𝚜𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝 𝚊𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚢 | 𝚎.𝚌𝚊𝚕𝚕 | 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚒𝚡

Pairing: Embry Call x Original Character Summary: Join Ainsley and Embry as they embark on a journey where they are forced to question everything they thought they knew, and embrace the pain that is inevitable to avoid in love. An imprint story. Self-discovery. Angst and romance. Word Count: 5k Warnings: implied cunnalingus, puking A/N: I apologize that I haven't updated this story in forever. I'm in the middle of binging Naruto and my ass is thirsting so hard over the ninja men but I felt it was only fair if I updated this WIP before I posted anything related to another fandom >.< prev. chapter | next chapter  

Despite my mother’s various protests, I found myself settling into Embry’s home quite comfortably. I hadn’t necessarily moved in, but I didn’t exactly live at home anymore, either. I spent a lot of my time on the tiny loveseat Jacob and Embry shared, finishing homework and listening to Podcasts, waiting for Embry to return home from a long night shift, or the extra shifts he was pulling to help out. 

It turned out Jacob worked with Embry, too, so the house was mostly empty apart from myself and the sound of the wind knocking the pipes together. Most of the time, I forced myself to stay awake until they’d come home in the wee hours of the morning. I never slept soundly without Embry in the bed, anyway. 

It had been three weeks since I last slept in my own bed; I now sat perched on the counter as Embry chopped red peppers into thin slices. I watched the way his back contracted with the gentle movements, enjoying the way his skin expanded whenever he stretched a hand to the size to stir the pan simmering on the stove aimlessly.  

“You’re staring.” Embry mused quietly, looking over his shoulder at me. 

I lifted a brow, raising the wine glass to my lips to take a small sip. “You’re sort of beautiful, you know that?”

Embry chuckled lightheartedly as he tossed the peppers into the pan. “Is that what we’re calling me this week?”

Last week, it was handsome. I accidentally said it while we were in the shower, not really something I had meant to say out loud. I was speaking about something out loud, but while thinking it in my head the words overlapped. Embry found my embarrassment cute, but I had never felt more happy to say it. I then made sure to say things like that frequently as a reminder that I adored him. 

“Yes, it is.” I lifted my chin, taking another sip of the red liquid that sloshed around in the oversized glass. They say one glass a day, right? Embry joked when he noticed it in the thrift store — and laughed so hard at his own joke, he purchased it just so he could fill it to the brim each night with dinner. We hadn’t been by Emily’s in almost a week now, choosing to stay at home and spend whatever free time Embry had, together. 

Embry brought the stovetop down to a simmer and turned to settle in between my thighs, hands resting on the countertop on either side of my bottom. I draped my arms over his shoulders, seeming pleased with my confidence. When he didn’t say anything, I tilted my head to the side and raised a brow again, “What?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

He leaned forward to press his lips to the side of my neck, just under my ear, “Giving me compliments.” 

I hummed in a sort of delight, letting my eyes slip shut, “I thought you liked it when I fed your ego.”

He chuckled again, lips moving to press to the hollow base of my throat, “You do that plenty enough in the bedroom, honey, trust me.” 

I let my mind wander to the previous night: the more comfortable I felt with him, the more I let myself go. My moans were loud enough the house could’ve shook, finding pleasure in watching Embry focus so intently on me to draw them from me. I felt it was only fair to happily oblige, no doubt boosting whatever confidence he had over his sexual abilities through the roof. My fingers would grip the sheets so tightly my knuckles would turn white, making a mess of my hair each time he’d comb his fingers through it just to pull my head back to expose my neck. 

I almost felt bad for Jacob. Almost. They were technically his nights off, too. 

Since winter had rolled in, I was constantly wearing turtlenecks and hoodies to hide the litter of love bites Embry left. It was never too much, but they were for us to see and enjoy. They were the casual reminders that whatever we had was simply amazing and hot and real — and it drove me absolutely crazy. 

Once we were settled into our seats across from each other, I was the first to shovel a forkful of the pasta into my mouth; I didn’t really cook when Embry wasn’t around, and oftentimes found myself going hungry if he failed to come home in a timely manner. That was still just my secret. 

“Fuck,” I moaned quietly, taking another bite, “why haven’t you been cooking for me this whole time?” 

“Because we eat at Emily’s.” He reminded me, shovelling his own forkful into his mouth. 

I brought the wine glass to my lips and downed the rest of my drink. “Looks like I found myself a husband.” I said, mostly to myself. When I glanced across the table at Embry, he was watching me with big brown eyes and a new sort of adoration. “Don’t.” I said, suddenly realizing the severity of what I had just said.

“I didn’t say anything.” He smiled, his eyes dropping back to his food. The smile on his face was unmistakable. “Not a word.” 

“But you’re thinking about it.” I squinted, grabbing the bottle to pour myself another glass. One glass a day, my ass.

“Of course I am,” Embry sighed, resting his elbows on the table, “I already told you what I want.” 

“And I told you that you’re insane,” I retorted, moving the food around on my plate, “multiple times.” I added quietly. 

“Doesn’t have to be now.” He grumbled, shoving another bite into his mouth. “Just peace of mind, that’s all.” 

“Embry,” I sighed, watching his shoulders drop the slightest as though he were expecting me to retaliate. I had been doing that a lot — I might have semi-moved into his home, but I still held him at arm's length with a lot of things. I still shot him down, especially when all he was trying to do was be a happy, lovesick idiot. 

And here I was trying to stick a cork in all of the fun. 

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” I smiled, reaching across the table to touch his fingers. “I promise.” 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The morning of Thanksgiving, I was woken by gentle kisses pressed against my back. “You know what I’m thankful for?” Embry had asked quietly, lips pressing another warm kiss to my spine.

“Hmm?” I hummed, hugging the pillow. 

“My brothers,” He started, pressing his lips to the small of my back, “and my mother.” His mouth trailed to my hips. I slowly began to turn over, opening an eye to peer down at him, “But I’m most thankful for you.”

His teeth grazed my thigh and I tensed. 

“Thankful for your kindness.” 

A soft sigh slipped past my lips as he bit into the flesh.

“Thankful for your patience.” 

My hands drifted up into his hair.

“Thankful for your love, even if I’m undeserving.” 

My legs shifted apart, allowing him to settle in between my thighs. 

“Thankful for all the adorable noises you make.”

He pressed a warm, open mouthed kiss to my swollen folds, enticing a slow whine somewhere in the back of my throat. 

“Just so, so thankful for you.” 

He had spent the morning pleasing me in so many different ways, trying to show me just how thankful he truly was. Once we showered and dressed, we drove hand-in-hand to Emily’s. I offered to help in preparing for the feast she had to make, feeling somewhat obligated after extending an invitation to my family. Billy offered to bring the veggies and stuffing. Sue was bringing the desserts. Jennie was bringing the fresh buns and roasted potatoes — which left Emily and I with the turkey, other forms of potatoes, extra stuffing (my mother wasn’t really aware of how much these men could put away) and other various appetizers. 

When we arrived at the Uley house, I could smell the delicious scent of fresh bread from outside in my Jeep. Embry followed behind me now, rather than leading me into the home. It was something that naturally shifted over our time together. My boyfriend pressed a quick kiss to my cheek as I shrugged from my jacket; he would retire to the living room with Sam, Paul and Jared to watch whatever sports game was on the television, while the rest of us remained in the kitchen. 

A few weeks ago, Emily and Sam proudly announced the expectancy of a second little Uley. Now, Emily was all but sweating buckets in the kitchen, trying to keep her bump from accidentally hitting the hot stovetop. I thought it was sweet how much Emily already mothered the unborn child. 

“Looking good, Em.” I cooed, leaning over the counter to press a quick kiss to her cheek. 

Emily smiled in return. Despite the clear exhaustion, she managed to keep her typical happy-go-lucky demeanor. “Renesmee and her parents will be joining us.” She whispered, looking over to the living room. “Jake conveniently forgot to mention anything until this morning.” 

“We’re crunch baking.” Kim added, looking slightly distressed with her current task from the kitchen table. 

“Crunch baking?”

“Sue said she ran out of flour last night and didn’t have time to go to the store, and Sam wouldn’t let me leave to bring her some, so we’re making muffins.” 

I nodded, ducking down to the bottom drawer to fish for one of Emily’s aprons, “What can I do?” I asked as I pulled my hair into a low ponytail, pushing my sleeves up to the elbows. We spent the majority of the afternoon in the kitchen, listening to the boys converse back and forth in the living room. Each time someone arrived, another beer was opened for each of them. By the time my brothers arrived, I was certain the group was feeling pretty tipsy. 

Jennie hung her coat over the back of a chair and ran towards me with open arms, “I miss you!” She squealed quietly, holding me close. 

“Miss you, too, mom.” I sighed, wrapping my arms around my mother’s slender frame. She was wearing the same blue shirt from Billy’s birthday, her hair pulled back into one of her infamous buns paired with a matching set of hooped earrings. It was moments like this that led me to believe I would age just as gracefully as Jennie was – I would be so lucky. 

“You should come home.” She chided, pulling me to the table. “We miss having you at home.” 

I tried to look empathetic, but the truth was, I was perfectly happy with Embry. “I’ll visit more often, I promise.” 

Jennie pressed her lips into a firm line, watching me carefully. “You really love this man?” She asked quietly. 

I looked past my mother to where Embry stood, talking to my brothers. He looked simply gorgeous in his blue jean button down, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his hair freshly cut. I offered to trim it down, and then we got a little distracted and I ended up buzzing his entire head by accident. Not that it bothered Embry – we both seemed to like it. 

Jennie followed my eyes and smiled. “He is pretty.” She noted, taking the beer Emily had just placed down in front of her. 

“He’s the best,” I lamented, placing a hand on my mother's arm, “you really don’t have to worry about me.” It went on like that, the pair of us swapping stories of what had been going on over the last few weeks. Jennie had cut back on hours to spend more time with Billy and TJ, only working nights on bi-weekly rotation instead of every week. I mentioned being finished with my school work for the term, having plenty of free time to look for a part time job to keep myself occupied and busy while Embry was working. Jennie seemed to appreciate this.

“It’s just happening a little fast, don’t you think?” She asked quietly with concern feathering her features. “I’m happy you found someone that respects and loves you, baby, I really am. But it’s not good to isolate yourself –”

“I’m not.” I said quickly, shaking my head. “He doesn’t stop me from seeing anyone, I choose to spend my time with him.” 

We watched each other for a few moments before Jennie lifted her gaze: Embry had come to stand behind me, letting his hands rest on my shoulders. TJ had followed his suit, seated next to my mother. 

“Jennie,” Embry started, leaning down the slightest bit so she didn’t have to look too far up, “looking beautiful as always.” 

“Oh, Embry.” My mother waved him away, folding her legs over one another. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” 

“So they tell me.” He laughed nervously. I looked up at him, raising a brow. “Do you mind I steal you for a sec, hon?” 

“Uh, sure.” I stood up, pressing a quick kiss to TJ’s cheek as I passed, following Embry out of the front door and into the cold. He could have at least warned me. “What’s up, Emb?” I asked once we stood near the hood of my Jeep.

“It’s about Renesmee’s parents.” He started, pulling me towards the passenger side, away from the house. Embry pondered for a few moments, not seeming to care for the bitter wind nipping at our exposed skin. “They’re .. different.” He said the word slowly, trying to add emphasis on how different without actually implicating anything. 

“Isn’t everyone?” I asked, uselessly folding my arms to keep myself from getting cold.

Embry seemed to struggle with something, watching me with weary eyes. After a moment he signed, “I need you to keep an open mind. And any questions you have, any questions at all, I will answer later.” He promised. “When we’re home.” Embry added quickly, glancing over my head to the house.

“Why would I need an open mind?”

“Just, please?” He pleaded, pulling my hands to his lips to kiss my fingertips. The warmth was heavenly. “For me?”

“Okay.” I said slowly. When he smiled, I felt my chest expand twice its size and I relaxed. I had no idea why he would be so worried in the first place – it wasn’t as though I had a habit of judging those around me. 

Well, not entirely. 

It wasn’t until an hour later that Emily reminded the group that dinner would be ready shortly when I noticed Renesmee standing in the kitchen with Jacob and a few others I didn’t quite recognize. I leaned back a little bit, trying to rear my neck to look at the strangers I had yet to meet. They must be her parents. 

“Honey,” Embry chided, kissing my neck to pull my attention away from the kitchen, “it’s your turn.” 

I looked down at my hand, then to the table quickly. “Check.” I mumbled, looking at Jared for his final response. 

“Check.”

“Alright, show your hands.” Quil clapped, looking at Jared expectantly.

Jared grinned ear to ear, “Read em and weep, sucker!” I looked down at his straight hand, and smiled. 

“Cute.” I replied, placing my hand on the table. “But I’ve got a flush.” 

“Fuck off!” Jared yelled, leaning over the table to reread my cards. Twice. He dug into his pocket, pulling a five from his wallet and handed it to Embry. 

“Thank you.” 

“I’m winning my money back,” Jared grumbled, pushing the chips towards mine and Embry’s growing pile. “Your girl’s a shark.” 

“Nah, you just have shit luck.” Embry mused, counting all of the fives he had managed to weasel out of Jared’s pocket that afternoon. “Really, Jared. Eight years later, and I still don’t feel bad about taking all your money.” Embry’s mouth twitched into a smile, finishing the remainder of his beer. He looked at me and winked, fingers curling into my hair, rubbing my scalp appreciatively. 

“He’s my good luck charm.” I smiled, leaning into my boyfriend’s side. 

Sam had suggested playing something other than poker, seeing as some members of the group couldn’t afford to bet the way others could. We ended up playing Bullshit, which also didn’t end well for Jared. I was beginning to wonder if Kim was the only lucky thing that he had in his life. 

When Emily called to her husband for help with the turkey, the group slowly stretched their limbs and stood, preparing for their retreat to the kitchen lineup to fill their plates. Embry rolled the joints in his arms, yawning loudly before he reached his hand down to squeeze my backside, offering me an innocent smile when I reared around to shoot him a glare. He leaned over Billy’s frame to grab us plates, while I dropped low to hug my uncles shoulder’s. 

“Not you, too.” Billy grumbled, looking at Embry when he wrapped his arm around my waist. 

“Oh, leave him alone, dad.” Jacob chided, folding his arms, “It’s what he’s wanted.” 

“Ainsley!” Renesmee called, and suddenly my arms were wrapped around Nessie’s thin frame, head whirling with just how quick the tiny woman could be. “You’re here.” 

“Duh,” I laughed, pulling back to look at Renesmee’s dress. It was cream colored and covered in pretty black designs – more sophisticated than I envisioned when she said she was going for simple. 

My eyes drifted behind Nessie’s mountain of hair; two beautifully pale and seemingly flawless individuals stood several feet behind her, nearly wrapped up in each other's arms. Given their pale complexions, I deduced that they weren’t from the reservation, that was for sure. 

“Honey,” Embry cleared his throat, resting a hand on the small of my back, “this is Bella and Edward.” 

I watched the way their eyes scrutinized me; Bella’s brown orbs were careful, trying to seem open and inviting, however failed miserably. Edward, on the other hand, his golden hues were narrowed just the slightest bit. Neither seemed incredibly comforted by my presence, and I found myself shrinking under their stares. 

“These are Nessie’s parents.” Embry said slowly. I could feel his eyes on me, burning holes into the back of my skull. 

Nessie’s ‘parents’ didn’t look much older than myself – hell, they didn’t look much older than Renesmee. “You look pretty good for …” I trailed off.

“Thirty-seven.” Bella input, her sweet voice overpowering, very much in a similar manner to Renesmee’s. “We married right out of high school.” She added quickly, looking up at her husband lovingly. 

Ugh. 

“It’s nice to meet you.” I said with a tight smile, taking Embry’s hand in mine. There was something about the couple that didn’t sit right with me – something different that stirred something inside my chest, in the very pit of my stomach. I entwined my fingers with Embry’s, keeping close to his side as I glanced back over my shoulder from my place next to my mother once we were seated. Something was definitely off with them; the current image I had with the three of them, paired with Jacob, was beyond normal. 

I happily perched on Embry’s knee, his left hand wandering from my hip and waist, to my thigh, my skin burning through my jeans. Moments like this, sitting around the table with all of my family, are what really made everything feel so real. Made Embry and his unconditional love for me real. Made my life in this town permanent. Made me believe in second chances and new beginnings. 

I watched Leah and Trenton spend the majority of the dinner in each other's ears from across the table, smiling fondly as my brother laughed loudly at whatever his date was saying. I watched Jennie and TJ share intimate looks, paired with sweet pecks of affection. 

I watched Edward and Bella stand a little behind the remainder of the group, contently filling in the dead space away from the rest of the family. I enjoyed that they understood their place, and obliged out of respect. My home was with Embry’s warm arms and warm smile, with Jacob’s boyish laugh and wit, with Jared’s incessant need for attention, with Sam and Emily’s kitchen, with Seth and Brady and Collin. With the frequent wonder of how Quil was, due to his absence. 

My mother locked eyes with me for the briefest moment, smiling wide. 

“She looks happy.” Embry noted, kissing my ear as he rubbed my arms with his massive hands. 

As desserts were passed around, I wiggled in excitement as the warm gooey chocolate cookies made their way around the table – my hips moved quickly against Embry’s. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me against him tightly to cease my movements.

“Stop moving.” He breathed quietly in my ear. 

I looked down at him over my shoulder, a coy smile gracing my lips, “What’s the matter?” I asked, rolling my hips once. 

“You’re bad.” He laughed, hugging my waist. “No dessert for you.” 

I snorted, “Yeah, okay.” My arm reached across the table, pulling a cookie from the top of the stack. I turned to look at him, watching his warm eyes as I bit into the warm chocolatey goodness. I hummed in satisfaction, offering a piece to him. 

Soon, the table had dispersed; some members left to return home, others retired into the living room. Embry and I sat comfortably in the kitchen, feasting on leftover desserts and tea biscuits, making casual conversation with Sam and Paul. 

“This was amazing.” I noted, tipping my head back to finish the remainder of my wine. “The stuffing was –”

“Fucking delicious? I know, right?” Paul melted in his chair, hands covering his bloated abdomen. 

Sam sipped on his coffee, watching as the couple that spent the evening in the corner approached carefully. “I think we’re going to head out,” Bella started, sharing a quick hug with Emily, “see you around, wolf girl.” She teased. 

Four pairs of eyes widened and cut to Bella quickly, then to me. 

“What?” I asked, suddenly feeling nervous under the weight of their stares.

Edward, who up until then had been completely silent, moved to touch his wife’s back. “You don’t know yet?” He asked me, brows pulling together in confusion. “But I thought you were his –”

“Edward,” Bella hissed suddenly, turning to face him, “not our story to tell.” 

“You know?” I asked sourly, shifting in my seat. Embry tried placing a comforting hand on my arm, which I slapped away.

Edward focused on me for a moment, before his eyes cut to Embry’s. He laughed once, shaking his head, “She really doesn’t know.” 

“Unless you’re going to be useful to me in this conversation,” I quipped, pulling my empty glass off of the table, “I think it’s time you leave.” 

We stood there, staring at each other from across the room. If he wasn’t going to blab what no one else would, I had very little interest in associating with him. All he had done was bring my anger to the surface, that shift in my core locking back into place, the heat bubbling in my veins – and I wasn’t even touching Embry. 

“You really picked yourself a keeper.” Edward stated; he was talking to Embry but was focused on me as I walked into the kitchen. “She hates us almost as much as the rest of you do.” 

Renesmee cut her eyes towards me, her gaze slightly disappointed. I stood behind the counter, cutting myself away from the rest of the group. We watched each other for a brief moment, now several more pairs of eyes wandered into the dining area. 

“Everything good, Ness?” Jacob asked lightheartedly, rubbing her shoulders. 

Renesmee looked at me and shook her head. “She hates us.” 

Jacob looked up at me and then to Embry – who sat at the table, head in his trembling hands. “She doesn’t hate you.” Jacob reassured her.

“Dad just said –” 

“Edward,” Seth began, “Embry isn’t ready –”

“She deserves to know.” Edward cut calmly, moving his cold eyes back to me. “You deserve to know.” He said again, lowering his chin to his chest. He wanted me to know. 

“That’s enough.” Embry suddenly stated firmly, standing abruptly, which sent the chair he was sitting in across the room. His frame shook with heavy breaths, trembling fists clenched at his sides, jaw taunt. His voice, however, remained controlled. “You need to leave.” 

“Dude.” Jacob started, looking towards my boyfriend with disapproving eyes. “You need to calm down.” 

“Everyday,” Jared started, plucking a cookie from the table before he retreated to his corner next to Kim. “It’s happened everyday for almost three weeks.” 

“Aw, c’mon,” Paul teased, watching Embry with a knowing smirk. “Embry hasn’t lost his temper everyday. Maybe two out of three.” 

“Go ahead. Get it out in the open.” Edward pressed, taking a step away from Bella. 

“Edward,” Jacob growled, “enough.” 

Edward shook his head, “Even Bella knew,” he hissed, looking between Jacob and Embry. “She wasn’t even an imprint and she knew. It’s not safe to keep her in the dark.” 

“We’ve got it under control.” Sam said loudly, pulling Emily away from Embry’s shaking figure. 

“Time to leave.” Embry growled angrily, feet pushing him towards Edward. 

It had been a long time since I had seen any of the men lose their temper – but I was familiar with how this scene would end. Everyone quickly moved away, and I barely just made it to Embry’s side before Seth shot up and reared me back, “No, you need to stay away.”

Jacob blocked Embry’s path, slamming into his body. 

“Jake, move.”

“No.”

Another tremor rolled down Embry’s spine. “Move, dammit!”

Jacob’s fist reared back and collided with the side of Embry’s jaw; at first, the group stood in shock, and then we were frantically scattering out of the way. Bella pulled Renesmee back, hiding behind Edward. Emily and Sam stood in the furthest corner, Kim stood behind Jared. 

I was the only one who struggled against Seth, trying to use my elbows to inflict some sort of damage (I didn’t). 

“That was incredibly stupid.” Edward remarked from behind Jacob, watching Embry slowly bring his head forward again. His fingers hastily unbuttoned his shirt, taking the fabric away from his body as he kicked his boots to the other side of the room. 

“Get Ains and Em out of the room.” Embry growled, but the voice didn’t sound like it belonged to Embry at all.

Jacob, who realized his mistake all too late, began to walk backwards through the open door to the outside with his hands raised in the air as a sort of truce. Embry definitely didn’t care for it. 

There was a loud growl, Embry’s body slamming to the ground in visible tremors and convulsions. Halfway to the floor, there was a loud ripping noise and Embry exploded. Dark gray and black fur blew out from his body, coalescing into something more than five-times his normal size - a massive, crouched shape that was ready to spring. 

The wolf’s gray muzzle wrinkled back over his teeth, and another growl rolled through his colossal chest. His warm brown orbs had been replaced with nothing but black, focused solely on Jacob’s retreating figure. In an instant, Jacob’s figure shimmied – far more gracefully than Embry’s had – and he exploded, too. 

I stood, wrapped in Seth’s firm grip, mouth ajar. 

The wolves met in the middle head-on, their angry snarls echoed like thunder off the trees behind them. 

“Stay where you are, Ainsley.” Sam ordered as he darted outside. It was hard to hear him over the roar of the fighting wolves. They were snapping and tearing at each other, their sharp teeth flashing toward each other’s throats. The Jacob-wolf seemed to have the upper hand – being visibly larger than Embry, but Embry’s current emotion had clouded his vision. His frame was easily sleeker, muscle mass much smaller than what Jacob bore on his frame. He rammed his shoulder against the grey wolf again and again, knocking him backwards into the trees nonetheless.

Despite not being in direct eyesight, I could still hear their snarls and growls as though they were right beside me, in my ear. Emily crouched beside me, hands on my arms comfortingly, “Ains, hon, breathe.” 

I hadn’t realized I had sunken to the floor; I snapped my eyes to Emily’s, seeing my reflection in her dark brown orbs. Wide eyed and terrified – I could feel my stomach roll and flip angrily. 

“You need to leave.” Emily hissed over her shoulder towards the trio of pale faces. Much to my dismay, Renesmee looked concerned. “Now! You’ve done enough!”

I leaned over Seth’s arm – who was still trying to keep me upright – and emptied the contents of my stomach onto Emily’s kitchen floor. I was moved quickly then, Seth rushing to get me upstairs to the bathroom in time before I heaved again, this time into the porcelain bowl of the toilet. 

Warm tears burned my eyes, a sob breaking through my chest. “Fuck.” I croaked, taking Seth’s hand tightly in my own as I braced the other on the side of the tub. I hated puking.

“Guess the wolf’s out of the bag.” Seth joked. 

I shot him a glare, before I felt my stomach roll again and I forced the bile to rise from my throat into the toilet. “Remind me to kill you later.” I sobbed, hanging my head over the bowl. 

I sat in the bathroom with my back pressed to the tub. They left me alone after nearly an hour of listening to me sob and kick and scream; Emily had made the executive decision to lock me in the bathroom alone so I could calm down. 

Seth had spent most of that hour trying to constrict me from lashing out against him, holding me tightly to his body. He kept whispering about keeping an open mind, how he needed me to not completely make any judgment about Embry because we needed each other. 

He was trying too hard to make sure I wasn’t going to leave Embry.

Here is what I knew:

One: My boyfriend – and my cousin – could morph into horse-sized wolves. Which likely meant others could, too.

Two: Edward and Bella definitely weren’t normal – if they were even human at all. I still didn’t like them. Three: I was absolutely terrified about what was going to happen next.

Some positivity in these turbulent AI times

*This does not minimize the crisis at hand, but is aimed at easing any anxieties.

With every social media selling our data to AI companies now, there is very little way to avoid being scraped. The sad thing is many of us still NEED social media to advertise ourselves and get seen by clients. I can't help but feeling that we as artists are not at risk of losing our livelihoods, here is why:

Just because your data is available does not mean that AI companies will/want to use it. Your work may never end up being scraped at all.

The possibility of someone who uses AI art prompts can replace you (if your work is scraped) is very unlikely. Art Directors and clients HAVE to work with people, the person using AI art cannot back up what a machine made. Their final product for a client will never be substantial since AI prompts cannot be consistent with use and edits requested will be impossible.

AI creators will NEVER be able to make a move unless us artists make a move first. They will always be behind in the industry.

AI creators lack the fundamental skills of art and therefore cannot detect when something looks off in a composition. Many professional artists like me get hired repeatedly for a reason! WE as artists know what we're doing.

The art community is close-knit and can fund itself. Look at furry commissions, Patreon, art conventions, Hollywood. Real art will always be able to make money and find an audience because it's how we communicate as a species.

AI creators lack the passion and ambition to make a career out of AI prompts. Not that they couldn't start drawing at any time, but these tend to be the people who don't enjoy creating art to begin with.

There is no story or personal experience that can be shared about AI prompts so paying customers will lose interest quickly.

Art is needed to help advance society along, history says so. To do that, companies will need to hire artists (music, architecture, photography, design, etc). The best way for us artists to keep fighting for our voice to be heard right now is staying visible. Do not hide or give in! That is what they want. Continue posting online and/or in person and sharing your art with the world. It takes a community and we need you!

jorrāeliarzus (beloved) │ Chapter 2: Need

terms of endearment ‘verse: see my Masterlist for the correct series order!

Chapter 1 │Chapter 2 │Chapter 3  (In Progress!)

Synopsis: Daemon guides you on a journey of healing and self-discovery as you learn to raise your children and build a family of your own. You crave.

I am sorry for how long this took - to be fair, it's been months since I wrote actual smut and I was nervous to re-pop my smut cherry, ahahahaha. Yes, this chapter features actual smut, hallelujah for Reader! This doesn't technically mark the end for the troubles, however deceptive the ending is. Depression is a process, and sometimes we go through ups and downs with it. We're facing an up here! Ish.

Thanks be to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for beta-ing and offering much-needed pointers to make this chapter coherent and well-rounded. I cannot post without you holding my hand ever, and I love you for putting up with it.

Triggers: incest, age gap, purity culture, detailed depictions of PPD, penetrative s*x, lactation and lactation kink.

Wading through the waters of this curious state of mind is no easy process.

Melancholy. Mother’s malady. Madness. Whatever it is called among differing circles, you now know it is not uncommon. This knowledge does not ease the despondency that comes in waves, threatening to shatter any semblance of the control you are tenuously rebuilding. There are days when you feel as though you cannot even bear to lay eyes on your boy and girl, that the merest act of sighting them will somehow cause their unhappiness, that you will ruin them by being near them. There are times when you believe yourself to be the only woman in the world who cannot simply love her children as mothers ought to, free of the complication of treacherous notions slithering through the mind like draughts of poison, silent in their destruction. There are moments when you think that perhaps you should never have allowed them to spring to fruition, that you should have found a way to tear out the blooms that had sprouted within your belly before they had the chance to become living, breathing creatures.

That last thought is particularly repellent.

It is not your fault for thinking these things, though. They are ideas sprung from this affliction, designed to cause uncertainty and create chaos. It does not stop you from thinking that you may well be the most despicable monster to disgrace the earth. If you were left to your own devices, it is indeed likely that you would remain abed for days on end, resigned to misery.

But it is not a fate that you are allowed to succumb to. On the mornings when you find yourself unable to depart the cocoon of your sheets, your ladies coax you up with surprising and uncharacteristic purposefulness. Gone is their cloying timidity, replaced by creatures of determination as they all but drag you bodily upright to clothe and feed you, to immerse you in cheerful chatter while they work.

Gerardys comes to visit you, followed swiftly by Ūlla, newly returned from her journeys. The two rather predictably bicker over how best to approach any potential treatment.

“My colleagues at the Citadel recommend bloodletting,” the maester says with a frown, glancing nervously at your healer, “to restore imbalanced humours.”

Ūlla levels him with a foul look. “Are you stupid? Princess making milk. Losing blood is bad for her, and the babes!”

“If she remains hydrated, any complications will be minimal.”

“Tell Prince,” she shoots back challengingly. “See if he agree.”

“Forgive me, but Prince Daemon does not have the final word here, my lady. As Maester of Dragonstone, it is my responsibility to ensure residents are—”

“Losing blood hurt Princess, and babes, too! Stupid man!”

She storms out of the room with nary a word further, and you find yourself resigned to the possibility of enduring fattening leeches hanging off your skin. Gerardys begins to talk you through the process, though in truth you are not minding him as closely as you ought, but it does not seem to be long before Ūlla re-enters.

“Here,” she says, pressing a nondescript pouch into your hands. All the while, she is glaring at the maester. You inspect the contents, your nose tickling at the mild citrus scent that emanates from within. “Lemon balm,” she explains. “Make into a tea.”

Alas, you think ruefully. More tea. At this rate, it is a small wonder that your urine has not taken on the various aromas and hues of the remedies you are made to consume.

The tea does help, though, or perhaps it is simply in your mind. Perhaps the tea is not the cure, but time. Perhaps it is the magic that lives in your blood, that unites you to your dragon and ties you to the fate of a long-dead dynasty, that best eases your path forward. You still have hours and days where you fare poorly. But gradually, these moments come with less and less severity, feelings that do not fade but are ones you can muse upon, chew about like toffee sticking to the crowns of your teeth. Uncomfortable, difficult to cleanse yourself of, yes, but possible where you perhaps had not even been aware of their existence before. You learn to appreciate them for what they are, no more or less than calls for a defeat that is not yet yours to claim…

Because, despite the war in your head, your babes are happy. They are settled. They thrive. If you truly had been failing, this would not be so.

And thus, you persist with the teas and tonics and tepid baths recommended to you, with the dogged joviality of Jeyne and Bethany, with long walks at Ser Lysan’s side marked by the whip of salty sea air and the faint pulsing warmth of the sun. With visits to your boy, your Athfiezar, his smoke-breath and scaled mass and the thrum of a secret kinship clearing the muck of unhappiness from your view and restoring, in parts, a clarity well-missed. Through it all, you realise—bit by bit, hour by hour—that there is more beyond the sorrow. That something is blossoming, weak and spindly and scarcely living, but there, right there below your ribs and growing, a sickly weed straining toward the light. Something like hope.

It unfreezes the most poisonous of your tender ambitions, slackening the bonds of your inflexible drive to nurse Rhaenar and Aelys alone. ‘Tis a hard-won concession, but one necessary to your wellbeing and theirs. Still, you cannot help but feel your bond closest when they are swaddled against you, tiny hands pressed against your breasts and greedy suckles drawing from the wellspring of nourishment your body has created for them.

“Have they latched well, Princess? Ought I assist in any way?”

You glance up with great effort, nearly incapable of tearing your eyes away from them both. Freda feigns nonchalance, but it is easy enough to tell that she is anxious. Your rather spectacular histrionics are not easily forgotten by all.

Shaking your head, you smile. “They are fine, thank you. They are perfect.”

Never have you spoken truer words. You are constantly marvelling at how dissimilar they are to the shrivelled little beings that you had laboured to bring into the world scarcely two moons ago. Their hair, pale at birth, has only grown brighter, solid where it had been opaque. Much of Aelys’s has fallen out, which you have been assured is quite usual. It certainly makes it easier to differentiate between the two on sight, though this is becoming more and more simple as their differing features have begun to assert themselves. In Rhaenar, you see the promise of Daemon’s strong nose; in Aelys, the shape of the eyes. They share your mouth, even if Aelys’s pout reminds you more of Rhaenyra. These little things make them individuals with each passing day, untangle the singularity they are oft referred to as and begin to show those around them that they are becoming their own person.

You know now that your wish to gather them close and tuck them out of sight of all others is not simple maternal instinct, and instead a symptom of this malady. Through Freda’s tales, you learn that many are involved in the rearing of common-born children; through Ūlla’s considerable experience and your sister’s anecdotes, you begin to understand that your original undertaking was never feasible. It grates you so, but you try to take heed of their womanly advice more than you truly desire to, obliging their recommendations to allow the twins to sleep in the nursery during the night. But in the daytime—in the now—they are all yours.

“That they are,” Freda says, snapping you from your hypnotic reverie. “A bonnier lad and lass I’ve never met, you can be assured of that!”

Even though you know she likely feels duty-bound to say so, you cannot help the flush of pleasure. Their nursing has slowed, eyes heavy-lidded and noses huffing warmth against your skin. It is gratifying to see them so satisfied.

As soon as Rhaenar’s lips pull away, smacking wetly as he gurgles and smiles, Freda is ready to lift him into her arms. His head rests upon the cloth tossed over her shoulder, fists waving with each pat she makes against his back.

“Another meal for the little Prince and Princess,” she says, grinning. “Well done, Your Highness!”

“It would seem so.” Aelys is done, you think, but working her mouth still for comfort. It seems to please her to continue the act long after your milk has emptied. You cup her head, running your fingers through the wispy locks in a manner you hope is soothing. “It is relieving to have finally managed it.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” Rhaenar belches, kicking his legs when Freda makes a startled noise as she always does. “But what an impressive feat, milady—nursing one babe to a full belly can be difficult enough, never mind two! That thistle tea must be something special, indeed.”

It is not only the tea, you think.

The memories of Daemon’s lips at your nipples, his body hard against yours, the low lusty grunts of more than just gustatory delight—and there are many, as many memories as nights in which his faithful service so oft takes place—elicit a soft, secretive smile even as heat rushes to your face. This heat travels further, down, down, reminding you uncomfortably of another dilemma you are facing.

Desire. It is something which you ponder greatly upon over the next days.

When you had just given birth, you did not think you would ever be capable of it again. Of course, this sentiment had followed a rather gruelling several hours of agony, much of which you cannot recall, and the overwhelming fear that you may perish as your mother had done. With your lower half all but mangled and shedding the remains of what processes your body had devised to best facilitate your children’s growth, the notion of letting your uncle couple with you had seemed positively dreadful. ‘Twas akin to the thought of him rutting into the gaping maw of a fresh wound. But the blood of that night had passed, and the pain had faded, and in your mind, it is almost like it had never happened at all. You do not remember the sensation.

You have not resumed your courses save for some light spotting in your smallclothes, though that is apparently to be expected. Your breasts are ever noticeable, large and leaking or shrunken and soft depending on the time of day, always sensitive regardless of state. Your belly is quite nearly back to the state it had been before carrying the twins, save for an additional laxness and the crawling lines of dark delineating the places where your flesh had most stretched. These are all changes, differences that you have come to anticipate, understand.

It is likely why the return of carnal longings is so utterly strange, so abnormal in its normality. How can a form so changed experience something so… banal?

Even so, you find yourself drawn to the minutest of details when in Daemon’s presence: the corded strength of his arms; the elegant line of his ringed fingers; the set of his jaw and the shadow of his brow. His voice singing lullabies of old to the twins brings a sort of frantic exhilaration, a dampness pooling between the legs instead of drowsed comfort. His easy grin makes your heart pound as though from great toil. When his attention is elsewhere, you admire the span of his shoulders and the planes of his chest, knotting scars of savagery setting you to swooning.

You feel like one of his fawning admirers, breathless and fluttering and giggling at his innate charm. You feel desperate.

And, worst of all, he does not notice. He fails to recognise the reciprocation of your sighs and moans as he feasts from you for the invitation that they are. His touch is gentle, like he is afraid you will break, even when you press yourself into him so eagerly that it seems no small wonder that he cannot read it for the provocation you intend it to be. He is careful not to make his acts of self-pleasure too obvious, pushing your hands away with a kind murmur of, “Rest now, sweetling, I’ll take care of this,” as though you are incapable of doling out the satisfaction he had taught you so well to perform, as though it is an inconvenience to you rather than he that his member rises so readily at the sight of you.

This state of affairs cannot last. It ought to be an easy thing for you to entice him to act on your shameless thoughts, the way you had so often before the babes had entered the world. You feel frozen, trapped in your abstemious existence as you have been for sennights. How to make him see? How to make him comprehend?

When Rhaenyra hears of your plight, disguised in the politest terms you can muster, she laughs.

“Go on and tend to your brother,” she says to Luke, nodding towards Joff. Based on the quiver of little Corwyn’s lower lip, Joff has thrown one of his toys at him again. He appears poised to do so a second time, wooden dragon carving clutched tightly in an upraised fist. “Have him build a tower with you, perhaps.”

Luke sighs, ever wearied at presiding over the play of the younger two. Still, he abandons the book before him, revolves on his heel and trudges over to the pair of tots, prying the dragon from little fingers and leading them both to the far safer pile of blocks.

Satisfied, Rhaenyra turns back to you. “Have you tried speaking to him?”

The abrupt shift takes you aback. You must cast your mind past the immediate happenings—away from the sound of delighted giggling, the thwock of blocks placed by clumsy hands—to recall your previous conversation.

Oh, yes. Daemon.

“Not… not exactly,” you say, hesitant. “I did not think I would need to ask my husband to… well…”

“There are occasions where you think too highly of him.” Rhaenyra shakes her head wryly, a fond curl to the corner of her lip. “This is one of them. Just because he knows you best of all doesn’t mean he’s not still a man.”

“But he is a man who… enjoys certain acts! Perhaps even more so than other men.” Your thoughts supply you with ample evidence of such a claim, unbidden. How frustrating it is that your thoughts are your only source of carnal satisfaction at present. You swallow nervously, praying that such lewdness or its resulting vexation does not reveal itself in your expression. “Why is he being so obtuse?”

She tilts her head sympathetically. “You forget he was there during your labours. They’re pains easy enough to forget when you’re the one experiencing them, but not soon disregarded as the spectator. He remembers your suffering—he does not wish to revisit any further upon you.”

A flattering observation of him, though you note the lack of supposition in her tone. Intrigue washes through you.

“How do you know? Has he been speaking to you?”

“Oh, darling. He’s frightfully easy to read.”

For a moment, you envy her. She is so alike to Daemon that it is hardly any wonder that she knows his thoughts so well. You, on the other hand, do not share their temperament. It is a fact you often appreciate, for the gods know how calamitous such a warring pair would be in matrimony. It had once been said, you recall not by who, that you were the ice to their fire—but now, you feel the comparison is lacking.

If Rhaenyra and Daemon are a blazing conflagration, then you are the steady warmth of the candle flickering in the evening. Soft, controlled, but carrying the same propensity to burn and maim. A dragon, same as all the rest, but with one rather unique quality: mastery of will. The calamities inflicted by your family might have been averted had past generations indulged their wild spirits a little less.

An odd, haunting echo whispers along the back of your neck, a voice you feel you ought to recognise yet lies beyond the precipice of knowledge, just out of reach. “Zaldrīzes buzdari iksos daor. A dragon is not a slave.”

No. But Targaryens have ever been beholden to their tempers. Mayhaps there is freedom yet to be won.

Rhaenyra clears her throat, brow raised pointedly at your obvious distraction. “Use your words. If you want him to fuck you, you’ll have to make it clear beyond implication.”

You flush, and not only for your inattention. You may be far more accustomed to vulgarity now than you were before marriage, but it does not mean that it is entirely comfortable to hear your sister speak it. Never mind the fact that she is discussing the affairs of your marital bed in so cavalier a manner! You remind yourself that it had been you who had approached her.

“Thank you.”

“I hope I helped. And to be frank, I hope I never need to help again. It’s difficult enough to contend with unspoken.”

A clear enough dismissal: you rise from your seat beside her, squeezing her arm in silent farewell. She catches you just before you turn toward the door, a wicked glint in her eyes.

“And remember,” she says. “If all else fails, just drop your shift and grab his cock. That ought to be enough to encourage him.”

“Rhaenyra!”

It takes a great deal of strength not to follow through on your sister’s recommendation when next you meet with Daemon.

He returns to your chambers following another of his training sessions, sweat-soaked and streaked with grime, grunting as he slips the belt from his waist and sets Dark Sister against the wall. Your ladies avert their stares as he unbuckles the clasps of his leather jerkin and discards the thing across the table. At the sight of his disrobing, Jeyne and Bethany stand, genuflecting hastily before all but rushing from the room. Try as you might, the pair are still somewhat uneasy around him. Characteristically, he appears not to notice their departure—indeed, it is unlikely he truly even noticed their presence.

“I do hope you plan to wipe that table clean,” you call out to him, doing your best to affect a tone of light-hearted teasing. In truth, you feel more than a little faint. It is positively sinful, the way he looks.

Daemon rolls his eyes, bundling up his tunic. He tugs it over his head, exposing the undershirt made translucent from the vigour of his activities. Through it, you can see the scars of old, the firm planes of his chest and belly.

“We have people for that, or did you forget?” he asks. The tunic falls atop the jerkin. A chair screeches across the stone, and your husband seats himself with a wearied sigh to work at the buckles on his boots. “Fucking miserable, this lot. I’m half tempted to drag them to the Stepstones. Perhaps the threat of war might make them more inclined to follow orders. Best way to turn the green ones into true men.”

You know it is mere complaint, but the thought of his flying off to battle is still enough to make your chest pang with worry.

“Not funny,” you say, thumbing the needle in your hand. “Aelys would never stop screaming with you gone. Rhaenar would keep himself awake until your return.”

He grins. “Never fear. I’ll not leave you to manage our little beasts alone.” He pauses; glances toward the cradle. “How are they?”

“See for yourself.”

Hardly needing encouragement, he pads sure-footed toward the sounds of soft gurgling and cooing, the sturdy frame keeping the pair of infants out of your immediate sight. Bending low and extending both arms down, you can hear him murmur, “Rytsas, ñuhys zaldrītsossas.”

Hello, my little dragons.

A high-pitched squeal is his response, no doubt Aelys’s welcome. You try to focus once again on the seam you are patching, though it is hard not to be drawn into the conversation that appears to be taking place to your far left.

Rustling, and a plaintive whine. Daemon sighs. “Daor, ñuhus jorrāeliarzis—jemī ōregon koston daor. Yne aōhi muña asēnilus lo jemī vaogēdan.” No, my loves—I cannot hold you. Your mother would kill me for dirtying you.

“Kony drēje issa.” That is correct, you say archly. You nod toward the screen. “Kōdrion aō syt ilza. Īlvon parklondo go, aōlot rāenābā, kostilus.” There is a bath for you. Wash up before our supper, please.

When he pulls away, the pair squawk their dismay. Luckily, he knows best how to resolve the ensuing fit before it can reach fruition—he jerks his final layer off over his head, depositing the threadbare shirt into the cradle. Their cries fall abruptly silent. You wrinkle your nose at the prospect of their bedding wicking the odour of perspiration, though you are forced to acknowledge the efficacy of such an action. Babes find comfort in the scent of their parents.

Daemon drops a strip of leather on the desk, shaking his head of now-loose hair. On his path to the tub, he stops before you.

“Ynot tolī syz iksā,” he says, rough-hewn palm dragging your chin upward. You are too good to me.

It is all you can do not to moan like an eager slattern as his lips slot against yours and the musk of him rattles your bones like tinder to firewood, bursting and sparking with banked heat. Acerbic, mingled with smoke and the particular fragrance of ashy mud found nowhere else but here upon the isle, it is strong enough to taste upon his mouth, feel upon your skin. Before you have the mind to deepen it, to drag him down and haul your skirts up, he is gone, naught more than a tender dirt-smudged stroke to the cheek to mark his departure.

You collapse back against the chaise, bewildered and hot, the heavy glide of his favourite coat finally breaking free from your lap and to the floor, needle and thread and all. Meanwhile, you hear him whistling to himself as he removes his breeches, his groan of relief as he steps into the water.

You have half a mind to disturb his bathing, for how dare he leave you so bereft? But it is not his fault. Well, to be fair, there is no fault at play here, for there has been no fault committed. Unless being far too handsome is a fault, you think.

Alas, there is no recourse but to wait for the opportune time to strike. It cannot be now—supper is still to come, and the babes must be put to the nursery.

‘Tis this thought you must repeat over and over again. Not now: Daemon is dressing for the evening meal, even if you truly only want to have him remain without clothing, to prowl about with his considerable endowments on display for your avid gaze, and something alarmingly like grief twists in your stomach with each item of clothing that further conceals him from you. Not now: you take your girl and he takes your boy and the four of you make your way through the halls, and you must ruthlessly quell the driving lust from your core with each step, for there can be no notions of lechery with a babe curled in your grasp just so, an innocence you will not dare risk tainting with the impurity of your designs. Not now: the Keepers are explaining that the twins’ dragons “are becoming unruly, my Prince”, and “they will need far more outdoor enrichment than we had previously discussed”, and you must nod your head in sage agreement even as you press a kiss to Rhaenar’s forehead, then Aelys’s, all too aware of the low thrum of Daemon’s voice while you say goodnight to Freda and the children.

Supper comes and goes in a burning haze, marked by the knowing looks you receive from your sister across the table and the pervasive awareness that he is right there next to you, so close and yet untouchable, not now, not in the way you want. When you are done eating—and honestly, you do not even remember putting food into your mouth, but your plate is empty and your belly pleasantly full so you must have—you are forced to just sit, all too conscious of the arm Daemon has carelessly draped across the back of your chair, the rumble of his laugh as his cups flow amply with the free and easy conversation between he and Harwin and Laenor. And then, and then, you are returned to your chambers after minutes or hours or days, so wound up on the inside that you feel close to madness of a different kind, near to bursting, blood bubbling effervescently like the sharpest of Northern wines.

All night, you had been anticipating this moment. Why now does your nerve fail you?

“Come here,” he says, disturbing the panicked wheelabout in your mind.

For a moment, you wonder whom it is he is speaking to—but then he glances up at you, frowning quizzically. You realise you are the only other being in the room. Wringing your hands and cursing your foolish transparency, you trail toward him, stopping expectantly when you are within reach.

Silence.

“Well?” he asks, raising his eyebrow. You look about, trying to determine what it is he wants. He sighs, and adds, “Do you plan on sleeping in that dress, or would you like a hand with the laces?”

“Oh!”

Like a poorly performing puppet, you whirl around spasmodically, breath stuck somewhere between its starting and finishing point, suspended in your chest as he shifts your hair to one side and begins the methodical task of unthreading you from your fabric prison. Each wrench of cord is as keenly felt as a thrust between your legs, or the memory of it, hushing your careening passions to the metronome of the tug tug shwip at your back. Daemon’s breath is sweetly fragrant, hot upon your neck, near enough that you can hear his every exhale before the pressure of air caresses your skin. It is an eternity before the gown slithers to the floor, followed by the soft-boned corset you have favoured in recent moons.

“Shift, too?” is his next whispered query, fingers already at the ties and tugging, palms dragging it clear from your collarbone and down, down, down. It bunches at your waist, but it is far enough for his liking, and he turns you in his grasp to back you unerringly to the bed. A kiss, then, “Make yourself comfortable, talītsos,” and he moves away to remove his own clothing.

Your heart sinks at the familiarity. The routine. Make yourself comfortable, followed by abortive sensual touches and the hard suckle of man at teat before your breasts are dried up for the night, then squirming alone in the dark to the furious beat of his fist over his length across the room and the barely groaned “Fuck!” as he spurts his release on something, anything that is not you.

Even so, you crawl onto the mattress, nipples tingling with the gentle sway of movement and shift pooling over the convergence of your thighs. Kneeling, you wait, torn between hiding and fully baring yourself to the cooling chamber.

He joins you thereafter, body rising over yours as his mouth sinks to touch your own, tongue chasing the give of your lips to feed you the heady prickle of inebriation in a plush glide. Too soon does he break from you, the ridge of his nose pressing a warm line through the wet of his kisses along your jaw, your throat. He bears you slowly down, back against the pillows, grip sliding up your thighs and bypassing where you need him entirely, up your hips, up, away—

“Wait, wait,” you gasp, fumbling at his wrist to make him pause in his pursuit.

He leans back, concern carving lines in his face. Before he speaks—before you lose all semblance of courage—you try to make it plain without words.

You part your thighs flat to the bed. Slowly, without thinking too hard, you draw the rumpled hem of your shift up over your belly, rasping against your flesh, and you show him the dewy softness that awaits, begging for his favour. You imagine it glistens in the low light of candle flame there, dappling gold on tender flesh starved for touch.

Daemon stares unblinking, surprise transforming liquid, dark. “What’s this?”

“I need—” You drag his fingers to your mound, resisting the urge to shudder. “Please?”

He huffs, not a sound of amusement but one of seeming triumph. Idly, as though indifferent, his thumb coasts a path along your folds, taking care not to part them. The nail catches just so upon the hood of your half-hidden bud, sparking and fizzling straight to all the pleasure centres of your body. “Look at you. I’ve left you wanting, have I?”

“Ye—yeah.” You tip your hips up invitingly, breaths like little pants coming quicker, too loud in the quiet. “It’s been so… so long since…”

You bite off a gasp as he crawls forward, lowers, deliberately splaying you open with the blunted, veiny drive of his shaft. He hisses at the pressure, the sleekness, the heat. You feel it too, the scorch of iron striking molten, and you tip your head up in search of some relief from the ache of it.

He stirs himself there, making no attempt to push in where he catches.

“Since what, sweetling?” His arms lock you in place, hand falling warningly to your throat as his teeth make divots in the lobe of your ear. “Since I touched you? Fucked you? Put my seed in your belly?”

“Yes!”

You nod furiously, clutching his fist around your windpipe tighter, squeezing so that you can feel the threat of it through layers of muscle. Grinding your hips up at him, your entrance tightens painfully as he once again slides above where you want him, knocking where you are most sensitive. Need drips slickly to the bedsheets beneath your core.

The enthusiasm of your agreement lures a noise of satisfaction from his chest. “Thought I was doing the right thing. Thought I was being a good husband, keeping my cock away from my poor little wife, scarcely free of the birthing bed.”

He reaches between your bodies with his other hand and grasps the root of himself to slap his cockhead against your petaled opening, the collision of skin producing an audible sucking sound. Your nipples strain to the ceiling, your reason tethered like wire to the churning of your belly.

Daemon grunts, grip shifting to wind against your nape, tugging sharply at the hairs there. “But I forgot, didn’t I? That you’re a whore.”

“I am,” you say, pitchy and breathless. “I’ve been waiting for you, kepus.”

He tugs again, grimacing as finally—finally—his girth aims true. The broad head of him slips inside, filling the empty spaces in you with weight and heat and heft until your cunny is as wide open as your lips are, a silent scream of sensation. Time slows and all the ages of the earth roll into the seconds that he piles himself inside you, forcing through the stubborn clench straight to the root. You wince, the fit tight like you remember, struggling to breathe at the deep-seated throb from somewhere below your ribs where he has engraved a path.

“Fuck.” He moans quietly against your shoulder, more to himself than to you. His cock digs deeper, harder, and you cry out, neatly unable to bear it. “Fuck, how are you still so tight?”

You squeeze around him at the words, revelling in the choked growl even as your body tries to curl in on itself from sheer stimulation, legs hitching up around his waist to drive him to your will. Embracing him, you bury your nose in his hair as he tilts you to his liking and withdraws, returning with a jolt that sparks uncomfortably in your gut. His mouth drags and leaves bruises along your neck as his thrusts start tentative, grow bold.

It is a testament to his own longing that he does not continue rattling off the filthiest declarations imaginable, fists clenched over your thighs and at the base of your skull with a strength that will mar you come morning. You smile at each throbbing plunge, bask in the squelch and judder of your forms moving in tandem, sweat smoothing the way. He pants, overcome, and you echo his sounds in a rhythm like ancient music.

Daemon’s lips venture lower, spine hunching atop you. He crows, jubilant, and you realise that your arousal is not the only fluid your body has released. Rising up, he takes you by both hipbones and settles you atop his thighs, tugging you over his lap and admiring the sight you make below him. He does not stop moving, length sluicing in minuscule revolutions, a constant bevy of sensation.

“Look at you,” he says again, palm smoothing flat over your stomach and gliding up over your breastbone, diverting to tweak one of your leaking nipples.

You squeal, feeling the rush of milk dribble down your breast. His nostrils flare, thumb stoppering the fall and chasing to its source before withdrawing and licking it from his skin with a lewd pop. You think he means to incite the other, only his digits venture lower and twist cruelly at your straining pearl. Tears spring to your eyes as something like the memory of peaking kindles in your stomach.

“Ah, there—all of you cries for me now, little girl. Isn’t that nice?” Callous satisfaction harshens the curve of his grin. “Eyes, tits, cunt… weeping for Uncle. And I’ll drink everything down.”

He presses the backs of your knees to the bed and descends, latching onto your nipple as his onslaught renews, pleasure in duality crystallizing at your chest and below and melding into one. You lose track of where you end and he begins, where the relief is greatest. He drags you to that elusive end in a swirl of writhing limbs and salt-musk sticking to the roof of your mouth as you call for him.

His thrusts come faster, shallower, making direct contact with the locus of feeling with each forward movement. The entirety of you gears toward the crest of the mountain, that moment of great and glorious bliss. When you finally reach it, you keen, bones and muscle coiling inward as a great wave surges outward.

You twist uncontrollably, fingernails scoring through his flesh as you come.

“Kepus,” you hear yourself babbling, clinging to his head at your other breast as you lurch discordantly across the mattress. “Harder, harder, more—”

You turn into a glutton desirous of this particular form of punishment, ravenous for the ache and the sting and the burn of it, and he responds in kind.

“Yes, yes, yes…”

Each plea for more meets with a plunge of girth that sets you to shrieking, pushing yourself into them though your body urges you to flee. More, more, more. You are drunk on it, greedy for the assault. He is ever obliging to fuck harder, harder, faster.

And then—

Daemon withdraws, climbing over you with frantic disregard, hand a blur between his legs. He pushes you down, wrenches your jaw up, apart, digging into the hinge.

“Open your fucking mouth,” he snarls, mean and monstrous with his cock aimed straight for your face, panting and slavering as he works himself over.

You stick your tongue out for good measure, straining against his hold for just one taste, but he does not let you. His fingers curl into the meat between your skull and spine, pain making you cross-eyed, and he shifts urgently on his knees.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—”

Seed spurts hot on the corner of your mouth, along your cheek, across your closed eyelids before he brings his length to your lips. You pull eagerly at him, rising to bring him further into your mouth even as his fist knocks unkindly against your teeth. His caustic flavour, familiar and missed, spreads across your palate, and you drink of him like a penitent come to worship at the altar of the gods.

Mindlessly, he grinds down at you, softening girth making you gag ever so slightly. Spend clings to your lashes and stings in your eyes as you look up at him, but you cannot care.

He stills, winded, chest expanding and collapsing with a thirst for air. Then, with a gentleness lacking in these last moments, he works himself free of you, flopping to your side with a sigh and a weak noise of contentment. He looks relaxed, truly relaxed, for the first time in weeks. Moons, even.

You brush stray strands from his forehead, smoothing starlight from his weathered temples. He turns into the touch, mouth meeting the inside of your wrist.

“You really are too good to me, sweetling,” he murmurs.

His lips press to the tip of your nose, palm warm and comforting on your back. Fingers trace patterns into your flesh, at first seeming meaningless until you recognise the strokes, deliberate and sure, for what they are.

‘Avy jorrāelan.’ I love you.

“I know,” you say, answering both spoken and unspoken sentiment, your heart utterly full. In turn, you trace the same glyphs on the skin of his chest. From the smile that fills his eyes with light incandescent, he knows, too.

You lay in the quiet, basking in the surety of each other.

But it cannot last. You are loath to break the serenity, though you speak nonetheless, making a weak gesture to the pearly gleam that clumps your lashes, streaks your face.

“Do you mind… perhaps getting me a washcloth? I… cannot see.”

It is only now that he appears to notice the state he has left you in. With another kiss and an amused bark of laughter, he moves to do your bidding.

You settle back, content, watching your uncle stride fully nude to the wash basin to wet the cloth he has scrounged from its resting place. While you wait, you count all your many blessings: your babes, happy and settled and thriving. Your sister, skilful and kind in her confidence. Athfiezar, fierce and devoted and liberating when the walls feel as though they are caving in. Your tutor, your healer, your maester, your attendants, your life here on this isle, in this time and place and season. Your husband, your lover, the very benefactor of all you have come to hold dear.

Daemon kneels beside you, sponging away the worst of his deeds with a sure hand and steady smirk. “I’ll be sure to mind my aim next time, hm?”

Next time. An implicit vow.

You feel it again—a glow like the pinprick of daylight at a tunnel’s end, warming the chill from your bones and the frost from your heart, slow and sure and stubborn in the face of the complications that are yet to come. Something thawing, soothing, deadening the weight of grief and hardships past.

“Yes,” you murmur, eyes closed at the sensation of his frame moulded against yours, real and true and necessary. “Next time.”

Something like hope.

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just saw a dany fan on twt ''absolutely convinced" that grrm only gave sansa pov because he needed a stark pov in KL umm... sansa was a pov even in agot, when arya and ned were present in KL and there was apparently no need for her to be. grrm isn't suddenly ''forced'' to make her a pov in acok/asos since there are no other starks in KL, she is a character written by grrm, she didn't spring out of nowhere in the story, he himself has her deliberately trapped in KL by the end of agot while arya escapes. the fact that she replaces ned as the stark pov in acok/asos in KL makes her very important as KL is arguably the most important city in the series and the starks the most important house and the heroes. its just... dany fans actually use no brain.

(another really old one, apologies!)

Every now and then I see posts floating around that attempt to remind people that characters aren't people who act without any direction, they're created by the author, everything they do is at his will, and therefore, regardless of how much a reader may like or dislike them, the author has a specific intention for them. I know people were calling Sansa a camera at one point, to minimize her role in the story, but Martin discusses his themes in her chapter too.

I mean, as entertaining as it is to pretend that Sansa (a fictional character) somehow forces Martin to write her, it's through her eyes we experience the beauty of what knights/chivalry are meant to be, the horror of what it has become. I think that’s missed by a lot of fans who never idealized any of that in the first place, but Sansa isn’t stupid, we’re meant to be disillusioned and horrified right alongside her. It is Sansa's direwolf that is killed to show us the weakness and injustice of Robert, the failure of Ned to adhere to his own ideals. It is Sansa who performs to every high expectation and still suffers, assuring us that it is not rebellion or noncomformity that is the problem, but their world.

The juxtaposition between her and Cersei, the eventual comparisons between her and Dany (this is not a shipping thing y'all, foils are just part of lit), that's where we're getting Martin's discussion of female heirs, power, leadership styles (obvy, with Asha and Arianne too), so yes, Sansa is an important perspective on the corruption and cruelty of court life and KL, but the idea that Sansa is present primarily in service of that, not really? She's important in her own right, a unique form of influence in a world that could really benefit from her ideals, even if we haven't gotten her rise to power yet.

The way to Plan For some sort of Home Remodel instructions 10 Steps

If you aren't in the "we're only thinking concerning it" phase involving a home renovate, you've taken the first step to be able to enhancing your home in order to meet the needs you have. If Look at this website to talk to professionals regarding your remodeling, get a remodeling business near you right now! However , if you aren't still planning, in this article are a few other steps of which will help make sure your remodel fulfills your needs and your current budget.

one Generate a design book - Get a notebook, a manila folder, or the 3-ring binder in addition to build your design book. The more you add in order to it, the higher the designer should be able to recognize your dreams.

? In case you see the perfect cabinetry inside a magazine, minimize out the photograph through adding it. ? If a sink, flooring choice, or floor option catches your eye, add notes and pictures. ? Take a look at design websites plus print out images of what you like. ? Take photographs of friend's residences. ? Make sketches and pick up kitchen counter color samples.

a couple of. Establish your targets - Consider the goal(s) of your residence remodel.

? If the layout of your respective kitchen area works for you, however your design book includes a hundred photos of concrete counter tops, then maybe a person only need a home facelift. ? If might always wanted a placing tub and your current current bathroom only has a shower, you may want a slightly more ambitious custom remodel.

3. Designate desires and desires - Take into account every element regarding your home renovate and decide if this can be a "need" or even a "want. very well

4. Decide on a new budget - Check out your needs listing from step three or more, look at your money, and decide how much you could comfortably invest in your own remodel.

? If you need to stay to a price range, err on the low side to be able to allow for products for example furniture or decorative items. ? In case money is not necessarily a primary element, creating a spending budget will allow you to prioritize your wants and demands.

5. Think about the accessories - Look at the extras and options.

? In the event that you decide you have to replace your flooring, consider not simply the style but the price. In the event you slide in love together with a particular fashion that's $35/square foot, you may be able to discover a similar style in $5/square foot, which often can be the $9, 000 savings in an regular bathroom, leaving a lot more money for some other elements. ? A vessel sink may require specific installation and features. ? Different countertop supplies offer different positive aspects.

6. Arrange for your own future - Think about future plans.

? If you're planning to offer your property in a few years, an individual may not wish to invest in best quality applicants. ? If you plan to stay in your house through retirement, you might like to consider adding the onsuite bathroom to some ground-floor bedroom rather than second-floor bedroom.

8. Allow for future events - Create notes of important upcoming dates and even events.

? If a person have family coming tomorrow, it's most likely not be the greatest time to pull out and about the fixtures inside the guest bath. ? If you have a wedding or perhaps the holidays in the horizon, a person need to ensure your remodel is completed well beforehand.

8. Learn from others - Learn from friends and loved ones.

? Your cousin may have individuals the particular same remodeling firm for over a new decade, while your own brother can tell you the place across the street has a difficult time meeting deadlines. ? You may acquire advice on the particular things to be aware of if you attempt to carry out some regarding the work your self.

9. Talk using professionals - Accumulate professional advice.

? The majority of reputable companies will provide a no cost assessment. Take them through to it to observe if you prefer typically the company. Make sure they ask an individual questions and pay attention to your answers. ? Don't feel you have to indication together with the remodeling company the very first day. A good company gives you typically the information you need to come to a decision without having a hard market.

10. Hire the right company - Make use of a professional company that will guarantees their work.

? The industry normal any year. If your remodeling service doesn't meet or exceed of which guarantee, keep searching. ? Even after an assurance runs out, the very best remodeling companies will assist you to keep you content with your upgrade. They want you to be a consumer for a lifetime.

not jealous | jake sim

summary: jake sim is not a jealous person. at least that's what he tells himself. so why does he find himself going through your phone when a certain "bluejay park" decides to text you?

pairing: jake sim x y/n [ft. mentions of jay park]

genre: angst, fluff 

warnings: angst, cursing (very minimal), one slightly suggestive sentence, jake being cute, some more angst lol, slightly cheesy bc jake’s just too cute ugh

wc: 3.8k

a/n: ok i loved writing this, which is why i went on to almost 4k words LOL oops. but anyways, i love jake a little too much and this type of scenario has been running around in my head for a while now so i decided to put it into words. also i may have created this blog just so i could post this somewhere LMAO anyways yeah this was my first fic so hope you guys enjoyyyy <3

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

At least that's what he tells himself. To be fair, in his past relationships, he never showed any jealously. Then again, he doesn't know if he can call those relationships, "relationships". Does a fifth grade relationship with a girl who he was once dared to kiss during a game of Truth or Dare in the basement of a classmate's house during their 11th birthday party count? He doesn't remember being jealous when the same girl was later dared to kiss his classmate, Sunghoon. (Funny enough, that's how the two boys came to be best friends 'til this day, but that's a story for another time.) 

But really, Jake doesn't think jealously is one of his traits, even if he's now almost 20 years old without any experience with love other than his current relationship with you and that short-lived romance in the fifth grade. (What was her name again? Jake would have to ask Sunghoon later.)

So he doesn't know what clicked in that brain of his that lead him to this current situation he was in. He doesn't know why he felt a little spark of anger in him when your phone, which you left right next to him on the couch while you went to take a shower, kept buzzing with texts from "bluejay park". He doesn't know why he couldn't kept his eyes distracted from the messages, although your phone was constantly lighting up because whatever it was Jay had to say to you, he would not shut up about it. He doesn't know why he questioned what your relationship with Jay was for a split second.

In fact, you're close with all of Jake's friends. That's one of his favorite things about you, you get along so well with all his friends you might as well replace Jake himself in the friend group. So he doesn't know what tells him to take a little glance at your phone—at the messages.

But he finds himself doing it anyways.

Hearing that the water in the shower was still running (you were always the type to take long showers), he quickly grabs your phone and scrolls through the lock screen just to find that he couldn't even read the messages since you had your notifications set so no one could read them unless the phone was unlocked (darn you and your settings!) Thankfully, Jake knew your passcode––and you knew his too––or he thought he did. Until the iPhone vibrated, telling him the passcode was wrong.

He must've entered it too fast or something. So he tries again.

And again.

And again.

Until the iPhone switches its screen to say: "iPhone is disabled. Try again in 5 minutes."

There's no way. You never change your password. And even if you did, you would tell him—you two even had each other's fingerprints saved into each other's phones in the past (you know, before the world decided that Apple's home button was too lame and decided to just completely get rid of it). If there was an option to save multiple faces for Face ID, you two would be that couple that saved each others faces in your own phones.

That being said, Jake sat there, your phone in hand, frozen. Why was your phone locked? Why was Jay texting you 10 texts per second? Why did he feel guilty about this entire situation?

He hears the shower switch off and in that moment, he swears he feels his heart beat just a little faster. He tells himself there's no way you'll be out before the 5 minutes are up. You followed a really meticulous skincare routine (one that Jake memorized by now) that took an extra 15 minutes of your time after each shower.

"Hey Jake?" Your voice calls out from the tiny bathroom door crack that you left open before you hopped in the shower, "Is my phone out there? Do you mind bringing it to me?"

Fuck.

Jake shifts on the couch. Taps his foot on the ground. Returns your phone to its original spot. Clears his throat.

"Don't you want to get dressed first?" he calls back, quite timidly.

He can hear you stop moving around in the bathroom. Probably telling yourself what an odd response that was. To be fair, it was an odd question, considering the fact that you two have been together for so long, it’s not like he hasn’t seen you undressed before...intentionally or not. 

Next thing he knows, the steam is rolling out of the bathroom door and you're stepping out in your towel, eyebrows raised.

"If you didn't want to get up from the couch, you could've just said so, you lazy butt," you smirk at him as you walk towards him and the couch, leaving a faint trail of water drops behind you. Jake's eyes follow your figure as you go to grab your phone and lift the screen towards yourself.

That's when he freezes. You do too.

You cock your head, as if asking yourself why it was disabled. He can hear the gears in your head turning.

"Jake, did you try to unlock my phone?"

He runs through all the possible excuses he could blurt out. Come on Jake, think of something! But he knows he can't lie to you.

Too many beats of silence pass by.

"Maybe," he finally says—or more like murmurs. He looks up to you like a child looking up at their mom, who just them caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar. To his surprise, you don't show any hint of anger. A flash of confusion—and is that worry he sees?—crosses your face for a split second before you shrug and turn towards your room to change, dropping the subject. It was natural for you two to use each other's phones anyways. So then why did you have that look of worry?

Jake knows you well, a little too well. But that's what you love about him. He can easily read all your emotions. One of the many things he picked up from dating you for almost two years now. But why would you care if he tried to get into your phone? Why would that worry you? All the possibilities run through head and his own worry begins to increase. He trusts you. He does.

So then why does the thought bother him throughout the entire day? Why does he bring it up during dinner later that night, when you're both cuddled on your sofa, slurping take-out ramen while rewatching your favorite k-drama under the thick blanket that you always keep in your living room for nights like these?

"Huh? Of course I've heard from Jay today, we had that conversation about that stupid meme you boys kept laughing about in the groupchat we're all in, didn't we?" You answer him when he asks if you've heard from Jay lately. You sit up from your warm spot under Jake's arm to put your empty bowl on the coffee table in front of you. When you lean back, you look up at him,

"Why do you ask?"

"Oh, it's nothing, just wondering," he says, avoiding your eyes by keeping his own trained on the series currently playing on your TV. This would be your third time rewatching this series together. He would never complain to you though, he knows how much you love it and if he were being honest, he was secretly attached to the characters—not that he would ever tell you, he would never hear the end of it from you and the boys.

"You're being weird. Just tell me, or did you forget that I can practically read your mind," you say with a giggle and shove to his side, the one you were currently warmly cuddled into. Jake wasn't the only one who learned how to read emotions; you could read him just as well as he could read you. And like you, that's one of the many things he loved about you. But maybe not in this case.

He toyed around with the contents inside his ramen bowl with his chopsticks.

"I just..." God, how does he word this? Why was he having trouble explaining it? You were the easiest person to talk to. To him, you were the only person he could tell everything to.

"Jaywastextingyouabunchearlier," he blurts out quickly, but not quickly enough for you to miss it.

He feels you shift under his arm. He feels the air in the room shift. Tension.

"What?" Now you're sitting upright, legs criss-crossed in front of you on the couch but turned, so your body is completely facing him. He mirrors you, sitting up to put his ramen bowl next to yours on the surface, but he stays facing the TV.

"Your phone kept going off because of him when you were showering," he says with a little more confidence. But inside, he was nervous as hell, the same nervous as when he asked you out for the first time many moons ago. But it's too late to back out now, he brought it up first, anyways. Guess we're having this conversation now, good going Jake!

"Is that why you tried unlocking my phone earlier? I mean I thought you were just trying to leave selfies on my phone like you always do but you were trying to read my texts?" You question, slightly raising your soft voice. He doesn't know how to react, he hates confrontation.

"It wasn't like that, Jay just kept spamming you and like I—why was he even texting you in the first place? Then your phone got disabled because you changed your password, which you never do by the way, so I–"

"I changed it because my little sister kept getting into my phone when I went to visit my family yesterday! Did you really think I was hiding something from you? You know I can text whoever I want, right? You don't own me."

Okay so now he's managed to make you angry. Good going Jake, part 2!

"Okay but what does Jay need from you so bad that he has to send you like 50 messages at once?" He's standing now. So are you, eyebrows furrowed together as you collect your bowls from the table.

Standing there, bowls in hand, you say, "Jake, that's none of your business! It wasn't even that big of a deal, I don't know why you felt the need to nosy around."

"Well, if he's texting you non-stop, then obviously it's a big deal! We wouldn't even be having this conversation if you would just tell me what you guys were talking about," he murmurs back, eyes narrowing. You scoff as you trail into your kitchen. He follows behind and stops at the other side at your kitchen island as you place the dirty dishes into the sink.

"No, we're having this conversation because you obviously don't trust me! It doesn't matter what we were talking about, it doesn't matter who I was texting! I could be texting your mother and I shouldn't have to tell you what we were talking about! That's why we're having this conversation," you say as you turn back to face him from the other end.

He hates this. He hates fighting with you (which is a very, very rare occasion). He hates that you think he doesn't trust you. He hates his insecurity eating at him, telling him to keep questioning you on why you and Jay were talking in the first place. He was aware that you were close with his friends, but it wasn't until the texts he realized just how close you are with them. It's not that he didn't trust you, he just didn't know how to act when it came to you and other guys. God knows how he got lucky enough to meet you, let alone date you, so the thought of him losing you to someone else actually terrified him. Not only were you his first real relationship, but he wanted you to be his first and only one in life. You were it for him.

"Why did he text you." He deadpans from his side of the kitchen.

You scoff with a hint of exasperation. "You're kidding me."

You stare at him. He stares back, quirking an eyebrow, as if restating the same question back, as if testing you.

You're fuming now. Why was he making it so hard? Why was he doubting you? Out of frustration, you start laughing, which scares him. That can't be good.

"Fine. You wanna know so bad? Take a look,"  you're one tone level away from screaming as you take your phone out of your pocket, unlock it, and open up your conversation with "bluejay park", sliding the phone across the island to reach him.

Jake stares at the phone which now lies there, unlocked, facing him. Isn't this what he wanted? It is, right? That's why he started this dreaded argument with you in the first place.

Then why does he feel so fucking awful?

He looks back up at you, to see you sighing and looking up at the ceiling, as if trying to force your forming tears back into your eyes.

Yup, he feels horrible.

"Happy? Happy to know we were just trying to plan a surprise birthday party for you but you and your jealously just had to know huh, Jake?" You quickly state, voice cracking, as you tried not to choke up. You weren't sad that he found out about the surprise. You were sad that it felt like he didn't trust you. That he thought you were the type of person to do god knows what behind his back. You hated the feeling of not being trusted. Especially by Jake, of all people.

"Fuck."

Jake's face (and heart) falls with the most broken expression you've ever seen. But you're too sad, angry, tired (a mix of all?) to care. Your only goal right now is to not let him see you cry.

You hurry past him, across your apartment, and into your bedroom, slamming the door behind you, leaving behind a shocked, and regretful, Jake.

His heart shrinks when he hears the door slam shut and a little more when he looks down at the still unlocked phone in front of him. He didn't have the heart in him to look at it anymore. Of course he trusted you, he knew what you said was the truth.

He mentally screams at himself for assuming the worst––for thinking that you, a literal angel, would betray him.  First, he thought he was losing you to someone else. Now, he was afraid he just lost you through his own actions. 

He hesitantly sulks over to your door, softly knocking when he reaches it.

"Y/N?"

No response.

"Y/N, I'm so sorry. I didn't know, I let my—”

"Jake just please leave me alone for now," he hears you painfully say from a distance, meaning you're on your bed. He knows the door's unlocked—the lock on your door hasn't been working for a long time now, despite the many times he tells you to talk to your landlord about it. But he doesn't find it in him to open it. He knows he messed up. If he saw you in there right now, crying, he wouldn't know what to do. He wouldn't know what he would to do himself, knowing he was the reason behind your tears.

He nods in silence, knowing you can't see him, but does so anyways and returns to his spot on the couch. He could leave right now, go back to the dorm with the rest of the guys, let you have your space like you wanted. But his heart hurts at the idea of leaving you sad, angry, or a combination of both. He can't leave this unresolved. He fucked up, he has to fix it.

And so he sits on your couch for another hour. The clock on the wall behind him continues to tick as the silent tension in your apartment continues to grow. When it hits 11pm and he's sure you've slumbered off into sleep, he quietly enters your room.

He can see your figure in the dark, your back facing the door as you're curled up into yourself under the comforter. He feels his heart drop a little more when he imagines you crying in that position from earlier. He slowly peels the comforter open and gets into his side of the bed, careful not to bother your sleeping figure.

Laying there, staring up at the ceiling, he's never felt more like a stranger in your bed. It's not that he hasn't slept over before, god knows he's probably slept over at your place more than he has in his own bed. But right now, in this moment, he just felt awful. Like he didn't deserve to be in such close proximity to you. How could he be deserving? He violated your privacy, made you feel like you weren't trusted, doubted your relationship.

These thoughts run through Jake's head as he stares up at your ceiling fan, wishing he could turn back time to a few hours ago, before he checked your phone, before he let his insecurities get to the best of him.

You can feel the dip he makes in the bed behind you when he gets in. Of course you're not asleep. There's no way sleep could reach you when you had the recent events constantly replaying in your head like a broken record.

You knew Jake with all your heart. You didn't have to look at him to know he was probably laying there, hurt, staring up at the ceiling, drafting what to say once you wake up—or once he knows you're actually still awake.

You decide to break the tension by turning to lay on your other side, facing him.

You were wrong. Thanks to the little sliver of moonlight shining through your sheer curtains, you can see him, now laying on his side, already looking at you with so much regret in his eyes. You can almost hear the cracks in your heart physically forming.

His eyes widen when he realizes you're still awake. He opens his mouth to say something, but not before you quickly shift over to his side of the bed and embrace him in a tight hold, burying your face into his chest. Without any hesitation, he returns the gesture, arms holding your body as close to him as possible. As if once he let go, he'd lose you forever.

He lets out a sigh of relief as he breathes you in. He didn't even know he was holding his breath all this time.

"I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry Y/N," he mutters into your hair. He feels his hoodie getting wet from where you buried your face. He pulls you closer, if that's even possible, feeling his own eyes heating up with sadness. He would never forgive himself for making you feel this way.

"You know I trust you right? Please know that. I shouldn't have assumed the worst when I saw your phone. I...I let my insecurities get to the best of me."

You move your head from its home on his chest to look up at him, as if asking him to elaborate. This was new to you, you didn't know he held insecurities in your relationship. But it wasn't because of you, no, you were his entire world. Losing you meant losing everything.

Jake's never been the best at saying his feelings. That's why it took him so long (with the help of his six best friends) to finally confess how he felt about you. He was afraid of letting people in if they could easily walk out. Maybe that's why he never let anyone into his life before you. But oh, were you an exception. The second he met you, he knew he was fucked. But thank god he did, because thanks to you, he's been able to be more open, more vulnerable. He's able to talk to you about anything and everything. He doesn't have that same fear of losing people anymore, not when he has you in his life to reassure him every step of the way. But right now, in this moment, he doesn't know how to tell you that his new fear was, in fact, just losing you.

The sheer idea of you not being a part of his life anymore terrified him. 

"I hope you know you're never going to lose me Jake, if that's what you're insecure about," you softly mutter as you wrap your free arm that's not stuck in between both your bodies around him to gently play with the ends of his hair. It's as if you could read his mind, he loves that you know him so well.

"It just sucks that you could even think I would ever do something as awful as what you were assuming...with one of your closest friends nonetheless," you continue.

"I know. I know, and I feel terrible. I'm so sorry. I know you would never do anything remotely close to that, and I know you would never intentionally try to keep anything from me," he sighs. He shifts so he can lie down on his back, bringing you with him to lie on his chest, never letting you go once. "It's just...I just don't know what I'd do if I ever lost you Y/N. Everyday, I ask myself what heroic thing I must've done in my past life to deserve this life with you and I can't help but think you could just as easily be stripped away from me."

As much as your heart breaks listening to him rant, you feel your love for him grow even more. You knew how hard it was for him to put his true emotions into words, and him telling you this reminded you how much trust he had in you.

After some moments of silence, moments of him drawing random shapes onto your back, moments of you two just holding each other like it was the end of the world, you speak up.

"I love you. I'm sorry for making you doubt yourself—"

"No, it's not your fault, I can't help but think things like that. I just don't know what I did to deserve you, and I know that I need to be mo–"

"Babe let me finish," you say with a little giggle in your tone. He immediately stops and mutters a little "sorry". How cute, you tell yourself.

"I was gonna say," you look back up at him so you're making direct eye contact now. "You're the only one that's ever on my mind, Jake. I can't help the way you think, but I can assure you that there is no one else I would rather be with. And I mean that for the rest of life."

You snuggle back into the comfortable hoodie he's currently wearing (you make a mental note to yourself to steal it from him later) and decide to ease the tension,

"So you're stuck with me for life, sorry to inform you Mr. Sim."

Jake lets out a laugh, looking down at you to see you returning his smile with a cheeky one.

"I love you. So much," he says so sincerely, so genuinely, that you almost tear up again from how content you were. Now you were asking yourself, what did you do to deserve him?

Jake Sim is not a jealous person.

No, he just loves you.

A lot.

'Uneasy talks' : New chapter for "Redemption in a Spirit in a Cold War" is out !

"Uneasy talks"

"Don't worry....we will get through this.....together !"

Chapter Summary : Yirina debrief with Zasha & Park about their move in her old apartment before driving away to the next location.....

To read it on AO3, click here !

Words : +3500

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My place....well, it didn't really change at all in three years and I never thought that it will still be up & by the odds, still used but not by the Perseus agents like he transformed my place into another of his safehouses around the world. In here, it was Freya herself that was using that place and by hearing that and with Zasha giving me the proof that she was the one to get here, I have received an lot of questions inside my head, seeing back this apartment and....honestly, it was troubling to be there and to think of all these questions.

I think that since my supposed death, Freya must have moved to my place, living in here from time to time when she's in Moscow for Perseus. She has nearly removed everything from me : my pictures, my old personals belongings....the only thing we saw was an old picture of me & Freya and her necklace in here. Zasha said that it was something that she will never get away from it meaning that Freya....was in town and with realizing that, it was better that we put the things that we took back in place and we got the hell out of here.

Seriously, I would have like to stay to see the place more but that wasn't an option and I wouldn't risk my life for that. Park put the key back under the carpet before we got out of the apartment complex, getting in our car and taking the same seats as before : me at the front passenger seat with Zasha at the driving seat while Park installed herself back behind me but we didn't really drive off immediately from the place...

"So...uhm....are you okay ?"  Zasha asked me as I was in my thoughts, breaking me away from it. My head was holded by my hands and I looked up quickly to them.

"Yeah, I'm okay." I breathed with an small grin on my face but my voice wasn't really following the same mood.

"You're sure ?" They looked at me with narrowed eyes, having their hands on the steering wheel.

"I'm alright, Zed." I affirmed, still using that same voice as before, trying to look away from them.

"Yirina." Park whispered, moving from her seat behind me to get on the one that was just on the middle, feeling her hand on my left shoulder. "We're here for you so you need to tell us if there's something wrong." She said, keeping her hand on mine.

"Hey, you both, I'm okay." I turned around to look at them, lying again before seeing their faces and it was at this moment I realize that I couldn't lie further to them. "No...I'm not good." I sniffed, having an simple tear coming out of my right eye that I clean with my hand. "Why I should be ?" I asked to myself.

"Maybe I shouldn't have this idea to come back here." Zasha thought.

"No, it was good & necessary." I exclaimed, grinning an bit to them as I was holding back my tears. "It's just that....leaving the place without taking anything." I added, thinking about it.

"We could go back in there, if you want." Park suggested, her hand on my shoulder as she move to get close to me but I shook my head.

"No, if we do, Freya will have suspicions that we're in town and only me & Zasha knows well about my old living place." I told her, turning my head to look at her. "Taking something in there, it's too risky and I prefer to keep things peaceful." I stated.

"Besides, since her necklace is here means that she's here too." Zasha proclaimed, having got the same thought as me about the necklace, looking at her. "We may have to limit our trips in the city."

"Yeah, she could spot us in the instant and I don't want that to happen." I continued their argument before I could see on Zasha's face the curious look on it.

"I was wondering, Yirina....how was the call to Freya ?"  They questioned me like that, they should have been thinking of it since I told them of that.

"Well, I don't know how I really feel about it : it was strange and kinda troubling to do this." I responded, biting the left part of my lips as I looked at them and then, Park. "I'm sot sure if I can really do this again but Park said that she will be there."

"And I hope I can be." Zasha chuckled.

"Of course, you will now that you're here." I told them, scratching the back of my head with my right hand.

"By the way, Zasha, what's your opinion on Freya ?" Park demanded to them. Since she has been knowing Zasha, I'm pretty sure that she had an lot of questions to ask.

"To be honest, I rarely saw Freya in my life, she wasn't always there in the country and the few times I saw her was very brief." They replied, gesturing to us with their right index finger and their thumb, mimicking that the time were pretty small. "She wasn't like Yirina who was more present with me than her."

"So, she was an friend without been an big one." Park suggested and Zasha nodded.

"Freya was never into knowing me more further, I think that she didn't wanted to live the desk job life like Yirina." They thought, looking at me to see if I was the same reaction and I raised my shoulders. "Nonetheless, she was an friend." They added, still looking at me.

"Before you woke me up...." I started, changing the subject as it was better for me to not talk about Freya anymore until I was in the right mood. Right now, I was more tired at 2:28AM. "I relived back an memory." I said, getting both attention on me, Park slowly peaking her head as she wanted to know. "Do you remember to have beat some douchebags in the Lubyanka building parking ?" I asked to Zasha and it took seconds for them to remember.

"Oh, I remember." They exclaimed having on their face the biggest realization of what I was talking about, opening their eyes widely. "Beating those mens because they hurt Portnova."

"What happened that day ?" Park demanded.

"Well, fuckers got Portnova an black eye and we did hurt them an lot." I explained, seeing the pictures of the memory in my head. "I remember Zed using an car hood to beat an guy." I added, looking at them as they were quite surprised to have heard that from me.

"And you ? You pratically threw the other guy in one of the car's windows." They told me as Park look at me with wide eyes before I could see Zasha snorting away from us. "Damnit....Yiri...." They whispered, head down, eyes closed.

"Hey, you're alright ?" I put my hand on their shoulder.

"I might think that....we should try to go to her place too." They proposed, making me & Park look at each other, wondering if it was an good idea because in fact, we never know of where Portnova were living today and only Zasha could know of it. "Can we ?" They asked.

"Of course, Zed, we will." Park affirmed, putting her hand on their shoulder too, the one I didn't put my hand on.

"We can go after we checked your old place." I continued, slowly removing my hand from them, redressing myself on the seat.

"Okay." They breathed as they start the car's engine, turning the key. "Seatbelt, everyone." They ordered, causing us to put our seatbelt on before we finally drive off the place.

Honestly, I could feel the pain of Zasha of having to go back to our places....an pain that we were both sharing while Park was there to recomfort us. Me & Zasha....we're both in pain because of our pasts and there's things that we want to fix : it's because of us that Perseus knew about Greenlight and even now, we still need to fix it. Seeing Portnova again is gonna be very hard to live and I hope that everything will go well....it's what I want to hope to be sure of it. I don't want Zasha to live the same thing as me...the brainwashing, everything...no, they can't live this and they will not.

The streets of the city were pretty calm and the time right now can explain that by an lot, we were just seeing some very few cars and an few bystanders still up at this time of the day and like before, our little trio were trying their best to not going back to sleep, yawning & having the radio up even if at one moment, Zasha turned it off because of been tired to listen to the propaganda of the communist party...like me & Park.

As Zasha was the one to drive, they told us exactly where they were living : in the Novogireyevo District at the east side of Moscow, like at the other side of the city like they stated before we took the car away from the warehouse. Then, 10 minutes after we left my place, we arrived at their place and we were unfortunately greeted by something bad.

"No...." Zasha whispered, stopping the car right at where their old place should have been because instead of the apartment complex, it was just an big wasteland under construction.

"The place has been brought down." I looked through the window, seeing at the place. "Shit, something bad just have happen here." I added, putting my eyes on Zasha that was an bit troubled.

"When I lived here, the apartment complex was in an bad state so I suppose that they have destroyed it to replace it with something new." They exclaimed, bitting their bottom lips. "I never liked the place anyway." They breathed, hesitant to open their door.

"We don't have to go out to check the place." Park proposed and me & Zasha nodded. "Do you know where Portnova could be living ?" She asked them, looking curious.

"Yes, in a house in the north of Moscow in the Sokol district." They responded, sounding an bit nervous. "Let's get out of here then." They breathed before they start the car's engine again and driving off the place.

It was bad to see that Zasha's old apartment was destroyed along with the complex to build an new one, it's....very troubling to say, we could have answers in there even if it was very minimal for that. Now, we were going to Portnova's house and to say, I couldn't think right to know if it was an very good idea or an bad one because even if the KGB or Perseus wasn't watching her, it was kind of risky to do so but nothing was stopping us at all, not even ourselves. We arrived at least 10 minutes later at 2:42 AM at what we supposed to be Portnova's house in Moscow and when we stepped out of the car, there were no step back for us...it was too late to do that.

"She isn't there !" Zasha pointed at the garage alley, stepping out of the car with us as there were no car on it.

"So, we can try to break in to see if we can have something." I proposed, crossing my arms as I was looking at the house that was looking very nice to be honest.

"Honestly, it's not an bad idea." Park said in an too normal voice, I think that for her, it must be weird that we are going to break in an KGB officer house in the middle of the night but our line of work, it's an exception, I can say. "If we don't have to break an window." She looked around the house and the street, trying to find anything unusual here....like an car with people inside or strange bystanders.

"We don't have to." Zasha gestured before we start to walk through the street.

"Don't tell me that she also using the trick of the key under the carpet." I sniffed as we got on the sidewalk, next to Portnova's house.

"Oh no, not at all." Zasha reassured me as we entered the path that was leading to the porch of the house. "She's used to hide the keys in an flower pot." They added, making me roll my eyes around....why is everything easy in here ?

"Seriously ?" I breathed, sounding exhausted as Zasha nodded with an grin before they try to look in an big flower pot.

"At least, it's better than hiding it under an carpet." Park told me, nudging me an little in an lovely way before Zasha stand up again.

"Found it !" They exclaimed, showing to us the keys looking relieved before they start to put them in the front door lock, stopping themself.

"Zed." I whispered, moving to put my hand on their shoulder to recomfort them, it was painful for them to do that but we have no choice now. "I'm here...we're here." I affirmed with an little smile, tapping on their shoulder before removing myself from them.

"Okay...moment of truth." They slowly unlocked the door, maybe hoping that Portnova wasn't going to jump us or someone else before Zasha start to get inside the house, trembling. "You can do this...you can do this." They repeated to themself, entering the house as we were just behind them.

When we got inside, I could feel my heart pouding faster like it did back at my old apartment but I never had an memory of me visiting that place so it was an bit weird for me like if I was discovering this place for the first time...like if I was 'Bell'...stop thinking about 'Bell', Yiri !...The entrance was just next to the living room and it was the first room we decided to go, opening the light of it and we could see that it was pretty nice looking here.

"Never changed at all !" Zasha proclaimed, having their hands on their waist as we walk next to one of the two couchs inside the room.

"Always been like that ?" I asked to them.

"Always has been." They replied before they stop themself, their eyes put on an picture....the same picture they had : an group picture of me, Zasha, Portnova, Dedov & even Beans on an dresser. "The old days." They took the picture in hand, looking at it proudly as me & Park moved next to them.

"You were all looking fine !" Park exclaimed with an smile, her eyes on the picture, making me smile about seeing her, looking at this picture. "Who's the cat ?" She demanded, having saw Beans in Dedov's arms.

"Oh, that's Beans." I was the one to respond. "It was Zasha & Dedov's cat at that time." I added as Zasha was putting the picture down.

"There's....." They started to say until we were all surprised by hearing an cat meow in the room and we all look at the door frame, seeing an grey cat...."Beans ?" Zasha asked, confused and the cat meowed to them, sounding good. "Beans !" They said loudly, starting to get to Beans.....it was Beans, THE Beans that Dedov found years ago. "Oh my god, my little Beans, you did really grow up." They stated, taking her in their arms as she was more taller than before.

"Hey, Beans." I waved at the cat with the biggest smile I could have right now. I was so happy to see Beans and it was reciprocate as Beans meowed at me again, with Zasha walking back to us with her in their hands. "Still an baby, it seems." I scoffed, making Zasha smile.

"She's so cute !' Park sounded like so damn good about seeing Beans as I remember that she said that she had an cat before, she was looking so nice, her hands on her face, astonished by Beans.

"Beans, this is Yirina's new girlfriend, do you like her ?" Zasha asked to Beans who looked at Park and Beans meowed again, sounding like an yes.

"Can I hold her ?" Park demanded and Zasha complied, giving Beans to her and honestly, I never saw Park so relieved to hold an cat in her arms.

"It's the first I'm seeing you like that." I stated, surprised by that as Park was holding Beans like an baby, cuddling her.

"We all have our secrets, Yiri." She told me with an lovely voice before she decided to give Beans an bit of freedom. "You want me to hold you like that ?" She added in an funny voice, making me roll my eyes and Zasha to slighlty laugh.

"Uhm...you're already lovely in bed, no need to do that." I responded, making her blush as Zasha continue to slowly laugh before they took back their seriousness with Park, still blushing.

"Okay, we need to check the....."

"What the....." Another voice came in the house.....Portnova's voice, cutting Zasha straight and when we all hear it, we were all frozen in place, unable to move from our positions until Portnova arrive at our sight, in the living room with us, staying frozen like idiots instead of hiding. "What the fuck ?" Portnova said fully, seeing us in the room, chuckling as the situation did became weird to deal with.

"Hi....hi...." I whispered in an low voice, waving slowly at her and biting my lips. Honestly, I couldn't know what to do : jump through an window and escape the house with Zasha & Park but no....me & Zasha slowly start to walk towards her as she was doing the same.

"How.....why ?" Portnova asked, sounding confused until we got all, except Park close. Portnova looked at me with wide eyes and to Zasha too before focusing back on me. "You....you...." She didn't finished that she literally slapped me in the face with her hand, I wasn't angry, I did understand why she did this. I hold the part of the face that she slapped, looking sad and holding back my tears.

"Yiri..." Zasha breathed, stressed and then, Portnova also slapped them in the face too, same part of the face, she was angry to us, we just popped up back in her life like that and I was understanding why.....Zasha, they were having tears in their face, almost crying that Portnova did this.

"3 years ! 3.....FUCKING.....YEARS !" Portnova raised her voice against us as me & Zasha were looking down while Park wasn't moving too, seeming that Portnova didn't see for the moment. "3 years that I thought my friends were dead....3 years that I'm alone !"

"I'm sorry." I said in an low voice, holding my face.

"You're sorry ?" She asked me, looking in rage. "You promised to me that you were going to come back after your mission in Turkey in January 1981." She stated as in me, I realize that something or Perseus himself send me away from the USSR, avoiding me to save Portnova. "3 years that I've been wondering why no one was coming to get me out of here."

"I'm sorry, I fucked up." I repeated, holding back my tears on my face as Portnova look at Zasha.

"And you, you didn't do an thing." She exclaimed before Zasha start to really cry, getting sit on an couch and Portnova was an bit troubled as I could see on her face despite that she kept her angry face before she looked behind me. "You....who are you ?" She asked to Park.

"Uhm...I'm their friend...." She replied, not sure of her words before she decide to walk next to me. "I'm....Helen Park..." She added, bitting her lips.

"And why are you all here ?" Portnova questioned to the three of us, keeping her angry tone towards us.

"We...we are trying to save you from Perseus." I responded, sure of my words despite the sadness still in my voice, seeing Zasha crying on the couch, their head in their hands. "I fucked up and I'm sorry." I repeated again as Portnova was seeming to calm herself down an bit.

"And it took you 3 years to come back here ?" She raised an eyebrow to me.

"Listen, it's complicated and...an long story...." I answered, taking an quick look at Zasha & Park with the latter yawning. "Maybe it's hard for you to see you but we're here to fix our mistakes....my mistakes." I sniffed, tired because I needed only sleep right now.

"Maybe...." Portnova looked away, seeing Beans coming back in the room. "You can tell me what you have been doing for 3 years but it seems that the three of you need some sleep." She then pointed to the two couchs that was in the room. "You're gonna stay here and sleep in those couchs." She was more sounding like an order she was given instead of an real advice to us.

"Yes." I snorted, complying to her orders and getting sit on the opposite couch from Zasha's one with Park as Portnova stayed at the same spot, looking at us with desesperated eyes, her hands getting on her waist and honestly, she was looking deadly.

"Now, if anyone tries to leave this house, I'm killing them myself, understood ?" We all nodded to Portnova's order until she took an deep breath, seeing Zasha cleaning the tears on their faces before looking back at me with serious eyes.....

"You better have an bigger story to tell, Grigoriev !"

The Minimalists, Less is Now, Netflix documentary

Joshua Fields Millburn & Ryan Nicodemus

The question is not if we're gonna change as a society, but how.

How might your life be better with less?

Take-aways from watching—

Deficit Advertisement: making you believe that if you just buy this, if only you had that car, that pair of shoes, that Stuff, then you'd be happy. Making you believe that you're not enough, but That product can change that.

There's a reason why buying more of Things makes us unhappy: we hunger for the real things, for connection and purpose and no Stuff can replace them. They're all the wrong thing, not because we should have bought another product, chosen a different brand, followed another add, but because all of these Things do not add value to our lives.

Letting go, so that we can move on—

We hold on to Things to hold on to memories, but the truth is, our memories are inside ourselves. By letting go of the external Things we think are so important, we don't lose the memories, we don't add value to our lives by holding on to these objects, but we may add to others' by giving them away. We allow ourselves to move on with our lives by keeping only what adds to our happiness, and letting go of everything that actually only weighs us down.

Social Comparison

The way that we feel we have enough, is based on the people around us and that notion has gotten more and more difficult to sustain as what is called "the vertical expansion of our reference group" happened: television and social media becoming a part of our lives and expanding the number of people and their lives, to which we compare our own, and think of ourselves as falling short of those ideas we see presented. Taking a step back from that is necessary to see how wrong that perspective is.

Decluttering: does this thing add value to my life?

Re-evaluating your priorities, your purpose, the real things that will make you happy, that you want out of life, that, is what minimalism is about.

A fuller mind (thoughts post watching)—

I loved watching this. Of course we've all heard of Marie Kondo et al. But I'd never given the concept of minimalism much thought beyond the basic image of people emptying their closets etc.

Seeing people find their true purpose or at least, engaging on that journey, is always inspiring, and it's probably part of the reason I'm writing up this post right now! We'll see if I can implement some of the things they talked about here, but in the meantime, I liked hearing them explain it and how it related to their upbringing, to the paths they had both chosen before deciding to turn their life onto this new, simpler one.

—Marie

1/300 days of Productivity

shin soukoku week 2019 — unfamiliar, unknown, new.

day one, tickle a dragon's tail. [ also in ao3 ]

Today, the sun waved good bye to Ryuunosuke as the moon replaced it moments after.

Tonight, it greeted him like a familiar. Tonight, the stars were cowards. Tonight the sky was clear save for the moon, and Yokohama's city lights faded in the background as he felt the wind kiss his cheeks. Tonight, the noises in the background sounded quiet and just. Tonight, his muscles ached from fighting yet another fight he won. Tonight, the exhaustion was minimal compared to the calmness engulfing him.

This was all familiar.

"You know, you could have just told me that you just liked me instead of fighting me for this spot."

That was not familiar. The weretiger leaned over the railings as the seawater gushed against the port walls, a gentle smile lapping at the corners of his lips. Heterochromatic eyes so kaleidoscopic it was as if they swirled against each other as Ryuunosuke stared into them more. His voice was quiet and reserved, it wasn't like when they stood against each other, ability to ability—claws to cloth. Right now, it was silently directed to his person, not his deed. Right now, staring into his eyes was not something he dreaded anymore.

Ryuunosuke leaned his back on the railings, facing the opposite side as Atsushi who fancied staring at the sea and the part of the city that laid just across. Boats littered the other side of the port as the cargo men exchanged banter. Their talk didn't reach them, though. It was when he was with Atsushi that he felt barriers around him, trapping both of hem in one space, not letting anybody else inside. Before, he had acknowledged it as suffocating. Or maybe it was only because he couldn't handle the foreign glimpse of affection slowly blooming inside his chest. Now, he knew it was overwhelming. Like anticipation. Like hope.

"You would've laughed at me." And so, Atsushi did.

"It would only be because of endearment." He scooted closer to Ryuunosuke, leaning into the crook of his neck, resting his chin on his shoulder, only to pull back and look at him with something other than kaleidoscopes in his eyes. What was it? He wouldn't have known even when the answer came out of Atsushi's lips.

This was not familiar. When Atsushi looked at him before, it was malice and disbelief, as if he couldn't register Ryuunosuke at all. When Atsushi looked at him now, he was the one who couldn't register anything from the look. 

"Stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?" Like centuries. Like planets. Like forming names out of constellations. Like battered up converse shoes in the middle of a hike. Like that one moment time stops and you just stare at an empty space, waiting for time to move inside your ribs again. Like desired damnation.

"Like you're starving and I'm your last meal." 

Atsushi only stared at him. Then that stupidly mesmerizing smile of his slowly touch his lips. "Are you even edible?"

Ryuunosuke scoffed, Atsushi just giggles. "Quit laughing, jinko, it's not cute."

When Atsushi moved his chin up to meet Ryuunosuke's eyes, he knew he was damned.

When Atsushi slowly shifted so he'd stand on his tip toes, he knew he wouldn't do anything to stop it.

When Atsushi's lips made home at his own, Ryuunosuke didn't know anything else but that lingering sensation.

Today, Ryuunosuke was bored. And he was familiar with boredom.

There wasn't anything he could do after finishing up his job for today. It could've been better if he could've just killed two or three people, but that was not gonna happen. Not when he exchange kisses with the weretiger every night and his morals suddenly become Ryuunosuke's rehabilitation. Not when he made him want this gnawing sense of justification.

Walking along the alleys to the Armed Detective Agency had never been so familiar, but it was now. He clutched his phone to his ear as Atsushi rambled about his work today and that he may need some help—Ryuunosuke's help, to be exact. For some reason, working together is something they did best albeit not standing each other for how long. And Ryuunosuke admits, he still can't stand the weretiger's naivety when it comes to tactical missions—after all, he was not accustomed to this. As Ryuunosuke was not accustomed to the figure running up to meet him, with his cheery smile and him waving as if Ryuunosuke had any trouble with spotting him along a crowd.

As if.

“I thought you'd be busy.”

A smile.

“I finished early.”

A scoff.

“So you can help me out?” Atsushi grinned. “For the whole day?”

Another scoff.

“Let's get moving before I change my mind.”

And so he let Atsushi lead the way.

“Kunikida-san told me I should do some research on the target's workplace, so now we're gonna do that.” Ryuunosuke hummed in response. “And then we're going grocery shopping because I ran out of food at home.”

“That's not part of the job.” Ryuunosuke whined, already dreading the fact that he wants to go with him anyway.

“It isn't.” Atsushi folded the papers he was reading a while ago and motioned his chin up to meet Ryuunosuke's eyes. This again. “But we're doing it anyway!”

Yep, they're doing it anyway. Maybe he could get used to this, being together with Atsushi, shopping with him, kissing him. But that wasn't easy, and so was walking the streets out on the broad daylight with stares of people directed at him—their eyes keen on observing, they knew what danger looked like. And as dangerous as he was seen, the only true danger for Ryuunosuke was this: The unfamiliar. The unknown. The new.

Atsushi.

Ryuunosuke always saw the unfamiliar as dangerous. He knew how much foreign things hinder him from controlling the outcomes. He knew how risky these feelings are, and he knew what was at risk. Everything could go wrong—he could be eaten up by these emotions, much less them take over his logical thinking; he could be destroyed by them in the most unexpected way—and yet here he was, witnessing every bit of his restraint diminish into nothingness. It was these instances when he knew he shouldn't have, but still refused to hold back.

And who knows, maybe he'll get used to these foreign feelings someday.

The ache in his wounds had always been familiar. He always attained them in the slums way before he attained them in the mafia. Pain was no mystery for someone who lived off bleeding out his own breakfast—stealth, revenge, darkness,  silence, chaos, silent chaos.

Now it was this: Atsushi in his weretiger form moving like light against darkness—fast and relentless, as if his weaknesses were at his mercy. It was at these instances when Ryuunosuke admired him the most. It was when he was beside him in battle that he felt strong—without anybody else's approval. It was when the tiger's claws were his claws, and rashoumon's jaws became Atsushi's jaws—it was when they were one that he felt as if the unknown was fun instead of dangerous.

But today was dangerous.

Today, they were against something far more powerful—it was different from when they fought against each other for the first time, and it was different from when they fought alongside each other the first time.

Today, they might actually lose.

He wasn't wounded that much, but his body was wearing out. He was exhausted and every move he made made his body scream—everything around him was going mute, he was giving up.

“If you lose like this, I won't forgive you.” The look in Atsushi's eyes burned hotter than any hell fire. “I'm borrowing your words, since you seem to have forgotten them.”

Just like that, Atsushi took over his mind again. His voice reverberating against his ears, cleansing every dark thought into hope.

And he hated it so much.

He wasn't supposed to live in the light—it was too bright, and blinding. It hurted and costed a lot. He wasn't supposed to be engulfed by hope, because hope promised failure. It hurted and costed a lot. He wasn't supposed to let the feelings in, because loving Atsushi promised losing him. It hurted and costed a lot. He wasn't supposed to his answer, and yet every question in his head demanded the same solution.

God, he hated it so much.

And yet here he was, smirking at Atsushi—ignoring the faint wounds on his face that will soon heal—giving him the comfort of hope.

“We won't lose.”

Maybe he could get used to this.

Winning was familiar too. He wouldn't say he always experienced it—but he knew the feeling. He always saw it as a scenery, not a prize.

Sometimes, it was his enemies' bodies' blood coating the floors, their pained screams echoing in his ears as the time of killing them passed and he was done for today's work.

Sometimes, it was the tea Gin prepared when he got home from work—it was time with his only family. It was Gin's giggles when she told him about what happened at work today, or when she needed new daggers. It was comfortable.

Sometimes, it was seeing Yokohama safe. Albeit possessing no kind of actual attachment to the city, he still valued it as his own. This was his ground—this was where he stood at, and this is what he'll fight for.

Sometimes, it was the weretiger's smile directed at him when their enemy is sustained to defeat. It was his stupid face and his stupidity and his stupid, stupid smile. It was him caving in and feeling his body tremble with excitement as the fight mode subsided. It was his arms around his waist and his hair tickling the tip of his nose—unfamiliar, unknown, new.

Atsushi.

It was all of that.

It was now: Them at the port at night when the sun had set and the city's lights echoed at the distance, the fishermen's clattering with their catches as they moved and moved like the busy bodies they were, the wind kissed his cheeks as the stars freckled the sky.

This was all familiar.

And then there was him.

“Are you fully recovered yet?” Atsushi said as he leaned against the railing, the sound of the sea splashing against the port's wall made him feel calm.

Ryuunosuke sighed, facing Atsushi, pulling him into his chest as he took his fair share of how good his hair smelled like. The weretiger relaxed in his embrace, letting Ryuunosuke take all the contact he needed before he pulls away again. He knew he wasn't used to him, and all this time, he'd been waiting. Ryuunosuke had always been hungry for affection, but Atsushi had been starved for longer than he thought.

Loving him was ruination. It was as if he had doused the whole house in kerosene and he held a lit match in the middle of the carnage—threatening to burn and eat at his flesh. It felt like the roar of static in your ears when you've screamed too much. It felt like the fall of the mighty. It wasn't supposed to be, in any way possible. It was unfamiliar. Unknown. New. And yet he had not been used to the dark until he had learned to wear it. He had not been used to the city's skies until he had stared at it for years. He had not been used to danger until he had learned to look at it straight in the eyes—who knew danger had heterochromatic eyes?

“Don't ask.” He said once he pulled away, staring back at Yokohama's busy night life. Atsushi leaned into his shoulder.

He gave him a laugh. “Not planning to.”

“Don't laugh, too.” He groaned when Atsushi continued laughing anyway. “We already discussed this.” He gestured to both of them.

“This,” Atsushi mirrored his gesture. “isn't why I'm laughing.”

Ryuunosuke looked at him and his mind screamed for him to land just one light punch. But he decided against it. “I wasn't thinking about punching you.”

“You're always thinking about punching me.”

“Touché.”

“Hey Ryuu,” Atsushi's eyes met his again. This time he made sure to keep them locked at each other. “I love you.”

He didn't respond immediately. His mind refurbished it's clogs and he did all he could to not make an embarrassing sound as he processed those words over and over. He could deal with the kisses, and the other show of affection that involved physical contact. Those were things he was slowly getting used to, slowly familiarizing with. Those three words were far too foreign. Out of this world.

They were dangerous.

He couldn't verbally respond, but the fact that he couldn't stop his hands from cupping Atsushi's cheeks and pressing his lips to his was enough of an answer for now—this felt like home. This will be its home now. He could get used to this, he was willing to gamble, willing to risk, willing to win, willing to lose. If it was him—unknown,unfamiliar, new—he would always be willing.

After all, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke had always lived a dangerous life.

The SEO Advantages of Machine-Readable HTML5 Semantic Markup

Semantic HTML5 provides us with an opportunity to improve our websites and optimize for search engines. We can take full advantage of these opportunities by using machine-readable semantic HTML5 elements to describe page outlines. Specially-named containers can help search engines and browsers more easily identify how our pages are arranged.

For example, <header> is its own element now, as is <nav>, and so on. You have the ability to describe your page outline using these terms. By the way, it’s important not confuse <header> with heading containers (<h1>). These also have semantic rules we should follow; specifically about their relative level, as you’ll see below.

Here’s a look at the SEO opportunities with HTML5 elements and how and why to use them.

Genuine Articles

Perhaps the most important semantic HTML5 element is <article>. This can be used in such a way that your ideal content gets parsed into screen readers and reader views, and search engines will find a hard-coded signal for unique content on the page. You can test to see how this works with a page loaded in your browser by toggling the reader view.

If you don’t see your toggle switch or there is no <article> container in page code, you don’t get the option at all or it won’t load anything separately. If you get content in the reader view, it will be that content which the webmaster wrapped in a single <article> container. As developers we get to style these containers with direct specificity.

Multiple Articles

Although it’s not syntactically incorrect to have more than one <article> element per page, it’s still not a good idea. You don’t get reader view options this way, and there are no search engine benefits either. For blog homepages that list posts, you may think of each blog post as an “article,” except that an excerpt of an article is not the real thing.

Instead, try using the semantically correct <section> element for each post summary where related details are gathered. <section> can correctly nest as a child of <article> in this case. The parent-child relationship between <article> and <section> can be reversed, but we wouldn’t recommend it unless circumstances make that logical.

Let a single <article> wrap a page’s unique content:

<body itemscope itemtype="https://schema.org/WebSite"> <a class="visually-hidden focusable" href="#main">Skip Navigation</a> <header id="top" class="margin-bottom-small"> <nav class="container container-small"> <div class="row"> <div class="grid-full"> ... </div> </div> </nav> </header> <main id="main" tabindex="-1" class="content"> <article class="container container-small"> <header> <h1>SEO for Developers by Detlef Johnson</h1> </header> <section class="row"> <div class="grid-half"> <h2>Semantic HTML5</h2> <p>We're doing HTML5 semantic elements ...

Technical Debt

Technical debt is aging code in the codebase that looks to be no fun to replace or refactor away. The most common technical debt takes the form of un-insightful variable names and database column names.

SEO practitioners often dispense advice reactive to their own painful embedded technical debt. Implementing semantic HTML5 may be a bit like that.

If you’re using a modern framework with a templating language like JSX, and everything is a <div> or a <span>, renaming for successfully implementing <main>, <article>, <header>, <nav>, <footer>, <aside>, <section>, can seem daunting, depending how early in the process you are. The longer you wait the more that technical debt compounds.

Semantic Details

Many of us prefer skipping what we initially think are smaller details for a process of writing code that is going to work, especially when under deadlines. We use what operations we have in place to publish websites and apps with minimal effort in order to be productive. We use frameworks, task runners, and tooling to great effectiveness. We’re constantly eyeing shiny new things to learn.

We also know that unaddressed details can immensely compound technical debt down the road. In the long run, you don’t want all your elements named after the same <div> and <span> elements. Your code will become less and less recognizable over time. Organize your code into logical elements. Use the elements HTML5 provides out of the box.

Semantic SEO Outline

In SEO we’ve long known about headings, particularly the top-level <h1> heading. What makes them special is the meaning they convey about document and section outlines. Start your document outline with elements <main>, <header>, and perhaps one or two <nav> containers (one per link grouping). Then you’ll likely want to use <article> to wrap unique content with <header>, headings, and perhaps its own <footer>.

<article class="container container-small"> <header> <h1>SEO for Developers by Detlef Johnson</h1> </header> <section class="row"> <div class="grid-half"> <h2>Semantic HTML5</h2> <p>We're doing HTML5 semantic elements ... <h3>Articles and Sections</h3> <p>Article and Section elements should have at least one heading ... <h3>Headings</h3> <p>Headings provide 6 levels for organizing content ...

Each <section> ought to have at least one heading; probably more. Your headings will outline what makes the best sense in descending order of levels from <h1> through to content with heading <h6>. Think of them as you would bullets and outline levels. It’s rare that you’ll actually use all 6 levels, but they’ll be at your disposal when you want them.

SEO the Semantics

You’ll hear advice from the SEO community that there should always only be one <h1> element per page, all on its own. That’s solid advice. Think of it as the whole page heading. However, it’s definitely not wrong to have more than one — it depends on your document outline. You may elect to bump up the top heading in a <section> or <aside>, or you may show different <h1> content between desktop and mobile.

Use Headings

Each <section> should definitely have a heading, perhaps beginning with level two (<h2>), and descending from there, depending on the content for that section. Use your best judgement and get hints from the W3C validation service. This can warn you when you’re missing <section> headings. Each section can have its own <header> and <footer>, which makes sense when you think about it.

Webmaster Tip: Encode an admin-only set of quick links in a site-wide header or footer, and insert the canonical page spelling for the name value pair so you can click and check page validation more quickly than with other tools like bookmarks.

Taking Aside

As for <aside>, it’s been suggested that these containers are suitable for related content that is not part of the unique content identified by <article>, like an advertising block. These can still be unique to the page, of course. The <aside> will nest nicely in <article> or <section> and can stand on its own, as well. The <aside> container can also have headings <header>, and <footer> — it’s totally up to you.

Footer Wrapper

That should be enough information to get you started. When you’re ready to wrap up your HTML5 semantic markup, you can use the <footer> element for the page footer with its site-wide links in one or more <nav> elements. Most of these Semantic HTML5 elements are treated as block elements by default unless otherwise noted.

Support even the oldest browsers with the following sample polyfill:

<!--[if lt IE 9]> <script> document.createElement("article"); document.createElement("aside"); document.createElement("footer"); document.createElement("header"); document.createElement("nav"); document.createElement("section"); </script> <![endif]-->

Takeaway: Be Descriptive

The most important thing to look for when you’re otherwise using a semantically sensible <div> to wrap a chunk of content as a grouping for one of the above, is to ask yourself the question: Can I use a more descriptive element? Will it work with my application code? Can I, for example, style it using row class names or other grid logic? Your answer should be yes until you’ve taken full advantage of HTML5 semantic markup.

The post The SEO Advantages of Machine-Readable HTML5 Semantic Markup appeared first on Search Engine Land.

The SEO Advantages of Machine-Readable HTML5 Semantic Markup published first on https://likesfollowersclub.tumblr.com/

The SEO Advantages of Machine-Readable HTML5 Semantic Markup

Semantic HTML5 provides us with an opportunity to improve our websites and optimize for search engines. We can take full advantage of these opportunities by using machine-readable semantic HTML5 elements to describe page outlines. Specially-named containers can help search engines and browsers more easily identify how our pages are arranged.

For example, <header> is its own element now, as is <nav>, and so on. You have the ability to describe your page outline using these terms. By the way, it’s important not confuse <header> with heading containers (<h1>). These also have semantic rules we should follow; specifically about their relative level, as you’ll see below.

Here’s a look at the SEO opportunities with HTML5 elements and how and why to use them.

Genuine Articles

Perhaps the most important semantic HTML5 element is <article>. This can be used in such a way that your ideal content gets parsed into screen readers and reader views, and search engines will find a hard-coded signal for unique content on the page. You can test to see how this works with a page loaded in your browser by toggling the reader view.

If you don’t see your toggle switch or there is no <article> container in page code, you don’t get the option at all or it won’t load anything separately. If you get content in the reader view, it will be that content which the webmaster wrapped in a single <article> container. As developers we get to style these containers with direct specificity.

Multiple Articles

Although it’s not syntactically incorrect to have more than one <article> element per page, it’s still not a good idea. You don’t get reader view options this way, and there are no search engine benefits either. For blog homepages that list posts, you may think of each blog post as an “article,” except that an excerpt of an article is not the real thing.

Instead, try using the semantically correct <section> element for each post summary where related details are gathered. <section> can correctly nest as a child of <article> in this case. The parent-child relationship between <article> and <section> can be reversed, but we wouldn’t recommend it unless circumstances make that logical.

Let a single <article> wrap a page’s unique content:

<body itemscope itemtype="https://schema.org/WebSite"> <a class="visually-hidden focusable" href="#main">Skip Navigation</a> <header id="top" class="margin-bottom-small"> <nav class="container container-small"> <div class="row"> <div class="grid-full"> ... </div> </div> </nav> </header> <main id="main" tabindex="-1" class="content"> <article class="container container-small"> <header> <h1>SEO for Developers by Detlef Johnson</h1> </header> <section class="row"> <div class="grid-half"> <h2>Semantic HTML5</h2> <p>We're doing HTML5 semantic elements ...

Technical Debt

Technical debt is aging code in the codebase that looks to be no fun to replace or refactor away. The most common technical debt takes the form of un-insightful variable names and database column names.

SEO practitioners often dispense advice reactive to their own painful embedded technical debt. Implementing semantic HTML5 may be a bit like that.

If you’re using a modern framework with a templating language like JSX, and everything is a <div> or a <span>, renaming for successfully implementing <main>, <article>, <header>, <nav>, <footer>, <aside>, <section>, can seem daunting, depending how early in the process you are. The longer you wait the more that technical debt compounds.

Semantic Details

Many of us prefer skipping what we initially think are smaller details for a process of writing code that is going to work, especially when under deadlines. We use what operations we have in place to publish websites and apps with minimal effort in order to be productive. We use frameworks, task runners, and tooling to great effectiveness. We’re constantly eyeing shiny new things to learn.

We also know that unaddressed details can immensely compound technical debt down the road. In the long run, you don’t want all your elements named after the same <div> and <span> elements. Your code will become less and less recognizable over time. Organize your code into logical elements. Use the elements HTML5 provides out of the box.

Semantic SEO Outline

In SEO we’ve long known about headings, particularly the top-level <h1> heading. What makes them special is the meaning they convey about document and section outlines. Start your document outline with elements <main>, <header>, and perhaps one or two <nav> containers (one per link grouping). Then you’ll likely want to use <article> to wrap unique content with <header>, headings, and perhaps its own <footer>.

<article class="container container-small"> <header> <h1>SEO for Developers by Detlef Johnson</h1> </header> <section class="row"> <div class="grid-half"> <h2>Semantic HTML5</h2> <p>We're doing HTML5 semantic elements ... <h3>Articles and Sections</h3> <p>Article and Section elements should have at least one heading ... <h3>Headings</h3> <p>Headings provide 6 levels for organizing content ...

Each <section> ought to have at least one heading; probably more. Your headings will outline what makes the best sense in descending order of levels from <h1> through to content with heading <h6>. Think of them as you would bullets and outline levels. It’s rare that you’ll actually use all 6 levels, but they’ll be at your disposal when you want them.

SEO the Semantics

You’ll hear advice from the SEO community that there should always only be one <h1> element per page, all on its own. That’s solid advice. Think of it as the whole page heading. However, it’s definitely not wrong to have more than one — it depends on your document outline. You may elect to bump up the top heading in a <section> or <aside>, or you may show different <h1> content between desktop and mobile.

Use Headings

Each <section> should definitely have a heading, perhaps beginning with level two (<h2>), and descending from there, depending on the content for that section. Use your best judgement and get hints from the W3C validation service. This can warn you when you’re missing <section> headings. Each section can have its own <header> and <footer>, which makes sense when you think about it.

Webmaster Tip: Encode an admin-only set of quick links in a site-wide header or footer, and insert the canonical page spelling for the name value pair so you can click and check page validation more quickly than with other tools like bookmarks.

Taking Aside

As for <aside>, it’s been suggested that these containers are suitable for related content that is not part of the unique content identified by <article>, like an advertising block. These can still be unique to the page, of course. The <aside> will nest nicely in <article> or <section> and can stand on its own, as well. The <aside> container can also have headings <header>, and <footer> — it’s totally up to you.

Footer Wrapper

That should be enough information to get you started. When you’re ready to wrap up your HTML5 semantic markup, you can use the <footer> element for the page footer with its site-wide links in one or more <nav> elements. Most of these Semantic HTML5 elements are treated as block elements by default unless otherwise noted.

Support even the oldest browsers with the following sample polyfill:

<!--[if lt IE 9]> <script> document.createElement("article"); document.createElement("aside"); document.createElement("footer"); document.createElement("header"); document.createElement("nav"); document.createElement("section"); </script> <![endif]-->

Takeaway: Be Descriptive

The most important thing to look for when you’re otherwise using a semantically sensible <div> to wrap a chunk of content as a grouping for one of the above, is to ask yourself the question: Can I use a more descriptive element? Will it work with my application code? Can I, for example, style it using row class names or other grid logic? Your answer should be yes until you’ve taken full advantage of HTML5 semantic markup.

The post The SEO Advantages of Machine-Readable HTML5 Semantic Markup appeared first on Search Engine Land.

The SEO Advantages of Machine-Readable HTML5 Semantic Markup published first on https://likesandfollowersclub.weebly.com/

18 Feb 2019: Walmart: “We're just going to call the program Go”, UK Parl’t: “We must make sure that people stay in charge of the machines”

Hello, this is the Co-op Digital newsletter - it looks at what's happening in the internet/digital world and how it's relevant to the Co-op, to retail businesses, and most importantly to people, communities and society. Thank you for reading and please do send ideas, questions, corrections etc to @rod on Twitter. If you have enjoyed reading please consider telling a friend about it!

[Image: Caspar David Friedrich via the London Tube]

Walmart’s checkoutless plan undone by shoplifting and low adoption

Walmart on why it abandoned its scan and go programme:

"In our efforts to minimize friction points, we found that the program created some of its own such as receipt checks, weighted produce, and un-bagged merchandise resulting from using the program [...] Additionally, low adoption played a role in the removal of the program."

And this quote was good (and it echoes Amazon’s “just walk out” story): "We're just going to call the program 'Go' because the customers can't seem to 'Scan' anything”. Walmart’s now trying a the-cashier-comes-to-you model.

Amazon in the home

A few weeks ago we discussed whether the “Amazon wins the kitchen, Google wins the living room” thesis of smart home assistance was being replaced by an “Either Amazon or Google wins the home” one.

This week, Amazon bought smart wifi router company eero. (The smart bit is that it’s easy to plug more eero boxes in to extend your wifi range without needing to fiddle with passwords etc.) You can see a few rationales: make Alexa hardware better value and “just work” to a deeper degree, compete against Google’s Nest, get Prime onto every device and into every room. Own the last few metres to the home.

Previously: “2024: Amazon Prime Home team lead Karyn steps around a Freshco grocery delivery drone twitching on the path. It has been jammed by your home’s router for a breach of delivery licence, and will be released shortly.”

Climate change: slow then quick

The effects of technology change often look like this: practically nothing for a long time, then suddenly everything. The internet was around for a long time before the mid 90s, when it eventually/suddenly started changing everything. New companies chip away at an incumbent’s market for a long time, the incumbent dismissing them because they’re small, or serving the lowest-revenue customers or whatever… then the new company replaces the former incumbent.

Climate change seems to have that nothing-then-everything quality to it, though the effects and the stakes are much higher. Collectively, we haven’t done enough for a long time. And in future our world is either going to change a lot because we’re busy trying to fix it, or it is going to change a lot because we’re not.

Many children walked out of school lask week to protest the lack of climate change action from government (or the generations above them). This was a Bad Thing from the perspective of things like wasted planning effort for teachers, school attendance records etc, and some politicians took that line. From the perspective of 2050, it might look like a Good Thing.

Lyft and Uber: regulation, competition, maps

Lyft lobbies to prevent US cities from regulating to manage the local impacts of it and Uber. The argument seems to be that too much regulation makes it difficult to provide transport services that deliver value to passengers. The counter-argument would be that population density in cities results in different effects than, say, rural areas, so the city is the perfect level at which to place the regulatory function.

Uber and Lyft may compete with public transport as much as (more than?) car ownership: “When Uber and Lyft enter a city, the app-based taxis decrease rail ridership by 1.29 percent per year and decrease bus ridership by 1.7 percent”

Uber has released travel time maps for several cities. Here is Manchester’s.

“We must make sure that people stay in charge of the machines”

The Culture, Media and Sport select committee’s final report on Disinformation and 'fake news', says technology is currently “hijacking our minds and society”:

“enforcement of greater transparency in the digital sphere, to ensure that we know the source of what we are reading, who has paid for it and why the information has been sent to us. We need to understand how the big tech companies work and what happens to our data. [...]

The big tech companies must not be allowed to expand exponentially, without constraint or proper regulatory oversight. But only governments and the law are powerful enough to contain them. The legislative tools already exist. They must now be applied to digital activity, using tools such as privacy laws, data protection legislation, antitrust and competition law. If companies become monopolies they can be broken up, in whatever sector. Facebook’s handling of personal data, and its use for political campaigns, are prime and legitimate areas for inspection by regulators, and it should not be able to evade all editorial responsibility for the content shared by its users across its platforms.”

Trusting chatbots and computers in healthcare

Sometimes people find it easier to speak about some issues when they know they're not speaking to a human. Relate found that people open up more readily when they understand they are talking to an AI counsellor. (More background on theraupeutic uses of chatbots.) And an NHS Trust in South Yorkshire has been testing the use of AI to identify mental health patients at risk of suicide.

On the other hand, flinging technology at healthcare isn’t an easy answer, as the NHS has found in the past. (It also leads to some unusual analogies, for instance the NHS Secretary wanting the NHS to take Tesco grocery delivery as an exemplar.)

Co-op Digital news

Data hackathon: how can we make better use of our data?

Lack of trust in relatives leaves adults unprepared for later life.

Events

Shifts show & tell - Tue 19 Feb 10am at Federation House 6th floor.

Web team playback - Tue 19 Feb 1pm at Federation House 5th floor.

Health team show & tell - Tue 19 Feb 2pm at Federation House 5th floor.

Data ecosystem show & tell - Wed 20 Feb 3pm at Angel Square 13th floor.

Manchester WordPress user group - Wed 20 Feb 6.30pm at Federation House.

Python NW - Thu 21 Feb 6pm at Federation House 6th floor.

Membership show & tell - Fri 22 Feb 3pm at Federation house 6th floor.

Delivery community of practice meetup - Mon 25 Feb 1.30pm at Federation House.

Funeralcare show & tell - Tue 26 Feb 1pm at Angel Square 12th floor.

CMO CRM show & tell - Tue 26 Feb 2pm at Angel Square 13th floor.

Greater Manchester Democracy Hub - Tue 26 Feb 5.30pm at Federation House.

Tech for good live - How to make people care - Wed 27 Feb 6.30pm at Federation House.

Membership show & tell - Fri 1 Mar 3pm at Federation House 6th floor.

More events at Federation House. And TechNW has a useful calendar of events happening in the North West.

Thank you for reading

Thank you, beloved and thoughtful readers and contributors. Please continue to send ideas, questions, corrections, improvements, etc to the newsletterbot’s flunky @rod on Twitter. If you have enjoyed reading please consider telling a friend about it!

If you want to find out more about Co-op Digital, follow us @CoopDigital on Twitter and read the Co-op Digital Blog.

MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid Bundle - MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid

Vendor: MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid Type: Bundle Price: 49.99 MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid Bundle - MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid     Discovering a salt e liquid collection can be a magical experience because you will be able to enjoy new vape juices that are savory. MiNiMal Salt E Liquid might be a collection that you are familiar with because they have created such flavorful blends. Now, they are giving us the opportunity to purchase a bundle that is going to include all of the five flavors in this collection. Each of the bottles is going to have with 30ml of salt e liquid in them, which means that when you get your hands on this bundle, you will receive 150ml of salt e liquid in total. This is a lot of salt e liquid for you to enjoy, and you will certainly not mind having plenty of it. This will all be available at the price of $49.99, and remember that a deal this good is not going to last long! Act now before you miss an incredible savings opportunity.    Flavors Include:    * Tobacco - MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid - An earthy flavor is only as rustic as you make it. Thumbs up if it falls into the hand of a connoisseur whose expert skill is to find the silver lining in every flavor. Tobacco is lauded for its rich earthy tones and thankfully it found its way to MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid, a brand noted for their ability to translate tastes in an authentic, original manner. Tobacco, the e-liquid, bases its zest off tobacco leaves. Every level of taste is explored in the vape juice, fresh, fermented and dried, it gives a new twist to the term rustic. Indeed, your local cigarettes have got nothing on this. Tobacco by MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid is expected to bring the best of flavor and strength to your pod mod. This vape juice comes from the stables of the French and word has it that a couple of sous chefs make up their mixing staff. It goes without saying what is to be expected when using juices made of salt based nicotine: A 50mg potency with a 0mg feel, yes, please. Tobacco is expected to come with the same level of authenticity as the real thing. This, after all, is what MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid boasts of, their ability to convey original tastes in the simplest way possible. Minimalism for them transcends the lifestyle and you can see this even from the simple yet classy outlook of their bottles. Treat your self to a salt based nicotine vape juice that promises equal amounts of exhilaration and satisfaction; the unique zest of tobacco whose congeniality lies, not in its sweetness but, its rich potency. You pod mod has waited a while for this experience, thanks to the French, that time is now. Primary Flavors: Tobacco * Vanilla - MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid - In the world of flavor, vanilla has consistently set itself apart for its uniquely congenial taste. It a wonder how a plant, unlike others, can ditch the green leafy taste that legumes are known for and exude neither sweet nor bland, but a creamy zest. This is the beauty of the vanilla. MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid plays on the dynamism of this plant with their e juice which is best suited for pod mod vaping. Vanilla is a rich luxurious concoction that begins with rich and ends with creamy. A subtle sweetness is explored with the exquisite makeup of this e juice. It is neither underwhelming or overwhelming but authentically original in such a way that can only be concluded to be cleverly realistic. It is common for people to attribute culinary expertise to the French, some say that they have mastered the science of taste. MiNiMAL happens to be a line of salt e liquid emerging from the French market. With them, you gain, not only the satisfaction of vaping a higher milligram of nicotine content but also, an exhilarating pod mod experience. MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid dwells on simplicity, the beauty of staying true to the authentic nature of flavors rather than concocting a blend that is more artificial than satisfying. Vanilla, is just one juice in an entire line that speaks to this fact. If you tried the other flavors Tobacco, Mint, Berry Lemonade, and Fruit Medley, you'd already be familiar with the classic taste the brand is synonymous with. Enthralled tastebuds and heaving lungs are some of the things we hope you experience once you begin vaping to this. If you're ready to vape, you know what to do. Primary Flavors: Vanilla * Fruit Medley - MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid - A trip to Hawaii, to some, is an extremely coveted experience. They'd give anything to, only for a moment, be subjected to a week of luxurious but carefree living. Lush palm trees shading them from the sun. The waves of the beach lapping at their ears, but most importantly, a medley of fruits, as many as they can think, of accompanying every meal of the day. Fruit Medley by MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid is a close call to this dream. If you never thought a bottle could bear the answer to your prayer, think again. Your favorite fruits have all been expertly mixed and contained in a portable bottle so you can treat yourself to its irresistible flavor whenever the need may arise. It doesn't matter that your cravings are unstable, that's why its a medley. If you crave pineapple today and guava tomorrow, Fruit Medley still meets you at the point of your needs. Big ups to MiNiMAL for thinking smart. Like other e juices in this line, Fruit Medley is a salt e liquid which contains salt based nicotine. The difference between this and regular vape juices lies in its potency. Here you can vape higher levels of nicotine without suffering a parched throat. MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid exemplifies minimalism not just by the simplistic outlook of their packaging but also their dedication to originality. To them, a subtle but original pear flavored juice is better than an over the top artificial flavored rendition. Fruit Medley, like other juices made from salt based nicotine, is set to spice up your pod mod in a completely electrifying way. Flavor would meet its match, we're eager to see who survives. Primary Flavors: Fruit * Berry Lemonade - MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid - MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid claims to love their Berry Lemonade mix berry much. Well, we're about to find out why. In the meantime, say bye bye to the completely depressing concoctions plaguing your vape shelf. The lemons in this mix still have their zest for life. Berry Lemonade takes after the refreshing summer drink. A basket of succulent wild berries is squeezed into a glass of chilled lemonade. Two slices of lemon are then, dropped into this mix for a retained authenticity. The result is a concoction is that saccharine sweet but also sour. In vape terms, the best of both worlds. Berry Lemonade isn't just exceptional for its originality. This vape juice might as well be a blessing to pod mods all over the place, thanks to its salt based nicotine that allows you to inhale a higher consistency of nicotine without settling for harshness or dryness of the throat. Like other flavors in this line of juices, Berry Lemonade bears an originality that reeks of mother earth's touch. The myths of man-made flavors are debunked here. This vape juice belongs to a line of salt e liquid that happens to be the first from the French market. Nothing else says Carpe Diem more than them. If you've constantly craved a rejuvenating pod mod vaping experience, perhaps you should take a stab at MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid. If the authentic taste or the salt based nicotine doesn't do it for you, Then, the thrill of knowing that the Eiffel tower was nearby when this was being concocted should. Inhale and allow your taste buds to be electrified by the promise of summers freshest fruit, ravaging your lungs until you puff out flavorful clouds in the same version. Whether you're a minimalist or simply a vaper who has a penchant for quality, you should go ahead and give Berry Lemonade a try. Primary Flavors: Berry, Lemonade * Mint - MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid - Minimalism is a trend that has rocked the contemporary world for some time. Why stack your living space with an armoire, a dressing table, and a cabinet when you can get a single piece of furniture that serves all three purposes. For a minimalist, minimalism is not just a trend or an art movement. It is a tool that can assist one in finding freedom. While this concept pertains more to lifestyle, MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid has found a way to bring the idea to their line of vape juices, starting from the simple outlook of the packaging and extending this to the originality of the flavors. A mint-flavored e juice would be extreme if it possessed an unrealistically chilling zest or if it was unbearably sweet, believe us this does exist. Mint by MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid replicates the scent of fresh mint leaves. It is subtly sweet with regular hues of ice. This e juice is chill enough to cool you down on a summer day but not overwhelming in such a way that you question whether or not you have been dropped in the middle of the north pole. If you're a vaper who believes in the importance of original concoctions then it is possible that this e juice would be right for you. MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid happens to be the first range of salt based nicotine vape juices to have come out of the French market. This blend is perfect for pod mods and is intended to bring the best of your vaping experience. Imagine being able to take in an exceedingly high amount of nicotine without suffering dry hits or a constant cough. This salt e liquid takes unbearably out of your routine and replaces it with satisfying. If you've searched the market long enough for a salt based nicotine vape juice that delivers in terms of potency and originality, we hope that Mint gives you all that and more. If however, you are a vaper who has found their peace with regular levels of nicotine, well, it's high time you tried a salt e liquid. Primary Flavors: Mint   **These products are made with salt nicotine and not intended for sub ohm vaping**   Package Contains:    * 1 x 30ml Bottle Of Tobacco By MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid  * 1 x 30ml Bottle Of Vanilla By MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid  * 1 x 30ml Bottle Of Fruit Medley By MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid  * 1 x 30ml Bottle Of Berry Lemonade By MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid * 1 x 30ml Bottle Of Mint By MiNiMAL Salt E Liquid  https://breazy.com/products/minimal-salt-e-liquid-bundle-minimal-salt-e-liquid?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

Below Are Several Tips For Maintaining Your Residential Roof! At LMRF We're Here To Assist!

Lowermainland Roofco (LMRC) has 100+ years of consolidated know-how in high-end residential, commercial, and industrial roofing services in all of the Lower Mainland from Tsawwassen to Rosedale to every nook and cranny in the Greater Metro Vancouver Area, and several other regions and cities in the lowermainland. We offer total roofing solutions from installation, repair work, renovation, replacing, to consulting for all of the roof types: brand new and existing.

LMRC assists you maintain your Property Assets Well-Protected, Leak-Free & Cost-Efficient for years to come! LMRC has efficiently evaluated more than 10,000+ Projects and 1+ Billion Square Feet of Roof Area from Community to Nonpublic Sectors.

When it comes to residential LMRC concentrates in New Construction Roof Installation, Fixes, Re-Roofing, and Storm Damage Reconstruction.

Regardless of whether it's Domestic Repair, Multi-Family Roofing, Industrial Roaming, Commercial Roofing, Industrial Repairs our people got you covered high and dry.

The following Are Several Tips For Maintaining Your Household Roof! At LMRF We're Right Here To Help!

When it comes to your roof, you need to have to make sure every little thing is in excellent shape. After all, you won't want to spring a water leak in the middle of the evening during wintertime would you? The following write-up has some helpful information with regards to roofing. Read on and learn.

Look over your roof at least once per year. Springtime downpours and winter season storms are especially hard on your roof. Most damages appear throughout these months. Be extra watchful amid these periods.

Given that you're going up on your roof anyhow to do work, clean the gutters while you're there. Occasionally a leak can in fact be the result of backed-up gutters. Try cleaning them out and then hose down the roof - if the leak does not reappear, you may have in fact solved the problem.

If you reside in a wintry climate, you would certainly be practical to be careful when removing snow from your roof. Make sure you don't harm the surface when shoveling snow away. For the very best safety, try employing a soft bristled surface area broom to get rid of the last bit of snow instead of using a shovel.

Certainly never attempt to repair your roof while the weather conditions are harmful. Your roof can wait till the storm clears, and you should be more concerned about your safety than the state of your roof. The storm might cause extra damage anyways, so there really is not much use in trying fix it until it all ends.

Buddies, family and co-workers should be your initial source when choosing a roofing contractor. Make certain you question them on a contractor's charges, service level, and craftsmanship. Ask about post-job clean-up and about the warranty dealing with repairs in the future.

When employing the services of a roofing contractor, you need to make sure that he/ she has the necessary equipment. If they charge you for labour by the hour, but are carrying out your entire roof with a hammer instead of a compressed air nailer, you are going to end up paying for a great deal more than you should.

When looking for a roofing contractor to choose, the Better Business Bureau can be an invaluable resource. What you really want to look for are actually contractors that keep an "A+" rating. The Better Business Bureau can be searched online, or you can call a local office. You'll likewise be able to see any dissatisfactions filed, and how the contractor resolved those criticisms.

Only ever enlist the services of a roofer who has a permit and is entirely insured for the job. If anything happens while these guys are working, be it a laborer who drops off the roof and is injured or a worker who falls through your roof and demolishes your valuables, you'll be happy you held out for the right service company!

If you hire a roofer who employs employees, you may receive a far better discount than if the roofer does the job alone. A team is going to generally finish the job quicker, thus minimizing the final total cost. If you have one doing it all alone, be sure they're not overcharging for labor costs.

When you set up a metal roof on your property, make sure built up snow will not slide off over a doorway. You or a guest might be stunned when a big bunch of snow slips off the roof onto your head. Use special crosswise pieces to direct the snow off to either side as an alternative.

Having any luck, you now have a considerably better understanding as to just what you need to have to do in order to make certain that your roof is in great shape. Refer back to this information should any roofing troubles arise. Remember that a roof in excellent shape will certainly ensure that protection and protection of your family and your property.

The following Are Several Tips For Keeping Your Household Roof! At LMRF We're Here To Assist!

Lowermainland Roofco (LMRC) has 100+ yrs of consolidated knowledge in high-end residential, commercial, and industrial roofing services in all of the Lower Mainland through Tsawwassen to Rosedale to virtually every nook and cranny in the Greater Metro Vancouver Area, and several other regions and cities in the lowermainland. We deliver total roofing services from installment, maintenance and repair, reconstruction, replacement, to consulting for all roof types: fresh and existing.

LMRC helps you always keep your Building Assets Well-Protected, Leak-Free & Cost-Efficient for yrs to come! LMRC has successfully examined more than 10,000+ Projects and 1+ Billion Square Feet of Roof Area from Community to Nonpublic Sectors.

When it comes to residential LMRC specializes in New Construction Roof Setup, Fixes, Re-Roofing, and Storm Damage Restoration.

Whether it's Residential Repair, Multi-Family Roofing, Industrial Roaming, Industrial Roofing, Industrial Repairs our people got you covered high and dry.

The following Are Some Tips For Keeping Your Domestic Roof! At LMRF We're Here To Assist!

When it comes to your roof, you need to make sure every thing is in really good shape. After all, you probably would not want to spring a leak in the middle of the night during winter months would you? The following guide has some valuable information with regards to roofing. Read on and learn.

Look over your roof at least once per year. Spring rain showers and winter time storms are especially hard on your roof. Most damages happen throughout these months. Be extra alert amid these times.

Given that you're going up on your roof anyhow to do work, clean up the gutters while you're there. At times a leak can really be the result of backed-up gutters. Try cleaning them out and then hose down the roof - if the leak doesn't reappear, you may have effectively solved the problem.

If you reside in a snowy climate, you would certainly be sensible to be cautious when removing snow from your roof. Make certain you don't ruin the surface when shoveling snow away. For the best possible safety, try making use of a soft bristled surface broom to get rid of the last bit of snow instead of using a shovel.

Do not attempt to repair your roof while the weather conditions are unsafe. Your roof can wait til the storm clears, and you should be more concerned about your safety than the state of your roof. The storm may cause additional damage anyways, so there certainly truly is not much use in trying fix it until it all ends.

Friends, loved ones and co-workers ought to be your primary source when deciding on a roofing contractor. Make sure you question them on a contractor's expenses, service level, and craftsmanship. Inquire about post-job cleanup and about the service warranty dealing with repairs in the long term.

When selecting a roofing contractor, you ought to make sure that he/ she has the necessary equipment. If they charge you for labor costs by the hour, but are carrying out your entire roof with a hammer instead of a compressed air nailer, you will definitely end up paying for much more than you need to.

When looking for a roofing contractor to employ, the Better Business Bureau can be an invaluable resource. What you want to look for are actually contractors that sustain an "A+" rating. The Better Business Bureau can be searched on-line, or you can call a local office. You'll likewise be able to see any dissatisfactions filed, and how the contractor fixed those complaints.

Only ever pay for a roofer who has a permit and is completely insured for the job. If anything happens while they are working, be it a laborer who falls off the roof and is injured or hurt or a worker who drops through your roof and damages your valuables, you'll be delighted you held out for the right service provider!

If you choose a roofer who employs employees, you may get a better package than if the roofer operates alone. A team is going to usually finish the project much faster, thus minimizing the final total cost. If you get one doing it all alone, be confident they're not overcharging for labor.

When you set up a metal roof on your residence, make sure collected snow will not slide off over a doorway. You or a guest might be startled when a large size bunch of snow slips off the roof over your head. Use special crosswise pieces to direct the snow away to either side as an alternative.

With any luck, you now have a considerably better knowledge as to precisely what you need to have to do in order to make certain that your roof is in fantastic shape. Refer back to this post should any roofing problems arise. Remember that a roof in excellent shape will definitely ensure that safety and protection of your family and your property.

Here Are Several Tips For Maintaining Your Residential Roof! At LMRF We're Here To Help!

Lowermainland Roofco (LMRC) has 100+ yrs of consolidated knowledge in high-end residential, commercial, and industrial roofing services in all of the Lower Mainland from Tsawwassen to Rosedale to pretty much every nook and cranny in the Greater Metro Vancouver Area, and several other regions and cities in the lowermainland. We offer entire roofing solutions from installment, maintenance and repair, renovation, replacement, to consulting for all of the roof types: fresh and existing.

LMRC helps you keep your Property Assets Well-Protected, Leak-Free & Cost-Efficient for years to come! LMRC has properly assessed more than 10,000+ Projects and 1+ Billion Square Feet of Roof Area from Community to Private Sectors.

Whenever it comes to residential LMRC focuses in New Construction Roof Installation, Fixes, Re-Roofing, and Storm Damage Reconstruction.

Regardless of whether it's Domestic Maintenance And Repair, Multi-Family Roofing, Industrial Roaming, Industrial Roofing, Industrial Repairs our experts got you covered high and dry.

Here Are Several Tips For Maintaining Your Residential Roof! At LMRF We're Right Here To Help!

When it comes to your roof, you really need to make sure every thing is in good shape. After all, you wouldn't want to spring a water leak in the middle of the evening hours during winter time would you? The following blog post has some beneficial information with regards to roofing. Read on and learn.

Look over your roof at least once per year. Spring season downpours and winter time storms are especially hard on your roof. Most damages turn up during these months. Be extra alert throughout these times.

Considering that you're going up on your roof anyhow to do work, clean the gutters while you're there. At times a leak can actually be the result of backed-up gutters. Try cleaning them out and then hose down the roof - if the leak doesn't reappear, you may have effectively solved the problem.

If you live in a wintry environment, you would be smart to be careful when removing snow off your roof. Make sure you don't damage the surface when shoveling snow out. For maximum safety, try applying a soft bristled surface area broom to remove the last bit of snow instead of using a shovel.

Never ever make an effort to repair your roof while the weather conditions are harmful. Your roof can wait until the storm clears, and you should be more concerned about your safety than the state of your roof. The storm could possibly cause more damage anyways, so certainly there truly is not much use in trying fix it until it all ends.

Friends, family and co-workers ought to be your very first resource when picking a roofing contractor. Make sure you ask about them on a contractor's fees, service level, and craftsmanship. Check out about post-job cleanup and about the warranty covering repairs in the future.

When contracting a roofing contractor, you really should make sure that he/ she has the suitable equipment. If they charge you for labour by the hour, but are carrying out your entire roof with a hammer instead of a compressed air nailer, you will definitely end up paying much more than you should.

When looking for a roofing contractor to employ the services of, the Better Business Bureau can be an invaluable resource. What you want to look for are really contractors that sustain an "A+" rating. The Better Business Bureau can be searched on the internet, or you can contact a local office. You'll likewise be able to see any complaints filed, and how the contractor fixed those criticisms.

Only ever pay for a roofer who has a permit and is fully insured for the job. If anything happens while these guys are working, be it a worker who drops off the roof and is wounded or a worker who falls through your roof and ruins your valuables, you'll be delighted you held out when it comes to the right contractor!

If you hire a roofer who uses employees, you may get a better package than if the roofer does the job alone. A team is going to typically finish the job faster, thus minimizing the final total cost. If you have one doing it alone, be sure they're not overcharging for labor.

When you put up a metal roof on your house, make sure built up snow will not slide off over a doorway. You or a guest could be shocked when a big bunch of snow slips off the roof onto your head. Use unique crosswise pieces to direct the snow off to either side instead.

Having any luck, you now have a far better knowledge as to just what you need to have to do in order to make certain that your roof is in good shape. Refer back to this report should any roofing challenges arise. Remember that a roof in good shape will guarantee that safety and security of your family and your home.