#smart bricks cost

[take-it-on-the-run]

And I Love Her

Sam Winchester x Reader

The reader and Dean are being tortured by Gordon Walker because of her relationship with Sam, and all they can do is hope he'll get there in time.

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags: Torture, graphic depictions of being cut into, descriptions of gore and severe bodily harm, Sam Winchester is out of character depending on who you ask

Characters: Sam Winchester, Reader, Dean Winchester, Gordon Walker

@ghostlyaccurate requested: "Hii! Can I request a Dean and/or Sam Winchester (sepperate) x fem! Reader set in season two, with an established relationship, where it's like when Gordon kidnaps Dean, but instead of just Dean he also kidnaps reader. (I can imagine if it's a Dean x reader Gordon uses reader to get Dean to not try anything, and if it's a Sam x reader Sam just going even more ballistic than he originally does in the show). Thank you!!"

Read it on AO3!

A/N: Beatles title. My first Sam fic! Honestly, it was really hard writing this one for some reason, and after five revisions I'm still not completely in love with it. Regardless, I hope you enjoy, and heed the warnings! Do not read if this will make you uncomfortable!

Sam Winchester Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist | Main Page Masterlist

Gordon stared blankly at the wall in front of him while you tugged at the ropes on your wrists. A bandana was tied tightly around your mouth that tasted like dirt and your own blood. Dean was tied up to the left of you in a similar state, and both of you were staring down Gordon like it would kill him.

Traps lined every entrance from the doors to every small crack in the wall. Sam was powerful, but you doubted he could break through solid brick. Grenades, tripwire, even a shotgun trap that looked like something straight out of a movie; Gordon wanted Sam dead at all costs.

You knew your boyfriend would come to you and Dean’s rescue, but damn was this cutting it close. Gordon had already tried his best with Dean, but when it was your turn, he took his sweet-ass time.

He punched you, kicked you, even spit on you. Now, you tried your best to not scream as he dragged a knife against the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder.

You failed.

Biting down on the bandana, a muffled scream ripped through your lungs. You tried focusing on Dean, but he wouldn’t meet your eyes which were spilling over with more tears than you thought were in your body.

You could feel your blood dripping down your back and your chest, slithering its way to the floor as Gordon wiped his blade with the rag in his back pocket. He wrenched your head to the side, forcing the fresh wound close and for more tears to streak down your face.

He repeated his process on you a few times.

Your arms.

Your hands.

Your legs.

Every time somehow hurt more than the last, the hunter pulling open your skin and snapping it back together like a rubber band. Your vision was spotty, but you held steadfast to the thought that your boyfriend would be here any minute to save the day like he always did.

Gordon took a step back, wiping sweat and blood from his face and arms. He looked down at you with a glare that you’ve held plenty of times for the less-than-human creatures in the world. You guessed that, in his eyes, you, Sam, and Dean, were held in a similar regard.

Snaps.

Taunts.

Cracks.

Screams.

All because you fell in love with someone born under a bad sign.

You didn’t regret meeting Sam. Kissing him, falling for him, even the idea of just having him in your life was enough for your mind to justify the situation you were in. It wasn’t his fault you were having your life drained out of you minute by minute, and you hoped he would be smart enough to know that.

“Sam’s going to be here any minute, you know. Gotta convince himself he’s the hero of this story, and I’m the big,” Gordon turned to you, knife in hand, “bad, evil dragon. But I’m not the one with demon blood, am I, Y/N?” He placed the edge of the blade against the bottom of your chin. You could feel the cold steel heavy against your skin, and any sudden move would surely spill even more of your blood.

Dean glared at Gordon, his face shades of purple and blue, which mirrored the pain you felt along your entire body. Gordon dug the knife into the bottom of your chin, piercing your skin ever so slightly, but not enough to fatally wound you. Your mind was trying hard to hold onto the cracks of reality that remained in your vision; the smell of the dingy house you were in, the feeling of the carpet making contact with your boots, anything that wouldn’t send your consciousness reeling over was enough of an anchor for you to hang onto.

Gordon walked away from the two of you, returning to his position of peering out one of the boarded-up windows in wait for Sam. You glanced at Dean, which granted you a glance back from him. His eyes were dry, but they held enough behind them to let you know what he was thinking. Sam was going to burst into this booby-trapped hellhole, and Dean could do nothing but blame himself.

It’s all your fault, really, a thought that smashed through what you knew was the truth said.

This isn’t any of our faults, you told it back, wanting to tell Dean the same. Sam wasn’t to blame for the two of you being taken, and neither of you was at fault for being used as bait; it all landed in the hands of the rogue hunter who deemed himself holier-than-thou.

Though you couldn’t see yourself, you knew you were starting to resemble a bloody pulp more than a human being. Dean could barely look your way for longer than a second, and deep cuts that surged whether you moved or not continued to scrape away at your consciousness.

Gordon disappeared, and as you tried to turn your head to follow him, you felt a burning pain across your chest. Highlighted by a spurt of blood splattering over your thighs, you wanted to vomit. The top of your head started to feel like it was being lifted off from the rest of your skull, and the black spots in your vision connected at the edges of your eyes.

You grunted, head going slack and opening wounds on the back of your neck. Either spit, blood, or bile dripped out of your mouth, but at that moment you didn’t care- the black at the corners of your eyes bled together, and all you could do was limply hope Sam would find you.

You blinked, slowly, noticing light creeping in from the boarded-up windows. The second thing you noticed was the searing pain in your body, coupled with grunting and what you could guess was a well-landed punch.

“Y/N!” Someone called out to you, but you could barely lift your head to meet their voice. The bandana in your mouth was pulled away and hands cupped your face, warming your skin that was ice cold after losing so much blood.

The hands left your face and moved to the ropes at your wrists, cutting them off quickly and placing your arms in your lap. You forced your eyes up high enough to see it was your hero, Sam, standing before you with tears starting to fill his eyes. If your face would’ve let your smile, you would’ve, but every movement flashed the memory of Gordon cutting into you.

Gordon.

“Where’s-” You managed to sputter out through a sore jaw and a severely dry mouth.

“Dead,” Sam answered coldly. For the first time, you noticed his knuckles were a hue of bright purple, complimented with blood splattering up his arm. Sam moved your arms around his neck and picked you up as gently as he could.

“Dean’s already in the car patching himself up. I’m going to try and lay you down in the back seat so we can get to the closest hospital. I left Gordon in the room by the first door, so keep your head to my chest if you don’t want to see him, okay?” He asked softly. The tears that were in his eyes had faded slightly, but you could see the emotions he’d no doubt try to hide later on. Regret, blame, guilt - the more he looked at you, the more you could sense that your battered state was tearing away at his consciousness. You wanted to reach out, hold his face, and tell him you’d be okay, you’d survived worse, that it wasn’t his fault, but your thoughts were halted by Sam stepping past Gordon’s body.

If you could call it a body, that is.

His nose was sunken into his face enough that his eyes were slightly popping out of their sockets. His mouth had more gums than teeth, which were scattered around the room. He was lying against a dresser, and his limbs were spread out in the wrong directions. You thought you saw a bone, but before you could look closer, Sam turned and shut the door behind you.

Sam laid you across the back seats of the Impala, trying his best to be gentle with the abhorrent number of cuts across your body. You couldn’t guess how the hospital wasn’t going to ask questions, but you hoped the brothers would figure that out. Your head laid in Sam’s lap, and he looked out the window as Dean buried Gordon.

“Sam,” you slowly moved one of your arms to his face, bringing his attention to you, “thank you. You saved us both. You had to do what you had to do.”

Sam smiled but still didn’t say a word as he dipped down and planted a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You wanted to be able to tell him everything your racing mind was coming up with but were beaten by the overwhelming need to not move. Dean climbed into the front seat, beating the gas pedal to the floor and hitting the highway as Sam ran his fingers comfortingly through your hair.

[astupidweeb69]

hello!! I am kinda nervous to write this bc I absolutely love your writing and the way you portray Toby is just so real. I love how you make him both a loser and a force of nature, like just bc he has no rizz doesn't mean he can't do anything lol. But I was lowkey thinking about your stories the other day and like, what if Y/N also had some screws loose? Like he pops up at her house covered in the blood of some guy who wouldn't leave her alone and instead of calling the police like a smart person she's just like: " 😳 omg you did this for me??" I know it's unrealistic and silly but it's also kind of interesting???

Ticci Toby x Violent! Reader

Toby with an unhinged reader? Well - there's a recipe for disaster lmao.

I know I said I'm not taking requests but this ended up becoming a scenario. I just had some inspo - hope this is what you were looking for! Because the reader isn't submissive? Idk

Y/N has some messed-up thoughts and there are mentions of violence under the cut!:

The reader I imagine in this case would have only seen how cringey Toby is - thinking he was just a creepy guy who's taken a liking to them and would avoid him at all costs. Probably up until this point assume that he's a wimp (Toby would initially try his best to seem weaker and unassuming when he approaches the person he likes)

The scenario I imagine is that Y/N grew up around conflict, and is fully comfortable around violence, even throwing a few punches themselves here and there. Maybe ended up in Juvie when they were younger and now works in some retail job - something where they regularly interact with the general public.

A customer tries to hit on Y/N when Toby's there - big mistake.

But Toby doesn't say anything at first.

He doesn't have to.

Y/N immediately shuts the customer down. But the guy doesn't let up. Curses are thrown back and forth, Y/N's wrist is grabbed.

He touched you.

Toby doesn't like that. Not one bit.

You get reprimanded by your boss after you punched the unruly customer in the face.

Luckily they didn't press charges.

You had a bit of an edge, from your surly demeanor and fucked sense of humor, but Toby had no idea you'd do that.

Kind of turned him on. He knew he picked you for a reason.

But alas, that was the extent of your revenge. You already had a record of aggravated assault and you didn't need another one added to the list.

Luckily for you that scrawny, lanky boy who always stared at you when he came in had a plan in motion.

Late at night, a knock on the door wakes you up from a nap on the couch. Of course, you look through the peephole first before answering.

Red.

Everything is red.

Only until you hear a familiar voice pipe up do you realize who it is.

Toby.

The blood covered so much of his face it was hard to point out who he was at first.

He speaks to you through the door, somehow already knowing you're there.

And he tells you what he did.

It takes a moment for you to process all the grizzly details, the way he followed the man, cornered him in an alley, and beat him so hard he'd pretty sure he cracked his skull on the brick wall.

He sounded giddy about it. Gleeful.

He was far from the loser you thought he was.

And you liked it.

Liked that he did that for you.

After all, in your head, hurting someone for someone else was the greatest form of love. It was the kind of devotion you'd always dreamed of from a partner.

You open the door.

Toby is surprised, but soon sees a look on your face he recognized. The kind of expression of sick joy and arousal that comes with blood lust.

You're blushing too. Blushing for him.

Everything was finally coming together perfectly, and once you let him into your home, he's never going to leave.

The relationship would start right off the bat. Toby is one to rush things.

It's all to claim you. Both mentally and physically. So you're attached to the hip pretty much. Expect a lot of PDA (Toby does not care who sees lol)

And a reader who's fully on board?

Yeah you're going to bring out the worst in each other. He'll encourage you to do more crimes, to get bloodier, to join him.

It would be a very bad situation for everyone involved.

But especially for anyone unfortunate enough to cross the paths of you two lovebirds.

[taniahylian]

Sonetto: The most voilent character in the suitcase

No, this isn't a joke... well, it kinda is? But I also have proof that Sonetto is very violent and impulsive, despite also being the by-the-book righteous girl we know her to be.

First of all, in the epilogue, Sonetto and Regulus fight, and then Regulus falls to the ground, clutching her arm and saying it's broken. Now, we know she was just pretending, but Sonetto didn't know that, and what was her response?

I mean... if your enemy is already on the ground, and seemingly injured, why ask her to fight you again??? Wtf Sonetto. Good thing Vertin had her own agenda and prevented further confrontation.

Then, in ch1, Sonetto and Sotheby are lost in the underground Laberynth of the Walden and then finally see a stage behind a brick wall. Sotheby even remarks it looks like there's a party outside. Sonetto's immediate response? She wants to blast the freaking wall.

Again, she has to be stopped, this time by Sotheby, who reminds her that an explosion could hurt ppl and they shouldn't act so impulsively. Starting to see a pattern here?

Then, after Forget me Not delivers the "good news" and the gang escapes through the Laberynth, they run into another pair of Italians.

Schneider is carrying Marian on her back and comforting her, not to mention that the two girls look very alike. Yet, when Sonetto sees this sight, she accuses her of being the one who had been torturing Marian and then, without waiting for an explanation, immediately attacks rather violently (the game even points it out).

Granted, there are also instances where this violent side of Sonetto comes in handy, like all the times she fights the manus, but especially when she's told Vertin joined the enemy and Schneider died, and she responds by seeking vengace through combat.

Schneider even remarks that Sonetto was rather fierce during the fight.

BUT we're not done yet with Sonetto's impulsiveness! In ch3 someone is following her around at the rehabilitation center and, after unsuccessfully trying to lose them, she grabs a trash bag and puts it on their head.

Now, imo this was very reasonable and smart, since she didn't know who was following her. What was a bit more problematic however, is that she then proceeded to beat this individual, whose identity was still unknown to her btw, despite the fact that Matilda didn't attack her and was just trying to escape.

And finally... the one impulsive act that almost cost Sonetto her own life:

She broke the vow of silence and attacked Arcana in the hall of truth despite the oath she made and the fact that Arcana didn't even try to get close to them; we just see her clapping and then putting a finger to her lips to indicate silence, yet Sonetto immediately casted a spell.

Now, I don't want to be too hard on her, I know this is what she was taught to do all her life, plus it's her nature as a protective doggo to act this way, but I do think it's something she should work on.

Plus, it's kinda hilarious that a character whose signature phrase is "may the peace be with us" is anything but peaceful, don't you think? XD

[moonbeamwritings]

next time

wc: 1.9k

warnings: dabi being a menace (as always), injury and violence mention

PART 2 →

You’ve been in a lot of hairy and otherwise life-threatening situations as a pro-hero. There’s the time you got pinned under a car, and that other time you were held at gunpoint. Oh! And there was even one afternoon where you’d ended up strung up by your ankle from a skyscraper window. Dangling 400 feet above cold, hard cement really encourages a person to reconsider their life choices (but apparently not enough to make you quit your job).

So curling up against the cool, stinky metal of a dumpster in some back alley in Hosu City with notorious League of Villains member Dabi crouching in front of you like the cat that got the cream, all things considered, really isn’t that surprising.

Your leg is busted, so you can’t run. And with the heavens above as your witness, you’d tried. The only good it served was to send bile up your throat and white hot pain shooting through the meat of your thigh. Not smart. Your side burns and blood bullies through the gaps between your fingers, sticky and wet from the blast of a scummy criminal some ten minutes earlier. You hunch further against the dumpster, the adrenaline racing from your bloodstream leaves your body feeling tired, limbs leaden. You can’t fight anymore.

Feeling defeated, you huff a sigh and close your eyes. “Here to cut off all my limbs, leave me for dead? Isn’t that what you villains get up to on Monday nights?” 

“Dismemberment isn’t really my thing, doll.”

“Arson then? That seems to be more your speed.”

Dabi offers you a lazy smile. “Arson’s fine.”

“Mmm, nice,” your side throbs and you wince. “Well? Hero barbecue tonight? ‘M sure the League would love that.”

Your comment goes ignored. “It’s nice to see you again, little hero. Rough night?”

“Weren’t you taught not to play with your food?”

He shrugs, rocking on his heels like he’s having fun with you. “I could’ve killed you the last…” he stops, pretending to think. He makes a show of counting on his fingers before he invades your space, grin morphing into a smirk. “Three times we’ve met like this. Don’tcha think I would’ve done it by now?”

You groan, head lolling back until it makes contact with brick. “Touché.”

“Who did this to you anyway?” Dabi punctuates the question with a curious prod at your thigh. You slap his hand away with a hiss, and when you do, he’s quick to switch focus. Not one to be deterred, his hand moves to grip your chin, tilting your head to one side and then the other, eyeing you carefully as if he’s looking for something. You let him.

“Some criminal we’ve been after for the last few weeks. Serial murderer, all around bad person. The usual. Pretty nasty quirk, too.” You bite back a smile. “You know him?”

“Sounds like me.”

“Ha ha. Very funny.”

He leans closer, hand stilling along your jaw. “I could find out for you, but it’ll cost ya.”

The offer hangs heavy in the air. He looks so honest, so earnest despite the smirk that sits on his lips and the teasing glint in the turquoise of his eyes, that you feel a tug in your ribcage. You want to take the bait. You shake your head to remind yourself that this is probably exactly what he wants — some hero like you to owe him a favor so he can exploit you later. A win-win for him and, ultimately, a crash and burn, win-lose for you. You humor it, though, if only to see what that cost is.

“Oh yeah? What do you want?”

A hum, and then silence. Your heart leaps into your throat, goosebumps rising across your flesh as Dabi shrinks the gap, closer now than he’s ever been. So close you can feel the movement of air with every exhale, can smell the cigarette smoke and cheap whiskey that cling to his clothes, his breath. If he’s trying to do what you think, you’re not sure you’ll have the strength to stop him. Realization sits heavy on your chest as your hand curls around the collar of his leather coat — you don’t want to stop him.

His lips are a hair’s breadth from yours, one tiny push would be all it takes to finally connect them, when he pauses. You feel his lips quirk up. A ghost of a smile. Dabi chuckles somewhere deep in his chest, voice barely above a whisper as he tells you, “I don’t know if you can afford it, little hero.”

You don’t know if you can either, but the heat settling in your cheeks and the half-lidded gaze staring back at you is enough to make you want to try. Anything to close that gap. And still, you can’t bring yourself to move, to even speak. You must look like a deer in headlights as Dabi’s eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips.

With the words caught in your throat, Dabi takes the opportunity to break the silence. “How ‘bout this, sweet thing,” he croons, hunching closer so his lips brush against the shell of your ear. “You go home, lick your wounds in your pretty little penthouse apartment, and I’ll take care of the dirty work, hmm?” He presses a featherlight kiss to the space beneath your ear. “He’ll never touch you again.”

His palm cups the curve of your jaw, fingers brushing against the baby hairs at the nape of your neck. “And next time, when you’re feelin’ better, then we’ll talk about…” He pauses to bring his lips close to yours again, scarred skin hovering over your mouth, but never quite touching. He’s teasing. “... this. How does that sound?”

Next time. The phrase rings in your ears, and you’re sure it’s more than your injuries that are making you dizzy. It sounds good, really good, but the voice in the back of your head screams as you think it over. This is dangerous. It’s bad enough you’ve met him more than once and have only half-heartedly tried to restrain him one time, but now you find yourself dancing in a moral gray area, hand-in-hand with one of Japan’s most wanted criminals.

You chuckle, little more than a weak exhale that sends a splinter of pain shooting between your ribs. Your hand doesn’t move from the collar of his jacket. The dance continues. “I don’t know if I can really condone the whole murder part of that plan.”

Dabi laughs and pulls away, thumbing at your jaw before finally dropping his hand. “You heroes and your damn moral compasses.” A smirk follows a beat of silence. “But the other part you’re okay with?”

“Mmm,” you hum, eyes shut and teeth clenched. “Ask me next time.”

Next time. You’ve sealed your fate with one simple phrase. A promise written in the air between you.

Dabi scoffs, but his smirk doesn’t falter. “You’re certainly something, little hero.”

He eyes you again, though you don’t see it. A look mirroring care, concern, crosses his features as he takes in the hole in your hero costume, exposing a mess of crimson that mingles with black and blue. Blood pools beneath your thigh. He could kill you. You’ve laid yourself bare for him, injured and alone. Too trusting. All it would take is a flicker of his quirk and there’d be one less hero running around, one less loose end to worry about. But as he crouches in front of you, he can’t bring himself to do it.

He’ll let himself stew about all of these bullshit emotions later, but for now, he moves to stand, holding an open palm to you. You blink up at him dumbly when you drag your eyes open, and he sighs, pretending to be exasperated. “What? You wanna sit here in the trash all night?”

“Hey,” you moan teasingly, dropping your hand in his. “These trash bags are actually quite comfy, given the circumstances.”

“Just,” he rolls his eyes and pulls you to your feet as gingerly as he can. When he gets you standing, he takes your weight, wrapping his arm around your waist. He’s careful to watch the wound in your side. “Shut up already.”

As he guides you to the mouth of the alley, he continues, “Your friends make a habit of leaving you behind?”

“Solo job tonight,” you suck air through your teeth as another wave of pain rolls through your muscles. “No one to leave me behind.”

“Just our luck then, huh?”

Your arm curls a little tighter around his shoulders. “Just our luck.”

Dabi shoots a look up and down the street, and once the coast is clear, guides you over to a bench on the sidewalk. His arm lingers around your waist for a moment, warm palm pressed into the curve of your hip. Hesitant. 

After a beat, two beats, he lowers you onto the bench, and without so much as another glance, turns heel down the sidewalk and disappears into the shadows again.

“See you around, little hero.”

Everything hurts and the smell of blood hangs in the air as you sit on that steel bench, letting the chill of the metal seep into your tired muscles. You pray that it steals the warmth that Dabi has left in his wake. Your fingers shake as you pull out your phone to call for an ambulance, a feeling stirring somewhere deep in the pit of your stomach. 

Tipping your chin up to the sky, you watch as your exhale creates a fleeting, misty cloud in the cool night air. “God, I really hate Mondays.”

Given your injuries, it’s easy to talk your agency into giving you the time you need to recover, and you relish in it. Days off are rare, rarer still as a pro, so you spend them lazing around your apartment and nursing yourself back to health — just as Dabi suggested. On this particular day, your movements are slow, lazy as you make your way to the kitchen. In your haze, you almost don’t notice the single red rose sitting on your counter, a note tucked gently under its petals.

“You’re welcome.”

Though you’ve never seen it before, you know that handwriting as if it’s your own, and without a second thought you scramble towards your living room, practically falling over yourself to turn on the news. Has the story even broken yet? Who knows about this? Just you… and Dabi?

They cycle through a few other stories and you bite at the skin of your lip until a familiar face flashes on screen. Your mouth hangs agape, heart thundering against your ribcage and pounding in your ears as the news anchor describes the warehouse fire that killed the fucker your agency had been chasing, the one that had left you in that alley last week. No one knows how the fire began, she explains.

But you know. The note, your gut, tells you as much.

The rest of the report falls on deaf ears as you sit frozen on your sofa — rose hanging from your fingers, tea kettle whistling on the stove.

Despite the myriad of unanswered questions that itch at your skin, you know four things with certainty. First, Dabi, despite having ample opportunity, has not tried to kill you. Second, he definitely killed that guy on your behalf. Third, he knows where you live.

And above all else, you’re undeniably, irreversibly fucked.

[wolfliving]

Meanwhile, in Brickland

Cory Doctorow:

Analog companies can raise their prices, or worsen next year's model of their products. *Digital* businesses can *travel back in time* and raise the price of something you already own, but need to pay a "subscription" fee for. They can reach back in time and remove features you've already paid for. They can even go back in time and take away things you already own. The omniflexible, omnipresent digital tether between a device and its manufacturer creates *so many* urges that they can't resist:

Are you one of 4,000,000 people who built "smart home" products from Wink into your walls, ceiling and foundation slab at any time since they started shipping in 2014? Surprise! Now you have to pay a "subscription" for all of those gadgets or they'll *brick your fucking house*:

Did you buy a "Mellow Sous Vide" gadget? Surprise, it now costs $48/year to use that gadget!

Did you buy an Exogen ultrasound device to stimulate bone growth after a fracture? Surprise, it bricks itself after you've used it 343 times! Enjoy your e-waste, Hopalong!

Did you *buy a Ferrari performance sports-car*? Surprise, it bricks itself if it detects "tampering" - and the only way to un-brick it is to connect it to the internet, so you'd better hope it doesn't brick itself deep in an underground parking garage. Oops!

Did you buy a Peloton treadmill? Surprise, your $3,000 "smart" treadmill no longer works in standalone mode - unless you pay $480/year, that treadmill is now a clothes-drying rack:

Did you buy an Epson printer? Surprise! It will brick itself after you print a certain number of pages, *for your own good*, because otherwise its ink-sponges might leak:

Did you get - no, wait for it - *did you get a neural implant?* Surprise. The company's new owners don't want to continue supporting your implant, and they won't let anyone else do so either. So now, *part of your brain* has been bricked:

This is like a lifetime money-back guarantee - *for companies*. Any company that experience's seller's remorse can cancel or alter the transaction, retroactively. It's as if Darth Vader opened an MBA program whose only lesson was *I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it further":

Darth Vader has the Force. Corporate enshittifiers have something even more powerful: IP law. Companies can cleverly arrange overlapping layers of IP - anticircumvention, trademark, patent, trade secrecy, terms of service, cybersecurity law, contracts - to criminalize otherwise legal activity, like reverse-engineering, jailbreaking, creating alternative clients or third-party parts:

That means that companies know that they can enshittify to their heart's content without fearing a competitor's disenshittification products. Raise the price of ink all you want, because you've figured out how to criminalize generic ink cartridges:

That's a lesson Spotify took to heart. Aaaallll the way back in 2022, Spotify started selling $90 "Car Thing" tablets - little car-vent-mounted gadgets that made it slightly easier to connect your car stereo to your Spotify account. Now that a suitable interval has gone by, Spotify has decided to remotely brick every one of these solid-state devices, no later than December of 2024:

Now, this may seem like a loss to all those Car Thing owners, who are out $90. But consider this: our descendants are *gaining* thousands of pieces of immortal, infinitely toxic e-waste.

So there's that.

Then there's this: Jason Koebler just published a breakdown of a leaked sSamsung repair contract on 404 Media, revealing how Samsung requires its "independent" repair partners to trick you, abuse you, spy on you, and literally destroy your phone:

First: every time you bring a phone to an independent Samsung repair shop, the company has 24 hours to notify Samsung, providing your name, email, phone number, address, the IMEI of your phone, your warranty status and complaint.

Then, the technician is required to inspect your device for any evidence that you have had it serviced by unauthorized technicians or fixed with third-party replacement parts. If they believe you have failed to act in accord with Samsung's shareholders' interests, the technician is required to *immediately destroy your phone* and notify Samsung.

(This is radioactively illegal, and has been since 1975, when Congress passed the Magnuson-Moss Warranty Act, which protects your right to use third-party parts:)

Why does Samsung do this? They can't help themselves. It's in their nature.

[sovietpostcards]

Moscow's Lower Presnya - factory workers' village built in late 1920s

Thank you for making it happen: K. T., H. W., T. B., m., @depetium, @transarkadydzyubin, S. R.

Presnya in Moscow was a district of factories since the 18th century. Some of the factories that were based here are the Prokhorov's textile factory (Tryokhgornaya Manufactura), Smith's boiler factory, Danilovsky sugar factory, Ossovetsky's chemical plants etc. Factory workers usually lived close by (some of the factory owners built housing, but not all) so there were a wide array of houses and buildings (some brick, some wooden). After the 1917 Revolution all of the factories were nationalised and workers' living situation rethinked.

Presnya was the first workers' village in Moscow rebuilt after the Revolution (began in 1926). Emerged a district of 4-floor brick houses in formations that created court yards (something that didn't really exist for apartment buildings before then). Court yards were there purely for comfort of the residents. The new buildings mostly consisted of standard sections of 2 or 4 flats per floor per entrance. The standartisation helped bring the costs down (the buildings themselves were all still different). Buildings stood far enough from each other to allow enough air and sunlight. Most of the flats had windows facing North and South - it helped with air flow and sanitation (tuberculosis and other diseases were on the rise, and having direct sunlight in the flat was detrimental for germs). Many of the flats (though not all) had kitchens and bathrooms. Every building had a built-in boiler room that provided heating in winter. Flats were equipped with their own boilers to cook and heat water. Some other "smart house" solutions in the flats: a pipe system that sent heated water from the kitched to the bathroom, oven-samovar connector (to simplify boiling a samovar), built-in "ice pantry" in the kitchen (served as a fridge in wintertime), air ducts in every room, floor air ducts that also served as water retractors and prevented flooding the neighbours downstairs.

It's important to note that while some families had a whole flat to themselves, most of them were kommunalkas [communal flats] with several families sharing one flat, one room per family. Typically, workers aged 40+ with big families were more likely to get their own flat that younger or unmarried workers.

Let's see some of the residential buildings!

First, some of the 19th century ones - originally built by factory owners as housing for workers.

This new elite residence is built over three 19th cent. buildings. They tried to save as much as possible. The building on the left is mostly as is (only an extra floor was added on top), the building on the far right was kept as part of the facade, and the middle one was in too bad a condition to save, unfortunately.

Corner house with the Kommunar store - designed by Aleksandr Kurovsky.

Another building designed by Kurovsky was initially supposed to have more balconies - see the project on the cover of Building Moscow (#4, 1929). Originally the colors were reversed: the building was made of red brick (befitting the red brick factory surroundings) and the patterns were made of lime brick.

Pair of buildings designed by engineer Osvald Kapran are very simple but have a distinct feature.

And finally the architectural dominant of the Lower Presnya - Mostorg [Moscow Trade] department store designed by Brothers Vesnin and built in 1928. It was their first constructivist building in Moscow. This was the first and only store of this magnitute in the district, a symbol of the new centralised trade as opposed to old style markets.

Part one - Architecture | Part two - Museum

[galebrainrot2024]

Gale x Tav Enemies to Lovers Part 17

Read on Ao3 Tav's perspective, enjoy!

“I don’t know yet,” Tav whispered, her honesty rolled off her tongue as if it weren’t her own. “I do know we’re smart enough - at least I am -“ her voice rose at her poor attempt to joke, “Gods be damned. You must have heard everyone.” Her voice dropped and she saw his eyes flick to her lips. Saliva collected at the back of her throat and she swallowed. “Do we mean nothing to you?” 

Tav knew she wasn’t asking him if the others were important to him. Their childhood animosity, their prior squabbles and disagreements -  it almost seemed irrelevant now. She saw how his brilliant mind blossomed and endured. 

Gale laughed and to her, it seemed biting, “We cannot rest our certainties on ‘I don’t know.’ The promise of forgiveness, no matter the cost, is worth it. In case it’s not clear enough, let me elaborate for you,” Gale’s tone cut her and she felt her fuse ignite, “I recall we were in numerous religious studies classes in our time, would you say that’s true?” Tav nodded, dumbfounded. “Good, so we’re in agreement - and I assume you remember learning about the Wall of the Faithless? Where those without Gods or those who openly antagonize them end up a brick in a wall of lamentation, brutally tormented for eternity?” Gale scoffed and stared at her, “I would die a thousand deaths before I agree to such a fate willingly.” 

Tav felt like glass that had been dropped. “She’s given you an impossible choice.” 

“I know,” Gale said sharply before exhaling and his voice stilled, “I know. I think it’d be better if we both got some rest. A new day is ahead of us, and there are so precious few of those left.” 

*** 

“You’re up late,” Astarion purred, his hip cocked to the side as he mussed his hair. 

“Out for a late night snack?” 

“Obviously,” he ran his fingers along the sides of his lips and smirked. “Caught a good one tonight.” 

Tav sighed. She wasn’t in the mood for company and she felt guilty turning him away after what he shared with her about Cazador. Most of their other companions let thinly veiled annoyance with his attitude and personality cloud their judgements of him. Tav could hardly blame them - as someone rather prickly herself, she understood the protective measure. She wasn’t sure Astarion had ever had a friend in his life. She patted the ground beside her. Astarion’s nose wrinkled and he pulled over a stump that he struggled to balance on as it was rotten. Giving up, he kicked it into the bushes and decided to stand. Tav suppressed a chuckle that threatened escape. Watching him do this felt silly. 

“I just patched these trousers,” he gestured down at his well-maintained clothes as if reading her mind. “I am not looking to mend another snag just yet.” Astarion’s petty vanity was something Tav found endearing. Although she didn’t ask, she assumed that those were the only clothes he had - or had ever had - since becoming a vampire spawn. “Are you alright Darling?” Astarion laid a hand on her shoulder. “Is something troubling you?” 

Shame bubbled in her gut. Astarion was being increasingly vulnerable with her and she knew if she didn’t nip the flame soon and lacked tact, she would lose both. “Isn’t that true for anyone who is up at this hour?” Tav’s pitiful smile couldn’t hide the maelstrom beneath. 

“Usually.” Astarion mused. “You should get some rest,” he brushed her cheek lightly. “The dark circles are a little too gothic for you.” Tav let out a half hearted grunt and he left her to her thoughts.

Silence draped over her like a blanket and the quiet of the reverent time, the one just between dawn and night encouraged her lids to droop and her body to sway, soon to follow into darkness. The night lulled Tav into a restless sleep. 

*** 

The drippings of a cool, viscous liquid roused her from sleep. “Uh…” she moaned, shaking her head and realizing two heavy paws were on her chest. “Scratch…” the dog wined, licking her face and she allowed her fingers to tangle in his fur. “Alright, I’m up, I’m up.” When Tav sat up her entire vision swam with dark circles and she felt sea-sick from lack of sleep. 

The smell of eggs made her stomach churn and she almost retreated back into her tent before mustering the courage, fueled by the smell of coffee. They ate quickly and packed their belongings - Tav, Karlach, Shadowheart, and Gale would go ahead first to scout out the shadowlands and the rest would follow once they received word.

“What’s that?” Shadowheart asked so Karlach bounded over, assessing the chest. 

“Looks abandoned, not trapped..” Karlach mused, circling it. “I say we open it.” 

“Hm…” Gale stood a few paces behind and held up his hands. “I think I’ll watch from back here, if it’s all the same to you.” 

Karlach then swung her axe hitting the chest with a thunderous roar, and it splintered. “Nothing but landers, torches, and this dusty old book. I was hoping for at least a cool ring or something in a chest like this.” Karlach was ready to move on but Tav gestured for the book. 

“May I?” 

Karlach shrugged and tossed it to her, “If you want to stick your nose in this crusty thing, be my guest.” 

When Tav opened it and her eyes began skimming the words, she jumped when she heard Gale’s voice directly in her ear. “Appears to be a journal of some kind.” 

“For the love of gods!” She clutched her chest and shot him a look over her shoulder. He gave her a crooked smile that made her sea-sickness worse and her mouth unbearably dry. 

“You must be off your game today,” Gale teased as his brow cocked, “It’s not like you to get started so easily.” As his eyes studied her face she felt herself grow hot and returned her gaze to the book. 

“I didn’t sleep well.” Tav murmured as she read. Gale reached over her shoulder to turn the page, his fingers brushing hers. The words were filled with horror, the tale of a person slowly succumbing to the curse and loosing their mind. Tav shuddered, reading aloud: “”A dreadful night. The campfire needed thrice the wood that would normally be needed to keep it burning. Terrible sounds came to my ears from beyond, rest has not restored me. If anything, I feel weaker.” They collectively held their breath. 

“If this book is to be trusted, we better equip ourselves with some of these torches and keep our wits about us.” Gale was serious, and gestured forward. “Whatever lies ahead, I’m certain it will be unlike anything most of us have witnessed.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Shadowheart snorted. 

Tav wasn’t in the mood for bickering so she closed the book and tossed each of them a torch. “We should go - no time to dally.” 

** 

As they crossed the threshold into the cursed place, the immediacy of the sickness that gripped her was severe. The flickering flame from their torches seemed to abate the darkness, but not entierly. 

“There’s power here… but the shadows… they don’t seem to have quite the same effect on me,” Shadowheart mused, gazing around at the contorted blue-green landscape. “Not as badly at least. Do you know what this means? I must be blessed. Shar is protecting me where others are left to face her wrath… she loves me, she must do.” 

Tav shot Karlach a look before she could express more indignation and then said, “What about us?” 

Shadowheart shrugged, “You’re clever. The torches are working well enough, I’m sure you’ll figure it out. Lady Shar wouldn’t bless me like this for no reason.” 

Tav sighed, miffed by Shadowhearts unyielding loyalty to a Goddess who had done nothing but spite her, had inflicted her with pain and unimaginable suffering, all for what? Tav felt in her bones that not even Shadowheart fully believed the dogma. There was still time to press her, to unravel her blind fealty. 

Though, the irony was not lost on her - Tav’s devotion to Mystra, especially prior to Elminster’s visit, was equally fanatical. Now, she felt a complication to her connection to magic - although she could wield it like a master pianist, she felt little admiration for the Goddess she previously held in hallowed glory. 

As they crept through the shadows, Gale marveled at their surroundings, “No day.. no night… it’s as though time itself has abandoned this place.” Gale murmured and it made goosebumps raise on her skin, “Similar to the Astral Plane in some ways, wouldn’t you say Tav?” Gale’s intelligence was a mere glimmer in the kaleidoscope of his charm. His was the one mind she found could match her own, their interactions much like a complicated game of Lanceboard. 

“Hardly,” she scoffed, looking at him with a slight grin. “It’s said the Astral Plane is threaded with light and silver, life-giving, and wondrous in all directions… I’ve never set eyes on it, but I wager it is nothing like this dismal place. These lands are diseased by this threat that lurks and devours in the darkness… ” 

They heard rustling ahead and crouched - Tav held a finger to her lips and gestured for them to stay put while she moved forward. She could taste the thrumming of her heart, a metallic and sickly flavor. It was a group of travelers, their fear palpable. A twig snapped beneath Tav’s feet and she held her breath. 

“Stop! Who’s there?” One of the women called out to her and she tried to tuck herself behind the tree. 

Tav considered, crafting a harmless reply: “I find the best introductions are made around a fire, perhaps with food and drink?” 

“You’re a chatty shadow, I’ll give you that. Come out, into the light, hands high.” Tav obliged, holding up her hands and tilted her head for the others to follow. 

“Jonas, look out! Step to the light!” One of them called, the man lingering oddly in the shadows before nothingness seemed to grip him and drag him into the darkness. 

A trap. 

[serial-serializednovelreader]

Nova’s Notes - North and South Weekly - Chapter 7

In which the Hale family finds a new home…

“In such towns in the south of England, Margaret had seen the shopmen, when not employed in their business, lounging a little at their doors, enjoying the fresh air, and the look up and down the street. Here, if they had any leisure from customers, they made themselves business in the shop—even, Margaret fancied, to the unnecessary unrolling and re-rolling of ribbons. All these differences struck upon her mind, as she and her mother went out next morning to look for lodgings.”

Already, Margaret is noticing a stark difference between her beloved Helstone and this new town. Here, they keep themselves as busy as possible, with no time for leisure or enjoyment. Here, the colors are less vibrant and everything has a purpose: no frills. Margaret may be of a practical mind, but I can tell she won’t like this change.

“Their two nights at hotels had cost more than Mr. Hale had anticipated, and they were glad to take the first clean, cheerful rooms they met with that were at liberty to receive them. There, for the first time for many days, did Margaret feel at rest. There was a dreaminess in the rest, too, which made it still more perfect and luxurious to repose in.”

Yikes, Mr. Hale didn’t plan ahead on the hotel costs, hm? Not off to a great start, but I am glad they have rooms and Margaret is able to rest at last. For the first time in weeks, she’s able to let herself breathe and not be stressed by her parents’ problems. Good for her!!!

“One evening it was arranged that Margaret and her father should go the next day to Milton-Northern, and look out for a house. Mr. Hale had received several letters from Mr. Bell, and one or two from Mr. Thornton, and he was anxious to ascertain at once a good many particulars respecting his position and chances of success there, which he could only do by an interview with the latter gentleman. Margaret knew that they ought to be removing; but she had a repugnance to the idea of a manufacturing town, and believed that her mother was receiving benefit from Heston air, so she would willingly have deferred the expedition to Milton.”

Unfortunately, it can’t last :( I’m not sure I agree with Margaret’s “repugnance” to Milton, but I understand this is part of her arc and I’m eager to see how she’ll react once she learns more about the people of the town. ALSO, Mr. Thornton mention!!! 👀 I may not have read the book before, but I happen to know he’s an important character, hehe…

“Quick they were whirled over long, straight, hopeless streets of regularly-built houses, all small and of brick. Here and there a great oblong many-windowed factory stood up, like a hen among her chickens, puffing out black “unparliamentary” smoke, and sufficiently accounting for the cloud which Margaret had taken to foretell rain…

“…People thronged the footpaths, most of them well-dressed as regarded the material, but with a slovenly looseness which struck Margaret as different from the shabby, threadbare smartness of a similar class in London.”

The language Gaskell uses here is very negative and solemn, reflecting Margaret’s true feelings regarding Milton. Some of this may be an honest depiction of how Milton looks, but I know more of it is through Margaret’s biased and negative perspective of the town. “Slovenly” (or, “dirty”) is a lot worse to be than “shabby” (or, “in poor condition through lack of care”).

Margaret and her father take a look at the available houses in their price range and much like the drama of HGTV, they don’t know which one to pick. Every one seems wrong for some reason. However, Margaret once again activates her “problem-solving” mode and comes up with a way for them to make house #2 work, though it’ll come at the cost of ugly wallpaper and Mr. Hale having his own study (if you think I feel bad for him here, you would be wrong). Again, I absolutely love seeing her in this mode!!! She’s so in her element and it’s great to see her so at ease after the stress of these past weeks. This line in particular is my favorite, though:

“‘Oh, wait a minute. I am overpowered by the discovery of my own genius for management.’”

YES GIRL 👏👏👏👏👏 SELF-CONFIDENT QUEEN (she could just mean “penchant”, as opposed to “brilliance” but still — I’m glad she knows she’s good at this). The wallpaper is not something they want to compromise on, and they hope to have Mr. Hale charm the landlord into letting them re-papering it. Not the guy *I* would have charm people (that’s not on my list of attributes I’ve seen from him), but hey he was a pastor. He should be good with people…so I guess this makes sense.

So, Mr. Hale leaves and Margaret is hoping to get a bit of rest…but there’s no time for a petty thing as rest!!! Mr. Thornton has called for them!!! Well…her father. But still 👀

“Margaret opened the door and went in with the straight, fearless, dignified presence habitual to her. She felt no awkwardness; she had too much the habits of society for that. Here was a person come on business to her father; and, as he was one who had shown himself obliging, she was disposed to treat him with a full measure of civility.”

If there was ever a list of benefits from staying at her aunt’s house, this would likely make the top of the list. Her bearing and manner meeting a strange man radiate confidence and owning the room. You would never know the stress she’s been through in the past few weeks because she won’t let you see it. She will be polite and business-like, but Gaskell uses such…I want to say, almost sharp language here — she almost feels intimidating in this moment.

And I’m not the only one who thinks so. We get a new perspective, from the viewpoint of Mr. Thornton. Let’s hear how he feels about Margaret’s entrance, shall we?

“Mr. Thornton was a good deal more surprised and discomfited than she. Instead of a quiet, middle-aged clergyman, a young lady came forward with frank dignity,—a young lady of a different type to most of those he was in the habit of seeing…

“…He did not understand who she was, as he caught the simple, straight, unabashed look, which showed that his being there was of no concern to the beautiful countenance, and called up no flush of surprise to the pale ivory of the complexion.”

He sounds like she jumpscared him or something 😂😂 and I guess she kind of did. But yes, he does seem to find her more than a little intimidating, with how he perceives her looks (from her beautiful face, I might add) as indifferent to his presence instead of the civility she’s going for.

Oh no, she’s being misunderstood again! And predictably, I’m dusting off my neurodivergent lens to analyze this. So, a lot of times ND individuals have difficulty making the proper facial expression to reflect the emotion they’re feeling (or expected to feel, depending on if they’re masking). This can lead to others perceiving their emotions as different from what they are (not to mention many NDs have difficulty understanding facial expressions in the first place, so they don’t even know what face they’re supposed to make in a given social situation).

Speaking of masking, I would say Margaret is masking — heavily. It’s touched on later in the chapter, but she is very tired at this moment. She was expecting to rest, and she is not given the chance because of this interruption. Now, she is forced to be civil to this random guy. This might be another reason for his misinterpretation of her emotions — her “civil” mask might be cracking to reveal her “tired” or “frustrated” face. He’s still not entirely correct in what he thinks she’s feeling towards him…but it’s a bit closer. Good for him, I guess?

And because I don’t like to leave stones unturned, we could also switch this lens to Mr. Thornton and wonder if perhaps part of the reason he’s misinterpreting her emotions is because he himself is neurodivergent and has difficulty reading facial expressions…(does that mean I’d have to do the same for everyone who misreads Margaret? Maybe. I’m still keeping an eye on Thornton, though.)

“Mr. Thornton was in habits of authority himself, but she seemed to assume some kind of rule over him at once. He had been getting impatient at the loss of his time on a market-day, the moment before she appeared, yet now he calmly took a seat at her bidding.”

She’s just met him, yet already has the ability to calm him, hmmmm??? I love this 👀👀👀👀👀

“Mr. Thornton had thought that the house in Crampton was really just the thing; but now that he saw Margaret, with her superb ways of moving and looking, he began to feel ashamed of having imagined that it would do very well for the Hales, in spite of a certain vulgarity in it which had struck him at the time of his looking it over.”

LOL, him looking at the house before: “yeah, I mean it’s good. Not the best house I’d pick, wallpaper is ugly, but the Hales will like it I’m sure.”

Him, know Margaret - A QUEEN - is going to live there: “*screaming internally* that’s a horrible house for her how could I have thought otherwise 😭😭😭😳😳😳 she deserves better” <- Margaret does deserve the best, he is right about that.

Anyway, I already love this dynamic. He’s spoken one sentence to her and he’s already smitten what the heck this is so cute 😭😭

“Margaret could not help her looks; but the short curled upper lip, the round, massive up-turned chin, the manner of carrying her head, her movements, full of a soft feminine defiance, always gave strangers the impression of haughtiness.”

Ahhhh this actually makes a lot of sense! Poor Margaret being judged like that just because she has a “look” of haughtiness.

“She was tired now, and would much rather have remained silent, and taken the rest her father had planned for her; but, of course, she owed to herself to be a gentlewoman, and to speak courteously from time to time to this stranger; not over-brushed, nor over-polished, it must be confessed, after his rough encounter with Milton streets and crowds. She wished that he would go, as he had once spoken of doing, instead of sitting there, answering with curt sentences all the remarks she made.”

All my “this is cute” being said, it is funny that he’s met her when she’s in a tired state and actively wants him to leave (and he kind of knows it?). This makes any conversation more awkward, but hey, they can work from this. I’ll take “not over-polished” over Lennox’s gilded comments (which have nothing substantial underneath) any day!

“She sat facing him and facing the light; her full beauty met his eye; her round white flexile throat rising out of the full, yet lithe figure; her lips moving so slightly as she spoke, not breaking the cold serene look of her face with any variation from the one lovely haughty curve; her eyes, with their soft gloom, meeting his with quiet maiden freedom.”

It’s cool seeing this from Mr. Thornton’s eye and how he perceives her. This whole time, we’ve been told she’s not pretty or considered beautiful among society, but to him, she’s a gem. Even when we saw Henry’s POV, he didn’t mention anything of her beauty, just how she blushed in his attempts to woo her. I know beauty isn’t everything, but I happen to like that he sees her beauty. It doesn’t feel overstated, either. He’s not describing her as “the most beautiful woman ever” or anything. He just notices she does have beauty. And I do notice the use of “quiet maiden freedom”, which — to me — parallels with her earlier use of “high maidenly dignity”, used back in chapter 3. Both times were used when about to talk to men they didn’t relish talking to…I don’t think that’s a coincidence. It’s cool that Thornton can actually see this within her.

“He almost said to himself that he did not like her, before their conversation ended; he tried so to compensate himself for the mortified feeling, that while he looked upon her with an admiration he could not repress, she looked at him with proud indifference, taking him, he thought, for what, in his irritation, he told himself he was—a great rough fellow, with not a grace or a refinement about him. Her quiet coldness of demeanour he interpreted into contemptuousness, and resented it in his heart to the pitch of almost inclining him to get up and go away, and have nothing more to do with these Hales, and their superciliousness.”

Thornton, NOOOOO, she’s just tired bro 😭😭😭 at least he kind of understands he’s trying to struggle with his feelings of admiration (and maybe feelings of more?) within himself, contrasted with her “indifference” towards him (which could be considered true, she really does want him to leave and that could be considered indifferent — or worse — towards him. In that case, he’s the first to guess fairly close to what she’s actually feeling). I can understand him, though. No one wants to talk with someone who’s looking down on them, especially someone who they actually want to connect with. And I hate him dismissing himself as rough and unrefined :(((( someone get this man’s confidence up please???

“Just as Margaret had exhausted her last subject of conversation—and yet conversation that could hardly be called which consisted of so few and such short speeches—her father came in, and with his pleasant gentlemanly courteousness of apology, reinstated his name and family in Mr. Thornton’s good opinion.”

Ok, add “good at talking to people” on Mr. Hale’s bingo card. I’ll give him this, he somehow turned this disastrous meeting into…well, Thornton not running away from Margaret. You get exactly 1 point from me, Mr. Hale: don’t screw it up.

Unfortunately, Mr. Hale was not able to persuade the landlord in removing his tacky wallpaper (people like him are why Charlotte Perkins Gilman wrote The Yellow Wallpaper /j) and they have to let it stay. Margaret immediately starts thinking of ways to hide it (ever the planner!), while Mr. Hale tries to invite Mr. Thornton to luncheon with them.

“It would have been very inconvenient to him to do so, yet he felt that he should have yielded, if Margaret by word or look had seconded her father’s invitation; he was glad she did not, and yet he was irritated at her for not doing so. She gave him a low, grave bow when he left, and he felt more awkward and self-conscious in every limb than he had ever done in his life before.”

Sorry, dude, Margaret is busy trying to figure out how to hide tacky wallpaper 😭😭😭 I love so much that Mr. Thornton like “it would be so inconvenient for me to eat lunch with them (and also Margaret’s been haughty/indifferent to me this whole time), but also how dare she not invite me to lunch too. 😒😠” yeah, you’re already down bad, Thornton. You’re just in denial :D and awww he’s self-conscious 😭😭

“Well, Margaret, now to luncheon as fast as we can. Have you ordered it?”

“No, papa; that man was here when I came home, and I have never had an opportunity.”

I’m glad Margaret defended herself here because…yeah, when would she have had the time??? Mr. Hale, I am TRYING to be nice to you…kindly do better so you make my job easier, PLEASE. In his defense, he didn’t press the issue or blame her after she said that.

When they detail the day’s events to Mrs. Hale, they ask her what Mr. Thornton is like. At first she’s like “I hardly know what he’s like 🙄” but then she says this:

“‘About thirty—with a face that is neither exactly plain, nor yet handsome, nothing remarkable—not quite a gentleman; but that was hardly to be expected.’”

“‘With such an expression of resolution and power, no face, however plain in feature, could be either vulgar or common. I should not like to have to bargain with him; he looks very inflexible. Altogether a man who seems made for his niche, mamma; sagacious, and strong, as becomes a great tradesman.’”

…it looks like our Margaret took a little more notice of Thornton than she let on, hm? 👀👀 I actually love that Gaskell shows us and doesn’t tell us Margaret’s notice of him; it’s far more interesting to think she was just tired the whole time and uninterested with a sudden twist of “actually he’s strong and powerful-looking etc. etc.” rather than Gaskell telling us both of them were taken with the other from the first moment. Plus it made me do this -> 🤭 IRL so that’s always fun.

“But when they removed to their new house in Milton, the obnoxious papers were gone. The landlord received their thanks very composedly; and let them think, if they liked, that he had relented from his expressed determination not to repaper. There was no particular need to tell them, that what he did not care to do for a Reverend Mr. Hale, unknown in Milton, he was only too glad to do at the one short sharp remonstrance of Mr. Thornton, the wealthy manufacturer.”

EEEEEEEEEEEE 😍😍😍😍😍🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭 this line right here is AMAZING and ICONIC. Get you a man who will get ugly wallpaper removed from your rented house. Thornton!!!!! I knew you liked her!!!! Hehehehehhee. This is what rom-coms were inspired by, I’m convinced.

[asillyartist]

OH look at that I have my own Pizza tower oc, but jokes aside I love her a lot.

I gonna put here some lore? Past? her relations with other characters because I have nothing better to do so have fun.

For the start, her Name is Visi Bagethetti but she calls herself Voicette due to her talking so much and bc it reminds her of Noisette.

She is around the age of 21 She also can talk a little bit of Italian and perfectly France and started living in the streets two years ago to have a more interesting lifestyle.

Robbing people breaking into places and talking are her talents if you can say that.

She had many jobs over the years as well she can cook, serve food even plumbing I bet she could even do jobs other people are terrible at just looking at the problem, she is quite smart but likes to act dumb and silly.

She loves money and she also will do everything to get some.

She talks to many people and when they don't look boom their wallet is now hers.

She mostly has a mime costume because she loves mimes, in general, the rabbit ears paws, and tail are the best parts of her look, she can move the ears and tail like there were her own body parts, she got the rabbit-eared hat from her father when she was a child in France.

she then promised herself to never take it off for the most, she loved her father but he passed away he was Italian so that's why she can talk Italian herself a little, she never had a real mother and the stepmom stopped contacting her, she loves to see new places and new people even though she is mostly alone on her ''adventures'' if you can call it that.

She loves to sing dance and perform she meets many people but the ''Pizza Tower gang'' just fits her too well she feels like is the best place to stay, and she feels happy near them.

She likes to talk to Peppino he reminds her of her father a lot she often likes to help him in his business and also learns to speak better Italian due to Peppinos help.

She likes Noisette a lot they surely are the small bunny and big rabbit, she likes to bully The Noise for fun when he wants to annoy Peppino, and she is 100% not overprotective over the stressed Italian man no no

But besides that, she and the Noise hang out sometimes to cost trouble around the place also yes she takes his cigarettes away like Noisette but gives him a lollipop instead.

She is kinda fine with Pepperman and Vigilante, they are fun to talk to, and she all the time finds a topic to talk to them, she also helps Pepperman with his art and helps Vigilante on his farmland.

She enjoys hanging out with Gustavo and Brick she still can't get over the fact that they are amazing friends.

she is quite unsure about fake Peppino but she does like to learn about his weird lounge and body structure

and at last Mr. Stick and PizzaHead well she is quite silly and loves money herself so those two boys are her massive crushes she is just too shy to ask them out or show her feelings to them.

She can talk with Mr. Stick for hours long about money and ideas and also the business stuff.

With Pizzahead she can goof around like a little child and play dumb games for hours with him, they really do enjoy the time with each other and the dumb things they come up with.

ANDDD- that's all I guess my pizza tower oc does have a lot to offer.

''huh? huh? huh?''

[circus-mcgurkus]

yap sesh about the best game to ever exist on Roblox: pokemon brick bronze

okay so. as a child without access to a 3ds and an unhealthy obsession with Pokémon, my only available options were listening to my 2 friends (only one of which actually had a 3ds) talk about Pokémon and role play and stuff. whatever. but ROBLOX!!! hell yeah. brick bronze was built to be an actual, fully developed Pokémon game, FOR FREE (with slight exceptions for game passes such as shiny/legendary hunting boosts). Even with these things that cost money (or robux, whatever) they didn’t actually impact the game that much. Shinies have no difference to their normal counterpart other than color, and they can of course be hunted with normal methods at standard odds. Legendaries had incredibly small chances to appear in any wild encounter, usually only after being "released" by completing a puzzle related to them. However, these puzzles very rarely ended without an encounter — you usually got one guaranteed shot at catching the pokemon, which you could save before hand to get as many chances as you'd need. Point being that the game is 100% enjoyable without spending a cent. (Don't talk to me about Ash Greninja.)

When it comes to the plot and story, perhaps my vision is blurred by the past and being a naive child, but it was amazing. You're a child of two archeologists who seal off a tunnel due to dangers, but that's not too important. You and your best friend Jake embark on your very own pokemon adventure: you are allowed to pick any starter from generations 1-7, and Jake always ends with an Eevee (Bastard - I wanted an Eevee). Before you leave the lab, your parents give you a parting gift: A Bronze Brick, attached to a necklace, for good luck. After leaving town, you’re almost immediately called back, with news that your parents have been kidnapped by the evil Team Eclipse. Cypress, the Pokémon professor, advises you to take the Bronze Brick to one of his associates in the next town over, to see what the last thing your parents left you was. You do, but the girl reveals herself to be a member of Team Eclipse, and runs off with the brick. You chase her down and get it back. Fast forward a while; you run into some more Team Eclipse shenanigans in the cities of gym 2 and gym 3; they’re trying to harness Groudon and Kyogre. You shut those two plots down, and meet the other rival: Tessa. The plots great, but I’m bored now.

The most interesting things are the small side things you can do: there isn’t a quest system in game, but there’s always little things slightly off the beaten path that you can find by exploring buildings and talking to NPCs. Chief among these are Legendary and Mythical encounters. Many, many legendary Pokémon are sprinkled throughout the world, for those brave enough to find them (or those smart enough to open the Wiki). Three legendary Pokémon live in one volcano: Groudon, who is encountered

Forgot I had this draft laying around. You guys can have it. I’ll do more PBB ramblings later

[thestobingirlie]

I have complex feelings about Nancy, throughout the series. Yes she is portrayed as smart, but most of her intelligence is academic, I think one of her major flaws is her lack of common sense. (Another is her lack of emotional intelligence.) And this is shown in different ways across the show.

In season 1, the biggest example of this is her pointing the gun in Steve's face. She is shown as a gunslinging badass, but she literally fails gun safety 101. Rule 1 is always treat a gun as if it is loaded, rule 2 is never point a gun at someone you wouldn't be willing to kill, even if you know it is unloaded with the safety on, rule 3 is never put your finger on the trigger unless you intend to shoot. She breaks rules 2 and 3 when she points the gun at Steve. And it would have taken so little for her to accidentally shoot, like if the demogorgan had come a little sooner and startled her, she could have pulled the trigger out of reflex.

-A lesser point for season 1 is not guessing that Steve would come and check on her. He'd said he'd call her, and it's shown that he hadn't heard from her, so he was worried. Just a few days earlier, he'd climbed through her window, so it's not surprising that he did it to try to check on her.

In season 2, it's how she went about exposing the lab. She wanted to tell Barb's parents what really happened, despite knowing what the lab/ government could do if they found out, and she didn't like Steve pointing that out. When she and Jonathan went into the lab, she took a massive risk having the recording device with her (I 100% stand by the fact that her bag would have been searched and they would have found it. And they would have been in massive trouble.) And then lying to her parents about where she is while she and Jonathan go out of state to meet up with a strange man, while they were both minors. Then accepting alcohol from him, and sleeping at his house.

In season 3, there are a few points.

-The first is her expecting to be treated as an important reporter at the paper when she was just an intern, yes she was mistreated by a lot of the higher-level people, she should have been shadowing reporters, or being used for taking notes of meetings, but she expected to be working as a full journalist, and her attitude ultimately costs her and Jonathan their jobs (his photography internship is different to a reporters internship, because he was likely taken along to take a few photos, and then used to develop his own and other photographers photos.).

-The second is providing first aid to El. She went to disinfect the wound without cleaning it. And it's pretty obvious that you clean it first, because if there's dirt in the wound disinfecting it would do nothing. And she looks sceptical when Max corrects her. (I hate when it's written in fic that Nancy is the one to provide first aid, and to ensure there are fully stocked first aid kits, when in canon, she doesn't understand first aid. When Max has more experience than she does, and Steve is a certified lifeguard, and for that, he would have to be first aid certified.)

-The third is shooting at Billy. She's just shooting at the car head-on. Yes, windshields aren't bullet proof, but they offer some level of protection and damage to the windshield doesn't disable a car. Also, they're aware that he is possessed by the mindflayer and was able to walk away after the sauna test and being thrown through a brick wall. As well as how most of the hits didn't affect Tom and Bruce at the hospital. It's pretty obvious that bullets probably wouldn't have much effect on him. So if she wanted to disable the car, she needed to aim for the wheels, to blow out the tyres, other than that, you need to hit the internal workings of the car, like the fuel line.

I can't think of much for season 4, but I have only watched it once, compared to many more times for the other three seasons. But the main one I can think of is how her immediate thought for defence against the upside down creatures is guns, when they have never worked before. The only things that have been shown to work against the creatures is brute force, like with Steve's bat, or fire. (Or El, but they don't have her.)

I know there are other points, but I can't think of them right now. Also, at another point, I could send you my thoughts on her lack of emotional intelligence if you're interested.

there’s this post i saw that argued that steve has high wisdom, and low intelligence (which i agree with to a certain point, because i don’t think that steve’s intelligence is actually that low), they then argued that everyone else was high intelligence and low wisdom. specifically nancy. at first i wasn’t so sure, but i think you’ve managed to convince me.

honestly, that scene in s1 has always been almost laughable to me. like, what was she gonna do if he didn’t leave? literally shoot him in the face? pointing a gun at someone in a circumstance like that almost never works, and, no offence to jonathan and nancy, but they clearly needed the help, and steve’s a jock. i’d have let him stick around. especially after the shit he pulled at the theatre, like, sure man, you can jump in front of me, show your remorse lmao

and that also hits one point i find irritating about nancy’s character and it’s the fact that we never see her learn how to shoot a gun, she’s just a natural badass, and i think that’s just such lazy writing, especially for one of their few female characters. she doesn’t seem to know any actual gun control stuff, she never learns to shoot, she’s just good at it, naturally, with no explanation. could the duffers be anymore boring. i like to watch characters struggle a bit.

to defend nancy a little, she had just crawled out of hell, so she’d probably forgotten about steve coming to check on her. however, she never does try and explain away what she and jonathan were doing in the alleyway behind the theatre. like, at least just make up some bullshit about mike and will rather than just look at steve blankly.

s2 is kinda funny, because obviously shows don’t always tell you what a characters plan is, to try and make it more dramatic, but it really does feel like nancy and jonathan are just making that shit up as they go along.

like, at first nancy tells steve that she wants to tell the holland’s that barb is dead. that’s her whole plan. then her plan is to tell the world about the upside down and eleven and demogorgon and barb’s death, and she honestly expected that to work? it isn’t until murray tells her that people won’t believe it that she starts to doubt herself.

and yeah, no real teenage girl would actually drink vodka and then stay the night in some middle-aged man’s house, who is very clearly a freak and also insanely interested in her love life.

i think i’ve said before that nancy’s stance in s3 confuses me. like, yes she is getting treated badly, but she’s an intern. sexism is a factor for how little she has to do, but she can’t have honestly expected to be writing for the paper. did she deserve to have more to do? yes. should she have been going around doing interviews on her own, no. then, instead of just leaving, or playing nice to get experience and have a good connection with a journalist, she instead decides to go against what her boss has told her to do, and expects to get rewarded? like, nancy, you can’t really ask forgiveness for going against what your boss has told you to do and sneaking out in the middle of the day because you don’t like your job. just quit!

that’s true, it is weird that nancy always gets written as the person supplying first aid and being the most knowledgeable when max and steve know more than her.

i hate when characters are shooting at a car and they just shoot at the windscreen. shoot at the tires!! or shoot at the body of the car, you’re more likely to hit something important and stop the car.

yeah, i’m so tired to nancy getting out a gun and everyone going “oh my god, she has a gun” and then it does FUCK ALL. bring steve’s bat back, that’s done more damage than a fucking gun.

i think that nancy has a lot of intelligence for the life she lives, which is a middle class high school student, and she often can’t really see beyond that. i think it can come from her lack of empathy, and this idea that she’s often the smartest in the room, because she values her kind of intelligence, and her lived experience, more than others.

obviously some of your points are just the duffers shitty writing choices, but shitty writing choices can reflect badly on characters. and yeah, i’d love to hear your thoughts on her emotional intelligence. in my opinion, steve is one of the most emotionally intelligent characters on the show, because of how self-aware he is, and how he’s had to understand and then stop his bad behaviour. i’ve never thought much about nancy’s though!

[soncfthewitch]

closed starter for @men-of-paradise

There was a reason Toby trained with the old hands. He wasn't exactly one to cut corners when it came to honing his skills—pushed himself harder than most would dare. But even he wasn't foolish enough to underestimate a proper sparring match. That's how you stayed sharp—kept your edge in a world that wouldn't hesitate to cut you down.

But even the sharpest blade could dull with distraction.

Toby wouldn't say he was paranoid; he just paid attention. It was smart to keep an eye on the lot of them—their moves, their tells, the way they held themselves.

The gym reeked of stale sweat as fluorescent lights hummed overhead. Toby's knuckles ached, raw from the hours he'd spent pummelling the heavy bag. But he needed this—needed the burn in his lungs and the sting of split skin. Needed to lose himself in the familiar rhythms of fighting.

Because today was the day he'd meet Joseph Briggs. The man he was meant to marry.

Fucking arranged marriages. Toby gritted his teeth, frustration bleeding into his strikes as he faced off against the first of his sparring partners. The bloke was good, Toby'd give him that. Fast hands, solid technique. But Toby was better.

He slipped inside the man's guard, driving an elbow into his solar plexus. The bloke doubled over with a grunt. Toby followed up with a knee to the face, then a sweeping kick that sent him crashing to the mat.

"Oi, I'm not done with you lot yet," Toby called out, rolling his shoulders. "Who's next?"

The second bodyguard stepped up, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Toby smirked. This should be fun.

They traded blows one after another. Jab, cross, hook. Block, parry, counter. Toby's pulse raced, adrenaline singing through his veins. This was where he belonged. Not playing dress-up for some posh wanker he'd never even met.

Toby caught the man's leg mid-kick, then twisted, sending him sprawling. The bloke tapped out, and Toby helped him to his feet with a clap on the shoulder.

"Not bad, mate. Not bad at all."

He turned to face the third and final bodyguard. The man was built like a brick shithouse, all bulging muscles and bravado. Toby's lips curled into a predatory grin. Oh, this is going to be bloody brilliant.

They circled each other, eyes locked, searching for an opening. Toby feinted left, then struck like a cobra, his fist connecting with the man's jaw. The bloke staggered back, shaking his head like a dazed bull.

And that's when Toby saw him.

Joseph fucking Briggs, standing in the doorway like he owned the place. Tall and broad, with a jawline that could cut glass. Piercing blue eyes that seemed to strip Toby bare.

Fuck me...

Toby's distraction cost him. The bodyguard's fist slammed into his temple, stars exploding behind his eyes. He stumbled, the world tilting on its axis. Shit. He blinked hard, trying to clear his vision.

Get it together, Toby. He couldn't afford to look weak. Not now. Not in front of him.

Toby shook off the dizziness, then launched himself at the bodyguard with a snarl. He rained down blows, a relentless barrage of strikes that drove the man back. A final uppercut sent the bloke crashing to the mat, out cold.

Toby stood over him, chest heaving, knuckles split and bleeding. He spat blood onto the mat, then turned to face Joseph.

"You must be Briggs," he said, his voice rough. "I'd say it's a pleasure, but I think we both know that'd be a lie."

[nickgerlich]

What's In Your Cart

You’ve got to give Amazon a lot of credit. Starting in 1995, they proceeded to change the way we shop. Starting first with an online bookstore, then expanding into music, movies, and then pretty much everything under the sun, we learned to how shop online thanks to them. While they weren’t the first (Powell’s Books, for example, beat Amazon by a year), they were certainly the best known.

And they are now a household word, to the point that their name has been verbified.

Amazon Prime, which debuted in 2005, taught us to shop often and enjoy unlimited two-day shipping. Rather than aggregate purchases like before that time, in an effort to reduce shipping costs, this helped us shop on impulse. It became even more pronounced once we had an app to do this. I am extremely guilty of it.

Not a company to necessarily be tied to the online arena, Amazon has slowly been tweaking its entree into the brick and mortar realm. It has launched, folded, and relaunched various iterations of mini supermarkets, and in 2017, it purchased the Whole Foods chain, which has more than 500 units. It was at Whole Foods that last year it launched “palm pay” technology.

At about the same time, though, the company realized its “Just Walk Out” program at other stores was not cutting it. Between erroneous charges and theft, it was posing a cash drain on the firm.

Today, we find Amazon opening four more Amazon Fresh stores in selected locations across the country. It is now using its proprietary Amazon Dash Carts, a smart shopping cart, as well as the palm pay that has been successful at Whole Foods.

Imagine a shopping cart with a massive computer apparatus where you would normally place your purse or small child. This device has a scanner and scale, and knows where you are in the store at all times. Shoppers can add and delete items easily, and if they logged in to their account, can finalize their transaction and walk out. Otherwise, go through a traditional checkout, where you can pay the old fashioned ways, or wave your palm.

I love it! I just wish one of these stores were a little closer. For now, I will have to be content with Whole Foods in Dallas and other large cities whenever I visit. Believe me, it feels very empowering to just wave my hand over a scanner.

By now you might be wondering whatever happened to online ordering, home delivery, and curbside pickup. These are still things, of course, but Amazon wisely realizes that shoppers actually want to go to a physical store at least some of the time. I consume a lot of fresh veggies and fruit, and like to inspect before I buy.

Then there’s the process of discovery, something that is harder to accomplish online even with the best suggestion engines. For example, I love perusing Whole Foods’ expansive fresh produce department for oddities, like romanesco, red kale, purple cauliflower, rambutan, and many other rarities. I am implicitly asking Whole Foods—and Amazon—to wow me.

While palm pay has done well, thanks in large part to the fact that unless someone chops off my hand or handcuffs me to go shopping, the jury is still out on the Dash Carts.

Amazon is trying hard to speed up the shopping process, especially the end of it when we have to either self-check or wait in line for an employee to do it. By allowing us to do it throughout the entire shopping visit, we are basically one tap away from heading to the car after we enter the last item.

Sure, there will always be pushback. Some folks are put off by palm pay, fearing privacy as well as the Mark of the Beast and all that end times stuff. Others may be fearful of all the technology, especially the smart carts. Business critics may argue that a touchscreen showing your running total may hamper impulse purchases, because shoppers are fully aware of the bill as they go along. Oh, and then there’s the fact that these carts cost up to $10,000 apiece, and could easily be damaged if left outside. Never mind the homeless person who decides one of these might just be perfect for wheeled conveyance of his possessions.

Regardless, though, we are experiencing change writ large, and Amazon continues to push the needle. In spite of those who may never buy into it all, collectively we have accepted everything Amazon has done in the last 29 years. Perhaps someday we’ll be able to enter a store and see smart shelves illuminating our frequent purchases, view personalized messages on the screen, or even hear voices if we’re wearing Air Pods.

I’m down with it all. Anything to keep shopping trips exciting.

Dr “I’ll Wave As I Go Buy” Gerlich

Audio Blog

[caseymarte]

Budget-Friendly Builds: How Container Homes Save You Money

Container homes are changing the housing market by offering an affordable alternative to traditional home construction. These innovative homes, crafted from converted shipping containers, are not only eco-friendly but also significantly less expensive to build and maintain. Let's discuss the reasons why shipping container homes are becoming a popular choice for budget-conscious homebuyers.

Cost Savings Breakdown

Affordable Acquisition: Shipping containers are readily available and less expensive than traditional building materials like wood, concrete, or brick. This initial cost saving is a major advantage for those looking to build their own home without a hefty price tag.

Streamlined Construction: The modular nature of container homes allows for much quicker construction times. Since containers are prefabricated, much of the assembly happens off-site, which reduces on-site labor costs and speeds up the overall process.

Reduced Foundation Requirements: Due to their sturdy design and structure, shipping containers require simpler and less costly foundations compared to traditional homes. This can be a significant cost saver, especially in areas where extensive groundwork is typically necessary.

Sustainability and Efficiency

Container homes are at the forefront of sustainable building practices. Repurposing used shipping containers reduces the demand for new construction materials and minimizes waste. Moreover, these homes are often smaller in scale, promoting a minimalist lifestyle and further decreasing ongoing energy consumption.

Design and Customization

The flexibility in design that container homes offer is a budget-friendly feature that traditional homes often lack. Containers can be stacked and joined in various configurations, allowing for custom layouts at a fraction of the cost of conventional custom-built homes. Brattleboro Portable Storage provides various customization options that adapt to different budgets and design preferences.

Long-Term Savings

Container homes are not only cheaper to build but also less expensive to maintain. Their metal structure is resistant to pests such as termites and less prone to structural issues like rot or mold. Additionally, their compact size makes them more energy-efficient, lowering heating and cooling costs throughout the year.

Choosing a container home is a smart financial decision for those looking to maximize their budget while minimizing their environmental impact. With their low upfront costs, reduced construction and maintenance expenses, and energy efficiency, container homes offer substantial savings over time. For those interested in exploring container home options, Brattleboro Portable Storage is your resource for affordable, innovative housing solutions.

[you-need-not-apply]

Thoughts on this as a fic? I've written maybe 12K as of rn, and need to know if this is shit. I don't support jkr in anyway

Plot; James finds out about the horcruxs and works with Regulus to find them; cue slow burn Jegulus, thought death eater James Potter, thought dead Regulus and Pandora who needs more wine.  

 «̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ «̶ ̶̶̶ 　　　　 ̶ ̶ ̶»̶ ̶̶̶ ̶ »̶ ̶̶̶  

“JAMES I swear to Merlin if you get any more snow on my book, I will confound you next quidditch match!”

Delighted laughter echoed around the courtyard as James sarcastically bowed towards Remus, whose scowl only grew as Sirius started to gather more snow into his gloved hands. It should have been too warm a day for this kind of snow, but luckily this part of the grounds had already been eclipsed by shade so the snow was still in pretty good condition. It wasn’t thickly spread on the ground like it had been this morning, but it wasn’t melted enough to just be ice. ‘Perfect for annoying Remus.’ James thought and quickly squashed it.

It was not the smartest thing to piss Remus off but Sirius- Ok look he claimed to be smart but he was dumb as a brick at times, mostly around Remus if James was being perfectly honest. 

Sirius had formed a ball of snow, roughly twice the size of a tennis ball. He brushed it down to try and make it more circular as he slowly eased his way closer to Remus. James decided this was not his problem and took a few steps back to watch with Wormtail who snorted at him and went back to attempting to complete his transfiguration homework on one of the benches around the never-frozen fountain. 

James had often wondered if the fountain was enchanted to never freeze or if the fast-moving water prevented it from freezing. He snapped back to the present with the sound of Remus being attacked by Sirius. 

The sight of Remus having what looked to be a pile of snow on both his shoulders, his head and his book was something neither James nor Wormtail could contain their laughter at. The withering glare he shot them shut them up quickly enough though. 

Remus brushed the snow off his shoulders and shook most of it off his head before turning his attention back to his book which was covered in snow. Scowl growing as he shook it in an attempt to save the poor thing.

“Sirius I was being-” Remus cut himself off before he could make the mistake that would cost him his remaining sanity. Unfortunately, Sirius had taken a break from laughing at Remus’s still snow-strewn clothing and hair (and book which Sirius would be replacing later if Remus had any say on the matter) and had heard his grave mistake. Ah yes, James had made a mistake in not stopping Padfoot the second he saw the look on his face. 

“What, serious?” Padfoot needed to shut up before Moony skinned him, which wouldn’t take too long judging by the look Remus was currently giving him. Sirius’s dopy fools grin paired with far too few brain cells, allowed him to blatantly ignore Remus’s look and laugh. ‘The worst thing his parents ever did was name him Sirius’  passed through the other three marauders' heads. Remus sighed in defeat and turned to remove more snow from his book, which was now likely unsavable due to the melted ice now seeping through the pages. 

“You being serious moony?” He asked, you could almost call it sweetly if not for the wide grin that stretched across his face and the slight shake of his shoulders. 

Moony wasn’t taking this today, he had finished brushing his book off and had placed it in his bag, scowl still on his face. He spoke before Sirius could continue his awful joke. ‘Thank Merlin.’

“It’s getting dark, we should go in.” He said instead of cursing Sirius to have yellow hair like James had been hoping for. 

James looked up in slight surprise, it had gotten quite dark very quickly, one of the cons of winter. ‘You could almost see the stars’ James wondered as he squinted up trying to spot any of the seemingly thousands of constellations that they had learned in Astrology. 

His stargazing endeavours were interrupted by Peter calling out to the group while he packed his ill-copy-off-remus-later homework into his bag.

“When has it getting dark ever stopped us?” 

Sirius shrugged, still grinning, and began heading towards the entrance hall, pausing only when he reached the threshold to answer Peter. “It’s cold out here, and we have food and fire inside, so..” “And chocolate,” Remus input as he stood a small way away from Sirius at the entrance, arms folded, a frown on his face, snow still mixed into his brown curls.

“Ah I see how it is,” Peter grinned as he walked with James over to the pair of them, carefully trying not to slip on the ice, “Chocolate is all it takes to keep the marauders in for the night.”

“I know,” Bemoaned Padfoot as the four trudged into the hallway, snow falling from their boots and clothes onto the ground, “Imagine what Minnie would say if she knew all she had to do was give us some chocolate.” 

He corrected himself quickly, “Well give Moony some chocolate.”

The sound of Sirius choking on his breath when Remus’s elbow caught him full in his stomach felt like white noise to James as he searched through his pockets in an attempt to find his wand. He had misplaced it again, it was the third time this week. Stopping to double and triple-check his pockets, he allowed them to get a little further ahead before calling out. “Fuck I left my wand out there!”

Sirius turned around, giving him a very sirius look, which would have been more effective if his face wasn’t still red from his coughing fit a few moments ago. 

“James you fucking idiot.” 

“It’s not my fault!” James defended himself as Peter and Remus sniggered slightly at his misfortune. “Look I’ll go back and grab it, go ahead I'll catch up.” James half said, half shouted over his shoulder as he made his way back to the courtyard.

It had gotten even darker when James stepped out of the hallway and into the courtyard a few moments later. The sound of small insects and running water now the only sounds to be heard, along with the light crackling of the lanterns framing the entrance to the hall and the single trill of an owl somewhere above him. If it got much darker he would never find his wand. Breathing into his hands to warm them slightly as he made his way across the icy path to the fountain.

Moving his hands along the stone seats, he searches in the shadows his eyes can’t see in. Dragging his hands over the rough stone and ice, carefully trying to not knock off his wand if it was there. 

The smooth feeling of his wand, intricately carved mahogany etched with details, made him sigh in relief. 

‘Thank Merlin’

James quickly shoved his wand into his pocket and made his way towards the entrance once more. He quickened his step when his shoe hit the stone of the castle hall, making to reach the fat lady with the marauders instead of after. ‘Don't want Moony killing Padfoot now do we?’ James privately thought if he did, Sirius had it coming.

He turned the corner, left towards Gryffindor tower then up, when a black bur hit him. 

‘Fuck what was that,’ was the initial thought, followed by, ‘Is that Regulus?’

Regulus Arcturus Black. Sirius Black's little brother. More than a foot shorter than James, dark unruly hair, that, unlike Sirius, was straightened and tied back neatly. He was still wearing his school uniform, though it looked distinctly ruffled and he had dropped something when he crashed into James.

“Damn baby Black,” James reached down to pick up the thing he had dropped, which turned out to be a book, “You ok?” He asked, examining the book without looking at Regulus, which he probably should have been as the question was directed at him and not the book. 

The book was faded and torn, a page was clearly about to fall out, and there was something staining the cover. Quickly turning it over to get a better look, James caught a glimpse of the title before it was whisked away by a pale hand. 

Startled and blinking rapidly, James looked down at Regulus.

Regulus looked disoriented, James noted, his eyes were slightly wild, glazing every way before setting on James. He tugged the book closer to himself as he stepped around James and began walking past into the courtyard. He looked unsteady on his feet, not quite in a drunken way but a more ‘I’ve just rolled out of bed’ way. 

James watched him for a moment, before turning towards the Gryffindor tower, his mind still on why Regulus had a book titled; ‘Secrets of the Darkest Art’?

[carltonlassie]

I thought about digital detox and maybe, like, switching to a dumb phone where all I can do on it is make calls, send texts... But then I went outside and found out that it won't work because there's so many things that require a smart phone these days -- ordering from a restaurant, paying, etc. Also I miss convos on apps like discord and stuff. (Maybe good thing? Idk.) But again that'd require me to buy a dumb phone bc 3G is dead and old phones don't work anymore, so. That's more #consumerism that I'm trying to avoid.

So I decided to simplify the launcher on my phone so I only really see the apps I really need (mail, text, phone, camera) and the entertainment apps are hidden behind a second click. At least that layer of separation puts a stop to my brain mindlessly scrolling to find apps that I find shiny and scrolling in a different direction in said app! But it is definitely not as satisfying as carrying a brick phone and an mp3 player and an e-reader, and being like, ha! Look at me. I'm a retro warrior. Check out my phone that I can also use as a weapon. My e-reader battery lasts a whole month without charging. My mp3 player has a headphone jack. I'm not that cool yet.

(Speaking of e-readers, I wish there were phones with e-ink screens. All I do is read things on it. Imagine it was e-ink so it's easier on the eyes?! It would suck at videos and stuff and that's why it's so great. Making it impossible to waste time on it.)

I also feel weird listening to the same album over and over on Spotify because it makes fun of me at the end of the year, but ... That's how people used to listen to music until streaming services came out. They bought albums and listened to it over and over. So why shouldn't I? I've been downloading albums on Spotify and listening to them, but now I'm wondering if I should dust off my old mp3 player and put some albums in there. 🏴‍☠️

I keep on going back and forth between digital vs physical. Like sure, having physical things take up a lot of space and it's hard to carry it around, but then digital storage costs a lot of money and requires either a subscription or shelling out a lump sum to get an external drive... Which will run out of storage again in the future as you continue to fill it with things you love... It's so hard to find the right balance. I know drives aren't as fragile as it used to be but I also think about babying the device so it doesn't skip LOL like I'm not dealing with a hard drive with a needle here, it's an SD card, like c'mon.

Also I remember when apps used to be like, one time payment to remove all ads and unlock pro features! And now it's impossible to find ones like that unless it's an old app. It's all Free*! I hate that so much. Just take my money (once) and unbind me from thy grasp.

maybe one day I'll be free from subscription services. Because I hate having the mindset of oh, I paid for it. I need to maximize it to get my money's worth, and end up spending way too much time on it. Let me live my life on my own pace!!!!!