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pin-k-ink · 6 months ago

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ghost hunt // shalnark (pt. 1)

tw ⇢ hacker!reader, strong sexual tension, mentions of violence and torture

wc ⇢ 2.9k

part one | part two

For months, Shalnark had noticed anomalies cropping up in the Phantom Troupe's secure networks. At first, he dismissed them as random glitches - minor system hiccups that were an inevitable result of the complexity of the Troupe's digital infrastructure.

But as the weeks dragged on, a distinct pattern began to emerge. The seemingly innocuous disruptions coincided precisely with the Troupe's face-to-face meetings and operations. And each time they occurred, just a little bit more data was quietly siphoned away into the ether - personnel files, coded transmission logs, details on upcoming jobs.

At first, the leaks were so minute as to be almost imperceptible. But compounded over time, they formed an insidious trail of digital breadcrumbs leading straight to the heart of the Troupe's clandestine activities.

Shalnark was the first to realize something was wrong, his keen eyes for patterns and minutiae detecting the faint specters moving through the network. He ran a battery of diagnoses and security sweeps, but could find no obvious points of infiltration, no gaping system vulnerabilities to explain the slow bleed of information.

Frowning, he made a subtle adjustment to the Troupe's firewalls, adding an extra layer of encryption to the data streams. If this was the work of an outside hacker, he was determined to fortify their defenses.

But the next convening of the Troupe saw another infinitesimal data leak, this time compounded by a more overt disruption - a brief negation of the network's security protocols, just long enough to expose their meeting's coordinates to the world before the systems snapped back into lock-down.

Cursing under his breath, Shalnark realized they were dealing with something more insidious than a run-of-the-mill cyber attack. This was the work of a skilled technician, a digital specter with the know-how to bypass even the Troupe's most stringent security measures.

A hacker. And a formidable one at that.

Over the following months, the pattern repeated itself with clockwork regularity.

Each time the hacker struck, it was like a digital harbinger - a crimson warning flare cutting through the night, exposing the Phantom Troupe's operations to scrutiny before they could batten down the hatches.

No matter how diligently Shalnark fortified their systems, the hacker always found a way to slither through, leaving just enough of a trail to compromise their next rendezvous point or heist location. Within hours of detecting the breach, encrypted coordinates and mission files would be radiating outwards across the digital ether like a neon signpost to the Troupe's whereabouts.

Curses and rebukes followed in the wake of each incident as the Troupe was forced to abandon meticulously laid plans at the last moment. Tempers frayed as vital targets were lost, lucrative scores forced to be postponed or scrapped entirely due to the consistent risk of exposure and interference.

The effect on morale was insidious. An air of tension and distrust began to pervade the Troupe's ranks. Suspicions were raised, allegiances questioned as each member wondered if there might be a mole in their midst feeding information to this unseen cyber adversary. The group's well-oiled machine of criminality ground to a halting, stuttering cadence as the constant disruptions took their toll.

Through it all, Shalnark became increasingly obsessed with his game of digital cat-and-mouse against the shadowy hacker. He rabbited down every cyber-trail, exhausted entire networks of resources, and still the intruder always danced just one step ahead of his pursuits. The futility bred a simmering frustration that he struggled to keep contained around his Troupe brothers.

Shalnark's skills with data systems and encryption were unparalleled, and to have them so flayed and exposed by this unknown factor needled at his professional pride. With each defeat, each near-miss at cracking the hacker's stratagem, a bitterness took root - festering into an almost singular obsession.

As the months ground on with no reprieve from the hacker's relentless cyber intrusions, Shalnark's attitude towards his digital foe underwent a palpable shift. What had begun as a sense of competitive respect and professional curiosity about their skills slowly contracted into something more bitter and resentful.

No longer was the hacker just an abstract technical challenge to be solved and neutralized. Now they had become Shalnark's personal white whale, a nemesis whose very existence mocked his abilities as the Phantom Troupe's cyber warfare specialist. With each fruitless lead and dead-end data trail, his obsession with unmasking their identity took on an increasingly personal dimension.

He saw traces of the hacker's work everywhere - in the stuttering lag of an encrypted video feed, the garbled fragments of a disrupted call. Always just ephemeral glimpses of a digital specter staying maddeningly out of reach. Shalnark's sleep became fitful, his waking hours consumed by the all-encompassing Need to solve this puzzle and expose the human factor behind the ones and zeroes.

The other members of the Troupe gave him a wide berth during this period, sensing the rising volatility in their comrade as his quarry continued to elude him. Only Chrollo dared approach Shalnark about the intensifying situation - and his words carried the unmistakable timbre of an ultimatum.

"This has gone on for too long," the Troupe's leader stated flatly during one particularly heated convening. They had just abandoned yet another heist after the coordinates leaked mere hours before the operation. "The hacker has become a liability we cannot tolerate any further."

Shalnark opened his mouth to object, but Chrollo raised a quieting hand.

"Find them," he said, his voice deceptively calm but laced with undercurrents of menace. "Use whatever means are required, but bring this to an end. The Troupe's resources are at your disposal."

It was not a request, but a command from the one man whose authority within the group was absolute. Shalnark could only nod tightly and set his jaw in grim determination.

No more games. No more playing defensive cyber games. It was time to take the offensive and hunt this ghostly intruder into the cold, harsh light of reality.

Shalnark initiated his most intensive manhunt yet, systematically dismantling encrypted networks and tracing fragmented data signatures across a labyrinth of proxy servers and dark web portals. He called in every favor owed, diverting the Troupe's vast resources towards isolating and triangulating the physical location from which the hacker's intrusions originated.

Weeks of effort finally paid off when Shalnark managed to trace a unique system signature to its source - a distinct set of geographic coordinates in a densely populated urban city center. Not even bothering to notify the rest of the Troupe, Shalnark grabbed his gear and set off to finally, ultimately, confront the entity that had tormented him for so long.

His fingers were steepled and expression darkly focused as the city's skyline came into view outside his car window. At long last, the hacker would be exposed and whatever drove them to carry out this endless campaign of cyber warfare against the Phantom Troupe would be excised.

One way, or another, tonight would see this chapter brought to a decisive close.

His footsteps were silent as he ascended the stairwell and made his way down the dreary hallway to the apartment indicated by his tracer.

Shalnark stepped across the threshold, ears pricked for any sound of movement from within the dimly lit interior. But the apartment appeared deserted, a simple living space with minimal furnishings. His brow furrowed slightly as he advanced further inside, perplexed by the apparent lack of activity.

That's when he noticed the open doorway leading to what appeared to be a bedroom area. And through that open doorway, he caught a glimpse of tousled bedsheets...and you.

You were seated cross-legged amidst the rumpled blankets, apparently just rousing from slumber. Shalnark's breath caught in his throat as he took in your disheveled appearance - clad in nothing more than an oversized shirt that rode up to mid-thigh, exposing an enticing expanse of leg and a pair of panties which did not do its intended purpose of obscuring your modesty.

Your eyes, still heavy-lidded with the haze of sleep, nonetheless snapped to sharp attention at the sound of his footsteps. In one lithe movement, you were on your feet, shoulders set in a subtly defiant line as you regarded the intruder.

"Well, well," you murmured, giving Shalnark an appraising look that somehow made him feel briefly self-conscious. "The infamous Shalnark of the Phantom Troupe. To what do I owe this rude awakening?"

Shalnark found himself momentarily thrown by your provocative state of undress. He had been prepared for any number of scenarios - from a shadowy hacker's lair bristling with cyber weaponry to an ambush by hired muscle. But this? This beautiful woman regarding him with a mixture of defiance and amusement in your heavy-lidded eyes? It wrong-footed him in a way he hadn't anticipated.

Rallying his composure, Shalnark allowed his gaze to brazenly trail over the bare expanse of your thighs before lifting to meet your challenging stare. "I must admit, you're not quite what I pictured," he said, taking a slow step further into the bedroom. "Though I can't deny the view is...enticing."

One finely sculpted eyebrow arched upwards at his suggestive tone. "Is that so?" you replied, clearly unfazed by his attempt to wrongfoot you. "And just what were you picturing when you decided to violate a young woman's privacy in the middle of the night?"

Shalnark felt the faintest prick of heat entering his cheeks at your words. Clearly you weren't going to make this easy on him. "Don't play coy," he said, his voice lowering an octave. "We both know exactly why I'm here...ghost."

The endearment, laden with faint derision, rolled off his tongue. For months now, you had been the enigmatic presence haunting the Troupe's systems - this maddeningly elusive "ghost in the machine" tormenting them with your formidable hacking skills. But now, finally, Shalnark had cornered his digital quarry.

"Ah, so you figured it out," you said lightly, as if discussing something as mundane as the weather. Distractingly, you reached up to try and smother a yawn, causing your shirt to ride even higher.

Shalnark's eyes briefly tracked the motion before snapping back to your face, realizing you were deliberately trying to chip away at his eroded calm.

"Don't get cocky, ghost," he growled, mouth twisting in a fractional smirk. "You and I both know you're out of your depth here. So why don't we drop the games and you tell me what sort of suicide mission compelled you to gain the Troupe's...undivided attention."

Shalnark studied you for a moment, taking in the defiant set of your jaw and the way you steadily held his intense gaze. Despite the provocative situation, it was clear you weren't some wide-eyed innocent easily cowed or seduced. A formidable mind lurked behind that beautiful facade.

Perhaps a change of tactic was required.

"You're good, I'll give you that," he said finally, taking a couple of slow steps towards the bed. "Damn good, in fact. To slip past my security safeguards again and again...it's frankly impressive."

You said nothing, merely watched him approach with eyes narrowed in wariness. Shalnark's lips quirked upwards.

"I have to wonder what could have motivated such extraordinary efforts to gain the Phantom Troupe's attention," he continued conversationally. "Unless of course your true aim was to impress us with those prodigious skills of yours."

Halting at the foot of the bed, Shalnark braced one knee against the mattress, leaning towards you with a slow, predatory smile.

"I can assure you, ghost...you've more than proven your bona fides. The question is - what do you intend to do with such talents?" His voice dropped to a low purr. "Because I can think of several...tempting propositions for someone of your unique capabilities."

Your eyesbore into his, clear and unwavering, as Shalnark extended the unspoken offer to join the ranks of the Troupe. To gain all the power, resources, and reputation that came with being one of the world's most feared criminal empires. All you had to do was take his hand.

To Shalnark's surprise, you suddenly threw back your head and laughed - a rich, full-bodied sound devoid of any mirth.

"You Troupe boys really are delusional, aren't you?" you chuckled, the sound sending a frisson of surprise through Shalnark. "Did you really think a few cheap innuendos would be enough to sway me to your precious little gang's cause?"

Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, you rose in one lithe motion until you were mere inches from Shalnark's face, close enough for him to feel the warmth of your exhaled breaths.

"Let me be perfectly clear," you murmured, so close now that your lips almost brushed against his with each enunciated syllable. "I don't give a solitary fuck about your vaunted reputations or resources. And I certainly didn't go to all this effort just to impress a bunch of two-bit crooks and earn a tacky tattoo."

Shalnark felt his jaw tense at the open disdain in your tone, the utter dismissal of the fearsome credibility the Phantom Troupe's name carried. Before he could snap a rebuttal, you reached out and traced one fingertip along the line of his neck in a dangerously intimate gesture.

"No, I had a very...personal reason for painting such a large target on your troublesome little organization's backs," you breathed, your touch a delicious torment of physical proximity without release. "And I won't stop, I won't rest, until my goal is achieved. No matter who or what tries to get in my way."

With that final veiled promise, you pulled away from Shalnark and retreated a step, eyes glittering with a mixture of challenge and something else he couldn't put a name to.

"So I hope your Troupe masters are ready," you said flatly. "Because this is just the opening salvo. The game's only just begun."

Shalnark stared at you for a long moment, feeling a strange mixture of aggravation and reluctant intrigue. Your defiant rejection of his overtures had stung his pride, but he found himself perversely captivated by the fiery spirit blazing behind those beautiful eyes.

"You talk a good game, ghost," he said finally, recovering some of his usual cockiness. "But do you really think taunting the Phantom Troupe is a wise long-term strategy? We're not the type to take such provocations lightly."

"Is that a threat?" You arched one delicate eyebrow. "My, and here I thought the fearsome Shalnark would be above such blunt intimidation tactics."

You began slowly circling around him, each unhurried step carrying you through the small bedroom space. Shalnark turned, keeping you fixed in his sights as you moved with predatory grace.

"I'm simply making sure you understand the realities of what you're getting yourself involved in," he said evenly. "The Troupe doesn't take kindly to those who make sport of undermining our operations. Eventually, this path you're on leads to only one destination."

"And I'm sure you'd just love to be the one to personally deliver me to that destination," you purred, stopping directly behind him.

Shalnark tensed as he felt the barest whisper of your breath against the back of his neck, your presence suddenly looming at his back. Slowly, almost experimentally, you reached out and traced a fingertip along the nape of his neck and up into the tousled blond hair at his hairline. He suppressed a shiver at the intimate touch.

"Tell me, Shalnark," you murmured, voice a throaty purr against his ear. "Is this the point where you try a more...physical form of persuasion? Put that famed skill against me in hopes of bending my will?"

You punctuated the daring suggestion with the slightest graze of teeth against his earlobe. This time Shalnark couldn't stop the full-body jolt that rippled through him at the electrifying gesture.

Capitalizing on his moment of discomposure, you suddenly stepped around and invaded his personal space, leaving barely an inch between your bodies. He could feel the heat radiating off you, feel the hardened peaks of your breasts against his chest, smell the faint scent of soap and something muskier underlying it all.

"Because I have to warn you," you breathed, craning your neck to bring your lips tantalizingly close to his. "I don't break easily for anyone. No matter how...skilled their methods of interrogation might be."

The suggestive emphasis in your tone was unmistakable. As were the sudden fireworks of mutual awareness now crackling between your body and Shalnark's like an unstable current.

He could play coy and demure all he wanted, but you had clearly sensed the undercurrent of physical attraction simmering beneath the surface of his bravado. And you were expertly using it against him, stoking that heated tension with a deftly applied mix of coy words and distractingly intimate gestures.

For a moment, Shalnark was rendered speechless and unnervingly flustered by your brazen tactics. He opened his mouth, struggling for a witty rejoinder or cutting remark to undermine your dominance of the situation.

But you merely watched him with open amusement, waiting with the overpowering confidence of one wholly in control and unafraid of any retaliation. Finally, Shalnark managed a slightly strained chuckle.

"You're playing a very dangerous game, ghost," he said, allowing some of the unveiled hunger shading his voice. "And I do so love games with...high stakes."

Slowly, deliberately, he lifted one hand and traced the curve of your jaw with just enough pressure to tilt your face upwards towards his. Your gazes locked, pure molten irises against flinty steel, as he dipped his head fractionally closer and inhaled your intoxicating scent.

"Perhaps it's time I showed you just how skilled I can be at...extracting what I want," he purred, allowing his lips to skim featherlight against the sensitive hollow beneath your ear. "The hard way can be so very...invigorating."

You tensed infinitesimally against him, the only outward sign of the effect his seductive words were having. Shalnark smirked darkly and doubled down, lips brushing your neck as he murmured, "I do hope you're...prepared, ghost. Because this is your last chance to back down from the game you've started."

#hxh x reader smut #hxh smut #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter x reader smut #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x hunter smut #shalnark #shalnark x reader #shalnark smut #shalnark x reader smut

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haggishlyhagging · 1 year ago

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“By 1900 child mortality was already declining—not because of anything the medical profession had accomplished, but because of general improvements in sanitation and nutrition. Meanwhile the birthrate had dropped to an average of about three and a half; women expected each baby to live and were already taking measures to prevent more than the desired number of pregnancies. From a strictly biological standpoint then, children were beginning to come into their own.

Economic changes too pushed the child into sudden prominence at the turn of the century. Those fabled, pre-industrial children who were "seen, but not heard," were, most of the time, hard at work—weeding, sewing, fetching water and kindling, feeding the animals, watching the baby. Today, a four-year-old who can tie his or her own shoes is impressive. In colonial times, four-year-old girls knitted stockings and mittens and could produce intricate embroidery; at age six they spun wool. A good, industrious little girl was called "Mrs." instead of "Miss" in appreciation of her contribution to the family economy: she was not, strictly speaking, a child.

But when production left the houschold, sweeping away the dozens of chores which had filled the child's day, childhood began to stand out as a distinct and fascinating phase of life. It was as if the late Victorian imagination, still unsettled by Darwin's apes, suddenly looked down and discovered, right at knee-level, the evolutionary missing link. Here was the pristine innocence which adult men romanticized, and of course, here, in miniature, was the future which today's adult men could not hope to enter in person. In the child lay the key to the control of human evolution. Its habits, its pastimes, its companions were no longer trivial matters, but issues of gravest importance to the entire species.

This sudden fascination with the child came at a time in American history when child abuse—in the most literal and physical sense—was becoming an institutional feature of the expanding industrial economy. Near the turn of the century, an estimated 2,250,000 American children under fifteen were full-time laborers—in coal mines, glass factories, textile mills, canning factories, in the cigar industry, and in the homes of the wealthy—in short, wherever cheap and docile labor could be used. There can be no comparison between the conditions of work for a farm child (who was also in most cases a beloved family member) and the conditions of work for industrial child laborers. Four-year-olds worked sixteen-hour days sorting beads or rolling cigars in New York City tenements; five-year-old girls worked the night shift in southern cotton mills.

So long as enough girls can be kept working, and only a few of them faint, the mills are kept going; but when faintings are so many and so frequent that it does not pay to keep going, the mills are closed.

These children grew up hunched and rickety, sometimes blinded by fine work or the intense heat of furnaces, lungs ruined by coal dust or cotton dust—when they grew up at all. Not for them the "century of the child," or childhood in any form:

The golf links lie so near the mill

That almost every day

The laboring children can look out

And see the men at play.

Child labor had its ideological defenders: educational philosophers who extolled the lessons of factory discipline, the Catholic hierarchy which argued that it was a father's patriarchal right to dispose of his children's labor, and of course the mill owners themselves. But for the reform-oriented, middle-class citizen the spectacle of machines tearing at baby flesh, of factories sucking in files of hunched-over children each morning, inspired not only public indignation, but a kind of personal horror. Here was the ultimate "rationalization" contained in the logic of the Market: all members of the family reduced alike to wage slavery, all human relations, including the most ancient and intimate, dissolved in the cash nexus. Who could refute the logic of it? There was no rationale (within the terms of the Market) for supporting idle, dependent children. There were no ties of economic self-interest to preserve the family. Child labor represented a long step toward that ultimate "anti-utopia" which always seemed to be germinating in capitalist development: a world engorged by the Market, a world without love.”

-Barbara Ehrenreich and Deirdre English, For Her Own Good: 150 Years of the Experts’ Advice to Women

#barbara ehrenreich #Deirdre English #child labor #capitalism #patriarchy #amerika #industrial revolution

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seat-safety-switch · 2 years ago

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Intellectual property is the currency of the modern age. If you’ve got a brand, a mascot, a cute little doodle you did one day while you were bored at work, it is completely essential that your rights as a creator must be protected. Unfortunately, the way that those rights are protected is that you have to sell it to a giant corporation, which jealously hoards it for centuries after your death. Are you gonna get paid, at least? If you’re lucky, I guess.

If you have a regular job, like zookeeper or assassin, it’s unlikely that the bourgeoisie will continue to exploit you after your death. A dead zookeeper is only good for at most one more tiger feeding, for instance. Corporate artists are going to be admired, emulated, and profiteered from until the sun burns out or future executives figure out that they were weirdly and specifically hyper-racist after all.

Ever since there has been a creative industry, there have been rich people milling around the artists, trying to turn the droppings of their diseased minds into trading cards that can be offered to the shadowy beast that is global commerce. Back in medieval times, this was almost a friendly relationship: a rich person would come by, and pay you to make some shit out of marble. Chances are, they’d stop paying you and then have you murdered as you approached completion of the project, which is why artists evolved the ability to procrastinate, but that’s a whole other story.

Nowadays, making copies of something is a lot easier than going out and hiring a bunch of teenagers who can carve a replica of a marble statue. And that’s got the rich-person class in a tizzy. What does it mean to own some cool shit, if the person who made it can just make a bunch of copies of it and give it away for free to whoever asks for it? How can they be expected to derive some genuine, authentic joy from what is basically a selfless act of creative expression, without getting to charge money for it in all perpetuity? These are the questions of our age, but only because the rich people also control the machine that makes all the questions.

What’s the moral of the story, if you are a creative person selling your efforts to an enormous corporation? You have a duty to be super weird. Whatever is wrong with your brain is not wrong with the profiteers’, according to society, which means you have to be a little more creative in your subversive acts. The ideal goal is to render the thing unusable, like a General Motors product, after at most one generation of humanity. Not only are you getting revenge, but you’re helping future generations: they won’t have to write a sequel to your hit franchise, and can instead make weird shit of their own.

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fatehbaz · 7 months ago

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They’ve built a “Great Wheel” on the Seattle waterfront [...].

The small timber village became a military outpost in the Puget Sound War [...], [and] soon evolved into a trade gateway, with timber tailings and other industrial trash from Henry Yesler’s mill used to fill in the marshlands [...], atop which migrant laborers raised tents and shanties [...] now working to feed raw materials into the furnaces of the Second Industrial Revolution burning in the East. [...] The first nationwide strike ripped across the country’s railways in 1877, but in Seattle the unrest took on a grim character, as thousands of unemployed white workers rioted against their Chinese counterparts [...]. Meanwhile, [...] local elites rebuilt [...] downtown [...] from scratch, hosting the tallest building on the West Coast alongside other new constructs [fueled] with money gleaned from the supply chains linking eastern capital to Alaskan gold. [...] Today the city - again rebuilt [...] - is seen as one of the primary beneficiaries of the “Fifth” Industrial Revolution in information technology, outshone only by California’s Silicon Valley. [...] The digital was increasingly thought of as somehow "immaterial," sustained by intellectual labor more than physical toil [...].

Silicon Valley myths of [...] "immaterial" labor disguise a more gruesome dynamic in which growing segments of the global labor force are being deprived even of the basic brutality of the wage, instead forced out into growing rings of slums, prisons, and global wastelands. [...]

---

Perched alongside a downtown business corridor [...], Seattle's Great Wheel seems to peer out over [...] [the] prophesied “cooperative commons,” an infotech metropolis abutting the beauty of an evergreen arcadia. But travel below Seattle’s cluster of infotech industries and the image appears much the same as that of a hundred years prior - a trade gateway, squeezing value from supply chains by selling transport and logistical support. The southern stretch of the metropolis bears little resemblance to the revitalized urban core of the city proper. Instead of the “cognitive labor” of Microsoft, it is defined instead by the cold calculation of companies like UPS, founded in Seattle when the city was one link in a colonial supply chain built first for timber, then Alaskan gold, then World War. [...]

In south Seattle, this logistics empire takes the form of faceless warehouses, food processing facilities, container trucks, rail yards, and industrial parks concentrated between two seaports, an international airport, three major interstates, and railroads traveling in all directions. Meanwhile, the poor have been priced out of the old inner city, moving southward [...]. [T]hey can be found staffing the airport and the rail yards, hauling cargo in and out of two the major seaports, loading boxes in warehouses [...]. And, beyond them, the shadow stretches out to Washington’s rural hinterlands where migrant laborers staff a new boom in agriculture and raw materials [...] - and further still into America’s long-depressed interior, where the Great Wheel meets its opposite: Memphis, the FedEx logistics city, watched over by a great black pyramid [the infamous Bass Pro Shop pyramid]. [...]

Every Seattle is capable of creating an eco-friendly, “cooperative commonwealth” tended by apps and algorithms only insofar as there is a Memphis that can provide human workers to sort the packages, a Shanghai to build the containers that carry them, and a Shenzhen to solder together the circuits of the machines that govern it all.

---

All text above by: Phil A. Neel. "The Great Wheel". Brooklyn Rail. April 2015. Published online at: brooklynrail.org/2015/04/field-notes/the-great-wheel. [Bold emphasis and some paragraph breaks/contractions added by me. Text within brackets added by me for clarity. Presented here for commentary, teaching, personal use, criticism purposes.]

#ecology #multispecies #abolition #imperial #colonial #edwardian #temporality #hinterlands #tidalectics #archipelagic thinking #intimacies of four continents #caribbean #carceral geography

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darklydeliciousdesires · 6 months ago

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Improper - A Luca Changretta/Reader One Shot Story.

Ahhh, this took me back to my youth, besties, writing the experience of a first time with a first love! So yes, as I mentioned yesterday, this features a young!Luca, he and reader both losing their virginity to one another ahead of their wedding. Because they're naughty. Haha! Enjoy :)

Words - 3,750

Warnings - Smut below the cut, minors DNI!

He was always the handsomest boy in school, with the darkest hair and the most irresistible, peridot flecked eyes, the Italian blood running through his veins giving him something extra where appearance was concerned. Nobody else looked anything like Luca Changretta. He was tall, too. Even at twelve when you both left the classroom behind, but god, what four years did to that handsome boy, turning him into the most gorgeous young man you’d ever laid eyes upon.

He knew it, too. Knew what he had. Knew he looked more like a twenty-year-old than a kid of sixteen. Knew there were grown women in their early twenties who – as they put it - ‘wouldn’t half give that Changretta lad a run for his money, I can tell you!’ as they viewed him with lust in their eyes, their improper thoughts spoken in hushed whisper. After all, for a lady to speak that is wholly uncouth, but you could scarcely blame them. He is magnificently handsome.

Luca doesn’t want them, though. His desire only has eyes for one. You.

Mills & Floss is a small factory operation right on the boundary between Small Heath and Bordesley Green, where you’ve found work as a sewing machine operative. From seven in the morning until four in the afternoon, your fingers feed delicate fabrics into a sewing machine. Curtains, tablecloths, cushion covers, everything relating to home furnishings. It’s tedious work, but it’s a wage, a few vital shillings to go towards your mother’s pot at the end of every week to pay your keep.

In your household, you either worked or you married. The latter was going to happen, too, your parents and Luca’s arranging everything, a summer wedding scheduled for that year of 1896. With just weeks to wait, it will be simply wonderful; no longer seeing him under the supervision of a chaperone, free to do whatever you want with the boy who has enamoured you completely.

What you want above all? Well, it’s what all young people wish for secretly, beneath the veil of modesty and properness. As it turns out, you will receive it much sooner than your wedding night, too.

“’Ere! Your young man is waiting for you outside, (Y/N)!”

Your head shoots up from where you’ve been retying your bootlace, the boom of Victoria, the loudest of the sewing machine operatives reaching you from the window she peers out of. Bustling over to her side, your grin widens in an instant to see your love there, the women all cooing softly as they notice the rosy blush flushing your cheeks.

“No chaperone either, ooh! Now there’s a thing!” Elsie, a girl of your age whispers, all the women giggling.

You wave a dismissive hand. “There is bound to be one. His cousin will be milling around somewhere, he always is.” Indeed, your meetings with Luca are always supervised, that supervision usually coming in the form of both of your parents when the families meet for dinner, or Fabrizio, Luca’s cousin, who watches you both like a hawk should Luca call to court you away from either of the family homes.

Even a simple stroll around the centre of Birmingham, or a visit to the park to spectate at the band stand, and you must be escorted by a third.

It is a surprise to have your love meet you from work, even more so that when you peer into the street below, there is no sign of Fabrizio. You were expecting them both a little later to call upon you at home, Luca mentioning something about a walk to the local boating lake.

“He’s probably gone to buy cigarettes.” You decree, feeling a little uncomfortable about the connotations of it, your love waiting for you with no chaperone in sight. What would people think? Moving away, you collect your little lacy shawl and wrap it around your shoulders, lifting your dress as you take the stairs down to the bottom floor, past the rows of sewing machines now come to a still, the factory about to close for the day.

“Afternoon,” Luca greets you with casually, chewing on a matchstick nonchalantly, removing it to take your hand and kiss it. “You look beautiful, as always.”

Oh, his charm. He’d be insufferable with that little slither of arrogance, if he wasn’t so damned cute with it, too. It's the little hint of boy there still lurking within the tall, gorgeous young man that sets your heart to flutter every single time.

“Thank you,” you smile, “and you appear to be missing a cousin.”

The way his lips curl into a grin has your insides melting. He never fails to make you swoon. “I am. Do you want to know what else I’m missing?” he asks, loosely draping his arms around your waist.

“Go on,” you urge.

He leans to your ear, fingers teasing a little circle over the boning of your bodice. “Parents at my house. They’re out until later tonight, Angel is god knows where, so I have an empty house and beautiful girl I want to take back to enjoy it in.”

Your gasp has him laughing softly. “Luca! You don’t mean...”

“I do.” He continues to laugh as you take his arm, walking away from the factory. “You need to stop with that prim and proper demeanour. When Fabrizio left us alone last time, the way you kissed me said loud and clear exactly what you wanted.”

You can’t help but tease a little in the face of his cockiness. “And what do I want, Luca?”

“Me,” he begins, leaning in close, “naked against you, pushing my nice, thick cock right up into your...”

“That’s enough!” A slap hits his chest, your love laughing loudly. “At least in public.”

Those words put a definite spring in his step as you walk towards the horse tram stop. Luca’s house isn’t too far, but with an added urgency to return, a faster means of transportation than mere feet upon cobblestones is required. He pays for you both while you greet the two beautiful, black shire horses with a stroke upon their velvety muzzles, climbing aboard to sit at the rear.

The tram moves off after a few more people have climbed aboard, and for the entire duration of the journey, you are beside yourself with nerves and excitement in equal measures. Sex before marriage is scandalous, shocking behaviour, definitely not to be partaken of. Your love is not the type of man to be so dissuaded, though. He’s rebellious through and through, and that in itself makes it all the more exciting.

You’re about to go and partake in something very enjoyable; the reality that you both know you shouldn’t be doing it only adds to the thrill. As does the fact that he sits with his hand rested upon your thigh, fingertips gently squeezing.

“I can’t wait to take this dress off of you, peel away your underwear and kiss you all over, my sweet amore,” he whispers, kissing the side of your neck, making you shiver as you try not to grin. There’s an older woman sitting nearby, looking at you both with utter distain for such public displays of affection. “And I do mean all over.”

To kiss him right now would be enough, but hearing how he wants to place his mouth all over you has heat gently misting your skin, the confidence he shows over what’s about to happen adding to the heady rush. He’s never done it before, or at least if he has, he fibbed to you when he said that he hadn’t.

He speaks with all the confidence of a man who has enjoyed a woman, though, and goodness how it turns your senses inside out. It makes you feel daring and full of zest, enough to take your fan from the small bag you carry and flick it open, giving yourself a liberal wafting before holding it in front of your face, boldness ensnaring you, pulling him into a heated kiss behind it.

Those kisses have you tingling between your thighs, his tongue nudging and swirling with yours, pulling away from him before it gets a little too heated. You shan’t disgrace yourself publicly, although the move did attract a few negative eyes. All except for one lady, surprisingly the most elderly upon the horse tram, who chuckles to herself as you blush a little.

“Oh, ‘tis young love!” she admonishes the whispers of the other passengers. “Leave them be, for heaven’s sake!” Shaking her head, she turns to you. “These pompous women here, acting as if they never kissed a boy behind a fan. I certainly did when I was a girl.” She then stands, smoothing her billowing skirt, ready to alight. “Enjoy your afternoon, my darlings.”

“We will.” Luca chimes brightly, nudging your side. Oh, he truly is pure devilment. Those women still view him with utter distain, your love smirking, eyeing them back with defiance until they look away. They’ve picked the wrong lad here, if they wished for him to feel shame. You’re quite certain that Luca doesn’t know the meaning of the word.

Four stops later and you are climbing from the tram, taking his arm once more and walking a little further up Coventry Road, towards the townhouse the Changretta family call home. It is a stark difference to your own residence, your family not poor but not as wealthy as his, your home above the pub your parents run much less spacious. Luca even has his own bedroom, a foreign concept to you entirely, having to share with your younger sisters.

That bedroom is where he takes you after entering the empty house, removing your boots at the door as per Luca’s mother’s wishes, passed on through him. The anticipation ramps up with every step you take up the steep staircase, your heart thrumming as the nervousness of it winds through your belly.

Entering the room, you glance around, taking in your surroundings. The bed is actually a double, Luca having told you that already, that he enjoys spreading out as he sleeps so nagged his mother into it. It’ll be coming with you to your new home once you are married, along with all the dark, carved wooden furniture. Vincente and Audrey have been very generous in purchasing a little back-to-back for you to begin married life in, and you cannot wait until you are carried over the threshold in your wedding dress.

The only dress on your mind at the moment is the one your love’s hands smooth over as he stands behind you, fingers pattering over the fastening of your bodice as you remove your shawl, feeling the lacings binding you tightly begin to loosen. He pauses, and you feel him stiffen a little. He’s never undressed somebody before, of course.

Turning to him, you reach behind yourself, loosening the fastenings further, allowing you to wiggle yourself free of the tight restrictions, pulling the ribbon that ties your underskirt as well, the masses of fabric pooling in a froth around your ankles as you step from them. His eyes ink with lust at seeing you there before him only in undergarments, your hands still toying, unhooking your brassiere before revealing your breasts to his hungry eyes.

“I think the rest should be easy enough for you to take off yourself,” you speak, reaching for him.

His hands roam over your skin for the first time, and your heart pangs a little to feel them tremble against you, a little slip in the bravado he’s show so far. Unless those shudders are excited energy. Perhaps a little of both as he steps nearer, nuzzling you softly before his mouth covers yours.

The kisses you share are urgent, but not frantic, building steadily as you move with him to the bed. He sheds his jacket, your hands taking up the task of undoing his tie and shirt, the movements all a little awkward as he removes your undergarments. Seeing what lies beneath his clothes is a sight that you shall never forget, a beautiful, lean body ridged with slender muscles, smatterings of dark hair flecking his chest and belly, his light olive skin celestial soft and blemish free.

Your hands explore him, nails softly grazing, your lips pressing kisses against his chest. His skin is hot, sumptuous in feel, shaky hands wandering as you finally dare to lower your gaze. Oh, wow. So that’s what a cock looks like, swollen and hard, begging for your hand as it bobs a little. You’ve no clue what on earth to do with it, but the grasp and gentle tug as your fingers close around it pulls a soft groan from him.

He remains standing as you seat yourself on the edge of his bed, your hand running from the base to tip of him, tongue licking over the line of dark hair running down from his navel. A shy smile spreads across your mouth, tongue circling his navel, watching the way his hips tremble. You have him at your mercy, and the brand-new sensation of sexual power over him is a strong current that runs right through you.

“If you wanted to put your mouth where your hand is, I wouldn’t stop you,” he speaks, voice deepened a few octaves, that gravelled rasp making your cunt twitch.

Humming a chuckle, you flicker a lick over the head of him, his breath catching in his throat. “I bet you wouldn’t.” Participation is learning, you figure, guiding that silky skin covered steel to your lips and closing them around the head, sucking gently, his knees almost buckling. A little more pressure has him panting, his hands tangling in your hair, pulling the combs that keep it in its neat updo free to tumble, groaning as he watches himself vanish in your mouth.

“Fuck,” he grits, the cuss making your insides tighten pleasantly, “that’s so fucking good.” His praise spurs you, pausing to trail your tongue all over his hardness, your nails gently grazing his chest. You can feel his heart pounding hard, excitement that you are the one evoking such tingling over your bones as your eyes find his.

“I love the way it feels in my mouth. It’s bloody beautiful. I’ve heard the girls at work call them ugly, but yours isn’t.” You praise, licking the head with a little flicker, his moans deepening so much, you do it again. Trembles wrack his muscles, goose pimples rising over his skin, his hips beginning to sway back and forth, cusses falling from his mouth upon every groan until he pulls away suddenly, pushing you back onto the bed.

“Feels too good. Don't want to be spent before it’s even begun.” His lips meet yours, his body pinning you down into the bed, the heat of his skin wickedly beautiful as it presses to your nakedness. Hands and mouths wander, the exploration so shiny and new, flocks of butterflies blooming into flight in your belly, his mouth delivering keen kisses to your neck.

You inhale a sharp breath to feel the heat of his mouth suck upon your nipple, Luca shifting off you a little, access to stroke your body granted as his hand lowers, your thighs parting. That first stroke through your folds causes the breath to hitch in your throat, his lips finding yours, both panting against the kisses you share. You almost feel shame at how wet you are, a little embarrassed at the keenness your body shows, but the way his fingers feel as they glide over the silky petals of your cunt quickly diminish that.

He plays with you gently, each stroke lowering, a finger breaching you. You feel beautiful to him, slick and hot, heavenly upon the inside as your walls pulse upon his finger, adding a second, slowly pushing them back and forth. The pleasure of it darts hot beneath your skin, the sensation of a part of him within you, the intimacy of it, stroking his face as your hips buck up against his touch. On instinct, his fingers curl a little, and it sends lightning flickering up your spine, whimpering as he kisses your neck, his mouth descending as his body shifts down the bed.

His eyes shine with arousal as he finally reaches your sex, his fingers replaced, steering a firm lick between your folds. You whimper, that first contact so good, your legs close tightly around his head.

“Sorry,” you offer as he pushes them apart, Luca laughing quietly against the slick wet of you.

“At least I know you like it.” There’s an upside to being clamped between two thighs, you suppose. Another lick gilds you, sends warmth rushing over your skin, especially when you feel his tongue nudge at your little bud, your back arching as you gasp.

“There,” you pant, practically writhing before him. “Oh, right there!”

He seeks it, the tip of his tongue snaking back and forth, smiling as your reaction delights his ears, those sweet moans and cries like celestial music. He can’t get enough of how you feel against his mouth, the taste of you intoxicating as he laves thirstily, sucking, kissing your tender nub, tongue flicking over you, your nails trawling his scalp as he gives you exactly what you crave. The nectar of your cunt floods his tongue, and it makes his heart skip a beat, the intimacy of it, how much it arouses him to have his mouth all over your most sacred of places, the noises it draws from you making his cock throb.

“You taste beautiful.” he murmurs, arms winding beneath your thighs, gripping them, treating your aqueous slit to long, firm licks, evoking quivers that shiver you from head to toe. He grants no clemency from the hypnotic beat of his tongue over your bud, tasting your hot, pink folds with swirls and flickers as you gush onto his lips.

You twitch against each lick, every carefully administered circling of his hungry tongue, your hands gripping his slender shoulders, your hips keening against the utter glory of what his mouth conjures. He draws cusses from you as you pant, your body spasming so hard as he begins to suck your bud that you’re unsure if your response is of pulling away or shunting closer, crying out as you’re eaten with ruinous gusto.

He’s certainly thriving on doing this, and lord, how it shows.

He has you beginning to spark against each well-placed lick, his mouth making you tighten, your walls in full clench, only sated by the arrival of his fingers into your slick, raking firmly, a smile playing his lips as he watches you tremble.

The heat of his mouth has you literally melting for him, Luca panting against your dewy folds as he assails your clit with firm circles, driving out pleasure from the very root of you, skittering through you as your hips purl and flex, the waves of your release washing over you ceaselessly, leaving you a panting, shaking wreck. So, that’s what it feels like to come for somebody. Goodness, it felt like absolutely nothing else you could ever compare it to.

Pulling his head from between your legs, you fight for breath, your love leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses up your body until he’s claiming your lips once more. Reaching between you, he positions his cock at your still fluttering opening, nuzzling you sweetly, pushing until he slips in with ease.

Your body tenses for a second, expecting pain. You’ve heard that the first time hurts, but you feel absolutely nothing even remotely close to discomfort at taking him inside you, stroking one another tenderly as you kiss, your mutual gaze so loving and fond.

“Ahhh, fuck. You feel incredible,” he groans, stroking your face. “Does it feel okay? Not hurting you, am I, amore?”

His care touches you deeply, running your fingers through his soft, dark hair. “No, you feel perfect. You and your beautiful cock.” you chirp, making him laugh softly, that chuckle turning into a groan as he pushes a little deeper, filling you. The warm pool of syrupy heat bathing his cock sends little shocks skittering through him, the feel unlike anything else, ecstasy raining comets to burn his blood as those same little hails of light flicker through you.

It's a sensual, blooming rush of pleasure, your arms entwining one another, your bodies moving a little awkwardly together to begin with until the rise and fall is met with perfect sync, his mouth placing tender kisses at your neck. Every ridge of his cock scraping against your tender walls feels wickedly decadent, pleasure coiling tightly, his body quickening as you wrap your legs around his slender waist, nails digging into his back.

“Oh my god, yes, fuck me!” you wail, clutching on around him as he pounds you into the bed, head lowering to suck your nipple with a deep, gritty groan. The heat of it burns like a furnace, that pleasure winding ever tighter as you feel yourself escalating, your nails grazing down his back as your spine-melting release rushes like a spring breeze over your nerves. It’s white hot and consuming, feeling his cock twitching as his teeth clamp on your nipple and he floods your cunt with cum, leaving you dizzy and panting.

It feels like your entire body is a garden bursting into bloom beneath him, the sweetness of your release still tingling through you as you kiss him, feeling his cock gently twitching within the snug clasp of your sodden cunt. Oh, how you can barely wait to be his wife, and enjoy what you just did with him whenever you want to. You must admit, though, the fact that you shouldn’t have done it was half the fun of having sex with him in the first place.

Still, nothing can take the sheen of it away. That sheen lasts right up until your wedding day, hardly able to wait until he carries you across the threshold of your new home, placing you down in the lounge.

“I’ve been waiting for this,” he sighs against your neck, unfastening your wedding gown.

You can’t help a little sarcasm. “Oh yes, those three weeks truly were an eternity, weren’t they?”

“Shut up,” he chides, slapping your bum. “Of course, they were. I knew how good what I had waiting for me was.”

It’s even better the second time around.

#luca changretta fanfiction #luca changretta smut #lluca changretta x reader #luca changretta x you #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders smut #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fic #luca changretta fanfic #luca changretta fic

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valtsv · 1 year ago

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Do you have any favourite fitzier fanfics :3c

yeah alright:

to be as one is (series) by TheGoodDoctor (rating: G, T) (this one deals a lot with gender and self identity and never fails to make me smile no matter how rotten i'm feeling)

Through by robokittens (E) (one of the tags on this fic is "spiritual woundfucking" and i feel like that recommends this fic better than i can in my own words)

oh you pretty things by wildcard_47 (T) (one of many 'Francis buys James a dress' fics, but this one stood out to me because the dialogue and prose is just so thoroughly delightful to read)

The Shipmaster's Song by ripeteeth (T) (what if... we were shipwrecks at the bottom of the ocean... and we were both doomed polar explorers...)

Sunlight, sunlight, sunlight by for_autumn_i_am (E) (a 'what if Carnivale didn't go up in literal smoke' au where everything aches with the promise of future tragedy but still manages to be heartwarming)

an unexpected gift by aes3plex (G) (JFJ meets Francis' extensive family. all of this author's works are incredible but this one was my favorite, equal parts charming and heartwrenching.)

twin high maintenance machines by veganthranduil (E) (obligatory 'the one where they both have erectile dysfunction but they still try to make it work' fic; selected this one specifically for the equal parts delightfully and painfully in character dialogue.)

Swallow by Daucus (T) ('gross' intimacy my beloved. you know the scene in Princess Mononoke where San feeds Ashitaka when he's too weak to care for himself so that he'll survive and heal? well that rewired MY brain and this is the fitzier version.)

burnt-out match in a dark room by deadgreeks (T) (marriage/death parallels and the intimacy of performing someone's last funeral rites. this one's a 'keep a pack of tissues on hand just in case' one.)

singing even so by shortcrust (T) (Orpheus and Eurydice in the Arctic. had me staring blankly into space and hugging myself as if chilled for nearly an hour after i finished it.)

The Gunner's Daughter by reinetta (E) (the most gorgeously written and romantic depiction of a sadomasochistic scene i've ever had the pleasure of reading)

Da mi basia mille, deinde centum by anactoriatalksback (M) (makeout fic, but calling it a "makeout fic" is so vastly underselling this. the plot is literally "they make out", but you will be hanging on to every word and astonished by the amount of character study that the author manages to pack into that premise.)

Buried deep as you can dig inside yourself by 5runner5 (M) (PTSD recovery fic in a pre-PTSD recognition era, and by far my favorite for how honest it is about the difficult reality of communication and recovery in a relationship)

shall warmer, sweeter be by baestard (T) (a wonderful exploration of transgender identity and self-discovery that remains impressively period accurate. or: 'what if we survived the arctic and we were both girls'.)

#fitzier #i haaaaate maintagging but i might need to refer back to this

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hermmachinery · 7 months ago

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8-12T/H Feed Mill Plant Installation in Ethiopia

Ethiopia is a country where agriculture serves as a primary economic pillar, with poultry and cattle playing significant roles in agricultural production. Poultry and cattle farming are major sources of livelihood for farmers and important economic sources for many households in Ethiopia.

In Ethiopia, poultry and cattle farming are primarily concentrated in rural areas. Farmers raise chickens and cattle to meet their families' food and economic needs. Chicken meat and eggs are among the main sources of protein for the Ethiopian people, while cattle provide important products such as milk, meat, and leather.

However, despite the potential and importance of poultry and cattle farming in Ethiopia, the industry still faces several challenges, including:

1. Lack of infrastructure: Many rural areas lack adequate poultry and cattle farming infrastructure, such as feed processing plants, veterinary clinics, and refrigeration facilities, which limits the development of the industry.

2. Diseases and epidemics: The poultry and cattle farming industry is threatened by diseases and epidemics such as avian influenza and cattle plague, which have significant impacts on production and the economy.

3. Shortage of feed supply: Feed supply shortages are another challenge for Ethiopia's poultry and cattle farming industry. Farmers often face problems such as rising feed prices and unstable supply.

However, the Ethiopian government and international organizations are taking measures to support the development of poultry and cattle farming. By providing technical training, improving infrastructure, strengthening disease surveillance, and promoting farmer organizations, efforts are being made to address the challenges faced by the industry, promote its sustainable development, and provide better livelihoods and economic opportunities for farmers.

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Our company has successfully provided a poultry and cattle feed production line with a capacity of 8-12T/H for a client in Ethiopia. After over 60 days of careful preparation and production, the poultry and cattle feed production line is fully prepared for operation. This is a challenging and significant project, and at every stage, we have focused on meeting the client's needs and providing the best solutions and services.

After the successful production and delivery of the poultry feed production line, we immediately organized a team of two experienced engineers to assist the client with the installation and commissioning of the production line. These engineers not only have solid technical knowledge and rich practical experience but also excellent communication and teamwork skills, enabling them to work closely with the client to address various technical and operational issues.

During the installation process, the engineers prioritized quality and efficiency, conducted a comprehensive assessment of the site conditions, formulated detailed installation plans for the poultry and cattle feed production line and discussed with the client and liaison personnel to ensure that the installation work proceeded smoothly. For possible shortages of tools and manpower, the engineers prepared detailed lists in advance and communicated extensively with the client to ensure that the required resources were available promptly.

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It is worth mentioning that during the installation process, we actively communicated and cooperated with local governments and media. The local government attached great importance to our poultry and cattle feed production line project and organized visits to provide full recognition and approval of our technical and management capabilities. At the same time, the local media extensively covered our project, bringing more exposure and publicity to our brand and business.

Henan Herm Machinery Co., Ltd was established in 2010 and has been devoted to the research and development of Feed Mill Machinery ever since. With more than 10 years of experience, Herm® has become a leading manufacturer and supplier of animal feed machines and complete animal feed production lines, cattle feed plants, poultry feed plants, animal feed pellet production lines, etc. It always endeavored to improve the quality of products and aims to meet the new requirements of the international market.

If You Are Ready to Start a Feed Pellet Plant Business, please contact us for the feed mill machine. We Can Provide Professional Design and Comprehensive Guidance According to Your Needs. Get in touch with us now! Welcome Contact Us! Henan Herm Machinery Co., Ltd Email: [email protected] Phone/Whatsapp: 86-18037508651

#ethiopia feed mill #feed mill machine #feed pellet mill #pellet mill machine #Youtube

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enosai · 3 months ago

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I have been playing Fields of Mistria for about 100 hours so far, so here are some of my thoughts.

(no idea if any of my ideas are already going to be implemented or not)

CHARACTERS:

What I liked: every character feels and looks different. So far no romance-able option has given me the ick and are all pleasant.

What I would add:

Have non-romance-able NPC’s have heart events at 2, 4,6,8 and 10 hearts.

Celine should sell forageable seeds, but at a steep price and a limited stock. Unlocked by an event or enough hearts.

FARMING:

What I liked: Farming is simple and easy to understand. A good amount of crops with room for more.

What I would add:

Have more uses for the hoe, not really using it much.

Have Luc teach you how to make bug traps with honey and flowers. Unlocked with enough hearts with him.

Luc can teach you how to make bee hives with Ryis’ help. You will have to catch bees to craft them. Will produce honey.

Have the ax and pickax also cut weeds, so you can more precisely get rid of them. Without cutting the grass.

Will we get a greenhouse or sheds? Would be fun to have.

ANIMALS:

What I liked: Animals are good so far, the breeding for colors is fun.

What i would add:

Have Hayden sell grass starter and animal feed. Make it a friendship or story unlock. Don’t make it a skill unlock.

Have animals have better path finding so they don't go through fences or barns/coops

Have grass spread a bit faster. Also have grass-starter spread grass at an accelerated pace for a few days.

When milling animal feed you should at least get 2 bags per mix. Making the mill more viable. Make this default not a skill upgrade.

Have the grass starter make 2 starters when you mill it. Make this default not a skill upgrade.

Have a barn/coop upgrade that auto fills the feed troughs and a place to add in the feed.

CRAFTING:

What I liked: From what I have seen, a good amount of decoration, but not enough practical use that brings me back to it other than chests.

What I would add:

Give the wood crafting skill a more practical use other than decoration. Give it crafts like sprinklers, animal product machines, making grass starter at home, ect. Give it a balance of technical and decorative functions.

Give us an at home forge at some point. March and Olric could unlock the option once they both have enough hearts.

The crafting table should allow players to craft kegs to make alcohol to be later used in cooking.

Building barns or coops should reward exp to the crafting skill.

FISHING:

What I liked: Really easy to understand fishing mini game. No problems here.

What I would add:

Have Terithia teach you how to make crab pots, fish ponds/farms and fish bait once you have enough hearts with her. She can also sell them.

Terithia could sell seaweed, Jade dulse, under seaweed, sea grapes, and tide lettuce. Maybe you can unlock a heart event/ rank upgrade event where she wants to build seaweed farms and you have to bring her the 5 seaweed types and stone to make them.

Terithia could sell soy sauce.

You should be able to eat fish raw for a small stamina boost/recovery.

OTHER:

If you already have a quest reward, have the old reward change to gold.

Make the days longer by 10 minutes. I feel like I'm scrambling for time. Likewise with the day being longer, make the stamina bar bigger or tools use less stamina.

The ruins and the beach feel kinda empty. I want more to do and explore.

Home upgrades that add separate rooms, an upstairs and a basement.

An auto sorting button for chests that takes the items out of my inventory and auto sorts them into the chest.

More places to explore. The map feels smallish.

Have notifications when things are happening. Like when Friday night at the inn starts, when the Saturday market is open, or when festivals start.

Getting all buffs in a skill level should award you with using less stamina when using the tool of that skill. Such as: crafting for axes. Mining for pickaxes. Fishing for fishing rods. Archeology for shoves. Farming for watering can/hoe.

When the game becomes 1.0 we should have proper save files so we can have multiple farms/save files at once.

Make coops/ barns, trees and large objects transparent when you walk behind them.

Holding the SHIFT key makes you buy or collect 5 of an item.

Chests should be bigger at least 1.5 times the max inventory.

Too many monsters in the mine make you wait and waste time.

Allow us to sell stuff at any store.

Scrolling through your inventory should not go to the next tab, it should loop the tab. Only switching tabs when the TAB key is hit.

As your town rank goes up, wandering traders, adventurers, and visitors appear. They can sell rare or unobtainable items or have world building dialog.

Have new events happen year 2 and 3. New people, new places, new crops and items. Will make the game more interesting in the long run.

There should be an indicator saying if i have crafted/cooked something or not and how many times it has been crafted.

When buying an item(s), there should be a chest icon telling you how many of that item I have in a chest. This would be helpful for forgetful players that don't keep track of items well.

Maybe make the legendary bugs a bit easier to find. I’m only finding speedy snails.

Thanks for hearing my thoughts.

@fieldsofmistria

#enosai #fields of mistria #thoughts #steam games #early access #review

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snapthistiger · 5 months ago

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exercise 07172024

8 x 10 incline sit ups

3 x 10 pec machine

3 x 10 lat raise

3 x 10 low row

30 minutes on the step mill

3 x 10 cable press

3 x 10 cable row

worked lifeguard job 8a to noon

the gym workers and some lifeguards received Hershey kisses

work went well. watched swimmers about 3/4 of the time and cleaned the remainder of the time. between 830a and 930a, i had 30+ swimmers in the water between high school swim team and swim lessons and then children that aren't in swim lessons. one lady had 11 of her own children. two of hers were in swim lessons, the rest were in the bleachers. another lady was breast feeding her baby / doesn't bother me at all but i know some people feel otherwise.

NSV = received a compliment on my weight lifting from a guy at the gym

renewed my Louisiana state vehicle inspection

picked up milk and apples and corn chips and cookies at Kroger

top = Peanut loafing on the arm of the couch

mowed behind the fence. supposed to get a week or so of rain

hope you have a peaceful afternoon and evening..

#fitblr #exercise #rfm

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oz00ms2 · 1 year ago

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I’m like five hours late with Starbucks to this but I neeeed to ask you about your Marine Buggy au if you’re up for it. How much do you think Buggy is a formidable threat in this au and how much is him somehow stumbling into success like in canon? Not that canon Buggy can’t be a threat under the right circumstances , but one can’t deny how much is just pure unadulterated dumb luck and it’s just extremly funny to me imagining another version of him bumbling his way to the top in the same manner, but also this version of Buggy seems more competent in comparison, so I am interested in hearing how you interpret him yourself.

Also as a Shuggy appreciator I am still gonna throw out the scenario of someone promoting Firebug up a rank and adding „You really did it Sir. If those dastardly pirates set sail just an hour earlier we wouldn’t have had the menpower and that tactical advantage that helped us win that last fight . It’s a shame that red headed bastard got away, but nevertheless this is a huge success for all of us. Truly remarkable Sir! How’d you do it? How did you keep them from setting sail for so LONG? Did you mingle amongst the crew to stage a mutiny? Did you damage their boat? Sir, I would love to know Sir!“ Buggys mind flashes back to him and Shanks absolutely violently making out against the wall in Shanks cabin. „… Some tactics are better kept a secret.“ „Of course Sir! Yes Sir!“

did you bring me a coffee too? :<

ty for asking about this silly lil au.

for marine!buggy I still have to believe he falls UP as is his MO. this little dude has supernatural luck and a bizarre power over men with his strange charisma so having that transfer to this au with minor tweaks.

I like to imagine he was under tsuru's tutelage once he officially joined the navy - as it's difficult for me to see him viewing any man as worth his obedience after rogers and his broken heart. plus she has a strong immunity to flashy types and I believe she'd be capable of curbing his worst traits. buggy would need someone to speak to him like an adult, blunt and lacking the whimsical dreams of his adoptive pirates who I see as having allowed buggy too lofty of a perception on the world with his issues.

would he be a dangerous marine? probably not on his own - but being believed in and supported by structure and more talented minds - I think he'd be a crafty ballistics expert and a typically underestimated foe. very useful against run of the mill pirates and keeping shorelines safe. but against more daunting enemies he'd depend on numbers and the backup of more powerful allies (while absolutely taking the praise for "organizing the group attack". )

like, please imagine smoker being his subordinate - that is hilarious to me.

I think he'd be a successful marine with very little interest in the darker machinations of the marines because he's only here to feed his loss and be praised for doing a good job. however he would be easily manipulated by darker hearted higher ups and probably not the most reliable.

unfortunately he's still buggy at heart, still a dreamer, and if he happens to mess up when his envy of free-spirited pirates gets in the way of his job, well he gets demoted/promoted endlessly like he's riding a ferris wheel with a broken brake.

…

as for the scenario you so beautifully presented: yes absolutely 100% 10/10 no notes.

the amount of times buggy has been interrupted mid-tumble with shanks and it has been misconstrued as him "fighting epically against the horrid red hair captain" is in the hundreds at this point.

the Marines who know the truth wish they didn't and he gets his ear dragged around by tsuru as she screams at him: that's not what she meant when she said to take red hair down!!!

#shuggy #buggy the clown #captain fire bug #buggy au #red haired shanks #oz answers #shanks x buggy #marine!buggy au

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doc-pickles · 1 year ago

Text

I've got you | anthony beauvillier

summary: sequel to til forever falls apart. anthony gets traded again, but everything is different this time.

warnings: unfortunately mentions the bl*ckhawks

a/n: can someone PLEASE get this man out of Chicago?! also let's just pretend he played his first game there I know he didn't but that wasn't good for the plot. enjoy!

xoxo

nina

The light in the nursery is low, only a soft glow coming from the sound machine as you sit in the rocking chair. Hudson is curled up against your chest, the two-month-old snoozing away after finishing a feeding.

“My sweet boy, you look so much like daddy,” you whisper the words into the darkness as you hear the door to your apartment close. “Sounds like he’s home. Should we go say hi?”

Tito finds you instead, slipping quietly into the nursery and smiling as he sees you and Hudson. But the smile doesn’t reach his eyes as he kneels next to the rocking chair and settles his head onto your chest so he’s face to face with Hudson.

“What’s wrong, mon amour,” you whisper as your fingers come up to Tito’s hair and stroke slowly. “Anthony?”

“I love you,” he whispers as he looks at Hudson. “I’m sorry my job doesn’t offer any stability right now.”

You hold your breath, knowing that Anthony was on the block for a trade. You try to school your features as you look down at him and meet his eyes, “Tito?”

“I got traded to Chicago,” he whispers the words before he sighs and buries his face in your chest. “I’m so sorry, bébé.”

Your hand continues to card through Anthony’s hair as he struggles to keep himself together. You can feel his staggered breaths and the way he’s trying not to cry as he sinks into your hold. Holding him and your son close to you, you take a deep breath before speaking.

“Don’t apologize, mon amour,” you whisper as you run your fingers down his cheek. “We’ll go wherever you go. No matter what.”

Your words seem to calm Tito as his shoulders sag and he relaxes in your hold. He doesn’t move until Hudson starts to stir, tiny wails coming from him as he squirms in your arms. Tito immediately grabs for him, holding your son against his chest as he sways silently. You watch your husband and son for a moment, Tito whispering to Hud in French as he walks in slow circles around the nursery.

“Are you upset because of what happened last time you got traded?” you ask quietly. Tito stops for only a second before he continues walking, but it’s enough for you to frown as you watch him. ��Oh Anthony, you have to know that things are different now, no?”

“I-,” Tito turns to look at you with unshed tears shining in his eyes. “I almost lost everything last time. And I don’t want to be there again.”

You stand and gather Tito in your arms, careful not to squish Hudson between you, “You’re not going to lose us, you never could. Okay? No matter where you get traded to we’ll be by your side.”

The three of you stand in silence for a few more minutes, Tito’s grip on you never wavering. Despite the uncertainty ahead, you’re confident that your little family will be okay.

“Okay Hud let’s go find Daddy,” you whisper to your son who’s currently strapped to your chest with a pair of noise-cancelling headphones on. He looks adorable as he watches everyone milling around the arena, fascinated by all the activity.

Tonight is Anthony’s first game playing for Chicago and you and Hudson had come to surprise him. You’d moved into your temporary apartment two days ago and had told him that you were still settling into a routine with Hudson so you couldn’t come tonight. As you walked towards the ice though you knew you’d made the right choice in coming.

Tito is warming up in the corner, a few guys coming up and saying hello intermittently. A smile forms on your face as you watch him interact with his new teammates, his outgoing personality shining through.

“Hey 91!” you smirk as Tito whips around, a huge grin settling on his face when he spots you. “We couldn’t miss your first game!”

Your husband skates up to the glass, his smile growing as he notices Hudson looking up at him with wide eyes. When he meets your eyes your heart melts, knowing that your show of support meant so much to him.

“Love you,” Tito mouths as he presses his hand against the glass.

“Love you,” you mouth back, your hand coming up to mirror his. “Now go score us a goal!”

#anthony beauvillier #anthony beauvillier fanfic #anthony beauvillier fic #anthony beauvillier imagine #hockey fanfic #hockey imagine #tito beauvillier #nina writes

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