, had been natural. The boys had apologized and all had been forgiven. Hermione hadn’t even really realized how she had begun to drift from you. No longer meeting up in the library to study or walking to classes together. 

“I did. And while I’m glad that you have, being honest here, I didn't think it was going to happen so soon. But I guess when you deal with a troll together, bonds grow.”

Hermione frowned at that. She didn’t want you to think she didn’t appreciate you. She liked the boys but you were her first friend, not only that but you were the first girl that didn’t make her feel inadequate. (At least not intentionally) 

She turned from her spot at her desk to look at you staring up at her bed curtains, “We’re still friends. You know that right? I mean the boys are great but you were here first, so that gives you priority.”

“Even with the troll?” you asked, pouting slightly. Hermione could tell you wanted it to sound like a joke but it was doing a terrible job of hiding your concern.

“Even with the troll.”

You were quiet and Hermione almost went on to continue to reassure you but then you spoke, “Well I am way better than those two so I guess I have nothing to worry about. I mean honestly, if you ever pick them over me, I’m checking you into St. Mungo’s.”

Hermione was quick to smack you with the nearest pillow, smiling as she heard you giggle despite the harsh hits.

The year was looking good with you, Harry and Ron by her side.

—--

Author's notes: sorry this took so long anon, I was racking my brain to find ways to insert this type of reader into the story in ways that would actually be interesting and not just rewrites of the story and I think I finally have a couple good ideas. 

Lemme know what you think and yes there will be more parts as requested, I don’t know when they will come out but there will be more.

(Note: we will see more sassy harry and reader in later parts)

[blakeblueboi]

Happy (Late) Valentine's Day!!!

Draco: Potter, we agreed no gifts- Harry: I know! I know, I just- Harry: I know we said no gifts, Draco- but I was thinking about this past year and- and well, I never thought that we'd be well- we'd be- Harry: Us- you know? I know we just started seeing eachother and it's new, like you said, but isn't that reason enough? Harry: Reason enough to celebrate that it is so new? Harry: Before this year I thought that wasn't remotely a chance for us- I see now that I was wrong Harry: I was so wrong about so many things- and I hope that can at least- Harry: Make yo for that- even if it as last week that you even let me start using your first name and - -Inaudiable Harry- esque rambling- Draco: Do you ever shut up? Harry: Wha- mmph!!

The corridor rang with newfound silence as Potter's voice was abruptly swallowed in the matter of a second. Draco's ears were so unused to the lack of incessant rambling that they became muffled in shock.

The kiss, in the loosest sense of the definition, only lasted a few moments before Draco leaned back away from Potter's slightly parted ones he had seized midsentence. His grip on his tie only tightened however as Draco fixed the gaping Gryffindor with a hard glare.

Or at least he tried to. The look in Potter's eyes stole away any sort of insult or rebuttal from Draco's throat.

Stormy grey met electric green and in an instant Draco realized his mistake.

That had been their first kiss.

Their first kiss.

Draco had only wanted to shut the blubbering git and not only had he kissed Potter for the first time-- on Valentine's day no doubt-- but in the middle of the 7th floor corridor. Potter had dragged him up there without explanation, now obviously for gift giving but it was no less a public space.

Draco could feel eyes on him at all sides, from all directions even if he couldn't see or discern who exactly was there watching them.

Heat crawled up Draco's face like a creeping Acromanchula complete with pinprick of little fangs over his cheeks and down his neck. He was no better than a beet red third year as he stood there under with still silently shocked Potter's everlasting gaze. A gaze that under normal circumstances he would have preened under.

Draco's body acted on its own. With a flourish of quick and familiar magic his body bent and shifted until his pink paws plopped onto the cold cobblestone floor. With a scramble Draco bolted from the hallway, luckily with the pretty red ribbon that was wrapped around the box secured in his teeth.

The sound of Potter's voice calling after him fell on deaf ears as Draco's let his swift feline body carry him as far away as possible. As quickly as possible.

"Do you think he'll wear it?"

Harry had been a mess. So much so that he would rather take a hundred Bat Boogy hexes from Ginny back in fifth year than be in the predicament he was in at the moment.

"Harry, mate, you're starting to sound like a second year--" Ron told him indignantly from beside him with a clean chicken leg in his fist.

"Ron, I don't think you're helping--" Hermione scolded him from her spot across from them over her N.E.W.T.S level charms textbook and a half eaten dollop of strawberry pudding.

"No offense, but we are talking about Malfoy- the git is probably trying to decide which bedazzled silver trash can he's going to chunk it in- OW!!" Hermione swatted Ron over the head with her new closed charms textbook.

"Ronald, honestly you could at least try to be a little supportive for your best friend! You're making it worse!!" She hissed with a hard glare across the table at her boyfriend.

It was, indeed, making Harry's mood that much worse. He hadn't seen Draco all day since he gave him his Valentine's gift and he was starting to really believe he had botched their entire relationship. It wasn't enough that he had gotten Draco a gift when Draco had specifically told him that they were absolutely not getting each other gifts on what he described as a pathetic excuse for a holiday, but he'd gotten him something that was most definitely going to make it that much worse.

A glance over at the Slytherin table only threw his mood into the gutter when he saw Draco's usual spot empty. It wasn't like he couldn't have run after him that morning. He definitely could have. Especially in his larger, nimbler animgus form. But the thought only dug up memories of sixth year and a certain third floor bathroom. Even if the confrontation wouldn't have gone exactly like that now of course, it still kept Harry rooted to the cobblestones as he watched the white cat sprint away.

The loud swing of the Great Hall's massive doors didn't even rouse Harry to look up. He'd fallen for that trick too many times this evening to know that he wouldn't see a shock of white-blonde hair and pretty stormy grey eyes enter through it.

"Harry--" Hermione's voice whispered to him from across the table.

Harry hardly heard her over the uproar from the Slytherin table. Namely around a certain now occupied spot behind him.

"Bloody hell, Harry- did you really get that slimy git that? That must have cost a fortune!"

Ron'd words were drowned out by the sight of Draco Malfoy proudly, practically glowing with a self-satisfied smile on his beautiful face. His eyes twinkled with the light of the ever-burning candles above them and the pink glitter below that decorated every house table. His cheeks were a soft pink as Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott all gawked at him.

Or namely at what was clasped around his neck.

A silver necklace was visible above his tie and glittered in the light. It was made up of dazzling white and clear gemstones that shone various colors depending on the wearer's mood and the light around them like a prism. It was absolutely stunning, especially with the pink and rose red they were emitting onto Draco's perfectly pale skin. Harry had enlisted Hermione's help with making sure that the necklace would expand and shrink whenever Draco was in either of his forms.

Aside from what it was made out of-- it was truly a necklace but the length of it could have made it something else entirely.

That something else being a collar.

Stormy grey finally met Harry's green across the table and Draco's cheeks flamed with an instant and uncontrollable blush. A small smile was exchanged between them and words that went unsaid passed through their gazes.

Harry turned and that smile grew into a big grin despite a groan from Ron and another swat of her book on his head from Hermione.

Maybe Harry hadn't mucked things up that badly that Valentine's Day.

Fin.

WOw this took way longer than I thought it would lol

[nixcraft]

Imagine being this stupid to drink Kool-Aid and giving a remote LLM tool full access to your codebase, and, in many cases, not maintaining backups or using proper Git with permissions. How these guys are getting hired to write code is beyond me.

[moose-mousse]

Remember

When you write utility tools that are not specific to your workplace enviroment and you might want to use them at the next place you work.

Then make sure there is no way to prove that your code was made at your work.

Don't check it into a remote git ( just write git init and do it locally). Don't let Onedrive see it.

And then just move it back and fourth to update versions with a flash drive.

Remember.

It is not just ok to steal from your workplace, it is the ethical choice.

Think of it as "wealth distribution towards equality"

Or "Eat the rich"

Or "copyright is only a thing for your corperate masters. Your copyright is called "you are training data""

[blorger]

“Ah. Is that why you’re here, then? Getting over a bad breakup?” “Stuff it. It’s none of your business.” “Honestly, Potter, nothing’s going to be solved by hiding out here in the middle of nowhere,” Draco says, pointedly ignoring the twinge in his gut that tells him exactly how he feels about Potter leaving again. He’s trying to be nice, dammit, and if Potter’s here having an existential crisis about a breakup, of all things, well—that is much more fixable than Draco’s existential crisis. “Relationships with men, relationships with women—they all take work and communication, and there’s no fixing things if you just run away.” “That’s not why I’m here,” Potter insists, but Draco’s on a bit of a roll now; he’s done this enough for Pansy and Blaise, who have the same invariably terrible taste in both men and women, ignoring the feelings Draco suspects they have for each other because neither of them are terrible enough. “And besides, you’ve got the Chosen One ace up your sleeve,” Draco says. “That’s more than the rest of us have, you know? I’m sure whatever the issue is, your girlfriend is absolutely dying to fix it and get back in your good graces.” “Fuck you,” Potter says, sounding angrier than he has with Draco since the pre-biscuit era ended. “You really think that’d be a good thing? That’s why nothing’s ever worked out for me, you know. I don’t want anyone who has any interest in the Chosen One.” “But—you’re the Chosen One. That’s like saying you don’t want anyone who has any interest in—in Aurors, or speccy gits—” “Well anyone who has any interest in Aurors will have to look elsewhere now,” Potter says hotly, and Draco’s processing that as Potter keeps going. “And yeah, it would work out a hell of a lot better with someone who just thought I was a speccy git than someone who thought—” “You’re not an Auror anymore?” Draco asks, and Potter’s mouth snaps shut so sharply he can hear his jaw click. There’s a moment of suspended silence, and then Potter closes his eyes and gives a weary, unhappy sigh. “Yeah. Not anymore.” “Is that why—” “Yes,” Potter says, gritting his teeth together. He still hasn’t opened his eyes. “That’s why I’m here. Satisfied?” “Not even remotely,” Draco says without pause, and that gets Potter’s eyes fluttering open, which is only a good thing in Draco’s opinion. “Let me get this right. You’re here, having a giant sulk—” “I am not—” “A giant! Sulk! Because you broke up with your job?” Draco frowns deeply. “Or did your job break up with you? No, of course not, they’d never—” “And that’s the problem,” Potter says. “Of course they didn’t get rid of me, and they should have. I had to leave. I can’t go back, or they’ll just drag me back in and put—it’s too dangerous. So that’s why I’m here.”

from all the western stars by oflights

[chokedonaturtle]

my humanized cars headcanons

Cal Weathers Edition

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- Cal went to a private school in California and when his parents died he moved in with Strip and Lynda at like 12-15

so that’s why his accent ain’t as pronounced as Strip’s but it’s still there

bro definitely got called a city slicker by Tex

- Tex loves him sm he does anything and everything for him, he’s def the cool uncle that says yes just because Strip said no

- 100000% a mamas boy and is glued to Lynda’s hip most of the time

- insanely good at math he does that thing with the mental abacus russian children learn in school

honestly he’s just good at school in general that boy can WRITE an essay

- is right handed but holds the wii remote in his left hand and nunchuck in his right WHICH IS WRONG BTW 😡😡😡

- can and will play the most depressing country music on guitar and has the most perfect country boy voice with the cracks and all (think brad paisley (my love))

- he has low self confidence because he feels the need to be just as good as Strip if not better and feels like he’ll never step outside Strip’s shadow and make a name for himself

and Tex makes jokes like “yeah you better win this season or i’ll drop you” but then he sees cal sad and he’s like “thou shalt not compare thineself to thine predecessor”

- thinks he’s sponsored by dinoco ONLY because he’s Strip’s nephew

“you just sponsored me bc i’m strip’s nephew 😔”

“i sponsored you bc you’re a great racer with potential not bc of strip 😡🥺”

- bro cried when he retired (i did too)

- when Tex was updating the racing suits for safety standards or something he had a new design drawn up and Cal was like “no i wanna race with my old design 🥺🥺🥺”

- Tex thinks it’s adorable that he wants to race in that outfit bc it hasn’t been updated since strip started racing and it’s like a legacy passed down !! aw !!

- whenever he’s in the same room as Tex he plucks off Tex’s hat and wears it like he used to when he was a young whippersnapper

and Tex is like “gotdam!!! that hat looks just like mine !!!!” and Cal is like 😐😑😐 “y’aint funny tex”

- says the weird country stuff like

“that boy’s cornbread ain’t done in the middle”

“nervous as a cat in a room full o’ rocking chairs”

“if the good lord’s willing and the creek don’t rise”

“i’m fixin to (insert perfectly normal errand nobody announces)”

“they was bangin�� like a screen door in a tornado.” (he got that one from Tex and only says it when he ain’t isn’t around Strip and Lynda)

- says “git” instead of “get” bc of Strip and yall’d’ve bc of Tex and then everyone makes fun of him

Strip: “where you git that 🤨” “git over ‘ere” aka “CMERE BOY”

Tex: “yall’d’ve” “y’aint” “yall done got them good”Cal: yeah that’s mine now

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yeah that’s it for NOW i will make more !! later mayhaps!!

- he says mayhaps and perchance NO I DIDNT BASE HIM OFF ME

ok bye <3