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ceilidho · 5 months ago

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fear of god

prompt: There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 5 masterlist

The day starts poorly and ends worse.

You sit with Gaz’s words all night and decide by morning’s first light that it is worth worrying about them after all. But for a different reason. The worry you settle on is that your deteriorating mind is now giving you warning signals of troubles to come, manifested in the form of an astronaut outside of the ship. A messenger; a harbinger.

Breakfast is cold coffee over bit fingernails. You pull at a hangnail until it tears and pain zips up your finger, blood welling up under the split skin. Since you take your coffee in the medical unit these days, bandages and disinfectant are always within reach, meaning your fingers are always wrapped in them. Pigs in blankets.

You make your way across the ship when morning briefing comes, fingers throbbing by your sides.

Farah watches you from the other side of the cockpit during the briefing, her gaze inscrutable as ever. It takes a conscious effort not to shake under her stare. You’re not sure what she’s looking for, but whatever it is, it can’t be good.

In the background, Graves drones on about something that doesn’t penetrate through the thick miasma of your thoughts. It goes on for entirely too long. When he dismisses you all for the day, you stand up on crooked legs and hope they don’t buckle under you on the walk back to the medical unit. Farah’s eyes follow you until the door shuts behind you.

You make another coffee instead of getting started on your tasks for the day. Your research can wait. That’s what you tell yourself at least, nails tapping against the metal table while the coffee machine spurts out your drink in a short, violent burst. A thin, reedy hiss. No instant crystals this time. It tastes almost burnt when you bring it to your lips.

The mundanity of work pales in comparison to the events rapidly unfolding before your eyes. Are you sick or well? Is the man outside the ship real or not? Surely not, you tell yourself, pulse picking up again. You know better than that. Occam’s razor: the simplest explanation is most likely the correct one.

It’s just that you don’t like where your mind is going with this one.

The alarm goes off when your head is bent over the microscope, the sound so sudden and jarring that you nearly tumble right off your stool. It blares a piercing shriek through the medical unit and the hall outside, so loud that you cup your hands over your ears to hear yourself think. The stool clatters to the ground when you hurriedly slide off, heading towards the door.

You stumble into the hallway to find it flooded in red light, pulsating in steady intervals for any deaf crew members. It guides you like a beacon down the hall towards the cockpit. Standard protocol is to head to either extremity of the ship, lifepods stored at both the front and back of the ship in case of an emergency.

The others are already in the cockpit by the time you arrive. Claustrophobia sets in when the doors slide shut behind you, the room smaller with everyone packed inside at the same time.

You feel someone’s eyes flick towards you before flitting away in the same second. Accounted for and disregarded. Hardly meriting any attention when the alarm blaring overhead is a far more pressing concern.

Graves punches a button. “Ship, what’s the situation?”

Micrometeoroid impact

Damage sustained to starboard quarter

“Some of the photovoltaic cells are cracked,” Alex says, checking the status of the ship on another computer screen. “We have replacements though—could be worse.”

“Could be a lot fuckin’ better too,” Graves grumbles, forehead already pinched.

Despite not being an engineer or astrophysicist, you’ve gone on enough interplanetary voyages to understand the implications of damaging the photovoltaic solar panels. Much of the electronics on board rely on the electricity derived from sunlight; this particular ship, designed only to venture as far as Jupiter, isn’t equipped with an alternative power source.

“Should I engage the Canadarm to fix the damaged panel?” Alex asks from his perch.

Graves shakes his head. “We need to preserve as much power as possible while the cruise control is still out. It’ll have to be fixed manually.” With that said, he flips a switch to shut off the droning alarm, though the lights overhead stay red.

You flinch when the chief engineer slaps his hands down on his thighs, the sound jolting you out of your spiralling thoughts.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” he sighs, mock aggrieved. “I fix like usual. No problem.”

“Nothing different than what we trained for.”

“Easy peasy,” he confirms, an easy smile on his face.

“Okay, Nikolai, suit up—I’ll guide you from the cockpit,” Graves instructs, shifting into a mode you’ve never seen before. “Hadir, there’s a replacement panel in section seven in the cargo hold—get it and bring it back now. Nikolai’s going to have to fix it from the outside.”

The terror that lances through you when Graves says that is immediate and sharp. You know nothing’s out there, but the fear response is as real as if something were.

It’s an unwarranted response, fueled by paranoia and delusion. This is a scenario the crew has prepared for back on Earth a multitude of times. They wouldn’t have been given clearance to leave the planet without having run through every potential complication and calamity. There are strict regulations to follow, protocols and standards to ensure that nothing comes as a surprise.

But still—

Your chest is tight. Heart pounding against your ribcage so hard that you wince. There’s no one outside the ship but still you can’t help but think that opening the doors might let it in.

When Nikolai leaves to suit up for the spacewalk, you trail after him, following Farah’s lead. You didn’t notice that Hadir had already departed, but his absence is glaring on the walk towards the airlock.

“Smile a little, Farah,” Nikolai says, poking fun at the eternally stern woman keeping pace with him. “It’s good to have some excitement around here.”

“I’m not a fan of excitement,” she responds, voice terse. He laughs at her words, the booming sound echoing through the corridor.

You watch helplessly as Nikolai gears up, Farah helping him lock the helmet into his suit, doing a quick, final inspection of the glass to ensure that there aren’t any cracks or scratches.

The glass of Nikolai’s visor glints opalescent under the station lights, the glass infused with low-grade aerogel to protect from interplanetary radiation and solar winds. Packets of higher grade aerogel are stuffed into the lining of his suit, protecting the rest of his body as well.

Hadir returns not long after with all of the requisite parts needed for the repair neatly stored in a rectangular container that attaches securely to the front of Nikolai’s suit, leaving his hands free. The three move in synchrony, a finely-tuned dance practiced repeatedly in the months leading up to the launch.

You keep to the wall in order to avoid getting in the way.

The first door leading into the airlock is opened when Nikolai finally gives Farah the word, their checklist run through twice before being met with approval.

Nikolai deliberately turns away from the door when the airlock door shuts behind him and the chamber begins to depressurize. You wince sympathetically when you notice his shoulders tense. The oxygen in his tanks is specially designed to purge the nitrogen from his blood, but under better conditions, he would’ve spent closer to an hour prebreathing in order to transition from high to low pressure.

He only gets a few minutes to adjust. When his allotted time expires, the second pair of doors slide open—the last partition between the inner and outer world—and Nikolai takes his first step towards the darkness of space.

You can’t watch after that. Instead, you hurry back to the cockpit, jaw so tight that it aches.

Graves looks up when you enter, but otherwise doesn’t say a word to you. Alex flashes you a brief, tense grin. The first couple of minutes of any space walk are always nerve wracking, despite the reassurance of preparation and all times before. There’s an inherent anxiety in seeing the human body go out into the cold vastness of space.

“Nikolai—you copy?” Graves asks through the transmitter.

The receiver crackles. “Loud and clear, boss,” he rumbles, accent thick even over radio waves.

A shadow of a smile flits over Graves’ face, the tension in the room briefly relieved. Even your shoulders lower at the sound of his voice.

“You sound better like this,” Graves teases. “Less nasally.”

“I’ll ask your mum the next time she calls,” Nikolai rebuts, a similar teasing sneer in his voice.

“Asshole,” Graves laughs, keeping his finger on the button the whole time.

The camaraderie would usually make your heart ache. Not today though. There’s no space for anything other than worry.

“Proceeding towards starboard,” Nikolai says, narrating his movements for the benefit of those on board.

There aren’t any cameras on the outside of the ship, meaning the crew can only communicate with the man via audio. On a newer spacecraft that might not be the case, but this ship is old, a relic of times past, her maiden voyage predating the addition of exterior cameras.

You wait in the cockpit with Alex and Graves while Nikolai repairs the panel outside, nerves shot. A half hour passes by without thought. You dig your nails into the palm of your hands and wait it out, each minute feeling eternal, elongated somehow. Every so often, the receiver crackles and Nikolai gives an update on his work. Each time, the crackle makes you flinch.

Despite the unease churning in your stomach, the amount of time isn’t suspect; you know he has to disconnect and remove the damaged panel section before installing a replacement panel.

Yet, you can’t quite shake the nausea building in your stomach. The way it cramps and flutters.

At some point during the wait, Farah slips into the room, and you only notice her when you twist your head from side to side to stretch out the muscles in your neck and find her leaning against the wall next to the door, arms crossed tight over her chest.

For someone who has most certainly monitored and participated on spacewalks before, you’re surprised to find her just as anxious as you, albeit better at concealing it. You’d have thought of all people, she’d be the most comfortable. Instead, her eyes stare sightlessly at the flight deck window, finger tapping against her elbow; a nervous twitch.

The receiver crackles again. “Panel secure. Heading back n—”

Both Graves and Alex sit up straighter, staring down at the receiver as if anticipating the rest of the sentence. It never comes. You feel a sweat break on the back of your neck.

Graves presses a button. “Nikolai, we didn’t catch that. Say again.”

He’s met with a deeper, more prolonged silence.

“Nikolai?” Graves repeats into the mic, his voice broadcast over the intercom system throughout the ship. “Nikolai, do you copy?”

Silence. Nikolai’s transmitter crackles in response, as if his finger were on the button, but his voice never follows.

“Kolya?” Graves asks, and you can hear the sliver of desperation, the worry couched in professional concern. You’ve never heard him use that name before.

Another minute goes by without a response. The tension is thick in the air.

The sound of the door to the cockpit opening cuts through the air and you turn to watch as Farah leaves without a word. Again, puppyish, you follow after her. You’re not sure why. Her back is ramrod straight as she marches down the hall, tension rippling down her shoulders. She doesn’t acknowledge your presence as you make your way down the corridor together.

The two of you stare out the first porthole for some time before proceeding to the airlock further down the hall. No sign of Nikolai. Graves’ voice crackles over the intercom, keeping the crew dispersed throughout the ship abreast of any sign of Nikolai.

“I’m going out,” Farah abruptly announces, punching in the code for the second spacesuit locker.

“Huh?” you ask dumbly, watching as she rips the zipper down the length of the suit to open it and starts to tug it out of the locker.

“I’m going to check on him,” she repeats, enunciating each individual word as if you didn’t hear her the first time.

“Is that—is that a good idea? Shouldn’t you consult the commander before—”

It isn’t your place to question her, but an instinct deep inside of you says don’t go out there, don’t go out. What’s out there should stay out there.

“This is my job, doctor,” she cuts you off, finally wrenching the second suit out of the locker and jamming her leg into the lower torso component. “I don’t tell you how to do your job and you certainly don’t tell me how to do mine—”

Then, somehow, you both see it at the same time. A hand pressed flat to the airlock window, the fingers spread wide. The body attached to it must still be hanging off the side of the ship because you don’t see the rest of him, just a palm open wide on the far edge of the window. And though Farah breathes thank fuck, Kolya under her breath—the most relieved you’ve ever heard her—your stomach cramps and your palms grow clammy.

The spacesuit she’d been about to step into falls to the floor in a heap. From the corner of your eye, you see Farah reach for the airlock lever to open the door, and your hand instinctively goes up as well, your fingers closing around her wrist to hold her in place.

“Wait.” It’s your voice but not your voice. It’s your fingers around her wrist though, staying her hand. It’s your stomach cramped up in a Gordian knot, bile at the back of your throat because this is wrong, this is wrong, this is wrong.

She wrenches her wrist out of your grasp with more strength than you anticipated, pulling down the lever in the next breath. The look she sends you as the exterior door slides open is scathing.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she snaps, her repressed fury coming to life. You can feel it now coming off her in waves—the days of doubt and mistrust, so unsettled by your actions to the point that now she snarls at you without a second thought.

Your lips part but nothing comes out. No way to explain yourself, just the gut feeling of something terribly wrong.

All you can do is watch as the first set of doors open to the blackness of space, your body frozen where you stand, heart in your throat. The hand briefly disappears from the window just to reappear a second later, gripping the side of the door to haul himself inside. His movements are slow and deliberate, hampered by the lack of gravity.

You notice the glaring issue almost immediately, but your throat is far too dry for you to speak. You wonder if Farah has noticed it as well. The man in the spacesuit taking his first step into the airlock is leaner than the man who left. Shorter too. Not the bear of a man that stepped out just an hour ago, but someone new. Someone that now flips the switch on the interior wall to shut the door behind him, which it does noiselessly.

“Farah,” you whisper uncertainly. She doesn’t respond. You wish you could turn your head to look at her, but you can’t rip your eyes off the man in the airlock.

You wait with baited breath for the airlock to repressurize the first chamber. It takes as long as it did to depressurize in the first place, an agonizing handful of minutes that you can only spend staring at the man standing in the middle of the chamber, his visor still tilted too low for you to make out his face.

But you know, don’t you?

With a door separating the two of you, the sound never actually reaches your ears, but you swear you can almost hear the hiss of his helmet unlocking. You’re sweating hard now, heart racing in your chest and still you blink twice, hoping that the man behind the glass will suddenly disappear or suddenly grow in size.

The man reaches two gloves hands up to twist the helmet out of its locked position and then slowly pulls it off, revealing a face that you’ve become familiar with these past few days. Dark skin and a high fade. A scar high on his cheekbone, the wound long healed.

“Farah,” you say again, and your voice cracks this time. Beside you, you hear her let out a shuddering breath.

Through the glass, he smiles at you, full lips pulling apart to expose a row of gleaming white teeth. He waves a thick-fingered, gloved hand and mouths your name.

#ceil writing #cod x reader #gaz x reader #gaz x you #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick x you #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #gaz/reader

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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 years ago

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How Google’s trial secrecy lets it control the coverage

I'm coming to Minneapolis! Oct 15: Presenting The Internet Con at Moon Palace Books. Oct 16: Keynoting the 26th ACM Conference On Computer-Supported Cooperative Work and Social Computing.

"Corporate crime" is practically an oxymoron in America. While it's true that the single most consequential and profligate theft in America is wage theft, its mechanisms are so obscure and, well, dull that it's easy to sell us on the false impression that the real problem is shoplifting:

https://newrepublic.com/post/175343/wage-theft-versus-shoplifting-crime

Corporate crime is often hidden behind Dana Clare's Shield Of Boringness, cloaked in euphemisms like "risk and compliance" or that old favorite, "white collar crime":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/07/solar-panel-for-a-sex-machine/#a-single-proposition

And corporate crime has a kind of performative complexity. The crimes come to us wreathed in specialized jargon and technical terminology that make them hard to discern. Which is wild, because corporate crimes occur on a scale that other crimes – even those committed by organized crime – can't hope to match:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/12/no-criminals-no-crimes/#get-out-of-jail-free-card

But anything that can't go on forever eventually stops. After decades of official tolerance (and even encouragement), corporate criminals are finally in the crosshairs of federal enforcers. Take National Labor Relations Board general counsel Jennifer Abruzzo's ruling in Cemex: when a company takes an illegal action to affect the outcome of a union election, the consequence is now automatic recognition of the union:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

That's a huge deal. Before, a boss could fire union organizers and intimidate workers, scuttle the union election, and then, months or years later, pay a fine and some back-wages…and the union would be smashed.

The scale of corporate crime is directly proportional to the scale of corporations themselves. Big companies aren't (necessarily) led by worse people, but even small sins committed by the very largest companies can affect millions of lives.

That's why antitrust is so key to fighting corporate crime. To make corporate crimes less harmful, we must keep companies from attaining harmful scale. Big companies aren't just too big to fail and too big to jail – they're also too big for peaceful coexistence with a society of laws.

The revival of antitrust enforcement is such a breath of fresh air, but it's also fighting headwinds. For one thing, there's 40 years of bad precedent from the nightmare years of pro-monopoly Reaganomics to overturn:

https://pluralistic.net/ApexPredator

It's not just precedents in the outcomes of trials, either. Trial procedure has also been remade to favor corporations, with judges helping companies stack the deck in their own favor. The biggest factor here is secrecy: blocking recording devices from courts, refusing to livestream the proceedings, allowing accused corporate criminals to clear the courtroom when their executives take the stand, and redacting or suppressing the exhibits:

https://prospect.org/power/2023-09-27-redacted-case-against-amazon/

When a corporation can hide evidence and testimony from the public and the press, it gains broad latitude to dispute critics, including government enforcers, based on evidence that no one is allowed to see, or, in many cases, even describe. Take Project Nessie, the program that the FTC claims Amazon used to compel third-party sellers to hike prices across many categories of goods:

https://www.wsj.com/business/retail/amazon-used-secret-project-nessie-algorithm-to-raise-prices-6c593706

Amazon told the press that the FTC has "grossly mischaracterize[d]" Project Nessie. The DoJ disagrees, but it can't say why, because the Project Nessie files it based its accusations on have been redacted, at Amazon's insistence. Rather than rebutting Amazon's claim, FTC spokesman Douglas Farrar could only say "We once again call on Amazon to move swiftly to remove the redactions and allow the American public to see the full scope of what we allege are their illegal monopolistic practices."

It's quite a devastating gambit: when critics and prosecutors make specific allegations about corporate crimes, the corporation gets to tell journalists, "No, that's wrong, but you're not allowed to see the reason we say it's wrong."

It's a way to work the refs, to get journalists – or their editors – to wreathe bold claims in endless hedging language, or to avoid reporting on the most shocking allegations altogether. This, in turn, keeps corporate trials out of the public eye, which reassures judges that they can defer to further corporate demands for opacity without facing an outcry.

That's a tactic that serves Google well. When the company was dragged into court by the DoJ Antitrust Division, it demanded – and received – a veil of secrecy that is especially ironic given the company's promise "to organize the world's information and make it universally accessible and useful":

https://usvgoogle.org/trial-update-9-22

While this veil has parted somewhat, it is still intact enough to allow the company to work the refs and kill disfavorable reporting from the trial. Last week, Megan Gray – ex-FTC, ex-DuckDuckGo – published an editorial in Wired reporting on her impression of an explosive moment in the Google trial:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/03/not-feeling-lucky/#fundamental-laws-of-economics

According to Gray, Google had run a program to mess with the "semantic matching" on queries, silently appending terms to users' searches that caused them to return more ads – and worse results. This generated more revenue for Google, at the expense of advertisers who got billed to serve ads that didn't even match user queries.

Google forcefully disputed this claim:

https://twitter.com/searchliaison/status/1709726778170786297

They contacted Gray's editors at Wired, but declined to release all the exhibits and testimony that Gray used to form her conclusions about Google's conduct; instead, they provided a subset of the relevant materials, which cast doubt on Gray's accusations.

Wired removed Gray's piece, with an unsigned notice that "WIRED editorial leadership has determined that the story does not meet our editorial standards. It has been removed":

https://www.wired.com/story/google-antitrust-lawsuit-search-results/

But Gray stands by her piece. She admits that she might have gotten some of the fine details wrong, but that these were not material to the overall point of her story, that Google manipulated search queries to serve more ads at the expense of the quality of the results:

https://twitter.com/megangrA/status/1711035354134794529

She says that the piece could and should have been amended to reflect these fine-grained corrections, but that in the absence of a full record of the testimony and exhibits, it was impossible for her to prove to her editors that her piece was substantively correct.

I reviewed the limited evidence that Google permitted to be released and I find her defense compelling. Perhaps you don't. But the only way we can factually resolve this dispute is for Google to release the materials that they claim will exonerate them. And they won't, though this is fully within their power.

I've seen this playbook before. During the early months of the pandemic, a billionaire who owned a notorious cyberwarfare company used UK libel threats to erase this fact from the internet – including my own reporting – on the grounds that the underlying research made small, non-material errors in characterizing a hellishly complex financial Rube Goldberg machine that was, in my opinion, deliberately designed to confuse investigators.

Like the corporate crimes revealed in the Panama Papers and Paradise Papers, the gambit is complicated, but it's not sophisticated:

Make everything as complicated as possible;

Make everything as secret as possible;

Dismiss any accusations by claiming errors in the account of the deliberately complex arrangements, which can't be rectified because the relevant materials are a secret.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/09/working-the-refs/#but-id-have-to-kill-you

My next novel is The Lost Cause, a hopeful novel of the climate emergency. Amazon won't sell the audiobook, so I made my own and I'm pre-selling it on Kickstarter!

Image: Jason Rosenberg (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/underpants/12069086054/

CC BY https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

Japanexperterna.se (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/japanexperterna/15251188384/

CC BY-SA 2.0: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

#pluralistic #secrecy #opacity #google #antitrust #trustbusting #wired #working the refs #megan grey #semantic matching

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reasonsforhope · 10 months ago

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"This year the world will make something like 70bn of these solar cells, the vast majority of them in China, and sandwich them between sheets of glass to make what the industry calls modules but most other people call panels: 60 to 72 cells at a time, typically, for most of the modules which end up on residential roofs, more for those destined for commercial plant. Those panels will provide power to family homes, to local electricity collectives, to specific industrial installations and to large electric grids; they will sit unnoticed on roofs, charmingly outside rural schools, controversially across pristine deserts, prosaically on the balconies of blocks of flats and in almost every other setting imaginable.

Once in place they will sit there for decades, making no noise, emitting no fumes, using no resources, costing almost nothing and generating power. It is the least obtrusive revolution imaginable. But it is a revolution nonetheless.

Over the course of 2023 the world’s solar cells, their panels currently covering less than 10,000 square kilometres, produced about 1,600 terawatt-hours of energy (a terawatt, or 1tw, is a trillion watts). That represented about 6% of the electricity generated world wide, and just over 1% of the world’s primary-energy use. That last figure sounds fairly marginal, though rather less so when you consider that the fossil fuels which provide most of the world’s primary energy are much less efficient. More than half the primary energy in coal and oil ends up as waste heat, rather than electricity or forward motion.

What makes solar energy revolutionary is the rate of growth which brought it to this just-beyond-the-marginal state. Michael Liebreich, a veteran analyst of clean-energy technology and economics, puts it this way:

In 2004, it took the world a whole year to install a gigawatt of solar-power capacity... In 2010, it took a month In 2016, a week. In 2023 there were single days which saw a gigawatt of installation worldwide. Over the course of 2024 analysts at BloombergNEF, a data outfit, expect to see 520-655gw of capacity installed: that’s up to two 2004s a day...

And it shows no signs of stopping, or even slowing down. Buying and installing solar panels is currently the largest single category of investment in electricity generation, according to the International Energy Agency (IEA), an intergovernmental think-tank: it expects $500bn this year, not far short of the sum being put into upstream oil and gas. Installed capacity is doubling every three years. According to the International Solar Energy Society:

Solar power is on track to generate more electricity than all the world’s nuclear power plants in 2026 Than its wind turbines in 2027 Tthan its dams in 2028 Its gas-fired power plants in 2030 And its coal-fired ones in 2032.

In an IEA scenario which provides net-zero carbon-dioxide emissions by the middle of the century, solar energy becomes humankind’s largest source of primary energy—not just electricity—by the 2040s...

Expecting exponentials to carry on is rarely a basis for sober forecasting. At some point either demand or supply faces an unavoidable constraint; a graph which was going up exponentially starts to take on the form of an elongated S. And there is a wide variety of plausible stories about possible constraints...

All real issues. But the past 20 years of solar growth have seen naive extrapolations trounce forecasting soberly informed by such concerns again and again. In 2009, when installed solar capacity worldwide was 23gw, the energy experts at the IEA predicted that in the 20 years to 2030 it would increase to 244gw. It hit that milestone in 2016, when only six of the 20 years had passed. According to Nat Bullard, an energy analyst, over most of the 2010s actual solar installations typically beat the IEA’s five-year forecasts by 235% (see chart). The people who have come closest to predicting what has actually happened have been environmentalists poo-pooed for zealotry and economic illiteracy, such as those at Greenpeace who, also in 2009, predicted 921gw of solar capacity by 2030. Yet even that was an underestimate. The world’s solar capacity hit 1,419gw last year.

-via The Economist, June 20, 2024

Note: That graph. Is fucking ridiculous(ly hopeful).

For perspective: the graph shows that in 2023, there were about 350 GW of solar installed. The 5-year prediction from 2023 said that we'd end up around 450 GW by 2030.

We hit over 600 GW in the first half of 2024 alone.

This is what's called an exponential curve. It's a curve that keeps going up at a rate that gets higher and higher with each year.

This, I firmly believe, is a huge part of what is going to let us save the world.

#solar power #solar energy #climate change #fossil fuels #solarpunk #hopepunk #solar age #optimism #renewable #renewable energy #clean energy #green energy #renewables #solar panels #good news #hope

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gh0stsp1d3r · 6 months ago

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Maybanks sister

part 4, chapter 1- let’s do this shit!

summary: after el dorado, your lives are finally getting back to normal. However, someone’s still missing from your life. After a long week, a run in with that someone is the last thing you needed.

a/n: ahhh! Finally some rafe and reader moments lol. they’re a bit in a pining but not talking stage right now. They’re gonna get to talk soon, don’t worry.

SERIES MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS CHAPTER

“-98.5%… gold.”

“And that translates to?”

“This is money. A whole lot of money.”

With a smile on his face and everyone else cheering, John B leaned over the table to shake the man’s hand.

You guys went straight to the gas station, with the nearest atm machine being inside.

“Moment of truth.” John B murmured, all of you crowding around the atm.

“Pin is 0-0-0-0… enter.” John B said, entering his pin into the machine.

“You’re kidding.” Sarah had to suppress a laugh.

“Tell me that’s a temporary pin.” You snorted, John B turning to look at you now.

“I thought nobody could guess-“

“You need to change that immediately, dude.” You told him with a loud laugh.

“I’m sorry-“ he turned his head back to the machine when it started to make noise, signaling it was ready.

“Here it comes.”

As soon as the paper came out, JJ reached for it before him and John B fought over it. “That’s me, that’s me,” he said, “let me read it!”

“It’s not even the money, it’s just the receipt!”

You rolled your eyes at the boys, John B winning in the end, opening and pulling it open.

“Okay, okay,” John B said, reading it. “Our joint account balance…”

“Mhm..”

He took a pause, before Cleo told him to get on with it, everyone impatient.

“Our joint account balance is… one point one million… seventy two thousand, five hundred and forty nine dollars.”

“You said mil?”

“Million?” You and pope asked at the same time.

“Um…” John B said, everyone processing just how much money that was.

“That’ll do it!”

He nodded in agreement, everyone cheering and celebrating, being unable to even comprehend just how much that was.

“Holy shit…” you spoke, you laughing to yourself, Sarah laughing with you.

“That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever seen on a piece of paper.” Pope said, you smiling and talking to Cleo.

JJ went over to the cooler, taking a beer out and downing it. Kiara glanced over at him, noticing his distance from everyone.

She walked over to him, “You can smile, you know.” She told him, leaning against the cooler.

He sighed, staring at her.

“Look, this doesn’t mean we’re kooks. Just means we have a little money now.”

“Okay, okay, wait, wait, wait, wait… hear me out. Really truck with yellow LEDS to replace the Twinkie for now.”

“That is by far one of the dumbest ideas I’ve heard from you.” You told your brother, rolling your eyes at him.

“I’m not getting rid of the Twinkie.” John B shook his head.

“But with solar panels… maybe. If it’s in the budget.” Kiara suggested, tilting her head to the side.

“And a bigger boat.”

“Guys, hold on. Hold on. It’s… it’s not like we can all go off and buy houses or anything. I mean split between all of us, that’s about 167,507 dollars. Minus what we owe barracuda Mike.”

“Let him try and come take this. I’ll mess him up.”

“I’ll mess him up for my damn leg.” You agreed.

“I’m just gonna say it. I don’t wanna piss off the drug dealer.”

“Listen, if we divide this up, we’re all gonna blow it.” Pope said, everyone turning their heads to Jj the moment he said that.

“Wow, okay. Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“It’s kind of obvious.” You retorted.

“-But maybe if we pool our money together, we can create something with actual economies of scale.”

“Like what?” Kiara asked him.

“You remember the island.”

“Duh.”

“Of course.” Kiara shrugged.

“I mean, it was our own island, and we built everything from basically nothing, right?”

“It was perfect.” Kiara said.

“The best life.” Cleo nodded.

“That whole island just to ourselves. All of us together.”

“It was nice..” you nodded in agreement with them all.

“I think we can have that again. Right here. I mean, Y/n’s and JJ’s property is going up for auction, right? So let’s buy it back. I mean, look around. A lot of land. Deep water access…” he motioned to the water behind him. “unless any of you are planning on going back to school, we’re gonna need a place to work, a place to stay and live. I think we can have both of those things here.”

“Well, it’s a nice idea, but I mean, we’d have to get the land first.” You told pope, he nodded.

“Then we could build like, a.. surf shop. And then maybe we can make our own dock.”

“This place does need a dock.” You nodded, smiling at the image.

“Ooh, what about like a bait and tackle shop?” John B suggested.

“Yeah,”

“Exactly. And… and who knows these waters better than us?”

“Nobody.” You replied.

“JJ, y/n, you guys can get a new boat and run a fishing charter. We can all live and sleep in the house-“

“Just a small warning, if this works, I am not picking up after you little shits.” You told them all, specifically staring right at Jj.

“Hey! Why are you looking at me? I’m not the one who-“

You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around him and ruffling his hair like you would do when you were kids.

“Because we all know how messy you are.”

“I’m not messy-“

“You most definitely are, yeah.” Sarah retorted, him huffing and shoving you off of him while the rest of you laughed.

Before the auction, you went up to Jj, pulling him to the side.

“What?” He asked you, glancing at his friends in front of you all.

“Hey, I know how you’re feeling about the house and shit, but please, don’t do some stupid shit?”

“Don’t worry, sis. We’ll get the house back easy.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about, jay.”

“I’m not gonna… do some stupid shit, alright? Trust me. I got this.” He held his hand up.

You sighed, he did not have this.

“Here’s the plan. We go up in one-dollar increments, all right? It’s gonna take a while, but we’re gonna need to save every cent we have for construction.”

“Popes on point, JJ. Got it?”

JJ let a hum, although he hesitated.

“Don’t change the plan.” Pope stared at the pair of you and your brother, you looking offended.

“Hey, don’t look at me, look at this idiot.” You poked your finger into JJs head, him rolling his eyes at you.

Everyone turned to the auctioneer, him pointing to the picture of your dad’s property.

Honestly, you wouldn’t know what you would do with yourself if you didn’t get the house. You grew up in that house, and while you may have a lot of bad memories in those walls, you loved it the same. It was like you could still hear the laughter of you and JJ as kids echoing off the walls.

It was a part of you at this point.

And you knew Jj felt the same way, you could tell it in his eyes.

“-The foreclosure sale of 14 Roger’s point road. Now, this is the old Maybank place.”

“You know, uh, the cuts gonna be figure 8 in a few years. You walk away now, you won’t have to scurry off with your tail between your legs… and I’ll, uh, give you a little taste on the back end.” he spoke to you lowly, you staring at the man in disbelief.

“You’re gonna be dead before that happens.” You told the man, annoyed at what he had just said.

He stared at you with raised eyebrows through his glasses.

“Hey, Dale, was it?” JJ pushed you to the side, standing in front of the man now.

“That’s correct.”

“It’s not happening, hoss.” He cracked his knuckles. “Let’s play ball.”

You stared at Pope, already knowing what would go down.

“150 bid, bidder with 200, I’ve got 200…”

…

“I’ve got 775,000 bid,”

“This is way over our price range.” Pope told John B.

“Will you make him stop, please?” Sarah asked him:

“Get him out of here.”

John B went over to JJ, who you’ve already attempted to stop multiple times.

“Hey, please, it’s too much.”

“Just let me handle this. I’ve got it.. dude, I’ve got it!” He fought John b off of him, “775,010, right here, sir.” Jj shouted.

“775,010 to the gentleman in red.”

“Oh my god!” Pope groaned.

You sighed, half in relief and half in annoyance. Your brother was dumb to be paying that much, but you knew, deep down, you knew why he did. No one else would understand, but you would.

“That’s too rich for my blood, Rog.” Zeasy spoke, John B and Jj staring at each other.

“775,010 bidder, looking for 8…”

The auctioneer continued on, “going once, going twice, sold right here to the gentleman in red. Congratulations.”

Everyone in the group groaned, Jj turning back to Zeasy, holding his hand out.

“The most expensive property in the cut, and it’s not worth it.” He chuckled.

“Well, it is to us, sir. Now, if you can scurry off to your side of the island, and stay there, that’d be appreciated.” He waved his hand, wrapping his arms around John B.

“I get shit done. We got it. That’s all that matters. Whoo! All right.”

“What an idiot.” You murmured to yourself.

“33% above market value. Wildly overpaid. Thats like all the money.” Pope told John b, before walking past him.

You stared at JJ, him looking back at you.

“What?” He asked, you shaking your head at him.

“Well, would you like to do the honors or should I?” You asked your brother, both of you standing in front of the caution taped door.

He shrugged, his hands going to the ends and beginning to rip it off.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I christen thee Poguelandia 2.0.” He spoke, holding the ripped up caution tape in both hands before throwing it.

You stared at him, ripping off the remaining tape.

“Let’s turn this piece of shit into our home.” You told him with a small smile.

“Let’s do it.”

He smiled back, both of you doing your usual handshake, before he opened the door and saluted to the rest of the group.

“We’re home, y’all.”

Construction on the house was the hard part of it all, everything you guys had bought and used had been as cheap as possible, even using old wood from your dad’s old shed.

And finally, after months of construction, you all felt like you had finally perfected it. JJ had his own charter, everything had been feeling normal. Better than normal.

JJ put the sign down at the dock, a proud smile on his face as he stared at everything you all had accomplished.

“Think we’re about done.” You told John B, both of you nodding and smiling, doing a handshake of your own.

“Hey, guys!” JJ called from down the dock, his hat in his hands. “I think we did it.”

“Hell yeah we did!” You shouted back.

“We’re in business baby! Wow!” He shouted, you and John B laughing at his antics. “Oh my gosh, this feels good!” He pumped his fist in the air, and this was the happiest you think you’ve ever seen him.

Everyone watched with a smile on their faces, watching him cheer on and celebrate.

“That boys mad.” Cleo laughed, you nodding in agreement.

He got on the boat, “Captain Maybank at your service! Now that has a ring to it! Nothing can stop a pogue. Nothing!”

All of you laughed, watching him jump off and onto the dock.

“That’s what I’m talking ‘bout!”

“Yeah!” John B shouted.

“Is he okay?” Sarah laughed, Kiara watching him with a smile on her face.

“Yeah. Yeah. He just never really had a home. He’s happy.”

You listened to the girls conversation, finding yourself smiling at it.

He began to dance, talking wildly to himself.

“Slow down, you’re killing ‘em!”

“Twinkle toes, all right!”

Kiara laughed, walking down to the dock, “having fun?” She asked him.

“A little bit.”

“Yeah?”

“What?” He asked, her staring at him with a wide smile on her face.

“I love you.”

He got closer to her, both of their lips crashing into each others.

You whistled at them, John B howling while Sarah laughed.

“We did it.” JJ pressed his forehead against hers, her arms wrapped around his body.

“We did. Somehow.”

“But we did it. We did it!”

That day was one that you swore you’d never forget, seeing him happy like that, that was all you wanted in your life.

Yet, intertwined with the moments of joy, there was a bittersweet ache in your heart. Thoughts of him, of Rafe, drifted through your mind.

It’s been almost two years, and you were still in love with him.

You couldn't shake the memories, the way his laughter would echo in your ears, the warmth of his presence that seemed to haunt your every thought.

A sense of longing wrapped around you, refusing to let go, painting your happiness with unfulfilled desire.

It was as if you could still imagine him looking at you, a small but soft smile on his face.

You knew he wouldn’t want to talk to you, he probably wouldn’t want to even see you.

He probably hated you now, you thought. After you told him about his dad, maybe he didn’t want to see you at all.

Unfortunately, a large thunderstorm the night before had knocked out the power, causing the live bait to pass away, everything ruined.

“What’s the damage, pope?” JJ asked him, pope sighing.

“Fuse box is busted. Without the live bait, the fishermen won’t come, and there goes half of our business right there. We have enough profit to cover it, but barely, just barely. All right?”

Pope walked over to a jar, pulling it down from the cabinet it was in. “This is it.” He pulled out a smaller jar of gold. “The last of our AU.”

“Uh, what?”

“What?”

“English, please.” You snickered.

“Gold. It’s the periodic symbol for gold.” He told you all, as if it was obvious.

“Why not just say gold?” You asked him

“Because it doesn’t matter, all right? This is all of our savings, and it’s a no-go. This is for property taxes. So,” he set the jar of gold on the table, “we’re gonna have to tighten up…”

“Which means no more 600 dollars in gas chasing tarpon up the gulf.”

“Pope, that’s our job-“ JJ started.

“Yeah!” you agreed.

“We were chasing a bait board-“

“No more 200 dollars in heirloom tomato seeds.” Pope continued, pointing at Kiara.

Everyone began to talk over each other, arguing over it.

“What about my imported peppers?”

“Peppers gotta go too, baby.”

“We need to run the charters!

“It’s not the tomato’s fault!”

“No, hey, guys! If the business starts failing, the sharks start circling. All right?” Everyone stopped arguing.

“And we don’t even know if your dad is coming back.”

“He’s got balls if he shows his damn face around here.” You glared at Pope.

“And it’s not even his anymore.” JJ chimed in, hitting his hand against the table he was leaning on.

“It doesn’t matter. What’s he gonna think when he sees all this?”

“He’s not gonna see it.” You spat, Pope sighed, ignoring your comment before continuing.

“Listen, if we want to save this place, we skinny up until the business gets afloat again. Okay?” Pope said, leaving the shack.

JJ glanced at the gold that Pope had left on the table, an idea popping up in his mind.

The enduro. A dumbass bike race where people place their bets on, mostly kook kids who have nothing better to do with it. It was also where your brother went to try his luck each year.

“What a fantastic day we got for racing today. You guys ready to burn some gas?”

People cheered, raising their cups and watching as everyone started practicing, their bikes throwing sand on the viewers.

“The race is kicking off soon, so make sure you get your bets in. And then wave your flag, you know what I’m saying?”

JJ stood there, gas being pumped into his bike. He glanced over to the bike next to him, where Topper sat with a smug face, nodding at JJ. Jj shook his head, turning away from the boy.

John B walked over to JJ, patting him on the shoulder. “Let’s go baby! How we feeling today, champ?”

“Like I got this whole shot.”

“Yeah? Yeah?”

“I’m gonna win it this year. I know I am.”

“Yeah, you are.”

JJ turned to look at Cleo, “Cleo, how we doing, girl?”

“Everything’s all good, man.”

“Great.”

“The girl, out.”

“All right.” He raised his hand up, both of their hands meeting as they did a handshake.

“Hey! Bring it home, little boy.” She smiled at him.

“You know I will.”

John B smiled at him, grabbing his face. “You got this. All right?”

“I know.”

“Yeah, good luck.” John B said, beginning to walk away before JJ called his name.

“Hey, hold on one sec. Hold on.”

John B turned around, Jj walking up to him again.

“Where’d you park your bike?”

“Right there. Why?” He pointed, jj staring at him, hesitating.

“Gotta tell you something before we start.”

“Oh boy, JJ, what’s going on?”

“No, it’s really not that bad.” JJ replied, although John B did not believe him.

“Go on, then. Tell me, what’s up?”

“Like, literally you’re gonna be thanking me after. Okay? So… you know, I… I bet on me. To win.”

John B turned his head, pursing his lips together.

“I know, I know, funds are tight right now, but I feel good this year. So, I put in a bet on myself. Dude, the odds are like, seven to one!” He smiled, “with me on this thing, that’s like three to one.”

“Hold on, okay.”

“It’s free money.”

“Where did you get some extra money?”

“That’s what I’ve got to tell you. Um…” jj cleared his throat, “so, I went into the kitty and bet the last nug…. Now, before you say anything, I just gotta tell you-“

John B scoffed, backing away from JJ.

“Dude, listen, I got this, man.”

John B held his finger out, “JJ, JJ, just stop.” He walked over to JJ again, looking at him in disbelief. “Jj, are you serious?”

“Yes I’m serious.”

“That was our last 20 grand. That was supposed to go to property taxes for poguelandia.”

“Bro, I know! Okay? I know. I know you’re about to hit me now. I can sense it.”

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Save it. Gotta commit at this point. I got it. You know I do. But it wouldn’t hurt to have a little backup on this one. You know what I’m saying?”

“You want me to ride?”

“Just cover me. All right? Just like old times in the backyard. You and me? We school these fools, and we save the farm. You know we can do this. Easy.”

Your heart dropped when your eyes spotted the familiar bike, along with those damn blue eyes. His eyes met yours for a moment, and it felt as if time stopped, as if everyone else was gone in that moment.

“Oh my fucking god.” You mumbled to yourself, Pope raising an eyebrow at you, following your gaze.

Rafe stood there, a faint frown creasing his brow when he caught sight of you. A tight knot formed in his throat. He longed to close the distance between you two, to feel the warmth of your embrace or press his lips against yours again—anything to bridge th silence that had stretched between them.

It had been a year and a half since everything, yet his heart remained tethered to you. The weight of his lingering affection tormented him, and hehted how helpless he was.

He could see the tears begin to well up in your eyes, even from afar.

Topper was the one to snap him out of his daze, and Pope was the one to snap him out of yours.

Topper hit his shoulder, Rafe finally taking a breath when his eyes left yours.

“Dude, I told you, forget about her.”

“What? I wasn’t looking at her, dude.” Rafe lied, looking over at you, only to find you looking away again.

“Was he not here last year?” Pope asked you, you finally taking your eyes off of him.

“Yeah, he- he was, but I mean-it doesn’t matter, I gotta go. I can’t be here for this shit.” You held your hands up, your heart beat picking up and your palms beginning to get clammy.

“Just ignore him.“ Pope shrugged, you sighing, holding the back of your hands to your eyes, pressing on them.

You then realized, that he used to do the same thing. You put your hands down, glancing at Pope before speaking and turning around

“I’ll- I’ll be back.” You murmured, stumbling away from the crowd, leaning against a shed, taking deep breaths while trying to think about anything else.

“Shit, I need a drink.” You told yourself, taking one last deep breath before standing up and walking over to the nearest cooler, stealing a drink and downing the entire can in one go, before grabbing another.

You sighed when you walked up to Pope and Cleo, your eyes avoiding Rafe and instead looking at your brother and John B.

“Let’s do this shit, Jay!”

Taglist

@cassie0sstuff @rafesgiirl @fals3-g0d @tiaamberxx @callsignwidow @saintnourah @calmoistorm @ethanthequeefqueen @theoraekenslover @just-levyy @hallecarey1

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron series #maybanks sister #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x sister reader #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x y/n #obx #outer banks series #rafe fic #rafe fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x female reader

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a-reader-and-a-writer-for-all · 9 months ago

Text

Sweeter Than Revenge Part 1

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader, Scott's Sister!reader Summary: When you try to surprise your brother with a visit in the hopes of mending your strained relationship, it does not go as planned. Rudely dismissed by Scott, you decide to get a little revenge. And who better to do it with than the head Tornado Wrangler himself... Word Count: 3509 TW: Family Conflict, Brief Mention of Reader's Clothes/Breasts, Unsucessful Flirting, Language Notes: A massive thank you to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for reading this over for me and for all the constant support! And to @mayhem24-7forever for always answering my late-night panicked messages

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

Series Masterlist

Grabbing your backpack off the seat beside you, you stood and joined the crowd of passengers making their way to the front of the bus. You stopped to let an elderly couple join the line in front of you and used the momentary pause to glance out the window at your destination. A small diner in need of a fresh coat of paint and a good window washing sat off to the left while several rows of gas pumps were lined up on the right. Trucks, vans, campers, and SUVs filled almost every parking spot and spilled into the grassy field around the lot. Some vehicles were ancient, rusted machines that barely looked driveable while others were so fresh and high-tech they could have just been driven off a lot. Those were the vehicles you were looking for.

Stepping off the bus, you headed towards the group of four shiny new vehicles on the other end of the parking lot. On the way, your head was on a constant swivel as you took in everything around you: a middle-aged couple arguing loudly about who forgot to tie down the lawn chairs the last time they stopped, a somewhat familiar-looking man in a cowboy hat unloading a piece of equipment from his huge red truck while another long-haired man filmed him, a woman with dreadlocks fiddling with a remote control only for a large drone to drop out of the sky a moment later and land at her feet, a few children racing towards the diner with their exasperated mother trailing behind yelling at them to watch where they were going.

It was utter chaos and you loved it already.

As you approached the vehicles, you saw the Storm PAR logos printed on the sides and breathed a sigh of relief that after this sixth bus stop, you had finally tracked them down. You still didn’t see who you were looking for, so you walked up to a man with dark curly hair wearing a white button-down Storm PAR shirt who was currently crouched down examining a weird solar panel-looking piece of equipment set up next to one of the vans. As you cleared your throat, he looked up from the machine and blinked, as if he was shocked to see someone standing there despite the crowds of people around him. Glancing around, he asked, “Um…can I help you?”

You guess you shouldn’t be too surprised by his reaction. In your cut-off shorts, boots, and halter top, you looked like you should be hanging out one of the trucks you passed when you first got off the bus, not the polished, company polo shirt-wearing tech heads milling around the Storm PAR vehicles. And you didn’t even want to know what your hair and makeup looked like after four hours on that poorly air-conditioned packed bus.

So, instead of taking offense at this guy’s slightly dismissive tone, you smiled as you adjusted the backpack on your shoulder. “Hi. I’m looking for Scott.”

The man glanced over his shoulder but made no move to stand up. “He’s here but he’s in the middle of some data calculations. Can I help you with something?”

“Not really. I had time off college and he mentioned you guys were having a really active season so I figured why not come out and see all this in action.” The man was still looking at you like he couldn’t understand why you were talking to him and you suddenly realized you hadn’t explained the most important detail. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I guess I should have mentioned, Scotty’s my older brother.”

Instantly, the man’s demeanor shifted and a huge toothy smile spread across his face. “Oh! You should have led with that. Nice to meet you.”

Rising to his feet, he stuck out his hand and you shook it, officially introducing yourself. When he said his name was Javi Rivera and it was your turn for things to click into place. “Javi! You’re Scotty’s business partner, right? He’s told me about you.”

Javi let your hand drop and his eyes shifted towards his equipment once more. “Really? Well, um, you know, I’ve, uh, heard great things about you too.”

You grinned, grabbing onto the straps of your backpack. “Scotty never even mentioned he had a sister, did he?” Javi gave a slight shrug, still not looking directly at you and you laughed. “Yeah, that sounds like him. Never wants to get personal, everything’s about business with him. To be honest, I don’t see or hear from him that much which is just another reason I figured I’d come surprise him when I had the chance. Plus, I read some research Scotty left lying around last time he came home and it was really interesting. I’m excited to be able to see what you guys do firsthand.”

“Well, I’m sure Scotty will be glad to see you. Let me go grab him.”

Javi turned and disappeared into one of the vans. A moment later, he returned with your brother following closely behind. “Javi, I was in the middle of some important calculations. Why did I have to–” Scott stumbled to a stop as he saw you standing there.

Since he was a teenager, Scott had mastered the art of keeping his emotions hidden. He could be fuming mad, joyously happy, or heartbrokenly sad, and in each case keep the same perfect mask on his face. However, you knew his one tell. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep the emotion out of his eyes. And right now, you could practically see flames burning within them.

For the first time, you wondered if coming to see him had been such a good idea. Shifting from one foot to the other, you tried to force a smile as you half-heartedly held out your arms. “Surprise.”

Scott remained rooted to the spot, his only movement the constant forceful chewing of his gum. Javi glanced back and forth between the two of you, the smile slowly draining from his face. Hesitantly, he explained, “She said she was your sister so I figured…”

A cultivated smile spread across Scott’s lips but it didn’t reach his eyes as they continued to burn into yours. “No, it’s all good. I’m just surprised to see her.” Without breaking eye contact, he held his tablet out to Javi who took it from him. “Give me a few minutes to talk to her and then I’ll get back to those numbers.”

Javi started to protest, assuring him there was no rush and he could take his time, but Scott had already closed the distance between you. Grabbing your arm tightly to the point of slight painfulness, he guided you past the rest of the Storm PAR vehicles and into the empty field.

Once you were far enough away that you knew none of his co-workers could hear you, you wrenched your arm from his grasp, snapping, “Get off of me!”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he growled, his mask finally slipping as his nostrils flared and lips curled into a snarl.

“Well, hello to you too!” You examined your arm where he had grabbed you, massaging it gently. “Can’t a girl come visit her big brother?”

“Not when she wasn’t invited or even asked if she could come beforehand! What were you thinking? This isn’t one of your wild party vacations. This is my job!”

“I know that. I wasn’t expecting you to drop everything and take me sightseeing. I just thought I could hang around and watch you guys in action. I’ve read some of the research you left at Christmas and I was hoping maybe I could learn a little more about it.”

Scott shook his head, his hands on his hips. “This is our busiest time of the season. I don’t have time to babysit you.”

“What do you think I am? Eight? I don’t need you to babysit me. I told you, I’m interested in what you do and thought I could just hang around and see how it all works.” You shrugged, “Maybe you could even take me on a chase or two.”

“Hell no. I won’t have you getting scared and causing us to have to turn around in the middle of a storm run. Javi and I have worked too hard to get this company to where it is and I’m not going to let you ruin that because, on a whim, you thought it would be fun to see a storm.” Scott scoffed as he rolled his eyes. “It’s so typical of you to still think that just because you want something or because Mom and Dad will pay for it, everyone else will bend over backward to accommodate you. Well, I don’t have to put up with your bullshit anymore.”

You took several deep breaths and tried to keep your anger in check. This was not at all how you thought this would go, but lashing out right now would only make things worse. So, in a calm, steady voice, you tried to shift approaches. “Scotty, we haven’t spent any real time together since you left for MIT. And back then…I’m not proud of the person I was and I can’t imagine what that must have been like for you. But I was a kid who didn’t know any better! I’ve grown up since you left. And this trip isn’t just something I thought would be fun to do ‘on a whim’. I worked hard to save up the money to come here because I wanted to see you and spend time with you—however little time you may be able to work into your schedule. And I promise I won’t get scared or make you stop your chase. If I don’t like it, I’ll suck it up until it’s over then not ask to go again.” Taking a step forward, you gently placed your hand on his arm and gave him a timid smile. “Let me show you who I am now…how much I’ve changed. Please, Scotty.”

But Scott yanked his arm away and took a step back. “I don’t care where you go, but you need to stay away from me and Storm PAR. Now, I have work to do.” He took one last look at you, and, for just a moment, you thought maybe he felt bad for what he said and was reconsidering things. But then, he blew a small bubble with his gum and popped it loudly in your face. You jumped slightly, the sound sharp and startling, before glaring at him. He had been doing that since you were kids and he knew how much you absolutely despised it. Shooting you one last smug smirk, Scott turned and walked off towards the cluster of Storm PAR vehicles.

You turned to look out into the open field, lip quivering, as you fought against the tears that were burning your eyes. Things between you and Scott had been pretty bad when he left for college, but you hadn’t realized he still really thought so poorly of you. The last few holidays or family events he had been forced to come to, things seemed to be getting a little better. You thought that maybe you had reached a turning point in your relationship. But now it was clear you had been very wrong.

Looking back at the diner and overflow of vehicles, you wondered what you should do now. You had no idea when the next bus came by or how to get a ticket home or if there was a motel nearby you could stay in for the night or how you would even get there if there was or what you would do in the morning or—

UGH! The longer you stared at the Storm PAR logo on the side of the van Scott had disappeared into, the less hurt you felt. Instead, the pain began to shift into outrage. How dare Scott treat you like this? You had spent a lot of money and wasted two weeks of your summer vacation to take this trip to see him. You knew it would involve listening to him drone on about numbers and graphs you could barely comprehend for most of the time, but you were willing to smile, nod, and seem interested to show you cared about what he did. But no! He didn’t even give you a chance to explain yourself or prove that you weren’t here to interfere with his work. He had just torn you down before turning his back on you and walking away. That asshole!

The sun was starting to dip lower in the sky and you realized standing here fuming about Scott wasn’t going to help your situation. You could do that once you found a bus schedule or a place to stay for the night. However, as you stormed back through the parking lot, something caught your eye.

When you had come through the first time and passed the familiar-looking man and the long-haired guy with the camera, you had only seen their truck from behind. But now that you were looking at the front, you noticed the distinctive metal logo attached to the front of the truck’s grille: a tornado with horns jutting out the top of the vortex. And you realized why the man in the cowboy hat looked familiar.

Scott might not talk to you very often, but during the instances that he had, you had heard plenty of complaints about Tyler Owens and his group of Tornado Wranglers. Everything they did was the complete opposite of how Storm PAR operated and it drove Scott crazy that while he was out there doing the “real work”, this group of amateur YouTube chasers were the ones getting all the attention and acclaim when all they were really doing was getting in Storm PAR’s way.

And Scott seemed to have another level of hatred for Owens himself.

Out of curiosity, you had looked up the Wranglers’ YouTube channel and found it pretty entertaining. While Scott viewed every aspect of his work with complete seriousness and professionalism, these guys tackled the same work like they were having the time of their lives. They were still informative, explaining to their viewers how tornadoes formed and the types of destruction they can cause, but they would then drive straight into the center of a funnel or take chat requests of crazy things to do in the storm. It honestly seemed like a great way to get people excited about learning about tornadoes while also keeping them entertained. And it seemed like their nearly 850,000 followers would agree. No wonder Scott hated them so much.

Suddenly, you had an idea—the perfect little act of revenge.

Changing directions, you made your way over to Owens’s truck. You could see he was now alone, tinkering with the equipment attached to the bed of his truck. He had traded his white cowboy hat for a faded backward cap and had pushed his sleeves up above his elbows as he worked, his sun-bronzed skin on full display in the dying light.

Though you had only watched a handful of the Tornado Wranglers’ videos, you had a pretty good idea of the kind of man Tyler Owens was and how you could persuade him to help you. After all, these narcissistic, jacked-up truck-driving, overcompensating pretty boys were all the same. The kind who had been fawned and swooned over their entire adult lives just because they flashed a charming smile or a playful wink in the right direction. However, with just a little stroking of their ego or a bat of your eyes, they could become putty in your hands. All you had to do was introduce yourself.

Reaching the side of the truck, you tucked your hands into your back pockets so it thrust your chest forward and, biting your lip, called out coyly, “Hey there, cowboy.”

Owens glanced up, a curious smile curling across his lips as he saw you, his eyes traveling from your head to boot and back up. “Well, hello there.”

Giggling softly as you placed your hand on the side railing, you asked in a sing-songy voice, “You’re Tyler, right? The big...bad…tornado wrangler?” With each word, you walked your fingers across the railing, your eyes locked on his.

He leaned back, wiped his hands on his jeans, and said, “I might be. Depends on who’s asking.” He was still looking at you but his smile had slipped slightly and you realized you might not have grabbed his attention as well as you thought.

Placing both hands on the railing now, you pushed yourself up slightly, your chest pressed together, and you looked up at him from under your lashes. “What if I’m asking?”

Owens stared at you for a long moment, his eyes still examining you thoughtfully, though you were shocked to see they stayed locked on your face and didn’t dip down to your breast like you had expected. Then, finally, he said, “You seem like a nice girl, sweetheart, but I don't think I'm what you're looking for. Good luck though.” He gave you a kind, yet dismissive nod, and went back to whatever he had been working on.

Your jaw dropped, lips moving silently as you tried to figure out what just happened. This kind of thing always worked on guys like him in the past. Show a little skin, stroke their egos a little, and they would be wrapped around your finger in no time. But he hadn’t even given your act more than a passing glance. It was possible you weren’t his type or maybe he was in a committed relationship, but neither of those things had exactly deterred guys in the past.

You turned around—properly dismissed—and were just about to walk away when another thought crossed your mind. What if…what if you had misjudged him? What if he wasn’t the kind of guy you assumed he was? From what you had seen in his videos, he was cocky and overconfident and a huge flirt, but what if that was all for the cameras? During your very brief interaction, he seemed polite and respectful even as you tried to throw yourself at him, something no other guy had ever done in that situation.

Maybe you had gone about this all wrong. Maybe you needed a different approach. A more honest one…

You hurried around the other side of the truck so you were in front of him once more. Dropping all the over-the-top flirtatiousness from your voice, you said, “Okay, I’m sorry. I thought…it doesn’t matter what I thought, but the point is I shouldn’t have done that. I’ve had a really shitty day and approached this situation all wrong.”

Owens didn’t raise his head, but his eyes drifted back in your direction. Feeling like he was offering you a chance, you explained, “Listen, the deal is I came here to surprise my brother with a visit, and as soon as he saw me, he told me he doesn’t want me here and I should fuck off out of his way.”

That got his attention. Looking up, his brow furrowed, Owens asked, “Your brother said that to you?”

You rolled your eyes and hit the heel of your palm against the side of the truck. “Well, not in those exact words but the sentiment was there. The point is, he told me he didn’t care where I went as long as I left him and his team alone. So, I plan on respecting his wishes…and wondered if I could hang out with your team instead.”

“Well–” He leaned back, clearly not interested in your request, but you cut him off before he could turn you down.

“Please! It’ll just be for a day or two. I promise not to get in the way or mess with any of your work. I just know he has a problem with you guys and seeing me with you will drive him insane.”

Putting down the wrench he was holding, Owens shook his head. “Back up…who are we talking about now? Who’s your brother?”

You realized you needed to get better at introducing people into a conversation before jumping right in. “Scott? He works for Storm PAR?” He hesitated so you sighed and turned towards the other group of storm chasers at the other end of the lot. With one hand on your hip, you pointed lazily with the other, “The surly tall one who never takes off his stupid baseball cap?”

Instantly, Owens straightened up and you knew you had piqued his interest. Chuckling, he asked, “Wait, so you’re telling me Mr. Clipboard and Chewing Gum is your brother?” You nodded. “And you want my help messing with him?”

“Yeah, that about sums it up. So, will you do it?”

The cowboy leaned over the side of the truck and gave you a wide grin. “Oh, sweetheart, you’ve come to the right place.”

Part 2 coming 8/19!

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sunanthrope · 1 month ago

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Solarpunk is so important to me

Not just as a punk rock person named Apollo who identifies (spiritually) as the embodiment of the sun and solar energy. But as a concept

See Steampunk is all machines and rust and pollution. Many books ive read set in Steampunk themed universes are dystopian at worst (Descendants of Rust, Locklands) and saddening young-adult fantasies at best (The Mark of the Dragonfly, His Dark Materials trilogy).

Cyberpunk is themed with The Takeover Of The Web, think A.I.: Artificial Intelligence or the Tron universe. Everybody is either cyborg with hardly any full humans left at all (Ghost in the shell, Battle Angel Alita) or they can't tell the difference between AI and Human (Ex Machina)

But Solarpunk is literally meant to be eutopian. It's got themes of community and family, of rebuilding the planet, of making amends for harm done. Just looking at pictures on pinterest you find solar panels, wastelands full of thriving gardens.

It really inspired me to make my Punk more Solar you know. Seed bombs, moss grafitti, stuff like that really brightens up my shitty middle-of-nowhere, crumbling abandoned buildings and old train tracks, dystopian-ass town. Tossing a few seed bombs for wild ramps into those old grown-over holes where buildings used to be really brings joy to me. Especially when I see people in power complaining about how people can have free food now.

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bigification · 1 month ago

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Bigger and Better X Men

"Of course, Charles sent his little pet to come stop me. Doesn't he know by now that it doesn't work." Magneto chuckles while using his power to lift Wolverine into the air.

"You can't be stupid enough to think this will work." Wolverine struggles to say.

"Oh I know it will work," Magneto says while patting a large machine in the middle of the room. "Soon every mutant on Earth will have their power enhanced to its highest potential. A mere empath could control the emotions of every pitiful human on this planet. A teleporter could instantly move between planets and even solar systems in the snap of a finger. Mutants will be superior beings they were always meant to be."

Wolverine's expression quickly turns to fear as he realizes the scale of Magneto's attack is much larger than he and Charles had anticipated.

"Oh don't worry little guy," Magneto taunts, "Who knows, you might become strong enough to beat me." He says with a lighthearted chuckle.

"Call me little guy again and I'll rip your throat out!" Wolverine snaps at him.

"Woah, you're a feisty little one."

Magneto walks over to his machine, pauses for a moment, then confidently presses a big red button on the control panel.

The machine wirs to life, shaking the ground more and more as it slowly reaches full strength. It shakes so violently that the foundation of the building starts cracking.

In his distracted state, Magneto lets go of Wolverine. He lands on the ground and immediately starts to sprint to the machine, but stops when a blinding light suddenly bursts out of it. Once his eyes recovered, all he could see was a light blue field surrounding the machine. It looked like a bubble, its edges swaying back and forth like a piece of jello.

At first, it's growing so slowly that Wolverine doesn't even notice it. But after a few moments, the field begins to grow faster and faster in all directions.

"Eric wait!" Wolverine yells as the field approaches Magneto.

"How long will you keep denying your place as a superior being in this world, Logan?" Magneto responds as he lets the field overtake him.

Magneto can't help but smile. All those years of being under the boot of pathetic humans, mutants will finally find their place in this world. But his smile is quickly wiped from his face when a strange sensation grows in his stomach.

He grabs his abs as his stomach gurgles. Then in a split second, his belly surged forward in one swift motion. He stands in shock for a moment, holding his soft and round gut in his hands. Then it happens again. His hips thrust forward as dozens of pounds fill his growing gut, making it spill out of his shirt and over his waistline.

Before he could react to the rapid growth of his waistline, his pecs followed suit. One at a time, one solic pec inflated into a soft pair of man tits, making his chest look extremely disproportional for a moment before his other pec grew to the same size.

Wolverine is too shocked to act as he watches Magneto swell into an overweight blob of a man. His chiselled arms are swallowed by sagging fat, and his muscular legs thicken until his thighs are permanently rubbing together. Even his face was barely recognizable under the fat, his jawline now soft and round, and his once clean shaven face now covered in patchy grey hairs.

In the horror of the transformation, Wolverine noticed something that made a strange situation even stranger. Magneto's face slowly shifted from fear and shock, to comfort and even satisfaction. As his body started ripping through his clothes, he was squeezing his rolls of fat and jiggling his fat tits in satisfaction.

It is horrible to watch, but Logan couldn't turn his eyes away. Soon, no clothes stand a chance against Magneto's obese body and he's left completely naked. Logan was so distracted that he didn't even notice the field growing ever closer to him, not until he was partially inside of it. A strange tingling sensation formed over his hand. Looking down, he realizes it's inside the field. He watches on in horror as his fingers start to grow thicker and longer, looking more like stuffed sausages. And his hand starts to lose its definition as the fat piles in. He tries to pull away, but can't. When he looks up, he sees Magneto once again holding him in place.

"What the fuck are you doin', bub?" Logan growls.

"What's best for you, Logan." He responds.

Logan struggles, uselessly trying to escape Magneto's control. The field grows closer and closer, slowly making its way up his arm and towards his body. His forearm and his bicep rapidly expand with fat as they enter the field, making his right arm look comically small in comparison.

The field finally reaches his body, touching his chest first. He looks down in horror as fat pours into his muscular pecs, with every wave his chest grows softer and larger, sticking further and further in front of him. His white tank top strains against his growing body until the top rips open, letting his hairy moobs hang loose.

His face is soon engulfed by the field. He tries to fight it, but it's futile. His gruff appearance grows less threatening as his features become soft and plump. His face rounds out as a thick double chin forms between his side burns.

It's clear his healing factor is working overtime to reverse the effects, but even that isn't enough to save him. His stubbornness fades away as he starts to accept his situation.

The field starts to reach the rest of his torso, making his stomach gurgle. Suddenly he's hungrier than he's ever been in his life. He lets out a deep groan as his flat stomach swells into a soft pot belly, stretching what's left of his tank top. His belly surges forward again, growing firm and round as it hangs over his belt. One final surge makes his gut grow larger than a beach ball, tearing right through the rest of his shirt and showing off his hairy tank of a gut.

A large bulge grows in Logan's pants as he lustfully watches his gut expand in front of him. The thought of him no longer being able to see his feet causes a pre cum to stain his jeans.

As the field flows through his body, his love handles grow thick and wide as they spill over his jeans. The love handles spread to his lower back where all his defined muscles have been swallowed by rolls of fat. And his other arm finally grows to match, making his body symmetrical again.

Wolverine lets out a deep moan when the field overtakes his dick. Despite being harder than he ever has been, the bulge in his pants starts to shrink. It used to snake down his pant leg, but it recedes so far back that his bulge is now obscured by his overhanging gut. At the same time, a thick fat pad grows over his crotch and engulfs part of his dick, making it look even smaller.

A strong sound of fabric tearing emanates from Logan's jeans as his legs thicken. His thighs become like tree trunks, except soft and jiggly, and his perky ass expands and sags under its own weight. Soon his jeans are on the floor in pieces, letting the cool breeze flow against his furry legs. Even his shoes don't survive as his feet grow at least 6 sizes, disproving the fact that big feet means big dick.

Magneto finally lets Wolverine go, causing him to collapse under his immense weight and fall to the floor.

"It worked better than I could have ever imagined." Magneto says with glee.

"Yeah, bub. Like this is what you wanted." Logan responds while jiggling his gut.

"Don't act like you don't love it." He says as he walks close to Wolverine, close enough for their guts to rub against each other.

"I'll love it more when I'm on top of you, riding that fat ass like a cowboy." Logan growls.

"With this little guy?" Eric once again taunts, reaching around Logan's gut and pinching his dick.

Logan shudders, but tries to act tough. He pulls out his claws, pressing them into Eric's soft chin.

"I'll make do."

In response, Eric simply lifts his belly, revealing his monster 10 inch cock standing straight up. Showing the machine clearly does not affect everyone equally.

"I have a better idea." Eric says with a devilish grin.

He uses his power to drag Logan's hulking body over to the machine, pinning him against it. He walks up behind him, his gut pressing against Logan's back.

"Heal this." Eric whispers into Logan's ear.

He then lifts Logan into the air so his ass can be at the same height as Eric's dick, then shoves his cock up Logan's ass.

A mix between a growl and a moan comes from Logan's mouth as Eric's dick sinks into his asshole.

Instead of fighting, Logan just reaches around his belly and pinches his dick between two fat fingers. Pre-cum is leaking out of his dick faster and faster as Eric gets more aggressive. His thrusts become faster and harder as his gut slaps against Logan's hairy back.

Both men's grunts grow louder and louder as they gasp for air, too out of shape for exercise this intense. Eric grabs Logan's shoulder with one hand while slapping his ass with the other, and Logan's got his free hand squeezing his sensitive nipples.

Despite being topped, Wolverine's moans are gruff and animalistic. His fur is drenched in sweat and pre-cum as his legs start to give in.

In unison, Wolverine shoots a load all over the machine as Eric sends ropes and ropes of cum inside of him.

Logan growls as the warm liquid fills his insides, making his gut protrude even further. He caresses his bloated gut as he tries to catch his breath.

Eric drops Logan, letting out a thunderous thud as he lands.

"I'm starving, I'm gonna grab some leftovers in the fridge." Eric says casually while walking to his kitchen.

"I'll grab the beer." Logan says while struggling to get to his feet.

Meanwhile at Professor X school for gifted youngsters...

"Scott!" Jean yells as she wakes from a bad dream. She can't quite remember what it was about, but something bad happened to Scott. She looks over to the other side of her bed, hoping to get comfort in knowing Scott is asleep beside her, but he's not.

Jean starts to get worried as she hears a ruckus coming from downstairs. She quickly gets up and walks down to the origin of the sound. Walking down the main hallway of the school, she realizes the noise is coming from the kitchen. It gives her some peace knowing that her husband is most likely making a midnight snack, though he is definitely not doing it quietly.

She turns the corner to the kitchen, ready to scold Scott about being too loud, when her heart sinks. At first she only sees Beast, or at who she's assuming to be Beast. He's got a big blue ball belly hanging out of his lab coat, and his pants are gone leaving his 12 inch cock hanging out for everyone to see.

"What's going on here?!" Jean says, completely shocked.

Beast looks up from a chicken leg he was devouring. Even through his thick layer of fur, it's obvious his face has filled out.

"Oh Miss Grey. I'm so sorry you had to see us in this state. We just got so hungry all of a sudden. Not to mention the severe and rapid weight gain, something strange seems to be occurring." Beast says, slightly embarrassed before returning to his meal.

"Who do you mean we?" Jean questions.

She answers her own question when she turns her head to see her husband, Scott, facing away from her. He appears to be eating something as well.

"Scott, what's going o-" Jean stops mid sentence when Scott turns around, letting Jean see his bloated body. "Oh Scott, what happened." She asks while prodding his enormous gut.

"I don't know, but this feels amazing. You should try having sex when you're this fat, it's so much better." Scott responds in a jolly voice.

"Honey, we haven't had sex since you got this fat."

"I wasn't talking about you, Beast really knows his way around a fat guy like me." Scott says casually while stroking his shriveled cock.

"What!?" Jean doesn't even know what to say.

"It's true Miss Grey." Beast interrupts. "You missed out on a great time. It also serves as good data for my research into our sudden weight gain. Our condition seems to have also resulted in severe increase in libido along with a change in sexual preference, potentially caused by a change in hormones. But I will have to research further into this topic to know for sure, of course."

"Well you should hurry up on that research because I can't wait for this to go back to normal." Jean says, annoyed.

"You misunderstand me Miss Grey, I don't want to revert this, I want to replicate it." Beast responds with a curiosity in his voice.

"Why would you want to do that?"

"Scott and I have never felt better in our lives, the rest of the world deserves to feel the same."

"By the same, do you mean obese like you two." Jean starts to get impatient.

"Don't judge a book by its cover Miss Grey, I have already observed many benefits of our rapid weight gain, such as-"

"I don't want to know." Jean interrupts, "the professor will know how to deal with this." She whispers to herself as she makes her way to Charles' office.

She opens the door without knocking.

"Professor I..." She pauses when she sees the professor just as fat as Scott and Beast.

His hairless gut is sitting on his lap and his love handles are spilling out the sides of his wheelchair. It seems his suit did not survive the transformation, leaving his man tits exposed for everyone to see. His thick thighs are squeezed together, pushing up his 10 inch cock into clear view.

"Ah, Jean. So glad you have come to see me. Watch this." Charles says as he turns on the news.

"Many men across the world are spontaneously becoming obese as a mysterious light blue sphere engulfs the planet. Reports are coming in of many mutants falling victim to this transformation, leading experts to believe this only affects men with the X gene." The reporter says through the tv.

"Victims they call us. But I like to see this another way. This is a gift given to mutants." Charles says.

"Wait, you want this. Why would you want to be obese." Jean vents her frustrations.

"We don't speak with such hatred here Jean. You of all people should know that."

"But this is different Professor." Jean pleads.

"As far as I can tell, every mutant who has grown like I have, has never been happier in their lives. I can feel it everywhere around me. So no, Jean, I don't believe this is different."

Jean just stutters for a moment before storming out of the office.

- Epilogue -

2 months later...

The bed groans as Logan sits on his side of the bed. Eric rolls to face him, sending another creaking sound through the poor bed.

"What's wrong babe?" Eric says as he rubs Logan's back.

"I have something to show you." Logan's voice is deep and serious.

He turns and pulls out a pregnancy test, it's positive.

"How?" Eric questions.

"Must have been when you fucked my guts out by the machine."

"But men can't ge-"

"They can now." Logan says as a slight smile breaks through his tough guy look.

"Were... We're gonna be dad's" Eric cheered.

"I know." Logan smiled as he gave his boyfriend a bear hug, a rare show of affection for him.

"I can't wait to see how big you get." Eric grabs Logan's gut and kisses it. "Though I hope our kid doesn't get their height from you."

"Shut up."

Meanwhile, at the school for gifted youngsters.

"Our male students have started to become obese. It's happened to three of them so far, all around their 25 birthdays. It seems that as soon as their brains fully develop, the energy that was going into the development instead goes into storing fat. We need to stop this before it happens to anyone else." Jean pleads with Charles.

Charles, now in a much larger wheelchair, gives a disapproving look. It was hard to take him seriously, though, because his suit was riding up his gut. He constantly ordered new suits, and has needed to replace his wheelchair twice since his transformation. His lack of exercise, even compared to the other men in the house, as well as his immense appetite seems to have skyrocketed his waistline. It was that time of the week that Charles outgrows his current suit and waits far too long to replace it.

"Are any of these students in distress about their condition?" Charles asks, crossing his arms over his gut.

Jean pauses, her eyes drifting down. She can't help but stare at the bear skin peeking under his skin tight suit, and the uncomfortably large bulge snaking down the side of his leg. A bulge his too small dress pants do nothing to conceal.

"No, but-" She tries to respond.

"Then there is no problem. I do not want to hear of this childish endeavor of yours anymore. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir." Jean says with desperation in her voice.

She once again storms out of his office and makes her way to the lab. Maybe if she can manage to convince Beast, then she can reverse the widespread obesity.

On her way down, she runs into Scott, who also seems to be growing bigger everyday. A sore reminder of Jean's failure to remedy her situation.

He refuses to wear shirts nowadays, as do many of the men in the school. A light sprinkling of brown hair covers his firm gut as it hangs over his 50 inch waistline shorts. Shorts that are sorely lacking the impressive bulge that the professor sports. Jean doesn't even know whether to be sad about that or not.

"On your way to see the professor... again." Jean says bitterly.

"Yup." He responds as he finishes a family size bag of milk chocolates. A bag he most likely started mere minutes earlier.

Jean finds his sudden craving for chocolates odd, as he never cared for them before about a month ago, but she has more pressing things to think about.

"You know, you seem eager to fuck every man who comes your way, including the professor, but refuse to even sleep in the same bed as your wife."

"We're only married because you refuse to sign the divorce papers. Besides, you're not my type anymore. I like my partner's big like me." He smiles while slapping his gut. "And don't count the professor out just because he's in a wheelchair, that man can be nasty when he wants to."

"Whatever." Jean continues to the lab and finds Beast.

"Good, you're here."

Beast gets up and turns to greet her, still wearing as little clothing as he was the day he transformed.

"Ah, Miss Grey. I have amazing news." He says with excitement.

"What?" Jean asks, genuinely curious.

"I have synthesized an airborne chemical that can replicate the weight gain effects seen in male mutants, except it works on everyone over the age of 25 including humans and female mutants."

"Wait what!?" Jean stands still, shocked that every hope she had of having her life back have been ruined.

"Isn't it amazing, I just tested it on this human volunteer" Beast points to an obese man sitting across the room, who seems to be adjusting to his newfound girth. "The chemical should be circulating through the air conditioning any minute now."

Jean's heart skips a beat when she feels her stomach gurgle.

#male tf #masculine #male transformation #hairy #reality change #muscle tf #fat tf #male wg #fat belly

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minawritesfanfic · 8 months ago

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You are who you eat

Dexter Morgan x F!Reader

Word count: ~1k

Summary: It seems there’s another careful serial killer roaming the streets of maimi and their police department

Part 0

Previous | Next

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Chicken schnitzel with creamed watercress, a delicious meal even with a few ingredients changes.

I coated the meat in buttermilk with my left hand then dipped it in the breadcrumbs, with my right hand I scooped up more bread crumbs sprinkling them on top and pressed them down into the meat. I flipped it over and repeated the process until it was carefully coated in breadcrumbs, and did the same for three more pieces. I wiped my hands clean and checked on the watercress, tasting a small bit of it making sure it was satisfactory. I smiled happy with the taste even despite me adding my special sauce into the mix, I set my spoon down and turned down the heat returning back to my breadcrumb covered chicken substitute.

In just a little under an hour I finished cooking, I was reveled in the smell of a homecooked meal wafting through the air. I set aside the other servings to eat later and sat down at my kitchen island with a glass of wine. I cut into the schnitzel picking it up with my fork and carefully placed it into my mouth, I let out a satisfied hum as I savored that first bite. The media likes to portray all cannibals are barbarians but I’d like to think I’m far more civilized than that. What barbarian knows how to make a good watercress and human meat schnitzel? A wonderful meal made from the shit of the earth Caleb Sands, full time solar panel installer part time serial killer and fuck does he taste delicious.

I sipped my wine with a smile as I continued to eat, my diet was a strange one consisting mostly of human remains or food drench in their blood. I’ve tried animal blood and no blood at all, but none of them have that unique taste that human blood has. I’m addicted to and couldn’t stop even if I tried, and I certainly have tried. It’s not like I was born this way but thanks the trauma from my childhood, I was doomed to live as a cannibal thanks to Mr and Mrs. Kerrigan.

I shook away the thought as I finished my meal and started to clean up, I left my wine and took my plate to the sink. I gave it a quick rinse and place it into the dishwasher before doing the same with the rest of the dishes in the sink. Once I was done loading the dishwasher I gave the countertop and stove a quick wipe down, with the kitchen clean and the dishwasher cycling I took my wine and headed into the living room. I relaxed onto the couch with a sigh and turned on the tv, I didn’t particularly care for what was on I just needed a distraction and it was working. I was a serial killer and not even for the love of the crime, I hated killing people it was gross, gorey, and the clean up was exhausting. I tried so hard to see it as a means to an end but it was hard, I hated why I became who I am, I hated who I’d become, and I hated that I was addicted with no clear way to escape from it.

I wiped the tears forming in my eyes and downed the rest of my wine, I turned off the tv and left my glass by the sink. I ran a hand through my hair as I made my way to my bedroom, thankfully the wine and food made me tired. Watching tv hadn’t really helped keep me from my thoughts so hopefully just shutting my brain off entirely by going to sleep, I collapsed onto the bed and turned on my white noise machine. I snuggled under the blankets and let my mind focus on the noise and it wasn’t long before I had fallen asleep.

★ ✮ ★

Work was busy that day with calls and requests coming in for the whole IT team, which consisted of Jackie a sweet and spunky girl fresh out of Texas, Sterling a flirty but nerdy guy born here and Miami, and Josefina a jokester from Tampa bursting with life. I loved them all and they made this job ten times more fun and enjoyable, speaking of them Sterling and Josefina came back into our tiny ‘office’. It was just an old storage room the stuffed four desks into, but it was our corner of the world and a second home.

“How was rubbing shoulders with the fraud department? Did they catch onto you yet Sterling?”

“Oh haha, it was fine just another stupid request. You’d think they would try turning it off and on again but the never do, and I’ll never get caught I’m that good.” He teased back at me as he sat at his desk.

“Some just aren’t as bright as others unfortunately.”

“Oh yeah and you are?” Josefina asked with a smirk as she spun her chair to face me hut I just rolled my eyes.

“Yeah I am, way smarter than you at least. Mrs. I thought the moon was made of cheese.” She turned red and threw a pen at me but I just dodges it.

Sterling and I couldn’t help but laugh as she just huffed and rolled her eyes at me, I smiled as I went back to typing up a report on my latest request. Sure the work was mostly menial task but the people made it worth while, and it wasn’t always boring. Sometimes I did have more difficult tasks to do but it was always fun and allowed me do what I loved, work with technology. Overall life was good, work was good, and my cooking was great. What more did one need in life?

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

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#prologue #minawritesfanfic #reader insert #x reader #my writing #fanfiction #fluff #dexter morgan x reader #dexter #dexter morgan #dexter moser #new series #new fanfic

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cliantechsolutions · 2 years ago

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#cliantechsolutions #Solar EL Tester #Solar Panel Making Machines

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mtx-lol · 3 months ago

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rare instance of me being actually really happy with a design

actually gonna word vomit about it;

this came to me the mili, picosecond ive finished colouring the third redesigns which is now completely out of a date of ever seeing the sun so have fun mulling over that lol .

anyways so basically, ive discovered this technique of limiting to 3 or 2 themes for each character, to which i built apon with an overall theme for the whole media and have it paired up with the characters individual theme. ive decides to try for a more flexible or abstract dressing theme for tam, being duality since yknow her hybrid species/transitioning species kinda thing (in hindsight it shouldve been asymmetry but whatevs), the rest was roadsigns and scout.

originally it was going to be a flower, then it was going to be melded skulls and roses but just decided on a skull, the back of her head was a weak resemblance of this broken solar panel thing ? still dont know, but it was cool; this was supposed to be an attempt at symbolism of her trying to weaponise her unique kind of loneliness, being a hybrid and having unconventional origins in the sense of her childhood and the abyssals, trying to replicate a dishonering danger with the horns coming out as well, stabbing away any approachers. the weird cut snout with teeth was supposed to be the top half of a mouth but i thought it would be funnier if it was more a collector showcase base for her weird teeth collection fixation, all from the underground visits john used to take her with when she wasnt older and sicker, a rare interlude of her bleak-less worldview and dull colours.

the spikes on the skull is actually sharpened loose metal from railings, poles, machines, etc, and she uses to have more but she snapped them off when the gun jammed. its meant to be a transition from the skull to the metal plate and was meant to replicate the more grandiose version in my head.

idk if i ever properly explained the diamond earing on her left side but its an earing that john will be shown wearing and he decided to give to her as part of his family, but due to her massive fears of her ears being ripped off with it or with anything (headcanons will be supplied, soon enough), she decided to add it to her hat, which is funny because i was going to pierce her with chains but it wouldve been a) too heavy and b) reminded me too much of this guy in secondary school math class who publicly announced his thought of putting a pencil between a earring hoop, so. (sorry)

also the necklace is a variation of johns that she tried to replicate in her own style, idk if that was obvious but john is her biggest reason of and for life.

what else, uhh the yellow tape around is meant to diverage anyones attention from her face or her in general, yknow, 'look down, look away' likes shes shy guy or smthin. its her anxieties, her self-consciousness she tries to comfort with a shield of fear projected onto others, its also a self-poke like 'this girl right here is a CRIME SCENE!!!'

the weird thing over her shirt is supposed to be a ripped version of the shirt she used to wear in earlier versions, a sign of shifting unrecognisablility, breaking out yet still clinging onto the puzzle pieces for a cocoon that kept you safe in the first place. she knows shes tam, not traviler, but something in her wants tomorrow to be the day the hat is over her eyes and the trench coat is the amber touch of anyone she loved. its a drastic, dramatic life change that cant magically happen overnight, shes 22, but theres always a lingering, loose ended however.

uhmmm, she has many belts that i wanted to make into a loose replica of rock climbing belts because i think she really really really really rwalyh REALLY likes climbing up and away but i thought it would be funnier (common pattern realised) if she didnt know that rock climbing is a real profession or that she'd always would do it too tight or loose so she just gave up.

the saws came as an afterthought from this pin and i was like "whaf if she wash bug" but then i realised if i added in another theme i would have to restart and it would be over complicated AGAIN so i just did it with saws because she nearly got her head cut off by a saw and also like a little nod to her HORRENDOUS sitting positions like she would never sit straight, its either upside down, down on the side, manspreading like its a dentist appointment or 6-2 legs on the floor its quite queer of her.

elsewhere, uhhhhh, one of her makeshift shoulder pads was supposed to resemble the wings of an animal like how i originally drew her necklace but like, i kept on forgetting and kept trying something else until i just replicated the other one with less details, nothing smart i just thought it would fit her (no melted keys, she doesnt like stabbing herself anymore)

anything else...........she has a fang........ uhhh....she ripped off the oversleeves as a get back from the guy who took played with a chain on her hat while she was half awake or smthin idk still hasnt fleshed it out properly........ she is the worlds renowned owner of the most split ends (and she will finger brush through all of the knots with pride god damnit).........uhhhshe doesnt looking at mirrors.......ive made a fanfic about that....i may have realised i have a weird sense of aesthetic attraction to her.....this is a repost cuz i didnt like how little it was but now i have ensnared myself in only 2 doodles per canvas.......i am very irresponsible about my storage space but what else is new....... tam appeared right before me in my dreams................ i have taken 20 screenshots of the updated lore document of the transcribed conco between her john........ yeah thats it

theres probs more ive missed or havent come up with but thats enough words for today,

if you actually soaked in everything ive read um thanks, watch this be outdated within 3 days or hideaway makes me hide away all of my headcanons that has been conjured since december.

k byeeee

#idk guys i dont think i like tam that much #i swear i draw other characters and things please dont lock me up and brain wash out the possibility of a key #tam thatmen guys thamyhatam tamghayndbdbçbncnsnzndnns #format please dont fuck ulp i will break my tablet in half #i was going to include others but for some reason my brajn says post thus NOWNOWNOWNOW #i know that because i cant seem to find it in me to draw tam #dallas and johns designs are almost done i just need to make sure dallas isnt too plaina nd i need to wait for the pol #the poll to finish assuminb if havent ripped off my fingers by then #yaaayyyyyy i love tambthatmen :)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))#mta[rt]fix #sepbox #incredibox #incredibox mod #cw: eyestrain #implied blood #forgot about that sorry

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uhhhyaenbyjade · 1 year ago

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Thunderwing - Horizon Custom Machine

Machine: Thunderwing

Cauldron: Omicron

Class: Communication

Based on the prehistoric azdarchid pterosaur Hatzegopteryx, the Thunderwing is a massive, but peaceful, Communication Class machine, similar to the Tallneck. Its name comes from the booming flapping of its wings in the air. It covers vast distances via aerial travel, connecting the Tallneck communication system over barriers such as oceans, islands, mountains, and canyons. There are only twenty Thunderwings at one time, making them incredibly rare.

However, they are still seen regularly; despite being able to stay in the air for months at a time without landing, they take regular pit-stops at designated landing sites in their designated “territory” for maintenance by other Zero Dawn Machines. As one would expect, when nearby tribes witnessed such regular landings, Thunderwings quickly became significant to many cultures. In the Great Delta of the Quen, the landing of the local Thunderwing happens in their territory every four months, each day being a recognized holiday in the Quen calendar. In the Tenakth Clan Lands, the Thunderwing is revered as the most legendary of the Wings of the Ten, and the local machine will use the Arena as a landing site once a year.

The Thunderwing is very similar to that of a Tallneck. It has a massive set of muscles to support the immense weight of the head and radar dish, and when landed for maintenance, it will often patrol a small area. Similarly to its Communication Class sister, the Thunderwing cannot be damaged or overridden, but it does provide an ideal resting space for aerial mounts when flying. The main power source of the Thunderwing comes from the solar panel wings, but this is supplemented with emergency supplies of blaze during maintenance. In order to ease the weight of flying, when a Thunderwing encounters a favorable air current, it can use the sparkers on its wings to shock the muscles into stiffness, soaring on the current for miles.

This machine is created by me, and posted on March 15th, 2024! If you wish to use this machine or artwork in a project, please tag and credit me!

#horizon forbidden west #hzd #horizon #horizon zero dawn #hfw #horizon machines #thunderwing #horizon thunderwing #horizon custom machine #horizon custom machines #horizon fanart #beyond the horizon

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rederiswrites · 8 months ago

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Look, I think if you're a US citizen you should go on Youtube and watch the debate, or at least some of the chunks of it where the topic matters most to you. You can't counter the arguments if you don't know what arguments they're making. And no, I don't mean arguing with your aunt that drank the conspiracy koolaid. I mean that there are genuinely a lot of people out there hearing what Trump is saying and thinking, "I don't know. That sounds really scary."

So know what he said, and know not just THAT he lied, but HOW he lied.

Sometimes, it's easy. There are no "abortions" after a baby is born. That would be uhhh let's see MURDER and it's already pretty illegal everywhere and absolutely no one is trying to change that. The comment Trump attributed to former VA governor Ralph Northam is completely misrepresented. Northam (whom I am not defending as a person, by the way) was commenting on the subject of *non-viable* pregnancies that represented a health risk to the mother. Nobody was talking about killing babies. Nobody. Not even Mr. Blackface.

Sometimes it's so addled that I'll leave someone else to unpack, for example, what the FUCK he was on about with the giving illegal aliens in prison forced "trangender surgery". Personally I'm assuming he just used the random word generator in his head to say something that sounded scary to him.

There is NO credible evidence that anyone, much less Haitian immigrants, is eating pets in Springfield, Ohio. Both government officials and the police say there's nothing to it. Springfield has had a huge influx of Haitian immigrants, and this is causing infrastructure strain and racial tensions. But again, people who would rather believe that a) legal immigrants are okay with *stealing your pets and eating them* and b) the entire police and gov't infrastructure of a town and the surrounding county want to cover this up, are not worth our energy. It's the people who don't know the truth and are worried that we want to reach.

And my guy, my man, Cheeto Benito, that is not how tariffs work. Tariffs are not magical free money that other countries just HAVE to give you. They're...they're not that at all. Look, I'm lazy so I'm just gonna quote CNN:

Here’s how tariffs work: When the US puts a tariff on an imported good, the cost of the tariff usually comes directly out of the bank account of an American buyer. “It’s fair to call a tariff a tax because that’s exactly what it is,” said Erica York, a senior economist at the right-leaning Tax Foundation. “There’s no way around it. It is a tax on people who buy things from foreign businesses,” she added. Trump has said that if elected, he would impose tariffs of up to 20% on every foreign import coming into the US, as well as another tariff upward of 60% on all Chinese imports. He also said he would impose a “100% tariff” on countries that shift away from using the US dollar. These duties would add to the tariffs he put on foreign steel and aluminum, washing machines, and many Chinese-made goods including baseball hats, luggage, bicycles, TVs and sneakers. President Joe Biden has left many of the Trump-era tariffs in place. It’s possible that a foreign company chooses to pay the tariff or to lower its prices to stay competitive with US-made goods that aren’t impacted by the duty. But study after study, including one from the federal government’s bipartisan US International Trade Commission, have found that Americans have borne almost the entire cost of Trump’s tariffs on Chinese products. To date, Americans have paid more than $242 billion to the US Treasury for tariffs that Trump imposed on imported solar panels, steel and aluminum, and Chinese-made goods, according to US Customs and Border Protection. [link]

Also though you should watch the debate because Harris was an absolute savage and it was genuinely HUGELY entertaining to watch her mercilessly bait Trump in every answer she gave, and watch him take the bait every. fucking. time.

#us politics #trump unfortunately

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tetedurfarm · 4 months ago

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I know I just have goat fever right now daydreaming, but I would love to hear about your goats. What's their purpose, most annoying trait, anything at all

i am so sorry in advance because i am always brutal when people want animals that i own and they ask me for my opinion. it's a personality flaw. but i need people to understand why animals suck before i say why they are fun lmao

why goat:

my goats are for milk mainly. i have a nigerian dwarf, a mini nubian, a mostly-nigerian 'mini-nubian', and a kinder. their milk is actually really good, all of them, and their production is good for my needs. i expect each to make about half a litre or so a day at peak production this year, going off of numbers from last year. it will be violet's third freshening, and phoebe's second, and they generally increase in production every year for the first three or four years before levelling off. i am not planning to breed hallow unless i find someone with a nigerian buck that they don't mind letting me borrow, cos derek is just way too big for her i fear. turnip will be on her first freshening. i prefer the mini nubians and kinders to the nigerians because they have more ground clearance and bigger teats so it's easier to use a machine on them. hand milking the itty bitty titties isn't awful but i try not to hand milk if possible lol

i do eat kids because i can't sell them, and they are dairy goats so they aren't exactly the meatiest things on the planet, but it's food. i like the taste of wether and doe but buck is stanky.

what i hate about goats:

crime. i know it's the joke but genuinely goats are little shits and your new favourite hobby is now fence the second you put one on your land. literally any sort of weakness in their enclosure they will get through. cannot overstate. if you use electric fence as their primary enclosure (if you want them to mow a weird spot for you or something) they have to be net and they have to hit hard. provided it's grounded right, my net fence with a 1 joule solar charger can hit around 4k max and they will ignore that if they want something on the other side bad enough. however they will usually respect it if they have plenty to eat within the legal zone. you cannot tie a goat because they will strangle themselves trying to eat something outside of their range or slip their collar and do whatever they want.

they will climb on anything they possibly can, including buildings and enclosures. they will also rub on things which is fine sometimes if it's a brush mounted on a pole and bad sometimes when it's your fence. also if they can stick their head through a fance they will do so and if they have horns they will get stuck. sometimes they will get stuck without horns. the issue i have the most with them sticking their heads through fence is they push on it so hard it can warp cattle panel fences and stretch tension ones so i just have to make sure they aren't overly mcfucking everything every now and then.

speaking of horns it is sort of a personal preference on whether or not you do horns. horns look sick af and help them thermoregulate in hotter climates but also horns suck ass and make a lot of things difficult if you are milking them. horns don't always fit into milking stanchions, and i have had enough situations with a bitchy nanny on the stand where if horns were involved i would have been pretty badly injured. they will press them against things because it feels good and again that's fine if it's a post and bad if it's you. my horned goats don't seem to headbutt things like my ram does, and my goats are little so they can't push me over when they press on me, but if they were normal sized goats we'd be having words. trying to medicate horned goats is a pain because i can't just pop them between my thighs unless i want really wicked bruises. i did not want horned goats. the only reason i have two is because one i didn't go deep enough when i was dehorning him, and the other i didn't plan to keep so i didn't bother. there is a nonzero chance i will replacing the horned doe with a daughter this year just because i don't want to deal with it :/

feed-wise they aren't too bad but they are ruminants and have ruminant problems. but you have rabbits and a lot of the same things apply so it's not a huge deal. they need roughage constantly which means if you don't have grass you have to buy hay, and if you can't get it cheap then get fucked. everyone's feeding methods and routine is individual to their needs and herd but mine have free-choice local hay, and i give them a flake or two of alfalfa a day depending on their condition (less in summer when there's grass, more in winter when there isn't.) i give a little grain twice a day; i personally find it less expensive and better and keeping condition on them than just alfalfa, plus it serves as a great incentive to get them all back in the shed when i need. same as the alfalfa, they get less in summer and more in winter, just kinda eyeballed and adjusted as needed to keep condition. the buck and his wether get less grain and their alfalfa is pelleted because it just works a little better with how their feeders are set up. speaking of feeders - goats LOVE standing in feeders and will shit and piss in them and then decide the food is inedible. we screwed 2x4s about six to eight inches over their troughs to prevent this but it makes the horned ones' lives harder so we will need to adjust them. in general goats will not eat food once it touches the ground. it's really fucking annoying because they will waste so much fucking hay that way if you don't have some kind of solid bottom to their feeders. this is An Problem with alfalfa because they ONLY eat the leaves and rarely eat the stems, but the leaves just fall out of normal hay racks and onto the ground. which is lava, obviously. also, they will get addicted to alfalfa and grain. and if you do not give them these things every day they will make your life hell. which is like, fine, if that is part of your feeding plan, but let's just say it took beetlebug over a month of constant screaming before he finally adjusted to his new diet of not being free-fed alfalfa like he was at his old home. he nearly was returned to sender x:

my goats are not huge fans of treats/cookies for some fucking reason and will only eat them if they're apple flavoured. most people do not have this problem.

this is only really a con for me because i also have sheep, but because sheep can't have copper in their mineral i have to bolus my goats a couple of times a year as needed which is a pain in the ass. the fig newton trick does not work because of aforementioned 'we only eat apple cookies' reasons so i have to do it the hard way and it's a rodeo every single time and i hate it. you know they need copper because their fur will get kinda dull and sometimes curly, and they will get what's called a 'fishtail' where they will start going bald on the tip of their tails. it's more a problem for me in winter because we have good copper in the soil, but when there's no grass they need a little help.

goats have soft feet that don't grind down well so you have to trim them which isn't a huge issue but just like, an issue. it's hard on my body particularly so i don't do it as often as i know i should. a trimming stanchion is worth the money. also make sure you get good quality shears because shitty ones will kill your hands.

goats do not suffer in silence and much like cats their definition of suffer is sometimes not actually suffering at all, and is just like....you did not give them alfalfa at Exactly the same time one day so you get to listen to shrieking until you do it. my nursing mamas sleep in a different area that is closer to the house and they will get Real Mad for a couple days the first few times i put them in there at night, and then also every morning if they run out of hay.

if it matters to you, the milk is naturally mostly homogenised and it means if you want to make cream or butter or whatever you have to have a cream separator which are complicated, expensive, and annoying to clean. the milk will separate a little bit on its own, so i guess if you really wanted to you could just skim it every day but you still won't get all of it without a separator.

and lastly, if you keep a buck then you get to deal with Buck Issues™️. famously, bucks stink. my old buck stank all the time, but derek is actually not so bad. outside of horny season he has very little smell but even when he's pissing on himself to appeal to the ladies he isn't nearly as fragrant as orion was. orion you could smell from a mile away. they are also rough on fences and gates for goat reasons but also for horny reasons if there's a doe on the other side. make sure your gates latch Real good. they also need less fat in their diets, can be pushy, and need a companion of some variety or they will get sad. derek lives with beetlebug, who is wethered, and they get along well. some people can keep bachelor groups but it seems to be the exception, and i personally have no need for multiple bucks so i can't give you any firsthand experience.

what i like about goats:

milk milk milk milk milk. it's real good. at least my goats' milk is; not all breeds have tasty milk. to me my goats' milk just tastes like slightly above 2% cows' milk, with a little bit of a grassy or piney taste depending on what they've been eating. mini nubians are nigerian/nubian crosses so their milk is very high in fat and very sweet. kinders are pygmy/nubian crosses so they are a little meatier and the milk is sweet but a little less high in fat.

they are very personable animals and usually will eat out of your hand even if they aren't fan of being pet and cuddled. bottle-raised ones can range from 'dog you can do anything to and likes hanging out with you' to 'trying to climb you constantly and eat your hair' but i have never had that last problem because i don't allow climbing or constant pestering. the worst i've had with a bottle-raised kid was daisy being really like...sexually aggressive towards me and that's why she's in the freezer now. they have big personalities and they are very fun to watch do their little goat thing and there is constant pecking order politics happening to spice things up.

they come in lots of pretty colours and you can mix and match pretty easily to find a breed or cross you really enjoy. like i said, i like the mini nubians and kinders because they are on the smaller side - around 60, 70lbs or so for the does i would guess? and their heads are right at bellybutton range for me who stands 5'8" - bit still have a lot of space between the udder and the ground so they are easy to milk. the nubian in them also helps their teats be a good size and their milk to stay rich.

them being browsers is sort of a blessing and a curse. they are awesome for clearing areas of brush, which is a pro for me who lives in himalayan blackberry hell, but if you want them to mow their lawn they'll only eat grass if there's nothing else. browsing is also why they are so rough on fences and why they tend to eat more shit they shouldn't, they just stuck their head through fence and try whatever they can. the browsing is why i like running sheep with them; the sheep graze and the goats clear.

in conclusion

i know that cons list is huge but i do genuinely like my goats. and i think we all know that i just like animals that make my life objectively worse. i don't know why i'm like this. they do really suck ass sometimes though and i absolutely understand why so many people hate goats. they are absolutely not for everyone. if you drink a lot of milk you are honestly probably better off getting a cow if you want an animal that probably doesn't make you want to pull your hair out at least once a month. if you just want lawnmowers, get sheep. they aren't as personable or friendly usually but they are content to eat grass and shit and don't cause near the amount of crimes.

#ag talk #questions #sorry to crush anyone's goat dreams but...yeah.#they are so very annoying lmao #clearly not even CL would make me give them up but my life WOULD be much easier if i just had some sheep and a cow haha

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