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mostlysignssomeportents · 2 months

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An open copyright casebook, featuring AI, Warhol and more

I'm coming to DEFCON! On Aug 9, I'm emceeing the EFF POKER TOURNAMENT (noon at the Horseshoe Poker Room), and appearing on the BRICKED AND ABANDONED panel (5PM, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01). On Aug 10, I'm giving a keynote called "DISENSHITTIFY OR DIE! How hackers can seize the means of computation and build a new, good internet that is hardened against our asshole bosses' insatiable horniness for enshittification" (noon, LVCC - L1 - HW1–11–01).

Few debates invite more uninformed commentary than "IP" – a loosely defined grab bag that regulates an ever-expaning sphere of our daily activities, despite the fact that almost no one, including senior executives in the entertainment industry, understands how it works.

Take reading a book. If the book arrives between two covers in the form of ink sprayed on compressed vegetable pulp, you don't need to understand the first thing about copyright to read it. But if that book arrives as a stream of bits in an app, those bits are just the thinnest scrim of scum atop a terminally polluted ocean of legalese.

At the bottom layer: the license "agreement" for your device itself – thousands of words of nonsense that bind you not to replace its software with another vendor's code, to use the company's own service depots, etc etc. This garbage novella of legalese implicates trademark law, copyright, patent, and "paracopyrights" like the anticircumvention rule defined by Section 1201 of the DMCA:

https://www.eff.org/press/releases/eff-lawsuit-takes-dmca-section-1201-research-and-technology-restrictions-violate

Then there's the store that sold you the ebook: it has its own soporific, cod-legalese nonsense that you must parse; this can be longer than the book itself, and it has been exquisitely designed by the world's best-paid, best-trained lawyer to liquefy the brains of anyone who attempts to read it. Nothing will save you once your brains start leaking out of the corners of your eyes, your nostrils and your ears – not even converting the text to a brilliant graphic novel:

https://memex.craphound.com/2017/03/03/terms-and-conditions-the-bloviating-cruft-of-the-itunes-eula-combined-with-extraordinary-comic-book-mashups/

Even having Bob Dylan sing these terms will not help you grasp them:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/10/25/musical-chairs/#subterranean-termsick-blues

The copyright nonsense that accompanies an ebook transcends mere Newtonian physics – it exists in a state of quantum superposition. For you, the buyer, the copyright nonsense appears as a license, which allows the seller to add terms and conditions that would be invalidated if the transaction were a conventional sale. But for the author who wrote that book, the copyright nonsense insists that what has taken place is a sale (which pays a 25% royalty) and not a license (a 50% revenue-share). Truly, only a being capable of surviving after being smeared across the multiverse can hope to embody these two states of being simultaneously:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/21/early-adopters/#heads-i-win

But the challenge isn't over yet. Once you have grasped the permissions and restrictions placed upon you by your device and the app that sold you the ebook, you still must brave the publisher's license terms for the ebook – the final boss that you must overcome with your last hit point and after you've burned all your magical items.

This is by no means unique to reading a book. This bites us on the job, too, at every level. The McDonald's employee who uses a third-party tool to diagnose the problems with the McFlurry machine is using a gadget whose mere existence constitutes a jailable felony:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/20/euthanize-rentier-enablers/#cold-war

Meanwhile, every single biotech researcher is secretly violating the patents that cover the entire suite of basic biotech procedures and techniques. Biotechnicians have a folk-belief in "patent fair use," a thing that doesn't exist, because they can't imagine that patent law would be so obnoxious as to make basic science into a legal minefield.

IP is a perfect storm: it touches everything we do, and no one understands it.

Or rather, almost no one understands it. A small coterie of lawyers have a perfectly fine grasp of IP law, but most of those lawyers are (very well!) paid to figure out how to use IP law to screw you over. But not every skilled IP lawyer is the enemy: a handful of brave freedom fighters, mostly working for nonprofits and universities, constitute a resistance against the creep of IP into every corner of our lives.

Two of my favorite IP freedom fighters are Jennifer Jenkins and James Boyle, who run the Duke Center for the Public Domain. They are a dynamic duo, world leading demystifiers of copyright and other esoterica. They are the creators of a pair of stunningly good, belly-achingly funny, and extremely informative graphic novels on the subject, starting with the 2008 Bound By Law, about fair use and film-making:

https://www.dukeupress.edu/Bound-by-Law/

And then the followup, THEFT! A History of Music:

https://web.law.duke.edu/musiccomic/

Both of which are open access – that is to say, free to download and share (you can also get handsome bound print editions made of real ink sprayed on real vegetable pulp!).

Beyond these books, Jenkins and Boyle publish the annual public domain roundups, cataloging the materials entering the public domain each January 1 (during the long interregnum when nothing entered the public domain, thanks to the Sonny Bono Copyright Extension Act, they published annual roundups of all the material that should be entering the public domain):

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/20/em-oh-you-ess-ee/#sexytimes

This year saw Mickey Mouse entering the public domain, and Jenkins used that happy occasion as a springboard for a masterclass in copyright and trademark:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/15/mouse-liberation-front/#free-mickey

But for all that Jenkins and Boyle are law explainers, they are also law professors and as such, they are deeply engaged with minting of new lawyers. This is a hard job: it takes a lot of work to become a lawyer.

It also takes a lot of money to become a lawyer. Not only do law-schools charge nosebleed tuition, but the standard texts set by law-schools are eye-wateringly expensive. Boyle and Jenkins have no say over tuitions, but they have made a serious dent in the cost of those textbooks. A decade ago, the pair launched the first open IP law casebook: a free, superior alternative to the $160 standard text used to train every IP lawyer:

https://web.archive.org/web/20140923104648/https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/openip/

But IP law is a moving target: it is devouring the world. Accordingly, the pair have produced new editions every couple of years, guaranteeing that their free IP law casebook isn't just the best text on the subject, it's also the most up-to-date. This week, they published the sixth edition:

https://web.law.duke.edu/cspd/openip/

The sixth edition of Intellectual Property: Law & the Information Society – Cases & Materials; An Open Casebook adds sections on the current legal controversies about AI, and analyzes blockbuster (and batshit) recent Supreme Court rulings like Vidal v Elster, Warhol v Goldsmith, and Jack Daniels v VIP Products. I'm also delighted that they chose to incorporate some of my essays on enshittification (did you know that my Pluralistic.net newsletter is licensed CC Attribution, meaning that you can reprint and even sell it without asking me?).

(On the subject of Creative Commons: Boyle helped found Creative Commons!)

Ten years ago, the Boyle/Jenkins open casebook kicked off a revolution in legal education, inspiring many legals scholars to create their own open legal resources. Today, many of the best legal texts are free (as in speech) and free (as in beer). Whether you want to learn about trademark, copyright, patents, information law or more, there's an open casebook for you:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/14/angels-and-demons/#owning-culture

The open access textbook movement is a stark contrast with the world of traditional textbooks, where a cartel of academic publishers are subjecting students to the scammiest gambits imaginable, like "inclusive access," which has raised the price of textbooks by 1,000%:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/07/markets-in-everything/#textbook-abuses

Meanwhile, Jenkins and Boyle keep working on this essential reference. The next time you're tempted to make a definitive statement about what IP permits – or prohibits – do yourself (and the world) a favor, and look it up. It won't cost you a cent, and I promise you you'll learn something.

Support me this summer on the Clarion Write-A-Thon and help raise money for the Clarion Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers' Workshop!

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/2024/07/30/open-and-shut-casebook/#stop-confusing-the-issue-with-relevant-facts

Image: Cryteria (modified) Jenkins and Boyle https://web.law.duke.edu/musiccomic/

CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0/

#pluralistic #jennifer jenkins #james boyle #ip #law #law school #publishing #open access #scholarship #casebooks #copyright #copyfight #gen ai #ai #warhol

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najia-cooks · 10 months

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[ID: A bowl of avocado spread sculpted into a pattern, topped with olive oil and garnished with symmetrical lines of nigella seeds and piles of pomegranate seeds; a pile of pita bread is in the background. End ID]

متبل الأفوكادو / Mutabbal al-'afukadu (Palestinian avocado dip)

Avocados are not native to Palestine. Israeli settlers planted them in Gaza in the 1980s, before being evicted when Israel evacuated all its settlements in Gaza in 2005. The avocados, however, remained, and Gazans continued to cultivate them for their fall and winter harvest. Avocados have been folded into the repertoire of a "new" Palestinian cuisine, as Gazans and other Palestinians have found ways to interpret them.

Palestinians may add local ingredients to dishes traditionally featuring avocado (such as Palestinian guacamole, "جواكامولي فلسطيني" or "غواكامولي فلسطيني"), or use avocado in Palestinian dishes that typically use other vegetables (pickling them, for example, or adding them to salads alongside tomato and cucumber).

Another dish in this latter category is حمص الافوكادو (hummus al-'afukadu)—avocado hummus—in which avocado is smoothly blended with lemon juice, white tahina (طحينة البيضاء, tahina al-bayda'), salt, and olive oil. Yet another is متبّل الأفوكادو (mutabbal al-'afukadu). Mutabbal is a spiced version of بابا غنوج (baba ghannouj)‎: "مُتَبَّل" means "spiced" or "seasoned," from "مُ" "mu-," a participlizing prefix, + "تَبَّلَ" "tabbala‎," "to have spices added to." Here, fresh avocado replaces the roasted eggplant usually used to make this smooth dip; it is mixed with green chili pepper, lemon juice, garlic, white tahina, sumac, and labna (لبنة) or yoghurt. Either of these dishes may be topped with sesame or nigella seeds, pomegranate seeds, fresh dill, or chopped nuts, and eaten with sliced and toasted flatbread.

Avocados' history in Palestine precedes their introduction to Gaza. They were originally planted in 1908 by a French order of monks, but these trees have not survived. It was after the Balfour Declaration of 1917 (in which Britain, having been promised colonial control of Palestine with the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire after World War 1, pledged to establish "a national home for the Jewish people" in Palestine) that avocado agriculture began to take root.

In the 1920s, 30s, and 40s, encouraged by Britain, Jewish Europeans began to immigrate to Palestine in greater numbers and establish agricultural settlements (leaving an estimated 29.4% of peasant farming families without land by 1929). Seeds and seedlings from several varieties of avocado were introduced from California by private companies, research stations, and governmental bodies (including Mikveh Israel, a school which provided settlers with agricultural training). In these years, prices were too high for Palestinian buyers, and quantities were too low for export.

It wasn't until after the beginning of the Nakba (the ethnic cleansing of Palestinians from "Jewish" areas following the UN partition of Palestine in 1947) that avocado plantings became significant. With Palestinians having been violently expelled from most of the area's arable land, settlers were free to plant avocados en masse for export, aided (until 1960) by long-term, low-interest loans from the Israeli government. The 400 acres planted within Israel's claimed borders in 1955 ballooned to 2,000 acres in 1965, then 9,000 by 1975, and over 17,000 by 1997. By 1986, Israel was producing enough avocados to want to renegotiate trade agreements with Europe in light of the increase.

Israeli companies also attained commercial success selling avocados planted on settlements within the West Bank. As of 2014, an estimated 4.5% of Israeli avocado exports were grown in the occupied Jordan Valley alone (though data about crops grown in illegal settlements is of course difficult to obtain). These crops were often tended by Palestinian workers, including children, in inhumane conditions and at starvation wages. Despite a European Union order to specify the origin of such produce as "territories occupied by Israel since 1967," it is often simply marked "Israel." Several grocery stores across Europe, including Carrefour, Lidl, Dunnes Stores, and Aldi, even falsified provenance information on avocados and other fruits in order to circumvent consumer boycotts of goods produced in Israel altogether—claiming, for example, that they were from Morocco or Cyprus.

Meanwhile, while expanding its own production of avocados, Israel was directing, limiting, and destabilizing Palestinian agriculture in an attempt to eliminate competition. In 1982, Israel prohibited the planting of fruit trees without first obtaining permission from military authorities; in practice, this resulted in Palestinians (in Gaza and the West Bank) being entirely barred from planting new mango and avocado trees, even to replace old, unproductive ones.

Conditions worsened in the years following the second intifada. Between September of 2000 and September of 2003, Israeli military forces destroyed wells, pumps, and an estimated 85% of the agricultural land in al-Sayafa, northern Gaza, where farmers had been using irrigation systems and greenhouses to grow fruits including citrus, apricots, and avocados. They barred almost all travel into and out of al-Sayafa: blocking off all roads that lead to the area, building barricades topped with barbed wire, preventing entry within 150 meters of the barricade under threat of gunfire, and opening crossings only at limited times of day and only for specific people, if at all.

A July 2001 prohibition on Palestinian vehicles within al-Sayafa further slashed agricultural production, forcing farmers to rely on donkeys and hand carts to tend their fields and to transport produce across the crossing. If the crossing happened to be closed, or the carts could not transport all the produce in time, fruits and vegetables would sit waiting in the sun until they rotted and could not be sold. The 2007 blockade worsened Gaza's economy still further, strictly limiting imports and prohibiting exports entirely (though later on, there would be exceptions made for small quantities of specific crops).

In the following years, Israel allowed imports of food items into Gaza not exceeding the bare minimum for basic sustenance, based on an estimation of the caloric needs of its inhabitants. Permitted (apples, bananas, persimmons, flour) and banned items for import (avocados, dates, grapes) were ostensibly based on "necessary" versus "luxury" foods, but were in fact directed according to where Israeli farmers could expect the most profit.

Though most of the imports admitted into Gaza continued to come from Israel, Gazan farmers kept pursuing self-sufficiency. In 2011, farmers working on a Hamas-government-led project in the former settlements produced avocados, mangoes, and most of the grapes, onions, and melons that Gazans ate; by 2015, though still forbidden from exporting excess, they were self-sufficient in the production of crops including onions, watermelon, cantaloupe, grapes, almonds, olives, and apples.

Support Palestinian resistance by calling Elbit System’s (Israel’s primary weapons manufacturer) landlord, donating to Palestine Action’s bail fund, and donating to the Bay Area Anti-Repression Committee bail fund.

Ingredients:

2 medium avocados (300g total)

1/4 cup white tahina

2 Tbsp labna (لبنة), or yoghurt (laban, لبن رايب)

1 green chili pepper

2 cloves garlic

2 Tbsp good olive oil

Juice of 1/2 lemon (1 1/2 Tbsp)

1 tsp table salt, or to taste

Pomegranate seeds, slivered almonds, pine nuts, chopped dill, nigella seeds, sesame seeds, sumac, and/or olive oil, to serve

Khubiz al-kmaj (pita bread), to serve

Instructions:

1. In a mortar and pestle, crush garlic, pepper, and a bit of salt into a fine paste.

2. Add avocados and mash to desired texture. Stir in tahina, labna, olive oil, lemon juice, and additional salt.

You can also combine all ingredients in a blender or food processor.

3. Top with a generous drizzle of olive oil. Add toppings, as desired.

4. Cut pita into small rectangles or triangles and separate one half from the other (along where the pocket is). Toast in the oven, or in a large, dry skillet, stirring occasionally, until golden brown. Serve dip alongside toasted pita chips.

#Palestinian #avocados #tahina #lemons #long post /#gluten free

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rouecentric · 2 years

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fourth genshin brainrot this month,,

IMAGINE being one of the many servants of the tsaritsa, but you remember your past life, one where the world you were in was a game.

you had planned of resignating from your job, but with being acquaintances with most of the harbingers, you know they'll probably search for and kill you if you resign, and maybe the fact that you're an orphan teenager would make it easier for them to get rid of you.

so packing your necessities and clothing, you resigned the same day you ran away and gained an anemo vision, deciding to travel around teyvat while avoiding shneznaya as if it was the plague.

you became a frequent traveler on beidou's ship, a pirate that you soon grew close with, as you told her tales that you grew up hearing about in shneznaya.

by some extent, you also became acquainted with kazuha, the inazuman refugee that became a criminal for being against the raiden shogun's vision hunt decree.

of course, with some mora left on you not being enough to last for more than two months, you decided to become a tailor/seamstress, designing clothes to sell them to any buyer.

and as obvious as it is, your clothing and designs' values sky rocketed in liyue first, as daughters from high society loved how your clothing was not only diverse, but also were lightweight and comfortable!

words of your clothing reached far and wide, making even more people want to see your designs, which meant more mora for you! you happily complied, even starting to take personal commisions for multiple noblemen and noblewomen.

one of your most frequent commisioners were the kamisato family from inazuma, because the head of the kamisato family's younger sister, ayaka, took interest of the new rising star of the fashion industry, which was you.

your most recent stop to travel on foot was to mondstadt, as you were getting rather tired of looking at the seemingly endless bodies of water.

while gathering mushrooms, vegetables and various fruits in mondstadt's wilderness, you found the traveler and their companion, paimon.

although you wanted to do nothing with the story, you took pity on the mc, and decided to help them.

of course, by association with the traveler, you were bound to meet at least one or two of the harbingers, as you were able to avoid rosalyn by staying at the cathedral for longer.

but your "reunion" with scaramouche was anything but nice, as you were caught off guard because of his eyes softening at the sight of you after the man's initial shock. it confused you.

the story and the character's are changing, but why? why is it changing?

#teen reader #platonic yandere #yandere genshin #yandere harbingers #genshin x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin imagines

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humanitys-strongest-bamf · 10 months

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hi Kat, huge congrats on reaching 2K 💕 for the event, could I request a post-war Dadvi drabble where the happy family is living somewhere in Marley & celebrating Levi's birthday?

hi flo! :3 i rly want to commission someone to draw levi holding a baby in his lap now kjdskfj

Making a Fuss | 2K Follower Event | Post-War Dadvi Drabble

✧ word count ➼ < 800 ✧ notes ➼ post-war, fluff

The farmer's market was a bit more crowded today in terms of both vendors and buyers. Although most of the produce was sold earlier in the fall, there were still fruits and vegetables that had been harvested from the gardening that had occurred the year prior. A few years after the end of the Rumbling, the world was slowly getting pieced back together.

Walking from your house to the market and then through the market to the bakery was going to be a bit of a longer journey, so you were pushing Levi through the lineup of vendors as he sat in his wheelchair. It was ultimately for the best. Since he was seated, he was able to sit with your 7-month old in his lap, although your child was beginning to get restless from the amount of people around you. He wanted nothing more than to escape Levi's lap and crawl around, but Levi had a firm grip on him.

You had originally said that you were only wanting to pick up some vegetables and hang out at the bakery for the afternoon, but Levi wasn't dumb. It was too much of a coincidence that you had been this insistent on going out on his birthday. You had something planned.

His eyes went from staring at the bakery off in the distance down to your child that was busy babbling and tugging on his shirt. He had been fine as Levi occasionally distracted him by chatting with him or poking him, but it was clear that he was getting restless.

Levi heard you shuffling around behind him and you reached over his shoulder while holding a small plush shaped like a cat, handing it to your child to play with.

You ruffled your baby's jet black hair, which matched the hue of his father's. It hadn't thickened up enough for you to be able to style it yet, but you knew that your heart was going to melt as soon as you saw your baby wearing the same undercut as Levi.

Levi's nose immediately scrunched up as he gave his child a wary look the minute the teething toddler began gnawing at the plushie, very quickly covering part of the stuffed animal in his own slobber.

"Would you rather him be gnawing on his hands that have been touching every surface we've seen since leaving the house?"

The only response you heard from Levi was a gentle grunt as he acknowledged your comment.

You wheeled Levi and your baby over to a corner table on the outside porch of the bakery as soon as you arrived before walking inside to pick up the order that you had placed ahead of time.

You knew that Levi was not one to enjoy gifts, but you wanted to at least do something to celebrate. Plus, the three of you needed to get out of the house and go somewhere other than the teashop.

"No way," you uttered affectionately as you redirected your child's grabby hands away from the pastry cake you held in your hands. "I didn't even set this thing down yet."

While your child looked overly excited for the sugary treat that he technically wasn't even supposed to have yet, Levi held a skeptical expression, with one eyebrow raised higher than the other.

"Oh c'mon, it's like your first day off in what...two weeks?" you asked in an exasperated tone as you sat down. "I know you're very adamant about keeping the teashop together, but you should at least be allowed to celebrate your birthday."

"I've had days off."

You scoffed, clearly not believing him.

"Yeah, and you choose to spend them at the shop despite the fact that Gabi and Falco have been helping out."

"And leave the fate of the shop to those brats? Fuck no."

A scowl quickly appeared on your face as you visually berated him for cursing in front of your child, although you already knew that he didn't really care too much about that concept of not cursing in front of him.

He tightened his grip on his child that was getting increasingly fussy and turned him around to look into his eyes that matched yours in color.

"You have never made a fuss about your birthday, have you?" he asked with a serious expression. "Maybe you should have a chat with your mother."

You gently smacked Levi's shoulder with an annoyed, but also subtly amused look.

"He hasn't had a birthday yet, you dumbass."

You vaguely heard him scoff at your comment, amused at the fact that you cursed almost immediately after judging him for cursing within earshot of your baby.

"Just accept the 'happy birthday', you asshole."

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou x reader #captain levi x reader #levi fluff #follower event #levi #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #attack on titan #aot #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin #snk

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its-in-the-woods · 3 months

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Coyote Head - Part 2 -Creeping Shadows

master list

Part 1,

Pairing: Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean

Alternative Universe where I make things up cause I ca

Synopsis: After a month of getting settled in her new home, Lucy is awoken in the middle of the night. Something strange is happening, but she isn't sure what to make of it.

MINOR GET OUT. Rating/Warning: Alternative Universe, Slow Burn, Death, Aging, Family Feuding, Eventually: Older Man/Younger Woman, Horror themes, long form fic,

Note: that I will not be spoiling any of the reading. So you have been warned. I will keep my tags relevant without spoiling what is happening in the story.

Lucy put on another pot of coffee, it was late in the evening now. But there was still lots to do. She had cleared a whole section of the wall to lay the map out, she had taken a black marker to outline each piece of land she owned. Then she took sticky notes with tenants' info and stuck them on each piece of property. Besides the maps, she had put up a whiteboard, with to-do lists. More papers were put up with contact info, wholesalers, buyers, butchers, and more. She felt a little more settled about all of it. It was still confusing as hell, but it made her feel good to see it like this. She had always been more of a visual learner.

Then there were taxes, initially, Lucy figured she could do it. But after going through her Grandpa’s files, she was completely overwhelmed. So tomorrow she’d be phoning around to see who could help her with taxes. Tomorrow would be a town day Lucy decided. She would talk to a few accountants and see if the bank had finalized transfers. Everything took time, and out here everything ran on country time. So things took a little longer, but it would get done. She wanted to get some fresh vegetables, garden seeds, and gloves. The only gloves here were her Grandpa’s, she had put a pair up beside the door. She hadn't been able to put them on or get rid of them. So they stayed by the door and the rest tucked into the closet.

She added calling the tractor dealership to her list, there were a couple of older models that had been sitting for a while. She wanted them to be looked over and get them running. She knew basic stuff but getting someone out who knew what they were doing was desperately needed. As she sipped on her coffee looking at the different spreadsheets on her computer Lucy pondered about maybe getting some chickens. An old coop tucked in the woods close to the house, would be perfect. Of course, chickens meant predators.

Rubbing her head she pushed the thought of chickens out of her mind. There were so many other things that needed to be done first. Her mind went to Cooper, her mind had been wandering over to him a lot since he had stopped by. Lucy tried to remember where she had seen him before. She knew he had been at the funeral, he had been with Richard Howard. Howard's family, her mind tried to remember who they were. She remembered that Richard was good friends with her Grandpa. They had had all boys, four or five of them. Most of them had married and stayed in the area. But Cooper had moved down south with his wife. At least that’s what Lucy could remember. It was always hard to keep all the different families straight.

Lucy had finished her coffee and looked out through the big window. There was a back deck with a BBQ, a table with chairs, and a closed umbrella. Past that it was dark, that was something she still needed to get used to. Once night hit it was very dark out here, the starlight illuminated the grass, but once you hit the woods it was pitch black. Looking out through the window Lucy felt a shiver run up her spine. It felt like something was watching her, as if she peered just enough she would be able to see something move.

Backing away from the window she grabbed the pull string and closed the blinds.

“Yeah, I definitely need to get some dogs. Maybe lights, a few lights would be good,” Lucy said out loud, “Also renew my gun license.”

Lucy woke in the middle of the night confused, sweat had broken out across her brow, the room was cool but she was on fire. Tossing back the heavy quilted blanket she fumbled for the side table light. As the light turned on Lucy screamed as a black shadow darted into the closest. Grabbing her phone, and a machete that was tucked beside the bed. Lucy moved toward the closet. Pulling the doors open she raised the machete flicking on the closet lights. Nothing.

Sagging Lucy looked around the rest of the room. There was no sign of anything, taking several deep breaths she threw on a housecoat and walked through the whole house. Checked the laundry room, kitchen, living room, hall closer, spare bath, and bedroom. Nothing.

Sitting on the edge of the spare bed her heart finally slowed down. “You’ve been here a month and you’re already jumping at shadows, Lucy,”

Walking back to her room, she went to walk by the kitchen window. The blinds were up again. Lucy stopped there confused as to why they were now up. Looking out, something flickered and ran across the grass into the woods. She grabbed the blinds and dropped them again. There wouldn’t be any sleep tonight.

The morning sun had peaked through the tall trees, thank god it was spring. Spring meant earlier and earlier sunrises, and after last night Lucy was more than happy to see it pop up. Lucy clutched her coffee mug in one hand and her phone in the other. She had done her damndest not to phone anyone all night. The last thing she needed was people thinking she was some chicken-shit city slicker.

“You are beyond tired,” She sighed, rubbing her face, “You should go lay down for an hour.”

Looking through her bedroom door she saw her bed, blankets, and pillows still askew. As much as she wanted to, the thought of even trying to sleep made her stomach turn.

“Maybe when we get back from town,” she said quietly, standing up and leaving her cup on the table.

Throwing on some clothes, and making sure nothing was inside out, Lucy hurried to grab her purse and keys. Once outside she took a deep breath, it smelt like rain and grass. Her heart slowed as she made her way over to the beat-up Chevy in the driveway. Putting the truck into gear she sped up and onto the dirt road.

The drive is peaceful, gravel roads kicking up pieces of stone, it’s about ten minutes before she reaches anything paved. Once on the pavement, she rolled down her window, just enough to smell the fresh air. Grabbing a pair of sunglasses she slips those on to head southwest to Roseville. It had been affectionately named the driveby town. Smack middle between the south and north of the area. A crossroads divided the town into four neat sections. It had never been a booming town, more of a trading post or place to rest between cities. Over the last decade, the current mayor and council had done their damndest to try and attract more folks to live there. It had sort of worked. They now had a new rec center, hockey rink, and Tim Horton’s had moved in. The population stayed around three thousand. It was a small place surrounded by farmers’ fields and woodland reserves. The place boasted four bars, three grocery stores, a handful of terrible restaurants, a couple of hair salons, ten churches, and an elementary slash high school. Not to forget the two farm equipment dealerships and four feed stores. If you went south or west you’d hit some of the large cities. Though groceries were significantly cheaper there, many folks still stayed in town. This was especially true during the winter when the highway was one missed salt truck away from a death trap.

Lucy pulled into the Super-K-Mart, parked her truck, and grabbed her purse. She was feeling the lack of sleep now, the spike of adrenaline fading. Maybe a stop at the cafe down the street was needed. She briefly wondered when she had become such a scaredy cat and coffee drinker. Even doing work at the hospital she had never drunk this much caffeine. Trying to shake the feeling off of her, she grabbed a cart, pulling out her phone with a small list of needs. Lucy noted that she needed to ask her Uncle when the farmer’s markets started up, the grocery stores were good for hard goods, but fresh produce was lacking. Still, she grabbed a handful of apples, bananas, a few peppers, and head lettuce. Most of it looked sorta fresh. She went over to the meat section, she cringed internally at the price of the meat. Grateful that she had a freezer full of Grandpa’s cows and neighbor’s pigs. She grabbed a discounted chicken, maybe some soup was needed.

“Hey,” Came a familiar voice, “Won’t be buying any of that. Most of it’s from way south.”

Turning she saw Cooper leaning against his cart, a small smile playing across his lips. Man wore a loose-fitting black t-shirt, a grey zip-up hoody overtop, blue jeans, and boots. All he was missing was his hat. Lucy tried her best to hide that she was looking over the man.

“Do you know where I could get some decent chicken?” Lucy asked as she put down the offending carcass. Tilting her head at him with a smile, something about the man made her heart skip.

Cooper nodded his head, “Yep, can swing by my place. Got a freezer full. Can trade yah for maybe some of that fine tallow Shirley always kept around. Pretty sure Tim kept making it.”

Lucy chuckles, the freezer had at least a dozen jars of rendered tallow at home. Plus, nothing beats fresh chicken, “I think that’s more than a fair trade,” She replied, moving over to follow him down one of the small aisles.

“You look a little worn down today,” He says as he stops in front of a shelf of cereal, Lucy looking at all the various brands in front of her. Cringing inwardly at the comment, she hadn't thought about how she must look.

“Long night,” She replies, noticing that his cart has fruit, some veg, sandwich meat, white bread, and various snack bars.

He grabs some Cheerios and a box of lucky charms,” Mmhmm, can take a bit to get used to being outside the town.”

Lucy grabbed some mini wheat and a bag of oatmeal, watching the man move about the aisle, “Yeah, must be something like that. Didn’t picture you as a Lucky Charms guy.”

He chuckles, grabbing at bag of oatmeal as well, “My daughter refuses to eat anything but those in the morning. I try to sprinkle some fruit in, occasionally when she allows it.”

“Didn’t know you had kids,” Lucy replies, as they walked to the next aisle. She felt her heart clench a little, thinking he probably had a wife at home.

“Yeah, Janey is ten and Matthias just turned twelve.” He says a fond smile crossing his face. “Didn’t see any kids at your place.”

“Nah, I was too busy looking after Grandpa and before that school,” Lucy replies, it’s true she didn’t have much of a love life. Few flings here and there, and the one relationship she had had had ended bitterly when Grandpa got sick.

He reached and grabbed a box of spaghetti, “I can relate. Between the kids, the farm, and looking after Dad. Not really a lot of room for dating.”

Lucy grabs a couple of cans of corn, “Oh? Divorced?” Her heart surged a little at the thought he was single. Single with kids, she reminded herself.

Something dark passes over his face like he is remembering a bad memory. “No. Umm. widower, actually. Lost her about seven years ago.”

Lucy stops feeling like an asshole for not knowing, “Oh. I am sorry about that.”

Cooper shrugs, his face masking what clearly was pain. “You didn’t know. Long story.”

The two of them moved onto the freezer section, Lucy feeling awkward about the whole thing. She hadn’t known he’d lost her wife, she didn’t know a lot of things. With that said she could have maybe used a little more tack. It wasn’t her strongest trait, she was a straightforward person. But sometimes things needed a more delicate touch.

“Have you heard about anything happening in the woods around us,” Lucy says, trying to change the subject. Even if it was about the fact she couldn't sleep due to shadows that were probably nothing.

“Happening?” Cooper asks as he drops two bags of curly fries into his cart.

Lucy shrugs, “Thought I saw something, or someone moving around the forest last night.”

“Need to get yourself a few dogs,” Cooper replies, grabbing a bag of perogies.

“Yeah, it’s on the to-do list. Just, sorta, spooked me I guess,” Lucy replies, not sure how to broach the subject without sounding like a damsel in distress.

Cooper stops and looks at her, “Why don’t I swing by this afternoon? I pick the kids up at the end of the road at four. I will stop by and I can walk the property with yah. Make sure there isn’t any sign of someone coming on the property.”

Lucy was taken aback by his forwardness, but also grateful he seemed to take her concerns seriously. “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

“Nonsense, better to know there isn’t some creep living in the woods than not.” He replied as you both made your way to the registers.

“I really appreciate that. I don’t want to be a bother, just on my own,” Lucy replies with a small smile.

“I just phone call away,” Cooper replies as they unload their carts.

The door to the trailer was open, Lucy is stuck motionless in the truck cabin. She knew she’d locked the door, a habit that had always irritated her family, but she did nonetheless. From her spot she could see that the door was askew, possibly kicked in, papers flying about as the wind blew in. She grabbed her phone, hitting her Uncle’s number with trembling fingers.

“Lucy, how’s it going-” Harris added cheerfully.

“I think someone broke into the house,” She hissed, her free hand pulling the stick shift into reverse and starting to back down the road.

“Shit,” The man cursed, “I will be right there, do not go inside.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” She muttered as he hung up the phone. She backed up until she hit the gate. The gate that had been locked and closed when she came home, felt fear run up her spine as she opened the gate, backed up, and parked the truck down the road.

A moment later she saw a truck with a cloud of dust behind it roaring up the road. A beat-up red Ford with Cooper sitting in the front. He slides to a stop beside Lucy.

“Your Uncle called,” He said, his forehead wrinkled as he looked at Lucy over, “Someone broke into the house?”

Lucy nods, fear making it hard for her to speak, her hands shaking in her lap. Her heart was pounding in her chest, even with Cooper there she was nervous.

“I am going to go in, follow me but stay in the truck,” Cooper says as he jerks his vehicle into gear and turns down the road.

Lucy looked in the rearview, there was no sign of Harris yet, she jerked her vehicle into first and drove back down. Cooper had driven his truck up the small embankment, parking by the door. She watched as he got out, shotgun in hand, pulling her truck by his.

The door wasn’t just askew, the top two hinges had been busted. The deadbolt having gouged along the door frame, papers, and artwork littered the floor. Her breath caught in her throat as she waited for him to come out. It felt like an eternity before she saw him, his brows scrunched as he beckoned her inside.

part Three

** If you enjoyed the fic let me know! Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated.

** Want to be on the tag list let me know

** Most of my fics will be updated once a weekish possibly more often depending on how much writing I can get done! Want to keep the quality and make sure I am putting out my best work.

#alternate universe #au #fallout #cooper howard #cooper x lucy #fanfic #lucy maclean #lucy x cooper #writing #writer #fallout tv #justified #horror au #slow burn #so much plot #murder mystery #thriller #ghoulcy atomic blast #coyote head

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lemmonlimonn · 3 months

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i present to you... MY PIKMIN AU!!

"S.D spacial"

An interplanetary delivery company, known for its quality, success and speed, also for its great rivalry with "Hocotate Freight".

Within the company there are 4 essential positions so that performance and speed are efficient and accurate. Within these are: Green, Blue, Red and Orange. Each of these positions has an important meaning for the company. :

(I clarify that everything is written with a translator, if there is something written wrong I am sorry :[ )

"Sections"

Green

(Office Workers)

The green ones (office workers) are in charge of receiving calls from deliveries or loads that you want to transport. Depending on the type of material you want to transport, they will give you 3 options: Van, Truck or Spaceship. Therefore, it is important to specify when calling, how much your load is, and if you have your weight in Kg exactly, much better, the faster they will call you a transport suitable for your order.

Van: small or medium packages

Truck: Zinc sheets, earth, wooden boards, everything necessary for construction. Fruit or food shipments in large quantities. Also possible are 4,500KG is its minimum, and 11,800KG is its maximum.

Spaceship: Only small and medium-sized packages can be made: Boxes of fruits or vegetables, Boxes of screws or nails, Boxes of etc., etc., etc., you can carry everything as long as they are in boxes that can be transported by human force.

This section may work independently or on its own, but you still need to establish communication with the blue ones. green ones communicate new orders to you for confirmation and completion.

Blue

(Documentators)

This section is in charge of making the documents, noting the route, recipient, and taking the order information to the reds so that they take the loads to their proper transporters to start the delivery process.

Example:

Product: 3 bags of Giyano dog food

Buyer: Collin

Recipient: Erma Shepherd

Planet: Giya

Transport: Spaceship

Pilot: Darenwill, Orange #2

*Ticked*

This section works with the Orange section, since they must have a complete report at the end of the day of the package's journey, from Hocotate to the planet, or delivery location. And at the beginning with the Green section, to confirm where the package will be picked up for transportation.

Red

(Hard work)

The Reds (heavy load workers), this section is in charge of carrying the loads to the spaceship, truck or van, depending on what type of load it is, more personnel from the red section will be needed. This section works with oranges and blues.

Orange

(Pilot)

The Orange are in charge of piloting spaceship, driving trucks or vans. They work with the Blues and Reds, those are their priorities. Each of them must have a certificate and a driver's or pilot's license, otherwise they will not let you enter the Orange section.

If you want you can join! making your character like any of these 4 sections ^_^

#pikmin au #pikmin

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anamseair · 3 months

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https://www.seair.co.in/blog/vegetables-export-from-india.aspx

India, the land of farmers, has a perfect climate for farming. India's agricultural sector is very vast, which makes India a prime producer and exporter of many agricultural products. One of the main agricultural products, vegetables, is rising as the green gold of India due to its high export value and economic support for the nation in many ways. This blog will teach about vegetable export data, Vegetables export from India, and more.

#vegetables export from india #vegetables export data #vegetables hs code #india vegetable export #vegetables exporters in india #vegetables importers #vegetable buyers #vegetable importing countries #top 10 vegetable exporting countries

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she-posts-nerdy-stuff · 10 months

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Today I had to do a lot of looking back through my worldbuilding master document, which is all of my answers to a brilliant online questionnaire that I will post the link to if anyone wants it. So now you get some of the best quotes I found that I wrote months and months ago and had completely forgotten about until going through this questionnaire:

“There are laws against that but they're easy to find loopholes in (sorta loosey goosey)”

“Does the culture value strength or compassion more highly? - excellent question, don’t know”

“Oh but not if you say you like fish, then it’ll get controversial super quickly, Etelljin people are WEIRD about fish”

“Picture a human English city, then replace the Chinese restaurants with Fae restaurants and then replace the Indian restaurants with Elven restaurants and then continue in that fashion with all the restaurants”

“What do people drink? - whatever they want? But you DO NOT want to make Etelljins drink from the water in their capital city, they’d riot. That’s where the fish live”

“Are some foods poisonous to certain people? - yeah, I’d say so”

“They probably have a magic version of Ikea somewhere (maybe the furniture builds itself to reduce stress and improve the mental health of the buyers)”

“Do people mostly eat meat, fish, or vegetables? - NO FISH”

“Do people make sacrifices to gods? - sacrifice isn’t a big thing because of the aforementioned fear of death that shaped their entire society, but […]”

“Imagine houses but magic-er”

“Are there professional guilds/institutes/etc? - If I may answer your question with a question, what the hell does that mean? Because I googled it and it did not help”

“What constitutes a social faux pas? - ok erm… saying you like to eat fish. That would be a big one. They have a real thing about fish”

(By the way, these are all from just a few questions and I do have plenty of real answers alongside them, but if y'all find this funny I have a lot more content to draw from to keep sharing them with you lol)

#writing fantasy #writing a book #national novel writing month #nanowrimo 2023 #nanowrimo #fantasy writer #writer problems #female writers #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writer #writers #writing #book #books #worldbuilding #fantasy world #ya fantasy #fantasy books

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loosesodamarble · 1 month

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Welcome to the Black Bird Part 7: A Butchery by Richard

Summary: Introducing Jack as Richard, the esteemed head chef of the Black Bird cafe. Genre: general Word count: ~800 A/N: Jack's art was commissioned from @crazycookiemaniac

..........

Feathers. Hide. Bone. Cartilage. Guts. Blood. Flesh.

Working at a joint slaughterhouse and butcher shop business, he was tasked with processing meat from carcass to sellable product. He prided himself in taking apart eerie, lifeless corpses. In a way, his job was destruction with a purpose. And it brought a smile to his face.

It used to at least.

Jack’s boss took notice of the young man’s dulled vigor. He didn’t scold Jack or tell him to “just get over it.” But instead, he asked Jack to help make a delivery to one of their buyers.

That’s how Jack found himself at the Black Bird for the first time.

After moving everything from their truck to the cafe’s walk-in freezer, the cafe’s matron had Jack and the boss sit at the breakroom’s table. Then, a burly young man sauntered in with a plate of steak strips laid over a bed of minced vegetables and rice.

All it took was for Jack to take one bite.

In a word, it was delicious. A kick that hit the back of his throat. The hearty flavor of vegetables to ground his palette against the heat. The tender meat was juicy, savory, and faintly charred in flavor. And maybe it was Jack but he swore he tasted a bit of iron too.

And there was a high likelihood that the beef he was served was prepared by his own two hands. The flesh he tore into, the carcass he destroyed, didn’t end with being a cut of meat. It was still on its way to being a delicious creation.

Jack put down his fork, looked at his boss, and said “I’m putting in my two weeks now.”

…..

The sound of rapid chopping.

Steam rose from bubbling pots.

Oil sizzled ferociously.

Shouts of “order up” and “how many minutes” and “pick up for table—” during the lunch rush.

Heated and frantic, that’s what the atmosphere was. That’s how Jack liked it.

With one final strike from his knife, Jack finished mincing a carrot. The bits of orange were tossed in a bowl of other minced produce and stirred around. Then, Jack procured a fresh chicken breast from the fridge. He brought it to his work station and set it on the cutting board.

Jack’s knife gleamed as he raised it, as if it, too, were eager to get to cutting once more.

“Oi, Richard!” Jack turned to the voice and saw “Alexander” standing at the service area. As he picked up a table’s order, the burly man called, “A customer wants you to know that your cooking fucks!”

“Keh keh! Damn right it does!” Jack shouted back.

It was obvious to Jack that the customer likely only said “give my compliments to the chef” but Alexander tended to phrase things more entertainingly than other servers did.

With a cackle, Jack turned back to his work.

…..

Flowered Filet. A customer’s choice of meat filet cut to look like a blooming flower. Meant to highlight the chef’s cutting skills.

Every detail of the dish made sense for Jack. He’d handled meat for so long so of course his signature dish would involve protein. And since he wasn’t a professionally trained chef prior, he cut away any bells and whistles and focused on what he knew he could do: he could take a knife and cut, slice, and slash.

At first, he overlapped slices of meat to create an image. But he realized that the idea was more about plating than knifework. Then he tested ways of cutting a whole filet into a shape, like a wing or star. He eventually figured that he could cut numerous, tightly packed curves into a filet so that the meat could be pulled back and take on the shape of a flower in bloom.

When Secre saw an early version of the dish, she beamed at Jack and said, “Now that’s gorgeous. Who knew a butcher could be so artistic?”

Jack certainly hadn’t known.

Growing up, he had been entertained by destruction. Tearing pages out of his notebook and tossing the scraps to the wind. Picking at tree bark until his nail beds were stained brown and red. The dissection labs in middle school science class.

He became a butcher to continue destroying, in a new way. Until he got bored with that as well. And then he discovered cooking, where chopping and mashing and broiling didn’t destroy something but transformed it.

Destruction and creation.

Jack never thought he’d be capable of such a thing. Yet there he was.

The process of turning ingredients into a dish. Maybe it could’ve been called re-creation.

Jack certainly felt like that word suited his work. Like it suited him.

#black clover #black clover fanfic #jack the ripper #black clover au #butler cafe au #welcome to the black bird series

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ai-luni · 2 years

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HC/Drabble for domestic Hesh expecting/being a dad?

David "Hesh" Walker as a Father Headcanons

A/N: Eeeheh Dad!Hesh makes me so happy. I love writing this boy happy. Also bless Aukuro for finding this photo for me, I'm gonna mention it every chance I can get!

Word count: 1.8k

I think genuinely Hesh would be the cutest father. Before you his only focus was the war - he always knew he’d want to start a family - but it was when he met you when he actually thought it plausible.

He is an anxious Husband. He researches everything. You’re having a pain in your left foot? “Honey, the internet’s telling me to take you to the hospital now!”

He would ask his dad for help too and just overall confide in him about his worries. There were many evenings he and Elias lost track of time exchanging stories and wisdom. Hesh loved hearing about his mother so Elias would tell him all the differences between his and Logan’s birth, as well what little tips and tricks he had learnt by Logan to make his wife more comfortable.

Those tips and tricks Hesh 100% pulls out on you all the time. Like the nights you just can’t seem to get comfortable, he’ll shove a pillow under you and grin at the way you groan in relief. The first time he did that for you, it was 3 am and you were incredibly exhausted so instead of thanking him, you patted his head and said “good husband.” He’s aimed to please even more ever since.

Those chats with Elias were also really important for Hesh because he refrained from opening up to you. Especially about his worries for the baby and being a parent. He knows you’ve got so much more on your plate and thinks you deserve not to get caught up in his worries. He also fears you’ll think he’s having cold feet, which is the complete opposite of things!

So he turns to his dad instead and as much as he tries to old back, he just can’t. It all comes out in those sessions, even if it’s a random tuesday afternoon. Elias is very good at handling distressed people, so he holds his son and assures him that he’ll be a good father with a loving support team and wife around him.

“You’ve served your country for so long, my son. You’ve made me so proud. I hate to lose a good soldier but now it’s time for you to serve your family and make her proud.”

He’s definitely the kind of husband to make sure you don’t even move a muscle if you’ve had a bad morning. He’ll rub your feet, rub your back, he'll cook for you, he’ll make you coffee or tea and just be really annoying asking if you need anything over and over again.

If you drink, he’ll give it up with you. If you have to eat an excessive amount of some vitamin, he’ll learn new recipes. Sometimes he’ll even watch you sit at the table until you’ve finished all your vegetables like a child.

He’s also so in love with the baby bump. He’s started sleeping with his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as possible to him. If not, he'll keep his hand on your stomach.

You’ve had to wake him up a couple times when it gets too hot. Especially in summer and especially when you are closer to expecting and Riley’s becoming just as clingy as he is.

Hesh isn’t much of a leisure shopper, but he is a panic buyer. “Babe, I got you more of these just in case!” “A lady at the store said these were good, I got one incase you wanted to try it.” But he is also a massive sucker for baby clothes, so expect that bag to be topped off with a little onesie or two. He especially loves baby sneakers.

Now enough about Hesh because Riley would also KNOW. Riley knew before both of you. It was maybe about a week since you’ve been home with Hesh that Riley started trailing behind you more often, sniffing your belly and crotch. Hesh thought it was hilarious and would jokingly scold his dog, “Hey! She is mine alright.”

You however were starting to feel a bit off and Riley’s behaviour was only confirming your intuition. It was about two weeks being home on a Thursday night, Riley sat between your feet the entirety of dinner that you knew for certain. The next morning you told Hesh you were going to go for a run and brought a couple pregnancy tests. All of your suspicions were correct.

Riley started sleeping with the two of you in your final trimester, when he would physically refuse to leave the room no matter what. You would be crawled up in Hesh’s arms and Riley in yours.

He’d also gotten so much more openly aggressive on walks. He’s trained and very well mannered but now if someone walked too close or tried to talk to you, he’d start growling.

Telling Hesh will always be one of the greatest memories you have. The pregnancy wasn’t planned but you both had talked about the possibility of children in the future. It was important for the two of you to make sure you were both on the same page before anything got serious.

Luckily the afternoon you found out, you had a dinner planned with his family.

You were helping Elias bring casserole dishes to the dinning table as Logan entered with Hesh holding four drinks. He places your drink down with a “Your favourite, doll.”

“Thanks” You give him a peck, “but not tonight I think.”

He pauses, thoroughly confused, “It is your favourite right?”

“Yea... But it’s not his.” With that you put your palm to your stomach, feeling so cliche.

It took him a moment but he eventually got there, and when he did arrive there, he couldn’t have been more overjoyed. He reacted even more excited than even he was expecting, picking you up and spinning you around. Your feet dangled off the floor as he held your face close to kiss you.

“Hey, save it for after dinner. I’d like to keep my appetite.” Logan said entering the room again with his father. You hadn’t even noticed them leave.

Hesh didn’t pay a single piece of attention to the comment, just turning to his family with the widest grin announcing “I’m gonna be a dad!”

The lot of you celebrated together and ate well. Elias giving you a long, warm hug nearing the end of the night, telling you how proud he is of you and that Hesh could start a family with someone like you.

On the delivery day, Hesh was very attentive. You made it to the ER, the nurses got you set up in a room and his hand never left yours for a moment. Anytime a nurse entered the room, he’d ask if there was any job he could do to help. All the nurses loved him, they all thought he was cute. They would send you winks when he asked to help or say the sweetest thing to you and in any other circumstance, you would feel lucky but today he was the monster who caused you all this pain.

When it came to the labour itself, he tried to talk you through all of it.

“You’re so strong y/n, you can do this. You’ve been through so much worse! Remember when you got shot multiple times, a baby is nothing! Remember when we fell three stories off that building in Caracas and still ran miles for evac.”

All of the nurses in the room were giving major side eye as the scenarios coming out of Hesh’s mouth were getting worse and worse.

All of his worries from before the birth would be completely lost as a father. Of course he’ll still stay up to 3 in the morning reading about every possibility your baby might be coughing but otherwise, he was the happiest man alive.

He would spoil them and want to give them everything his own dad gave to him. He’d sit with them on the rug and play with sensory toys because he read it was a good way to let them adapt to the world. He’d get too excited to wrap them up on his chest and sway them around.

He is 100% a baby thrower. Much to your dismay, he will toss that baby up in the air so long as they still laugh at it.

He also sleeps with the baby a lot. Midday naps are his favourite times! Especially when Riley joins them. It gave you some alone time too which you greatly appreciated but rest assured the photo of all three of them asleep in each other's arms would stay as your phone’s wallpaper for a very long time.

There's no argument about it, the baby will be a fan of whatever sports team Hesh supports. Even if you go for a rival team, it will always be wearing Hesh’s team’s jersey over yours.

He’s read a lot about Postpartum depression as well and tries to give you everything you need. Especially in the first few months of bringing the baby home. He’ll look after the baby if you need time alone, he’ll cook dinner and bathe you and just constantly remind you that you are loved and have brought the most beautiful thing ever onto the earth. He would constantly tell you what a wonderful job you’ve done and that he’s so proud of you that it becomes such a habit.

Fast forward to when the baby’s 7 and going to school, all three of you continue to say how proud you are of each other almost daily because it’s just become what you do.

Over time he does get less and less reluctant to attend to the baby in the wee hours of the morning but he’ll always do it if you ask him to. Sometimes you'll even hear him sing to it in the next room which always makes your heart swell.

The baby also gets its fair share of the ghosts too. Merrick has one too many photos pretending to make the baby drink from his beer bottle. Logan will hold them whatever chance he gets and Elias is the super nanny of the bunch, jumping into action if they ever throw up or make a mess.

But Keegan will always be the baby’s favourite. They alway grab his hand and try to lead him away, or they do their grabby hands in Keegans direction to climb onto his lap. He secretly loves it.

Your baby’s very vocal so sometimes when the lot of you are sitting, sharing a drink at night, you’ll sit the baby down in their own chair and ask it questions. Everyone laughs when they give a “eeugh!” or clap their hands in response to something said.

Overall, Hesh is a very loving father.

#cod #call of duty #call of duty ghosts #hesh walker #hesh walker x you #hesh walker x reader #david hesh walker

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bluewavesofchange · 3 months

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The guardians of the Pharaoh

Rebirth of ancient secrets

I don't own Yugioh or it's characters.

Chapter 3

In ancient Egypt…

7 years had passed since Heba was born and things in the small broken down village had changed for the better. By some miracle vegetation had started to grow around the area, making the area look vibrant and lush. Water had returned to the once dry wells and a fresh stream ran through the outskirts of village. The people could now grow wheat and other grains to feed their families, and they could trade what was left. The diseases that once infected the people had disappeared over night. They no longer liked sickly or starved, they had grown into a hearty and lively group that supported and helped each other. The houses had been restored and given now life. Many children had been born during the past 7 years as there were now resources to provide for the little ones. People believed that the gods had given them a second chance at life when the strange little boy was born.

Speaking of the child, Heba had grown into a sweet and kind little soul who could do no wrong. He was always helping out his family when he wasn’t playing with the other children. And everything he did he did with a smile on his face. His pale skin remained despite the harsh desert sun which confused everyone, he seemed out of placed amongst his people but no one really minded for they believed he was a miracle from the gods. Life had returned to the town when he was born and they would always be grateful.

Heba’s parents had some fears though about their son. For one…strange things would happen around him…when animals and wildlife returned to the area, they would catch Heba speaking to them as if he understood them and they would sit still and listen to the boy yammer on as if they could understand him. He would speak to the plants too sometimes and the next day plant would be two or three times bigger than the day before. And everyone one he came across would end up admiring his sweet and innocent nature as if they had been enchanted by him.

The second concern his parents had come the day they had travelled to the royal city to trade the grains wheat their village had farmed.

Heba was over joyed to be visiting a new place. All he had known was his home and the people that lived with in it. He had never known hardship and grief, just joy and prosperity. He loved playing with the other kids and interacting with the wildlife. He enjoyed listening to their stories and learning about them, even the vegetation had stories to tell. But he felt out of place sometimes…no one else could hear the animals like he could and sometimes others looked at him strange when he was having a conversation with the plants. But honestly he didn’t care; he was having fun and enjoying his life.

The pale boy held his mother’s hand while they were exploring the market place, he was wearing a brown cloak with the hood pulled over his head to shield him from the harsh sun, (not that he ever burned despite his pale complextion). Their father was elsewhere looking for a buyer for the wheat and grains. Heba’s eyes scanned the area, looking at all the wonderful and new things. He tried to pull free from his mother’s grasp when he saw a stall selling toys that had been carved out of wood but she kept a firm grasp on his hand, “My little light you can’t run off in a place like this. You could get lost.”

“But mama look at all this! Isn’t it amazing? Look there’s even a shop that sells honeyed sweets! Can’t we take some home for the other children?” he begged his mother. Sure the village had recovered from its disastrous state but the place was still small with very few people living there. So they didn’t have the variety of goods that this market had. The small boy’s mother sighed softly, her son was always thinking of others before he even considered his own. He barely had anything as he always gave to those who needed it more.

“Heba we don’t have money to get them for the other children. The money your father is making has for go for supplies needed to plow the fields…”

“Oh…you’re right…” the small boy said letting out a soft sigh.

His mother smiled, and rested her hand on his face, “Maybe someday we can farm honey, then we can make our own sweets for the children back home.” This seemed to cheer her son up as he was smiling again.

They continued to explore the market, eventually somehow reaching the large courtyard outside the palace gates. The court yard was filled with people, making the boy curious as to what was going on, “Mama why is everyone here?”

“Well my little star do you see up there?” she pointed to the balcony overlooking the courtyard, “That is where the Pharaoh stands once a day to greet his people.”

“Oh…that’s nice of him.” Heba said with a giggle. His mother shook her head as she smiled. She would explain to the child later what the significance of it was.

A moment later Pharaoh stepped out onto the balcony, the crowd of people bowing their heads. Heba’s mother encourages her son to do the same as she bows her own head.

King Aknamkanon gazed upon his subjects, before looking back at his son, now 7 years old. The boy was a bit nervous as this would be the first time he greets the people with his father. The pharaoh holds his hand out with child, an encouraging smile on his face. Hesitantly Atem stepped towards his father, the sun hitting his tanned skin as he peered over the railing, his eyes widened at all the people that were there to give their praise to them…

Heba heard the Pharaoh starting to speaking, introducing his son, Prince Atem. Everyone raised their head to look up at the young prince, including the pale child. His eyes widened at the sight before him, up on the balcony stood a child that looked almost identical to him, give or take a few details. They shared the same hair, the same face but their eyes were different and their skin tone wasn’t the same either. However they could very well look related…

While Heba was looking at the other boy with wonder…his mother looked on with fear. Her sons dopple ganger stood before her…this could be trouble for her and her family. She looked around, noticing a few shady looking men were looking at her. Confused she turned to her son, only to realize his hood had fallen back, revealing his strange hair and light complexion.

Quickly she pulled his hood over his head again before running back to the mark with him, wishing to get back to her husband so that they could leave this place, not realizing they were being followed by the men who had seen the prince’s look alike.

Back to the present day.

It had been days after the incident with the Pharaoh’s tablet and Lillian finally started to awaken. Her body felt heavy and hurt all over, her nerves were screaming at her to stay still as she tried to move. Her eyes slowly opened, her vision was blurry for a moment before clearing. She found that she was lying in her bed in the room Ishizu had given her when she joined the tomb keepers many months ago…Shadi had brought her to Ishizu to see if the Millennium necklace would work on the teenager, which unsurprisingly didn't.

The two keepers of the Millennium items didn’t know what to do with Lillian. Do they let her go or do they lock her away or do they execute her. Instead they decided to give her a chance to learn about the Millennium items and learn about the Pharaoh whose tomb they protected. They offered this choice to the girl, confusing the raven haired teen. Eventually she agreed but only after seeing the very tablet that depicted an image of her brother and the man she loved…she explained to the tomb keepers that she was searching for her father, explaining the weird things that had been happening to her before she came to Egypt (keeping it hidden that her brother just so happen to look like the guy from 5000 years ago and that he had one of the Millennium puzzle). They agreed to help her if she stayed with them.

Now nearly a year later, she had learned nothing about her father’s whereabouts and had instead learned a lot about the unnamed Pharaoh and the history of duel monsters and many other secrets…

Lillian slowly sat up and held her head as it throbbed, wincing when she moved her arms, discovering that they were covered in bandages. She examined the wrappings, finding splotches of blood on the fabric…she stumbled out of bed, a wave of nausea and dizziness hitting her. She made her way over to the dresser that stood in the corner that had a large mirror attached to the top. She slowly started to remove the bandages, revealing her newly inked skin. She started to tremble as she dropped the wrappings to the floor, looking at the images that not decorated her arms. They were duel monsters from what she could tell, sea and water monsters to be specific.

A moment later Ishizu’s entered the room carrying a tray with fresh bandages and ointment. The Egyptian woman was surprised to see her friend was up and about, she quickly set the tray down, “You shouldn’t be out of bed.” She took a step towards Lillian but the shaking teen stepped back. She looked Ishizu with suspicion and fear in her eyes, “Did…did you do this me?!” she indicated to her arms. Ishizu spoke in a calm voice, wanting to reassure Lillian, “Do you not remember what happened? The pharaoh’s tablet? It was activated somehow…a wave of power surged from it and I was knocked out. When I can too you were on the ground…like this…” she motioned to Lillian’s arms.

Images of being surrounded by water…nearly drowning…immense pain…it started flooding back to the raven-haired girl. She felt unsteady on her feet as Ishizu wrapped an arm around her middle and helped her back to bed, sitting her down on the bed before retrieving the tray.

She carefully cleaned the areas covered in ink before applying ointment and wrapping them up in bandages again. Lillian watches in silence, flinching every now and then, “Did you have to do this for your brother after his initiation?” Ishizu’s hands stilled for a moment before she nodded, “Yes. Although he was only cut and scarred. Yours seems to be inked in like tattoos.” She was soon finished and started to clean up the supplies.

“I need to go home.” Lillian said softly. Ishizu didn’t respond. “I…saw something while I was trapped in the water…and…I think my brother might be in danger…”

The Egyptian woman took the tray and headed to the door, stopping for a moment and looking back at Lillian, “You should get some more rest. I will begin preparations for your departure.” There is silence between them again as Lillian lies down, pulling the covers over herself.

Ishizu turns to leave when the other girl speaks softly, “Thank you Ishizu…you really are a good friend.” This made the tomb keeper smile as she walked away.

Back in Domino.

Things were not going well for Seto Kaiba. Let’s go down the list, first he kidnapped the old man from the game shop. Then he duelled him for his Blue Eyes and won, he then proceeded to rip up the card so that it could never be used against him. He then duelled Yugi (who seemed to somehow change which shouldn’t be possible. Maybe it was just the lights of the duel arena) and actually lost! The twerp somehow summoned Exodia and beat his 3 Blue eyes! Then to make matters worse, the kid did some kind of weird thing that seemed to have messed with his head before he passed out.

When he came to he was laying on the couch in his office, pain shooting through his head as if someone had stabbed a white hot poker through it. He stared up at the ceiling, wonder how he had gotten there. Mokuba had probably called security and had them escort him here. How humiliating.

He growled as he sat up and rubbed his forehead, trying to make the pain go away. It felt like something was missing…like something had been ripped away from him. He was probably just getting a migraine. The CEO stood up and made his way over to his desk, yanking open the drawer where he kept his pain pills. He reached for the bottle but stopped when he saw a familiar photo frame, a wave of emotions flowed through him as he forgot about the meds and instead picked up the frame. Sitting down in his chair he stared at the image of his best and only friend…the girl who had stolen his heart and who left him a year ago…he ran his fingers the picture, tracing her cheek as he gazed at her smile and bright blue eyes. He had almost forgotten how she looked…how she made his heart race...how much he missed her…how he longed to hear her voice again…to she her smile again…

Suddenly something came to mind, his eyes widening as he remember something from the previous day when he entered that stupid game shop…his hands shook as he remember seeing a different framed photo that held a happy family…he remember a seeing a familiar face amongst them. He thinks back to all the times she had mentioned that her grandfather owned a game store…how her brother looked more like the old man than their father or mother. He drops the photo frame as he steps back, his heart beating faster as he feels panic starting to sink in.

He thinks back to everything Lillian had ever mentioned about her family…every little detail flooded back into his mind. Even during his duels with Yugi and his grandfather something was screaming at him to stop, even as he played his Blue eyes card…the one Lillian had given him, he remembered how it felt like it was burning his skin when he used it to bring harm to the old man and how he tried to used it to intimidate Yugi…his subconscious was trying to tell him the entire time that what he was doing was…wrong…that he was hurting the family of someone close to him…one of the only two people that he ever cared about…

He slammed his fists onto his desk as it felt like he was starting to hyperventilate. Why was he feeling like this? He shouldn’t be, he was stronger than that! He had built up a wall around this ridiculous and nonsense feelings for months now, he had grown bitter and prideful, wanting to forget his trauma and pain. He was Seto god damn Kaiba! And he was also the man that had hospitalized the love of his life’s grandfather, torn up his most prized possession and then terrorized her brother. Oh god what had he done?!

Breathing heavily he swiping everything off his desk in a fit of rage, his computer crashing to the ground and breaking, paper scattering across the floor. He proceeded to trash his office in anger and frustration. He picked up his chair and was about to throw it when he heard glass breaking under his foot. Looking down he saw the photo of Lillian that he had dropped. Setting the chair down quickly he kneeled down and picked up the broken frame and tried to dust away the broken glass, removing the photo to prevent it from sustaining anymore damage as the shards of glass had made a few dents in the image.

He sat back, his back against the floor to ceiling window, holding the picture as if it were the most precious thing in the world…tears blurred his vision but he couldn’t care. He had hurt the family of his beloved, a family that she thought she would never have and treasured them all, a loving mother and father, a wise and kind grandfather and a little brother who Lillian adored more than anything else. They were her heart and Seto had tried to shatter it…grief washed over him, realizing that the person he had become in the past year was gone…and all that was left was the pain and sorrow that he held in for years. His step father would call him pathetic and weak if he saw him now but he couldn’t care…because the only thing that went through his mind was the fact that Lillian was going to hate him when she got back and found out what he had down…and maybe…just maybe…he deserved it…

#yugioh #yugi mutou #yami yugi #seto kaiba #mokuba kaiba #fantasy #ocs #blindshipping #puzzleshipping

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voraciousvore · 8 months

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Candy and the Beanstalk

I wanted to write something light and silly and fluffy, since I've been writing so many dreadfully dark stories lately, so I put my OCs Candy Caramello and Martin Maneater into a classic beanstalk story. No actual vore in this one, just cute g/t fluff and some mild sfw romance. Enjoy (I hope)! :3

Word Count: 3.9k

They came from the sky, draped in remnants of clouds. Nobody knew how, or whence, or what they were, other than the fact that they vaguely resembled beans—beans with an exotic iridescent sheen, pulsing with a rainbow parade of luminescence. Upon their initial discovery, in a fallow dirt field, they drew considerable attention and curiosity. As obvious magical objects, they fetched a high price among buyers eager to discover their secrets.

Unfortunately, these buyers were soon disappointed to find that their fortunes had been wasted. Not a single person could get the beans to grow, nor could they extract any magical properties. The kaleidoscope of lights that displayed on their smooth surfaces gradually faded to a dull, lackluster brownish green, just like any other bean, with only the occasional spark of light to betray their original appearance. The mysterious beans from the sky soon faded into obscurity as people lost interest, deemed nothing more than a hoax or scam.

Out in the countryside, far away from the hustle and bustle of major townships, lived a humble peasant girl by the name of Candy Caramello. She was a very sweet and pretty girl, blessed with lovely blue eyes and long blonde hair, but she was also as dumb as a box of rocks. She lived with her parents on the family farm and worked as a milkmaid, with big milkers of her own to match. Regrettably, she wasn’t good for much else beyond the simplest tasks, especially with how clumsy and accident-prone she tended to be, so her parents didn’t have high hopes for her. She spent her days daydreaming about boys as she milked the cows and fed the animals.

One day, one of the older cows stopped producing milk. Candy brought this unfortunate news up to her mother. “Mom, the cow’s broken. Her udder’s all shriveled up.”

“Well, the cow’s of no use to us anymore. Take it to the market to sell it for its meat and hide,” her mother ordered.

“Really? Me?” Candy replied with surprise, twirling strands of her lustrous golden hair around her fingers. She usually wasn’t assigned much responsibility.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? She’s bound it muck it up,” her father whispered. Mrs. Caramello shushed him and sent her daughter on her way.

“She’s got to learn eventually,” her mom sighed, once she was out of earshot. “We can’t treat her like a baby forever.”

Candy skipped along the dirt path to town, excited for a new adventure as she led the cow by a rope. Her blue eyes sparkled with joy as she beheld the scenery: undulating fields of grain, majestic old oak trees, fresh green grass, fluffy white clouds glowing with sunshine. She walked over a stone bridge and watched fish dart around in the sparkling waters of the river below. The cow impatiently pulled on the rope to hurry her along.

She entered the market, and was immediately distracted by all the new sights and sounds and people. Stalls lined the streets bursting with fruits and vegetables, colorful textiles, hand-crafted goods, and a wide array of exotic baubles and trinkets. Candy forgot about selling the cow as she browsed goods that she had no money to buy.

“Hey, you! Wench!” a gravelly voice called from the entrance to a dark, deserted alley off to the side.

“Hmmm?” Candy turned her head and walked toward the sketchy area, oblivious to the potential danger.

“Is that cow for sale? How much?” the voice rasped. A shadowy figure, cloaked in midnight blue garments, crept out of the shade from the brick walls that hemmed in both sides of the narrow passage. He was a lean, tall man with a sickly mien.

“Ummm… what’s your best offer?” Candy inquired. She had no idea how much she was supposed to sell the cow for.

“I have something that might interest you…” A gnarled hand emerged from the folds of the cloak, holding a small drawstring bag full of small lumps. “Magic beans!” He opened the bag and pulled out a bean to show her. To Candy’s amazement, the bean flickered with light.

“Magic?” Candy’s eyes gleamed. “What do they do?”

The mysterious individual hesitated, as if not anticipating the question. “Uh… they’ll make you rich! Fabulously rich!” Candy looked at the stranger blankly. Money was fine and dandy, but not what her heart truly desired. Sensing her apathy, he changed tactics. “Or… they’ll help you find true love!”

Candy, being the hopeless romantic that she was, lit up. “Really? All that for a cow? Why? How?”

“Erm, don’t worry about that. Just, uh… follow your heart and look to the heavens and you’ll have your answer!”

Candy agreed to the deal, and traded the cow for the beans. As she left, the stranger muttered under his breath, too quiet to hear, “What a fool… those beans are useless…”

On her way home, Candy pawed through the bag and examined the beans. None of them had that special spark or sheen that she witnessed earlier, but she wasn’t deterred. She believed in the magic with all her heart. She couldn’t wait to plant them and see what would happen. Would they bloom with fantastic buds, opening to reveal a handsome prince? She nearly squealed with joy at the thought. She entered her cottage home just as the sun was beginning to set, bathing the landscape in orange twilight.

“Mom, Dad, look what I got for the cow!” Candy proclaimed, holding up the sack of beans triumphantly in her hand.

“What’s that? Gold coins?” Mr. Caramello asked.

“No, even better! I got beans! Magic beans!” Candy poured the beans into her hand so they could see. Her parents stared dumbly at the dull pile.

“Please… tell me you’re joking,” her mother uttered in disbelief. Candy gave a slight shake of her head, clueless. “Candy, you clod! You traded an entire cow for a handful of beans?”

She snatched all the beans out of Candy’s hand and threw them out the window. “Empty-headed simpleton! You got scammed! You wasted a perfectly good cow!”

“I told you this would happen,” her father muttered. Mrs. Caramello elbowed him hard in the side, making him grunt. Candy hung her head, dejected. She wanted to shrivel into the floorboards and disappear. She tried her hardest to please her folks, but somehow she always messed everything up. Her best was never good enough for them. She fought back tears.

“Ugh, just get out of my sight,” her mother said with a disgusted wave of her hand. Candy turned around with a despondent slouch and obeyed, dragging her feet out the door.

“Don’t you think you’re being too hard on her, dear?” Mr. Caramello murmured, once Candy was out of earshot. “She can’t help it that she’s so stupid.”

“I’m just sick of her being such an airhead! She needs to get her head out of the clouds and grow up!” Mrs. Caramello spat back with frustration.

Outside, Candy walked over to the beans scattered in the soil and plopped down on her knees. Sniffling, she scooped the beans up into her hands with some crumbs of dirt and gazed down at them sadly. They didn’t glow, stubbornly insisting on remaining a bland monochrome green. She poked her fingers in the dirt and scooped out a hole, then planted the beans and tucked them in with a pat of her hands. She kept her hands in place, sitting in the dirt as the sun sank below the horizon, quenching its fire into the earth. Her remaining energy died with the light.

With a laborious sigh, Candy went back inside the house, avoiding her parents and laying down in her bed to sleep. A trickle of melancholy dribbled into her core as she huddled on her side and stared at the wall. She was desperate to please; at the end of the day, she just wanted to be loved and held. She wanted a caring man, big and warm, to wrap his arms around her and tell her that she wasn’t useless. She wanted to feel precious and special, beloved and cherished, rather than being such a worthless disappointment. Candy shivered, pulling the bedsheets up to her chin, and fell asleep.

Little did she know that the beans, hidden beneath layers of earth, were radiating multicolored flashes. They had awakened from their long-dormant state with a burst of fire. Candy’s sweet touch had brought them to life. Like Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone, Candy had something special that the magical beans patiently sought.

While she slept, a fresh green sprout emerged from the ground and reached for the sky, twisting and looping in a rapid ascension. Tendrils swirled in spirals and springs around each other as they lengthened and expanded in scale. Leaves grew from tender buds into magnificent foliage large enough to lay on like a mattress. The stalk thickened and swelled, transforming from a thin vine to a pillar to a massive verdant structure, broader and taller than the biggest redwood trees.

Candy woke up early, as was her habit, to let out the chickens and milk the cows. When she walked out the door into a dark shadow, she turned around to behold the gigantic beanstalk towering above her, above the house and surrounding countryside, impossibly tall, so high up that she couldn’t even see the top as it disappeared into the cloud layer. She stood there and gaped in astonishment, not believing her eyes. She wondered if she was still dreaming as she slowly stepped up to the plant and placed her palm on its glorious green surface. It was real. The magic was real.

She craned her head back to gaze up into the sky. The words of the bean seller popped into her head. Follow your heart and look to the heavens. When she initially heard those words, she thought he meant to pray for divine intervention, or have faith or strength of spirit. Now, however, the words took on a whole new meaning. Clearly, she was supposed to literally ascend to the sky, via the magical bridge created expressly for her.

The task before her was daunting, but Candy was firm with resolve. She dreamed, in her most honeyed fantasies, of finding true love. The ceaseless desire burned in her so strongly that she feared she would turn to ash if it were not satiated. She didn’t know what could possibly be in the sky that would aid her in her quest, but she was determined to find out. She took a deep breath to steady herself before beginning her journey. She gripped a coiled vine in her hand and started to climb.

At first, scaling the beanstalk was fun, reminiscent of a joyful childhood climbing trees. As the time stretched on, though, Candy’s optimism waned and her muscles began to ache. The labor became arduous. As the atmosphere thinned with the great height, the air chilled and the wind bit through her light clothes. The verdurous shoots of the beanstalk were soft and feathery in some parts, hard and sharp in others, digging into the skin on her hands. Whenever she grew weary, she rested on one of the many giant leaves. She didn’t want to stay in one place for too long, though, since she still had a long way to climb.

Candy considered giving up, but at some point she realized it would be just as hard to return to the ground far below. The distance was dizzying; Candy was just grateful she wasn’t afraid of heights. The beanstalk occasionally swayed in the breeze, making her cling with a death grip to the leafy vines until the stalk steadied again. When she needed a distraction, she admired the view. She could see for miles around. The farmland below, from such a grand height, looked flat, since none of the objects below could compare to the colossal twisting tower.

Candy entered the cloud layer, where the air was moist and frigid. The initial wisps of cloud thickened into heavy white puffs that produced dark shade. Candy was tempted to curl up when the cold ice particles surrounded her, and her hands met crusts of ice on the foliage, but she forced herself to continue. Finally, she emerged from the cloud layer, back into the brilliant sunshine.

Her eyes just about boggled out of her head when she surveyed the cloudscape around her. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t an entire alternate world up in the clouds. There were trees, and flowers, and a garden, and even a charming cottage close by. Candy cautiously tested the surface of the clouds and was surprised to find them pleasantly firm beneath her feet, like solid earth. She hopped off the beanstalk, stretched her weary arms, and headed towards the nearby cottage.

She immediately discerned that something was amiss as she grasped the true nature of her surroundings. The grass was tall, easily as tall as she was, and the flowers towered over her head. The trees stretched up into infinity, their branches and leaves fading into the blinding mist higher up. Candy gawked over a fallen acorn as big around as a barrel of ale as she walked past it. The cottage at first glance appeared close, since it was such an immense building, but was actually quite far away.

Candy faltered as she recognized just how shockingly huge everything was, especially the house. Who could possibly be large enough to inhabit such a vast structure? Fear flooded her heart, yet her curiosity and desire ultimately won out. She believed in the magic of the beans, even more so as she beheld such impossible, remarkable sights. She felt, in her heart, she was destined to come here—as the bean seller had promised her, to find love.

She cautiously approached the cottage, marveling at the inconceivable scale of it all. Up close, the house was so large that she couldn’t take it all in at once. She stumbled over some pits in the ground, failing to notice that the ridges taken as a whole formed a giant bootprint. She reached the door, which stretched hundreds of feet above her head, and gazed up at it in wonder. There was no way she’d be able to open it on her own, but she was small enough to crawl underneath it, through the gap between the door and the floor. She slipped inside, her heart racing.

The inside of the domicile would be rather average-looking, if not for the size. Candy found herself on a huge, scratchy welcome mat that nearly matched the square footage of her cow barn back home. She stepped over the threshold and onto a boundless stone floor. As she walked forward, with her diminutive shoes clicking on the stone, a tremendous masculine voice boomed from somewhere inside the house.

“FE!”

Candy stopped dead in her tracks at the enormous voice. The loud sound was followed up by a substantial thud, then another, and another, which Candy recognized as the rhythm of giant footsteps.

“FI!”

The steps rapidly approached, nearly knocking Candy over with how much they vibrated the floor. Her heart jumped into her throat. Logically, she knew she ought to run, but she was petrified in place.

“FO!”

The source of the disruption made his appearance, rounding a doorframe into the room. He was a giant man, hundreds of feet tall, with stormy gray eyes, short dark hair, and a sturdy build. He thundered toward little Candy, who was too stunned to move.

“FUM!”

His boot slammed down next to her. At her height, she wasn’t even tall enough to reach his ankle. He kneeled down, looming over her.

“I smell the blood of an Englishman!”

Candy gasped as a gigantic hand, with fingers thicker and longer than her entire body, overshadowed her. She finally snapped out of her paralytic state and turned to run, but she had no chance of escape as the fingers closed around her in a fist. She watched the floor drop away below as she was lifted up to the giant’s face so he could get a better look at her.

“Er... Englishwoman,” the giant corrected himself, once he was able to see her closer. Candy gazed up at his huge face, into his soft gray eyes. He had a prominent nose, full lips, and a forest of stubble around his mouth and chin. Other than his size, he didn’t look menacing or evil. As a matter of fact, Candy found him to be strikingly handsome. Perhaps even the most handsome man she had ever seen—the kind she fantasized about all day while she milked the cows, when she imagined her perfect man.

“Hmmm, I’m in the mood for a sandwich,” the giant rumbled to himself, standing up with the tiny woman in his fist. Candy wasn’t really listening to what he was saying. She was spellbound. She felt her face warm up with him so close, so huge, all around her. His fingers wrapped around her body as warmly as she pictured the arms of her fictional lover last night. Was this the man she was supposed to meet? Her true love? Sure, he was enormous, and not quite what she had expected, but true love conquers all, right?

The giant, oblivious to her thoughts, got out some slices of bread, meat, cheese, lettuce, tomato, and condiments, and started prepping his sandwich. Humans weren’t common up in the sky, and he hadn’t eaten one in a long time, so he was looking forward to a rare treat. He thought it odd that she wasn’t struggling in his fist or pleading for her life, as humans normally did when he threatened to eat them. Maybe she was too frightened. She was shaking a bit, after all.

Candy rested her elbows on his finger and held her chin in her hands with a dreamy gaze. “What’s your name?” she asked.

The giant was confused by the question, and her placid demeanor, but dutifully replied, “Martin. Martin Maneater.” He paused midway through spreading sauce on his bread. “What about you?” Why am I asking this girl her name, when I’m just going to eat her anyway? To be polite?

She giggled, her face flushing at the attention. “Oh, I’m Candy. Candy Caramello! It’s lovely to meet you!” Martin blinked, increasingly baffled as he looked down at her. She wasn’t afraid of him at all. In fact, she had a rapturous look that was enthusiastic enough to make him blush. A woman had never looked at him quite like that before. And gosh, she was pretty cute too… just his type: blonde, blue-eyed, busty, and completely adorable.

“Um…” Martin suddenly found himself tongue-tied. What was wrong with him? He was supposed to eat her, not fawn over her! And yet… and yet… his heart was singing in his chest with a thrumming rapid enough to make him lightheaded. He abandoned his sandwich and sat down in a chair at the dining room table, loosening his grip on the little lady since she apparently wasn’t going to bolt.

With his mind drawing a blank, he asked the first question that popped into his head. “How did you get here, Candy?”

“Oh! I planted some magic beans and climbed a giant beanstalk! It was amazing!!” Candy chirped as she twisted a strand of golden hair around her finger. She caressed Martin’s giant finger with her other hand, reveling in how warm and soft his skin felt on hers. Martin blushed again at the physical contact. He liked it more than he cared to admit.

“Ah, the beans… that makes sense…” Martin muttered. “They only grow for special people, you know…”

“Is that so?” Candy said in a seductive tone, batting her eyes at him. Martin’s heart jumped as she twirled playfully in his loose fingers.

“Y-yeah… they only grow for a human of exceptional stock, one that is… especially tasty.” The giant raised a brow, curious to see how the woman would take this information.

She didn’t skip a beat. “Awww, so you think I’m tasty?” Candy flirted with a wink. The literal meaning of his words seemed to be lost on her. Martin couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I’m sure you are,” he teased back, running his tongue over his lips.

Candy’s eyes lingered on his lips longer than he felt comfortable, as he felt himself drooling over her scent. “The bean seller told me I could find true love with the magic of the beans!” she blurted out. Martin raised his eyebrows with surprise.

“Oh! Uh… hmmm… that’s interesting…” Martin stammered. What was he supposed to say to that?

“Can I kiss you?!” Candy’s abrupt intensity was shocking.

Martin reddened. “K-kiss me?”

“That’s how you find out if someone is your true love! You have to kiss them!” Candy insisted. “That’s how it works in the fairy tales!”

Martin’s tongue tripped over his words as he became increasingly flustered. He was about to deny her assertion, tell her love didn’t work that way, but… her little face and body, resting in his hand, made his chest swell. He wanted to kiss her, badly. He was lonely, living in the clouds all by himself. He wanted a woman to love, to call his own, and here she was, literally sitting in the palm of his hand, begging for his affection. How could he possibly refuse?

“O-okay. Sure. Yeah.” His heart pounded in his chest as he raised her up to his lips. He was tempted to scoop her up into his mouth, being the man-eating giant that he was, but he politely refrained and puckered his lips gently. He pressed his plush lips to her tiny body, feeling every soft curve she had to offer. She kissed him back, her touch light and soft. He could feel her excited heartbeat pulsing in her chest. He pinned her down in his palm with rising ardor as he leaned into the sensual kiss. He could even taste her incredible caramel sweetness as his tongue touched her body. She was divine. His entire body burned with a sudden fiery passion that radiated from her touch on his lips all the way down to his toes.

He could hardly tear himself away when he finished kissing her. He craved more. She lay flat on her back in his palm, hot and slightly soggy, her cheeks red as a rose and her eyes glistening with stars. She looked like a tiny angel.

“I-I think you’re the one, Martin,” she uttered breathlessly. “That was amazing.”

“Mmmmm, I agree,” Martin purred, caressing her body tenderly with his finger. He couldn’t believe his luck. He leaned down for another kiss, this one short and sweet but no less passionate. “Who knew a human woman could make me feel this way...”

Martin cupped her in his hands and took her into his living room. He reclined on the couch and relaxed, holding the tiny woman against his chest. As he drifted off for a nap, he hoped in his heart that this whole encounter wasn’t all just a dream, and the tiny woman in his hands was, in fact, real. Before he closed his eyes, he looked down at her, snuggled up in the curve of his palm on his chest, rocking slightly with every beat of his heart. She was so trusting, already fast asleep in his hand after a long and exhausting day of climbing.

Maybe true love was real after all.

Writing Masterpost

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