#I will avoid TV radio and internet on that day

[biarritzzz]

Already dreading the 8th of March International Women's Day - which is never referred to as such of fucking course.

It's going to be the usual shitshow of men pretending they care very much about male violence but only in, say, Afghanistan with the implication that if western women don't behave, it could always get worse. You know, be like Afghanistan. So shut your mouth and be grateful, bitch!

What else? Ah yes I'll receive the usual emails from corporations offering me discounts on Women's Day because nothing says Women's Rights like a coupon for eyeshadow. Imagine if on International Day against Racism (which is March 21st), ethnic minorities received supermarket discounts to celebrate 'their' day. You can't imagine it because it's absurd.

I will of course get coworkers wishing me a Happy Women's Day because apparently that day is just like Mother's Day but for all women. Even the childfree ones. How awesome.

It says it all that this day is a complete travesty and that so many women are too happy to participate in it by bragging about how their man just got them a massage for Women's Day (yes this is real).

[thisbluespirit]

How To Find Your (British Actor) Blorbo On The Radio: A Brief Guide

(Disclaimer: British, because the main tool I'm using is the BBC's Genome.)

If you want more of your fave actor, or you love full-cast drama podcasts/audios (and audiobooks/NF content too) here's a guide on how to get your hands on BBC Radio broadcasts.

The BBC have a great free resource called Genome, which has all the Radio Times listings from 1922 to the present day (plus some of the actual articles), and it's searchable. Up until its arrival, it was really hard to do that, so \o/

Not all actors do radio and not everything you find will be obtainable, but it's always worth a try! It's especially likely for actor-blorbos who do other audio work, or theatre (theatre tends not to pay so well, and radio is a handy extra thing that can be more easily slotted in between performances than TV/film.)

Go to Genome, and put your blorbo's name into the search box:

Press search, which will bring back a bunch of results from both radio and TV listings from 1922 up to the current year:

2. Filter down to "radio only" on the sidebar to avoid scrolling through all the TV. At the top of the page you can change the display order to First broadcast (or Availability, if you want it only to bring things currently available to stream on the BBC website), among other options.

I can also cut down on extraneous results by selecting a date range that only covers when my guy was active.

I scroll down until I find something that looks interesting, in this case a proper audio drama, called The Hornblower Story. It's from 1980 and is an adaptation of a well known book. The details give me enough info to search the wider internet, and see if I get lucky...

3. Search the internet and listen to your blorbo act in radio drama!

There are several ways to obtain radio drama online. If you use streaming sites like Audible and Spotify, it may be there, although usually only if it's had a commercial release.

The BBC still broadcast old programmes on the radio, so it might be currently available on their website to stream - and unlike TV, you can listen to BBC Radio anywhere in the world! (If you are in the UK, you can also download and use the BBC Sounds app.) The Genome will usually provide a link for you to go straight there, if that's the case.

However, obviously, most BBC Radio from past decades is not available commercially or being broadcast by the BBC now and some doesn't exist in the archives, or was never recorded (as with TV), but as methods of recording audio at home have been widely available since the 1950s and 60s, there are loads of off-air recordings of radio made by listeners/collectors, and some have freely shared their copies online. Some are in closed forums etc., but three good sites to try first are YouTube, RadioEchoes & the Internet Archive.

I usually start with a Google search - e.g. '"Title" radio' or radio bbc and if that doesn't give me anything add on first "Radio Echoes" and then "Internet archive" to the search.

And I'm in luck! Radio Echoes appear to have the adaptation I'm after. I need to check the broadcast dates to see if they match up & then I can stream or download for free - and hear my blorbo play a stern Admiral for 5 minutes or less, hurrah!

Clicking on the links takes you to a screen where you can press play to stream or right click on the play bar to download the mp3 file to your device. (Click the "Save audio as..." option).

These are archive off-air recordings, so the quality can vary, especially for older programmes.

4. Rinse and repeat with each new likely Genome discovery.

If you find a copy of what you're looking for on the Internet Archive instead, you'll get up a page with a play bar (like the one above), with episodes listed plus details (to varying degrees) below. If you want to stream, just click play and enjoy. If you want to download it, then click on the MP3 files line on the right-hand sidebar, which will then give you an "X no of files" button to click and you can download them to keep.

(You can download all the files, but I usually cut straight to the chase and just nab the MP3s.)

Sometimes the BBC have released a commercial audiobook. In those cases, if you already use audio/music streaming subscription sites like Audible or Spotify, you should be able to find it there.

If you don't, or you want to buy a download, I've found the best option (weirdly!) (for UK users, at any rate) is to get the audiobook up at Penguin Books, which links to various paid subscription streaming and download options, so you can find the best one for you (and you know it's been recced by a hopefully reputable source.)

Last year, I wanted to buy Vivat Rex, the BBC's landmark dramatisation of all the English history plays rolled into one giant starry-cast Jacobean audio serial, and successfully used this route. (I'm very old by internet terms and still like listening via MP3 files on my MP3 player, as long as it survives.)

Pretty much the only affordable download option I've found so far I got courtesy of Penguin's links to Hive. (But this may be a UK only option.)

If what you're looking for seems likely to exist even if you can't find it by any of these methods - keep trying! New things are being added daily to all these websites, and the BBC cycle round old shows all the time.

And if you want to go deeper, there are closed forums etc. for radio enthusiasts where you need to make an account, but you may then be able to torrent or download an even wider variety of things.

Of course, whether or not your blorbo has been in anything good or any radio at all will depend on them, but I hope this guide will help enable you to find out!

YouTube, Radio Echoes, the Internet Archive and Old Time Radio all have radio from other countries too. So while the BBC Genome can't help you with anywhere outside the UK, the other links here can be good places to look around and browse for things you might be interested in.

You can of course use the same methods to search for things like a favourite author, or particular plays, to see if the BBC have done any radio adaptations - BBC Radio have done heaps of things that have never been adapted on screen, so it's always worth a look for anything you'd be into.

Radio Echoes is browsable as well as searchable, and while Internet Archive is a bit less so, there are some excellent collections you can look through, like the Saturday Night Theatre collection, and the BBC Radio Shows listings.

[inquisitornocturn]

≪─ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴜᴛᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍɪᴅɴɪɢʜᴛ: ᴄʜ. 5 - ɴᴇᴡ ᴏʙꜱᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ ─≫

⋟ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧���: Sebastian LaCroix/f!reader the Ventrue neonate

⋟ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: y/n etc is not used, rating - M, POV second person, canon-typical violence, smut, dubcon, semi-public sex, PiV, creampie.

⋟ 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: From climbing the corporate ladder to being told you need to feast on human blood - this is your new life, Fledgling. The world has changed for you so drastically, you know you will need time to adjust and your new so called "boss" is not making it easy. He's sending you on tasks that feel like they were designed to get you killed. It makes you furious: at Sebastian, at your vampirism, at your lowly position in this brand new society you just stepped into. Still, LaCroix is just the type to get under your skin with ease, and he does it well. Too well. You are not too sure if you can resist his pull.

⋟ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7,001

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: bringing some heat to the story with this chapter lol! enjoy♡~

⋟ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: [link]

You did indeed keep yourself busy for the following two nights. You had other things to do, other people to talk to, other aspects of a vampire life to discover and now you came upon some fucked up situations like that freak Gimble. Just remembering his voice makes you shudder.

But, at your new apartment you feel comfortable. It has a spacious first floor with a kitchen which you know you will never use, a comfortable lounge area with big TV on a wall, a huge aquarium and a bathroom with a sizable bathtub. Second floor has your bedroom which is windowless as it should be for a vampire who has to sleep during the day. It also has another bathroom, big closet and just outside the bedroom there’s a work area with a big desk, a personal computer with LaCroix Foundation secure internet already wired up and a comfortable chair. There’s a music station with vinyl player and a radio.

To put it shortly - it has everything that you need and extra. It took you no time to settle because haven in Santa Monica always seemed like it was crawling with bed bugs and roaches. It most likely was but you avoided staying there as much as possible so you cannot be sure.

However, another interesting development happened when you moved your meager belongings to Skyline Apts. A girl you met at the hospital some time ago and fed your blood to save her somehow found you.

She introduced herself as Heather Poe and kept gushing how you are her savior. You met her after having a talk with half-dying Mercurio who said that vampires give him blood to improve his human body and asked you to get some medication for his pain, after all he was pretty badly banged up. You thought nothing of it at that moment, but then after you left the hospital through the front entrance you met another man who told you he’s a Ghoul. Only then you realized that if Heather finds you - it could mean some bad news for you. You are not sure if making her your Ghoul, no matter how innocent your reasons were when you did that, would not break Masquerade and land you in trouble with LaCroix. So you kept low profile and hoped that Heather would not remember you. But evidently she did and she showed up seeking for you. In the end - you decided to keep her. Her blood is clean and warm and she offers it freely for the taking. For a Ventrue with feeding restrictions you see that as an absolute win, but you did decide to keep Heather your little secret because you don’t want to get into another argument with Prince.

However, the time finally comes when you have to go to the scheduled so called ,party’ among kine.

“Heather, do you have my dress ready?” you call out from the bathroom where for past hour and a half you were showering, putting on makeup, doing your hair.

“I have it here!” Heather bursts into the bathroom enthused to help you with anything you need. When you look at her to take the dress she gasps maybe a little too much to be fully believable but you appreciate her effort.

“Thank you.” You smile at her and take the dress, slipping it on your body, then have Heather help you zip it up. “Hand me those earrings.” You point and again she eagerly jumps to the task.

“I could go with you if you want to! I would not be obvious I promise.” She’s like an excited puppy and you find yourself thinking of Poe as adorable.

“It’s okay, Heather. It’s a high-end pompous human affair. Nothing unpredictable will happen. Plus, I’ll be with LaCroix.”

“Right, the Prince of LA.” Heather nods but she’s not very familiar with vampire politics just yet and you are not going to give her a crash course. Not because you feel like you yourself know a lot already, you’re aware you don’t. However you would prefer for her to keep as much of her humanity as possible. Being fully aware of vampire games of power is not the way to retain that and it’s already bad enough she moved in with you, not being able to stay away.

You put on dark red lipstick carefully and put its tube in a small purse that LaCroix, or someone else, matched with the dress.

“Heels please.” You ask Heather and she nearly tumbles out of the bathroom to get your footwear for the evening. She returns in maybe 2 seconds and places them carefully in front of you, right end facing you.

“Let me help you with that.” She immediately kneels and you step into one heel, letting her manage two delicate clasps that connect straps around your ankle. Then she does the same with the other foot.

As she gets up from the floor and steps back to look at you, she seems genuinely enamored by what she sees.

“You’re stunning.” Heather whispers like she’s in awe and it does actually make you feel beautiful.

You are very used to these types of parties where this kind of clothing is required and expected but it’s your first such party since your Embrace and you feel quite nervous. You spin in spot to show her your entire look, front to back.

“You really think so?” you ask and Heather eagerly nods.

“Just beautiful. You’re going to knock everyone out of their shoes.” She replies with a smile and you walk to her, your heels making a soft click clack sound on the tiles. You reach out and touch her face, gently, almost motherly.

“You’re a gem, Heather.” You whisper and it’s like Heather melts at your touch and words.

“Happy to serve my Mistress.” She responds and you rub her cheek with your thumb just for a little while, then stop. It’s time to go, you see the time on the clock.

You walk out of the bathroom and down the stairs towards the exit, Heather tailing you.

“Is Prince going to pick you up himself?” she asks like she’s worried about your safety.

“No, he’ll send a car for me.” You check your keys and before you forget you locate your knife, then put it behind a garter underneath the dress where nobody sees. Doesn’t hurt to be safe, just in case. Other side of the dress has a slit in it that’s almost provoking.

“Do you know who’s driving it?” she asks sounding worried but you don’t stop, heading for the door, now putting your cellphone in your tiny purse.

“No, but I’m sure I’ll be okay.”

“But what if they want to kidnap you?” Heather is relentless so you stop and turn to her, she almost bumps into you then fix her glasses that nearly slipped off her face.

“Heather, please. I’ll be okay.” You try to explain and she looks for reassurance in your eyes, then finally relaxes her shoulders.

“Okay yes. I’ll be here when you return!” She smiles widely and you smile back at her softly.

“I know you will.” You gently pat her head and leave, closing the door behind you.

While you take the elevator you try to remember everything LaCroix put into his email about this event but it wasn’t much. Some sort of investors, party of 70 people, all of them humans except for you and LaCroix. Blush of Life required for the duration. You have last part down because you fed off Heather before you started to prepare. Can’t have blood on your brand new dress.

When elevator stops at the ground floor you step out and sigh. The hallway is dirty and trash is scattered on the floor but you try not to care. No matter if it’s on purpose or not you’re not going to start cleaning it just because it gets on your nerves, but it does stand out to you every time you see it. Maybe eventually you can get a tidier place for yourself. Right now, you know this well, you need to keep your profile low.

You stop just for a second, roll your shoulders then relax them, lift your chin up and step out of the building. Surprisingly the limousine is already waiting for you, so you walk towards it and open the back door. You don’t know why you got sent a limousine when it could’ve been just a simple taxi but you understand why soon enough when you climb in and see LaCroix comfortably seated at the back with a glass of blood in his hand.

“Good evening.” He says and smirks just a little. “You’re on time, I like punctuality.”

You don’t respond as you close the door behind you and sit down a little further away from him. He may have easily charmed you previous times, but now you’re anxious just enough not to think of anything inappropriate.

“You look just stunning in this dress.” LaCroix compliments and you look at him.

“Thank you. I’m glad the size fits.” You cross your legs and watch Prince snap his fingers twice. Once he does, the limousine starts moving.

“Now, have you fed? The evening is going to be at least several hours long and I don’t want you to frenzy just because Blush of Life seeped out your Vitae.” He says casually. It doesn’t sound like he’s doubting your preparation but it’s more about him being used to repeating instructions to duller accomplices.

“Don’t worry, I’ve fed.” You respond and finally take a good look at him.

Sebastian is wearing all black suit with a matching vest and blood red necktie creating a lovely and elegant contrast that was meant to match the dress you’re wearing. His suit jacket is unbuttoned and you see a golden clock chain pinned to his west’s button and tracing to the pocket on the same west, laying delicately over his lower torso. You also notice a small golden pin of Camarilla pinned to his necktie.

“You look great yourself.” You compliment casually, hoping it comes off as a polite thing you’re doing and not you trying to please him, but in reply Prince scoffs rolling his eyes.

“If not for the duties for Foundation, I would not waste my time and effort for such frivolous endeavors.”

You smile at him, seeing through his act.

“We’re both Ventrue, you don’t have to pretend to be above such events. You and me both know we thrive off mingling among the rich and the powerful.”

Sebastian rises a curious eyebrow at you. You wonder when was the last time he kept being called out on his bullshit by someone like you, lower in status.

“Next you’re going to tell me that we were born in the boardroom. I heard that line before and it was from Smiling Jack.” He says calmly and with a little bit of disgust at Jack’s name, but you can sense a type of probing in his question. Clever.

“I have not been hanging out with Smiling Jack or any other Anarchs.” You immediately clarify and Prince’s expression drops to a poker face, clearly not very happy you read between the lines of his question. “Though I do like Jack, he helped me out after the Theater incident and when the Sabbat attacked.” You admit.

“Yes, I hear Smiling Jack is a universally liked character in LA.” LaCroix looks at his glass and starts to lazily swirl the blood in it. “It’s a great power to have for someone who, in Camarilla terms, is an untamed potential.”

You watch him curiously, wondering what’s inside his head, what he’s thinking about. The limousine doesn’t show any signs of slowing yet so you decide to try and see what you can get out of him.

“As leader of Camarilla here I’m sure you have enough power and influence to get Jack on our side.” You reply with your words very carefully measured and Sebastian’s eyes flick to you. His jaw clenches while he thinks what to say, then relaxes.

“Perhaps I do. However, Jack is a man of personal freedom. I’m confident his supposed alliance with Anarchs is a simple alignment of values rather than an actual effort to death knell the Camarilla in LA. He goes where the winds of his selfishness blow. The only reason he doesn’t like Camarilla is because he’s a wild card and wants to remain as such.”

You think about his words in silence while Sebastian empties his glass and puts it down on a tray screwed in between the seats.

“I think we’re almost here.” He checks his wristwatch that you didn’t notice he was wearing and smooths out his sleeves. “Oh, I almost forgot, we have to wear these.”

With that Sebastian produces two name tag clips out of his pocket and hands one to you. Yours, just like his, is laminated, the edges of it are dark red, the rest is white. On upper end it has LaCroix Foundation in bold black letters, bellow it states your name and your new, albeit fake, status within said Foundation - CCO.

“Chief Communications Officer?” you look at LaCroix as you pin the badge to your dress and he smirks just a little bit while doing the same with his badge, though his status is proclaimed as Owner and CEO.

“I thought it would fit you since you run all kinds of errands for me among the kindred.” His eyes lift to you and you do find the humor in it, thus you smile back.

“I see.”

The limousine stops and LaCroix inhales deeply, holds it in for a second then slowly exhales.

“Blush of Life, darling. And don’t forget to smile.” He instructs without looking at you, then you witness the same transformation you saw in a Theater.

You cannot deny that he’s very handsome both in life and death, but you don’t linger on this thought and proceed to concentrate on activating the ability yourself. It doesn’t come to you as easily as it does for LaCroix but eventually you get it and the feeling is absolutely weird. It’s like warmth is spreading through your body after being so cold for a long time. You feel your heart beat for the first time in a while, you feel your skin tingle. When you look up at Prince he’s giving you a small smile with curious look.

“Ready?” he asks you as he moves towards the door and you affirm him that you are with a nod

When the door gets opened by the driver Sebastian steps out and while you scramble to get out too he reaches in and offers you his hand. You look up to him, feeling a little strange in this moment, but you give him your hand and with another smile he helps you to get out of the car gracefully.

When the driver closes the car door and walks around to move the limousine you look away from LaCroix at the massive skyscraper in front of you. It’s not a building you have been in before but you definitely know about it from people that attended parties here while you were alive.

With a sting of sadness you feel Sebastian let go of your hand and look at him to witness his hands slide into his pockets. He didn’t button up his suit jacket and it suits him better this way.

“Let’s go. I hope you remember your etiquette.” He says but doesn’t wait for an answer and heads for the door.

You join him, walking next to him, your purse in one hand, with the other you’re holding your dress’ skirt so that you don’t trip on the stairs. The automatic door opens and there’s guards eyeing you. They check your badges and scan the bar codes at the bottom of those, then let you in. In silence you and LaCroix walk to the elevator that has an attendant already waiting for you. When you are inside, the man presses a button for the right floor and tries to make small talk.

“Very nice evening for a party like that.” He says cheerfully and LaCroix gives him a side-eye but you find it amusing so you reply.

“Just wonderful. Hopefully it won’t rain tonight.” You smile softly, remembering to retract your fangs just in time.

“I hope so too, Miss.” The guy smiles at you and nods, then the bell rings as elevator stops. “Your floor Miss.” He says ignoring LaCroix and you find it even more amusing. What a little bit of kindness can do.

“Thank you, have a nice evening.” You say and walk out, LaCroix following you.

“Didn’t have to do that.” He whispers to you and you glance at him briefly.

“If you realized that power is not about putting down people you’d be more respected.” You also reply silently and notice Sebastian give you a dangerous glare but you just smile.

“Come here.” He changes the topic and you look at him, not knowing what he means, but you quickly realize he wants you to loop your arm around his elbow while he’s still having his hands in pockets.

Of course.

You match his walking speed and do as he wants while you two cross a big hallway towards a huge double door that’s open, the room inside is already quite full with people, soft music is playing and everyone’s sharing drinks. The sound of your heels on marble floor doesn’t even stand out.

“Follow my lead and don’t drift too far. I’m taking a big risk taking you here.” Sebastian whispers to you as you both keep approaching the room of light and laughter, his voice is tense.

“Not my first rodeo.” You assure him but find yourself hard to concentrate.

You can feel the warmth of his body as you walk with him almost hip to hip. You also try not to look at him because despite you trying not to think about it, you do find LaCroix extremely handsome. You were never a woman who chased men, especially for their looks and especially blondes since you always preferred dark haired men, but there’s something about him that makes you forget all your preferences when it comes to appearances of men.

The moment you step into the room you get startled and snapped out of your thoughts.

“LaCroix! You bastard, finally you showed up!” A male voice announces loudly and when your eyes find him in the crowd you see it’s a tall, early-middle aged man with green eyes, dark brown hair and very stylish facial hair.

He laughs as he approaches the two of you where you stopped and heartily slaps Sebastian’s shoulder. You feel him tense up, being displeased with such treatment but he’s not showing it. Instead he gives a delicate smile and pulls a hand out of his pocket to shake hands with the stranger. Your own arm is now free from his elbow so you grasp your purse, observing curiously.

“Alexander, good to see you in such high spirits. I presume things are going well?” Sebastian indulges in socializing as the handshake lasts a long but appropriate time for two businessmen who know each other well.

“Very! And who’s this charming lady?” Alexander looks at you and you offer him a smile of your own.

“This is my treasured partner in crime.” Sebastian replies, not letting you speak. In the end there’s no need to tell Alexander your name, it’s on the badge.

“I would say a very sexy partner.” Alexander lifts his eyebrows eyeing you up and down and you chuckle politely.

“I appreciate it, but don’t mistake my appearance for inexperience.” You respond very politely and your eye catches a glimpse of LaCroix’s stern face. You don’t know if he didn’t like what you said or was it Alexander that overstepped an invisible line, but you can ask him later.

“Oh I surely won’t.” The man replies in quite a flirtatious tone and you blush a little.

“I appreciate that.” You add and seems Sebastian loses his patience.

He wraps an arm around Alexander’s shoulders and turns with him, leading him to the bar where drinks are being served. You catch snippets of business talk as you follow them, but you don’t try to follow their conversation, instead you look around.

There are women of all ages dressed in very expensive evening-wear and men in tailored suits but mainly the crowd is made up from people around your age. You find that interesting because you didn’t know that LA has that many people of high influence that are not total pensioners. When Sebastian and Alexander stop by the bar to order drinks, you get approached by a waiter who offers you a glass of champagne from his golden serving tray. You politely take a glass thanking him and he drifts off like unanswered prayer. When you turn to look if you’re still close to LaCroix, you find him in a middle of other influential men, drowning in conversation and he’s obviously being in his element.

“I have you all to myself now.” You hear a voice and your eyes turn to find Alexander standing to your side, big smile on his face and a glass of what you presume either bourbon of whiskey in his hand. His fingers are adorned with several golden rings and his suit is darkest shade of green which suits him very well.

“I didn’t know that was your goal.” Amused you lift your eyebrows and turn to face him with your body. LaCroix is not going anywhere and you can talk to people as well.

“Oh it was, the moment I saw you.” Alexander softly chuckles to himself. “I’m just surprised to see you at Sebastian’s side of all people.”

“And why’s that?” you get curious, your eyebrows not lowering any time soon. If this man can tell you more about LaCroix you are eager to hear it.

“He just doesn’t seem to be the type.” Alexander pauses, choosing his words. ”How do I put this. I see Sebastian as someone focused on leadership and results, not chasing young beautiful women to warm his bed.”

“Oh, we’re not like that at all.” You chuckle but your cheeks blush. Goddamn the Blush of Life. At least when you’re in your normal undead state it’s easier to hide things like this.

“You’re not? Then why did he bring you with him? One plus usually means personal life partners.”

This information surprises you because that’s not how LaCroix framed it when he asked you to accompany him.

“I suppose he decided to try something new for a change.” You give a light shrug and Alexander comes closer, leaning in, acting like your conspirator but he’s smiling. His eyes meet yours and when he speaks you can smell whiskey on his breath. You on the other hand haven’t touched your glass of champagne.

“Then maybe this is where I become more interested than I was. If LaCroix hasn’t lain his claim yet, then I’m sure there’s lots of men even here who would like to take that position, I’m volunteering to be first in line.” His tone is charming, seductive and you feel flattered, remembering how it feels to be respected, admired and wanted. Your vampire life so far has been lacking those qualities and you guess it’s that way because you lack the right status.

You chuckle and lean just a little bit closer to him, feeling flirty.

“What makes you think that you’re a right fit for the position?” you whisper and you can feel Alexander’s free hand slip around your waist.

“I have a resume of qualities that are perfect for this position, I assure you.” He whispers back and pulls you just a little closer. God, you really forgot how forthright upper echelons of society tend to be.

“Maybe I can be the judge of that.” You smile flirtatiously and Alexander leans to your ear, his breath is hot against your skin.

“Only if you give me couple hours of this night to prove my qualifications.” His voice is dripping with undisguised desire and you feel your body shiver ever so slightly as you softly chuckle at his words.

“Is this party only for two?” you hear a voice you recognize well and turn your head ever so slightly to see LaCroix standing in front of you, real anger in his eyes makes your smile melt away.

Alexander pulls away from your ear and faces Sebastian with a grin.

“I’m sure you don’t mind us having a little chat since this wonderful woman just informed me that you two are not together, contrary to what I was led to believe.” He says and you find yourself amused by the situation. You wonder what LaCroix will say.

There’s a pause, a heartbeat, then Sebastian manages to tame his anger and smiles.

“Despite us not being romantically involved that doesn’t give you a right to try and seduce my employees, Alexander. Maybe that’s why I don’t bring companions when you’re around.” A genuine sounding tease and Alexander laughs loudly, yet his hand is still around your waist. LaCroix notices that too and gives you a look you can’t read before he turns his attention to his business partner.

“That’s a good one, LaCroix. However, I’m not a man of steel like you. I cannot resist a beautiful woman like this when she’s right in front of me.” He smiles and pulls you close to his body once again, which surprises you.

You are about to protest then you suddenly change your mind and decide to get back at Sebastian. If he wants to treat you like lowest of the low in the vampire world, then he should be able to take someone treating you as you deserve in the living world.

With a measured smile you rise your hand and put your palm on Alexander’s shoulder that’s closest to you.

“Alexander is a very interesting person. Very funny too. I’m sure you won’t mind him entertaining me while you’re discussing business with your peers.” You say and watch LaCroix’s jaw move as he clenches his teeth.

“If the lady doesn’t mind, then I don’t see why you should protest either.” Alexander adds like it’s another nail to a coffin and you find yourself extremely amused.

Another pause that feels swollen with tension.

“Oh I don’t mind at all, but before I leave you two alone I have to discuss something real quick with my colleague here.” LaCroix navigates the situation skillfully and with polite smile gestures to the open door. “If you don’t mind.” his eyes, staring at you, tell you that you have no choice. Uh oh.

“Maybe it can wait?” Alexander suggests, but you decide to damage control the situation. You turn to him and lean to his ear.

“I’m sure it won’t take long, I’ll be right back.” You whisper in your sultriest tone and then pull back, handing him your glass. “Hold onto this for me until I return?” you ask and Alexander very politely nods.

“Everything for Milady.” He teases and you find yourself chuckling at this.

“Please.” Sebastian’s tone is commanding despite the word he uses and you look at him, your smile fading.

“Of course.” You walk towards him and he politely places a palm on your lower back, guiding you, walking a little bit faster than he should.

You look over your shoulder at Alexander who tips his own glass to you and takes a sip. He intends to wait for you and you know it.

You just don’t know if you will be coming back.

As LaCroix expertly navigates the crowd of people towards the door, you try to understand what exactly you did wrong. It’s not like Prince is getting his panties in a bunch just because you flirted with kine. You’re not breaking the Masquerade either, so you really don’t get it. You doubt he’s jealous, why would he be. It’s not like those times you shared blood somehow tied you together.

Yet the moment you exit the party room where nobody pays attention, LaCroix’s polite hand on your lower back becomes a firm grip on your upper arm. At this point he’s dragging you away from people, taking a sharp right to an empty corridor but doesn’t stop. He’s obviously familiar with this building and this floor.

“Let go of me.” You protest, starting to feel pain from his grip but he doesn’t acknowledge you in any way. His steps are fast and determined.

Finally he comes to his destination and opens the door to some office. It doesn’t seem to be very big or lavish so you guess it’s an office for a lower level employee. What you can see with a quick glance in the darkness is that the room has a desk, computer screen at the corner of it, a chair and a filing cabinet in a further corner of the room. Nothing else.

When LaCroix pulls you into the tiny office, you almost stumble dropping your purse, your heels not being the best footwear to be dragged around in, and even before you turn back to face him you hear the door slam loudly, his grip is gone from your arm. He immediately turns to you, stepping angrily towards you, being in your face. There’s unbridled rage in his eyes, his face, his fangs baring at you as he speaks, because he extended them, either on purpose or because he forgets himself.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” he whispers loudly, obviously he does not want anyone to hear the conversation if per chance someone is trying to listen in.

“What do you mean what I’m doing. Is this not what you wanted? For me to act as a pretty side piece?” you whisper back loudly at him too, you’re getting furious at his treatment of you, your arm feeling sore from his earlier grip.

“No!” He immediately responds, eyes blazing. “I told you not to leave my side!”

“Well I didn’t! I was right where you left me!”

“Seducing an investor?!”

“And why does it matter to you?! If I’m pretending to be alive again at least I can try to get some fun out of it!”

“Whoring yourself out to the first man that lays his eyes on you?!”

Loud sound of a slap echoes briefly in the room as you hit Sebastian on the face, furious at him. But he catches your wrist with his left hand immediately after, gripping it tightly. He remains silent for a moment, his cheek is burning red but his angry expression remains unchanged. Then he speaks, slowly, his voice saturated with dangerous tones.

“Have you forgotten who I am? I’m your Prince and leader of Camarilla in this godforsaken city.”

“You could be Cain himself and I would not let you treat me this way.” You hiss at him. You see wolf’s lair and you’re running into it with fireworks.

Sebastian pulls you by your wrist closer to him, he’s leaning over you, tall and authoritative. His whole demeanor is demanding obedience.

“You will obey me, Childe.” He says but it sounds more like an angry growl.

“Or what?” you try to wrench your wrist from his grip but it’s impossibly strong.

“Or I’ll make you obey.”

The air feels like it’s filled with electricity. You don’t respond to him, just glare at him, your fangs on display now too, just like his, you are two predators trying to assert themselves.

Then in a split second everything changes. LaCroix pulls you to his chest and before you can resist he presses his lips against yours. You try to break from the kiss, to push him away but his free hand snakes around your waist and keeps you in place, his kiss is demanding to the point it hurts. You try to get away, you’re angry, you hate it when he treats you like that, but deep inside you also love it. That’s why when he keeps you in place for a little longer you give up and respond to his kiss.

It’s different somehow this time. You’re not being seduced, charmed, enchanted by him, this time you are fully in control of your mind and your emotions and it feels so much better to kiss him with your body full of life. He feels so hot under your touch when your palm presses against the back of his neck. His tongue is so warm in your mouth it’s intoxicating.

You feel your heart beating fast in your chest, you are more aroused than you have been while truly alive. What is it about LaCroix that drives you so utterly and absolutely crazy?

“You’re in real trouble now.” He whispers against your lips and again, faster than your lustful mind can process, he turns you by your wrist so that your back is to him, then he makes you step forward.

“What are you-“

“Only I can have you in such carnal way.” Prince replies, his voice has a tone you haven’t heard before. Something between desire and authority. You find yourself blushing again, just this time more intensively.

You don’t get time to reply as you get positioned in front of a desk and with a firm push get bent over it. You press your palms against it, trying to push yourself upwards but Sebastian’s hand on your back doesn’t let you, even more, it moves to the back of your neck and squeezes firmly.

“Sebastian what are you thinking of doing-” you start but the answer comes in form of his actions.

With free hand he lifts the skirt of your dress, pooling the excess fabric on your lower back, then unceremoniously moves your panties down to your knees where they slide down to your ankles on their own. His fingers trail the knife you have in the garter but don’t linger there for too long. You inhale sharply, you can’t even look at him from this position, but the fact that he doesn’t reply and how he is handling your clothes speaks volumes about the calculated determination to show you what he’s all about.

Just a moment passes before you hear the belt of his pants being unbuckled. You bite your lower lip, you want this, you absolutely want this because now you realize he was jealous of you and it’s his way to not only claim you, but to also show you who you belong to. You don’t mind, this is exactly the type of situation you kept dreaming about during some restless days.

You breathe deeply as you enjoy the feeling of his burning palm on the back of your neck and you close your eyes in anticipation but when you finally do feel the tip of his cock pressing against you a shiver runs down your spine. God, you hope he doesn’t stop there.

And he doesn’t. He starts sliding his dick inside of you, somewhat slowly, almost agonizingly. You moan at the sensation of it, it feels even better than you imagined it would, your palms start to sweat against the tabletop. He slides even deeper and you moan louder, you forgot yourself.

“Shhh, you can take it, you’re doing so well.” Sebastian whispers, his words dripping honey and you don’t know if you can want him any more than you do in this exact moment.

You bite down on your lip, trying to remain silent but it’s a hard task when he fully enters you and keeps himself there for what seems like a long moment. As you’re about to beg for him to start thrusting he does exactly that, like he just read your mind. At first it’s slow, then it quickly picks up the pace. After all, this is not romantic sex, this is fucking to establish his power over you.

You whimper and moan as he thrusts inside you fast and powerful, whole desk underneath you is nearly moving with each push, but he holds your hips in place with an iron grip of his fingers. You bite your lip so hard you draw blood but you don’t care. This feels so good, maybe even better than sex ever felt before. You feel every inch of him so perfectly well it’s nearly driving you crazy. But then LaCroix’s palm that’s on the back of your neck slides lower and wraps around your throat. And then he makes you straighten your back as much as possible considering the angle at which he’s fucking you. You support yourself with your hands against the table and moan loudly, not being able to remain silent as you feel your shoulders against his chest.

“Tell me your mine.” Sebastian whispers in your ear, he’s breathing heavily, his grip is sweaty, his voice sultry and low.

“Sebastian-“

“Say it!” He demands in a harsher tone and underlines his point with a really powerful thrust, this time the desk does move.

“I’m yours!” You moan loudly, completely forgetting where you are. You feel Prince smirk against your ear then he lowers his head to your neck, breathing harshly against it.

You raise one arm from the desk and reach for the back of his head, pushing your fingers into his hair as he keeps thrusting, his face pressed against your neck. You open your eyes slightly and see the night outside the window, all the skyscrapers peppering the night with alight windows like stars. This moment feels perfect to you.

Sebastian’s hand slips from your neck to your waist now, keeping you in place by pushing against your lower stomach. His pace picks up even more, you know he’s close. You’re so close too. In fact you have been close almost from the moment he fully entered you. His heavy breathing is making your head spin, you can’t believe you made him this way - this angry only to become this aroused. Just for you and your body.

There’s no need for speaking when you let yourself go, plunge yourself into the ecstasy you’ve been wanting for so much. You moan, louder, cry out again when his thrusts elevate your orgasm, your nails dig into his scalp and into the desk top, leaving marks. And while you’re in your own realm of paradise, you hear Sebastian grunt silently, then squeeze you harder as he rides out his own climax, then stops with two more firm thrusts at the time you start coming down from your cloud nine.

Both of you are out of breath and when he finally lets go of your waist you collapse on top of the desk. You feel Sebastian pull out, then hear him pull up his pants, buckling up his belt. You start to straighten your back but he helps you, then turns you to him, his palms on your waist gently this time. There’s a glint in his eyes, his face is sweaty.

“I hope you’ll remember this lesson.” His voice is cold, but then he smirks. ”Or I’ll have to teach it again... and again... and again...” He repeats the words in a whisper as he leans to your lips and kisses you again. Now it’s less rough, less demanding. You know sex felt good for him as much as it did for you.

Suddenly you get startled so badly you jump in his arm when there’s a loud knock on the door. The kiss breaks, Sebastian’s eyes widen just like yours. You both hear laughter.

“LaCroix, next time you lie to me you’re going to owe me some stocks.” Alexander’s voice comes loudly through the door and you stare at Sebastian in shock. He stares back.

Then, slowly, he smiles in disbelief and clears his throat, while still holding you against him.

“Maybe I just don’t like being left second in line.” He replies loudly and you blush, embarrassed but smiling.

You push yourself from LaCroix to find your panties and put them on while Sebastian quickly smooths out his hair. There’s no reply from Alexander but you both know he’s waiting outside. It takes you another moment to find your purse.

When you’re done fixing your appearance Sebastian looks at you, you nod at him, he nods back and you both head for the door. Prince opens the door with confidence. The hallway light feels slightly blinding, but when your eyes adjust you find Alexander leaning against the wall with his arms crossed right next to the door.

“Maybe I don’t mind being second in line.” He chuckles eyeing you both.

“Calm down, Alexander.” LaCroix says calmly but there’s a stern note in his voice, then he closes the office door after you exit it.

“The entire floor heard you two. Maybe I want some of that too.” Alexander pushes himself from the wall and this time eyes only you.

You don’t know how to handle this situation so you just say silent, looking at LaCroix’s back because he’s in front of you.

“Maybe hire better employees then.” Prince puts hands in his pockets and Alexander bursts out with laughter.

“Okay, fair point.” He steps to Sebastian, puts a hand around his shoulder and starts walking with him. When he’s close to you he proceeds to put a hand around your waist with his free one and leads you both back to the party room. “Let’s get some drinks first.”

You glance at Sebastian and he returns the look. He smiles ever so slightly and just for you, and you roll your eyes at him but you’re smiling too.

 For the first time since you have been Embraced you feel something akin to happiness. You don’t want to let the feeling go.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

This is a post about my list of media to watch/hear in the past/future. I'll put a cut here for the many people who justifably do not care about my list of media.

Guess what, everyone? I have, for the first time in over a year, knocked everything off my “to watch” and “to listen to” lists. Obviously, not everything in the world that I ever want to do. But everything that I’d started. Because I’d keep downloading stuff and starting it and then getting into other stuff and putting it on hold and filling up my working folders with it. Well, I spent the last couple of weeks determinedly avoiding starting anything new, so I could go back and finish the “on hold” things.

I'll put a cut here, just for the sake of the many, many people who justifiably do not give a shit about my list of media.

It was mostly a bunch of episodes of the Comedian’s Comedian podcast, which I enjoyed finally hearing. This podcast episode my brother did nearly a year ago, where he talks for two hours about his experiences in comedy and how he believes no one can “make it” in comedy without succumbing to the pressure to cut all their stuff up into tiny chunks for Tik-Tok and shit. It was fucking bleak. But I also downloaded episodes of that same podcast by a few other local comedians I’ve met, include two by the guys who run the local comedy night where I've performed; I listened to those last week too, and they were less depressing. They’re people who like comedy – that’s all I want, really. People around here who perform comedy and sound like they don’t fucking hate comedy.

So there was that. I finished off a few bits of Stewart Lee bootlegs (many of which are on YouTube, I did not realize until recently how many Stewart Lee bootlegs are on YouTube, that’s obviously a fair thing for me to mention because if he had a problem with bootlegs being out there I’m sure Lee could get them taken off YouTube, I will say that I’ve come to appreciate several of his shows far more after hearing the bootlegged versions than I did from the DVD version). Finished all the Lee and Herring stuff. Watched Taskmaster NZ season 4 (I meant to post about it and then I got busy with work and I don’t even think I did that – cliff notes are I didn’t quite agree with the people I’ve seen say it’s as good as season 2, but I did greatly enjoy it). Lots of little things.

I said months ago that once I finally get caught up on things, I’m going to start a new long audio thing. I made a post at the time listing all the things I was considering. The main candidates were/are: John Robins and Ellis James radio/podcasts, Peacock and Gamble podcast, the Adam and Joe things, Do the Right Thing podcast (see, I’m not exclusively into listening to two white guys talk to each other in a studio), and Pappy’s podcasts (there’s the Flatshare thing, but then there are also other things – look into what these are, then listen). I have also had Three Bean Salad recommended to me pretty hard.

I still don’t know which way I want to go – I’m leaning toward Pappy’s or Peacock and Gamble at this point. But I’ve decided not to make that decision yet, because I do have a couple of new things, but shorter things, that I want to start first.

I have all three seasons of Alan Partridge: From the Oasthouse downloaded, so that’s next on the agenda. A few years ago, I watched/heard all the Alan Partridge TV/radio things in chronological order: On the Hour, The Day Today, Knowing Me Knowing You radio show, Knowing Me Knowing You TV show, I’m Alan Partridge, Alpha Papa, Mid-Morning Matters, This Time. I enjoyed them to varying degrees – my biggest comment is that Mid-Morning Matters surprised me because I thought it would be a weaker thing, just a little internet show, but it ended up being one of the best, I thought, and Tim Key was fucking brilliant in it.

Anyway, I’ve never heard any of the other Alan Partridge things. And I’ve recently been told by a reliable source that this latest one is very very good. The three seasons combined are about 15 hours, so that’ll give me some time to decide what I next want to commit hundreds of hours of my life to.

I’ve also had John Finnemore’s Cabin Fever recommended to me quite a bit, and I’ve downloaded that recently too so I think I’ll do that after Alan Partridge. It’s 13 hours, not too long. I know very little of what to expect from that, but enough people whose tastes otherwise overlap with mine have told me it’s very good to make me interested. Also, I’d love to be a comedy fan who rejects the Oxbridge ilk for very good class solidarity reasons, but actually an annoyingly large number of my favourite comedians have been Footlights members, so I’ll probably love John Finnemore.

Anyway, on the subject of my obsession with listening to two white guys talk to each other in a studio, a bunch of weeks ago now I made a post about hearing the Lee and Herring radio show episodes that were broadcast live from Edinburgh in 1994, and how that was cool, a preservation of a bit of Edinburgh Festival history. And then I said that’s not the first time I’ve heard a radio-based audio diary of Edinburgh, as Russell Howard and Jon Richardson did their radio show from Edinburgh in 2007. And I’m sure there were lots of references there that went over my head at the time but that I would now appreciate as a person with an inexplicable obsession with 00s-era Edinburgh comedy. An audio diary of the Chocolate Milk Gang-era Edinburgh Festival from someone who was, at the time, a CMG member (has definitely squandered his cred since then, but Russell Howard was a fully paid-up member for a time). How have I not already combed through that in my efforts to gather and preserve every bit of information I can about CMG history?

I said I should re-listen to some of those episodes to see what references are in them, and then I didn’t do that, because obviously going through old radio show episodes looking for gossip is a waste of time when I have actual comedy/comedy analysis to listen to. But as I’ve just said, at this moment, I don’t have actual comedy to listen to. I finished all the old stuff and I haven’t started the new stuff yet, and I think I’ll keep it that way for a couple of days. Give my brain a short break from keeping track of everything on my lists before jumping into something new. Going back over old stuff doesn’t require the same focus, as my brain doesn’t obsessively insist that I hear/watch every single bit of it in order and file it in all appropriate places and check it all off on a spreadsheet as I go.

I realize I’m making this hobby that I truly love sound like a chore, and it isn’t that, my brain is just compulsive about always focusing on what’s “on my list”, so it’s nice to occasionally have breaks in the list. You see why I so enjoyed hearing the senselessly compulsive thought patterns of 2007-era Jon Richardson. That was a man who understood a list.

So anyway, I think I’ll do that tonight. It’s a long weekend, which I barely noticed last year when I was working from home anyway but those sure seem like a bigger deal when I have to be out of the house for 9-10 hours on weekdays. I’ve got Thanksgiving dinner with family tonight, and then I think I’ll listen to some old things. I’ll let you all know if I discover anything exciting.

[feeder-of-rodents]

I got a fever and binged the entirety of Droners season 2 in two days

It was quite an adventure.

First the internet wasn't working, so I decided to watch the Monsuno DVDs i got from the library but our DVD player wasn't plugged into the tv. Then I got shocked by a broken wire because we have a rabbit in the house and I'm an idiot who didn't unplug the power before trying to sort out all the wires.

Turns out one of the cords I needed was broken anyways, so I resorted to calling dad and he helped me fix (read: turn it off and back on again) the internet. Since I already had the family computer open, I decided I might as well watch there.

Except the audio wasn't working. It later turned out there would have been a very easy fix, as the only problem was that the radio thingy that's linked to the family computer's speakers was turned off. I've dealt with this very situation dozens of times, but I had a fever and the computer was in a different place than it had been the last few years, so I didn't think of it.

Instead I decided to try headphones, but the audio quality was so bad it wasn't worth it just to avoid the battle with my laptop. When my dad got home, he called me into the room and asked why the computer was being weird and whenever he clicked on stuff it did something other than what it was supposed to do. It took me about 4 seconds to work out the problem, which was that I'd accidentally set the headphones down on the control key. I'm never going to let this one go!

Anyways, binge watching went well until the last freaking episode, where my laptop decided it had had enough. (In my laptop's defence, it has to deal with hundreds of browser tabs and is literally held together by tape.) The animation started getting choppy and everything slowed down until I was dealing with seconds-per-frame. Restarting my laptop (twice!) somehow made the problem worse.

Eventually I had to dig up Flickfetch and just download the episode. It was somehow still worth all the trouble

Well, now I can finally read the 2 (actually 4 by now) fics on Ao3 without having to fear spoilers!

[blackrebelphotographyclub]

Not to be all CLS-lawyer-on-main, but there are larger and larger portions of my day during which I realise I may have hit a wall with genocide denialism. And maybe the answer to that lies in history, so painfully recent, and what we should have learned from it (and clearly failed).

I was thinking particularly about two things. One being the role of media in and around genocide, and how we should be more careful about what, how and why we consume certain media. The other was about prevention as a focus but punishment as a consequence.

Let’s staff with press, or media in general. There is no separating genocide from the propaganda surrounding it. Propaganda is not necessarily a Soviet-era ads for weapon factories on state media; it can be much more insidious, much more easily, largely due to how technology evolves.

When we talk about media and genocide, we talk about how the former influenced and/or incited the latter. That’s the before. We do not talk necessarily about the during, and the after. During, the crime of crimes only allows us two options: we resist or we deny. There is no neutral space.

(I don’t care if you try to carve one; you can’t empty the ocean with a spoon and you can’t be neutral on genocide.)

This extreme polarization we see now, not just in the media but in our streets and in our governments, is however entirely predictable because it is a by-product of genocide, a crime so abhorrent, many have equated it to the phenomenon described by some indigenous tribes as “soul loss”.

The side that denies is not in a position to modify (genocide is ongoing) its position and cannot soften it (there is no gray zone on genocide). Therefore an entire machinery of erasure must take place in order to sustain this absence of reality.

Erasure takes so, so, so many forms, many sometimes we are by and large oblivious to. We think of erasure as direct (mass extermination) or indirect (loss of history due to the absence of elders). Indirect is so much. It means the collective memory of the people and the place is also gone.

Think of genocide as a collective memory hole. There is a reason the crime is drafted as beyond mass murder, in both physical and mental element. You don’t just wipe out people; you end language, history, culture, traditions, stories, religions, myths. An entire apparatus.

If you really study Rafael Lemkin and understand his approach (and that of the father of crimes against humanity, Lauterpacht), you see genocide in the past (incitement) present (extermination) and future (erasure). Children, grand children, endless generations will never see, experience, or know.

This is relevant to journalism because the profession doesn’t just provide you with evidence, it also has a duty to preserve it. This is even more true these days considering the internet is, well, forever. Mass denial in papers of record doesn’t mean it isn’t at play. It means you can’t access it.

Remember to be critical of any and all media you consume at any time. Nothing is acci- or inci-dental. It doesn’t mean that any of that is inherently good or bad. That those factors exist are not because of the genocide, it is the ecosystem of genocide and has always been.

Radio Milles Collines was extremely popular at a place and time when most families would never have access to a TV, and under a regime that controlled the media. The incitement was crude and unambiguous, but it was lodged between popular pop songs, and was swallowed like a pill with no edges.

Denial is the same, especially in places close to the perpetrators of the genocide. The domestic conversation must be moved away; but if it becomes impossible to avoid, everyone is responsible for staying on message. You dilute (they’re not dead, just displaced). You congratulate (aren’t we safer?)

So everyone claiming that genocide requires a certain number of civilian deaths to be determined (absolutely not true, quantity has no bearing) or that extermination has to be total (also not a thing) just reminds me that it is excruciatingly stereotypical.

Let’s talk about prevention, because that has never worked now has it? But this was the spirit in which the Convention was drafted, its main goal. The entire world came together in ‘48 and said never again. By the time it entered into force at the tail end of 1951, wars of decolonization had started.

The world believed with all its might that with the end of turn of the century imperialism so would the impetus to commit atrocity crimes. They would not know that the coming decades would extend the list of crimes against humanity, not make them relics of an obsolete society.

And so, we fail to prevent, because no matter how much jurisprudence and history scholarship there is out there all the signs of Rwanda, all the signs of Srebrenica, all the signs of Darfur were there, and are there now, and we’re under the sad exceptionalist belief that somehow, this is different.

It is not different. It is a genocide we have decided not to acknowledge. We are neck-deep inside campaigns of dehumanization - of trans people, of any migrant - that we are somehow either blind or jaded to the very same being perpetrated and live-streamed.

I say this all the time: human absence wears very heavy. I also say that genocide prevention is a collective responsibility. You have a duty to stop genocidal speech and you have a responsibility to stop incitement speech as well as denial speech. You must know, and you must remember. /end

[spoopy-action-at-distance]

I'm aware that I'm a bit of an outlier when it comes to this because I've actively tailored several things in my life to avoid being exposed to ads. I don't notice it so much in my everyday life, but sometimes when I talk to friends I realise how much how much it sets me apart from what other people around me are doing in their everyday lives.

I don't watch TV much, and when I do, I turn the sound off during commercial breaks and intentionally look away. I've built up an ad-blocker wall on my laptop and do not use the internet on anything else, I'm selective with which sites I'll use, and if I still find an ad flashing at me, I often filter it out by hand before doing anything else. I save everything I want as files that I store locally. I've researched how to turn off the in-OS ads that Windows keeps trying to run. I stopped using apps on my phone pretty much entirely. I use my tablet exclusively to read things that I've pre-downloaded as files and then transferred onto it with a cable; it doesn't even have a connection of its own. Someone gave me a router and I never set it up so I wouldn't be tempted to create local wireless access for myself. I've trained myself to automatically pick apart at least one aspect of every single ad that I consciously notice I am looking at. I have a "no ads" sticker over my mail slot. I pre-research almost all my purchases that aren't food or daily necessities and do not go to sale events. The only online stores I browse for the heck of it are small business ones, I unsubscribe from mailing lists if they send ads and I don't go to sites if they don't let me opt out of their cookies. I even stopped listening to a local radio station which plays music that I like because they run so many ads.

Doing all of that for years eventually produced a state of mild alienation from ads that allows me to register them as intrusive in at least some contexts at least some of the time. It has also required me to make choice after choice after choice to achieve and maintain this state, and the amount of conscious effort that has gone into it is staggering.

I've had a friend admit to me that they didn't think they could do what I've been doing because they're afraid that by not knowing what's new with ads, they might be missing out something important that other people know, which would then put them at greater risk of becoming a social pariah. The concern might be somewhat overblown, but the part where ads function as a minor requirement for everyday social interaction in this fear scenario is not all that out there.

Having spent the past decade meticulously weeding ads out of my personal space to a point where I can go several days without seeing one, I can say with confidence that personal avoidance is not a viable solution to the problem of intrusive advertising. The more intrusive advertising gets, the more individual effort we need to expend, the more spaces we need to cede to it, and the more options and opportunities we need to turn down, if we want to keep avoiding it. And that's the issue in a nutshell.

Something so profoundly fucked up between the inverse ratio of shrinking middle class and ever increasing aggression of advertisement

[gustavotroncoso]

Unless you know where your fear comes from, you will be consumed by it!

Our lives are constantly changed by fear.

All of us live under fear every day of our lives. It can be tolerable sometimes and intolerable other times.

Fear (we think) comes from inside, from the center of our heart, from the middle of our chest, we can feel it, right?

Fear governs all our decisions, changes or destiny and molds our present.

How Can we avoid it? its everywhere as we turn on the TV, check the internet or even listen to the radio (podcasts or all those other methods of intoxication)

Fear affects our health, our wellbeing and even our relationships.

Fear is a debilitating sickness that seems to be only controlled (slightly) by prescription drugs.

There is a wide variety of fears in our daily menu:

Will I achieve my goals?

Will I be able to fulfill my financial obligations?

Will I lose my job as a result of xxxxxxx?

Will my marriage last?

Will I get the promotion and if not, what will I do?

Each one of us has our own personalized menu of fears.

BUT REALLY, FEAR DOES NOT COME FROM THE INSIDE LIKE WE FEEL SO CLEARLY, IT COMES FROM THE OUTSIDE AND UNLESS YOU IDENTIFY THAT, YOU WILL NEVER BEAT FEAR, FEAR WILL CONSUME YOU TOTALLY!

Maybe this can help you fight you fear:

Give it a try and let me know if it helped you.

[hannakrist]

Let's talk about media

I'm assuming that anyone of us already know what media. So let's talk about media. Media is where we gobble up our time everyday whether its flicking through channels on you TV, Computer, or any other gadget you have where you can access media or even at a salon reading through the magazine book.

Media is everywhere. But it does feel like a jungle thinking about it. So what is media? Media is basically anything that talks to multiple people all at once. Think newspapers, radio, TV, movies, the internet, and even those ads plastered on billboards. It's how we get the scoop, keep ourselves entertained, and sometimes, how we kill a bit of time (guilty as charged). Now, let's chat about the good, the bad, and the ugly sides of media. On the sunny side, media can be super helpful.

It helps us to multi-task, it also helps us access to news more easily and get into the latest news with the celebrities. Media can also bring folks together, whether it's bonding over shared interests on socials or chatting about the latest binge-worthy series. But hold your horses, 'cause it's not all sunshine and rainbows. Ever felt a bit bummed out after scrolling through Instagram and seeing everyone's seemingly perfect lives? Yep, that's called social media envy, and it's a real buzzkill. And let's not forget about fake news – those sketchy headlines and articles that spread like wildfire and leave you scratching your head.

So, how so you navigate this world of media without losing your marbles? Easy! peasy – just be a savvy consumer. First off, take everything with a pinch of salt. Not everything you read or see is gospel truth, so it's smart to fact-check and do a bit of digging yourself. Next, mix up your media diet. Just like you wouldn't munch on pizza every single day, it's good to get a variety of media sources. That way, you can get a more balanced view of things and avoid getting stuck in a bubble. At this point we get the knowledge that media can be helpful and at the same time it can be a stressful for us. too much screen time isn't great for the mental health. At the end of the day, media is just a tool – it's up to us how we use it. So whether you're tuning into the news, giggling at memes, or watching cat videos on repeat (no shame here), just remember to use it wisely. Who knows, you might even learn a thing or two along the way. This is the world of media.

But media goes way deeper, as so what Malcolm X Quotes says "The media's the most powerful entity on earth. They have the power to make the innocent guilty and to make the guilty innocent, and that's power. Because they control the minds of the masses" I would also like to make an example of this is with the divorced of two Actors, Amber Laura Heard and Johnny Depp. The issue between the two spiral into fire when the trial began on April 11, 2022 in Fairfax, Virginia. Because the state of Virginia and the trial judge permitted cameras in the courtroom. all the moment of the trials was televised, contributing to an online fenzy that grew more intense as the weeks went on. Youtuber vloggers talked about the topic. a lot of influencers in tiktok talked about it as well. As this went wildfire. peoples opinions got influenced by the media. Media is a powerful entity that when given the wrong information to share to other media, it can influence one person to another's opinion to change. Another Quote from Dave Barry. "Today's beauty ideal, strictly enforced by the media, is a person with the same level of body fat as a paper clip." If we see it, nowadays we see females starving themselves, buying pills just so they can stay slim as it is what media engraved into their mind. But even though, there is use of media for the spreading good, there's bad but there are also good ones.

As a consumer, we should be aware of what we consume in today's media. Take it with a grain of salt.

[project1939]

The Project and the Rules 

For the next three months (91 days) I can only watch, listen to, or read things from 1952.  

The Rules: 

1. I cannot listen to any current radio or podcasts. 

2. I cannot watch any current television, movies, or streaming. 

3. I cannot listen to music unless it is from 1952. I will confine myself to an itunes playlist of songs released in 1952, and at least one actual 78 rpm record released in 1952.

4. I cannot attend any modern theater or concerts. 

5. I cannot sing or play any modern music on guitar, piano, etc. 

6. I will avoid going to places with ambient/background music playing- like certain restaurants, clubs, etc. Rare exceptions may have to be made for the health of my social life, however! 

7. I cannot read modern books, newspapers, magazines, or websites. 

8. Internet use will be strictly limited to four things: 

     a) I can check my email once a day 

     b) I can stream a movie, tv show, or radio show from 1952 

     c) I can log in to this site to blog

d) I can do online shopping for necessities unrelated to culture/media. I can also use the internet for financial/work/healthcare related things. 

I cannot use google or wiki for any information about anything, including project material. (I will allow google for quick spell checks of people’s names, if needed.) 

9. Modern conveniences not related to culture/entertainment are allowed.  I do not have to dress or eat or transport myself around like it is 1952. I will, however, try some old recipes when I find them in magazines or other media. If you remember Jello molds from Project 1939, strap yourself in! 

10. I can use my phone’s camera for taking and posting pictures of project material.

11. I can use my cell phone for phone calls and texting. 

12. The pictures and art in my office/main living area will be limited to things from 1952 or prior. I am also changing the wallpaper and lock screens on all of my devices to comply. 

This is madness! But on we go...

[ultra-prosta-fix]

Ultra Prosta Fix Review 2023 - Pros and Cons

Prostate problems are common in men over 50 years of age. Quite a few men realize that whenever their prostate gland gets bigger, they come across basic matters for instance urinating turning out to be nearly impossible. Remember that if you are talking to a surgeon, he probably will want to operate. In addition to this saw palmetto may also be used.

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But, many times they either stop working or don't work at all. And while it is not in a lot of Ultra Prosta-Fix prostate supplements, it can sometimes help with pain fairly quickly. Most of his days he spends at home, tired during the day and wishing he could just get the rest he knows he needs. So even if a man chooses conventional treatment, the information and advice on alternative treatments in How To Beat Your Prostate Cancer is very important for his recovery and continued good health.

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When it comes to saw palmetto and Ultra Prosta-Fix prostate supplements, I think many of them are good and worth looking at. Other compounds in tomatoes might be responsible for the reduced risk or necessary for lycopene to work. You could get around 100 mg to 200 mg by eating 3.5 oz. of nuts like pistachio nuts, hazel nuts, walnuts and pecans. So there is always a chance that it won't matter what kind you get if your body simply doesn't respond to supplements.

You can see them on TV, on the radio, in your newspapers and especially on the Internet. Just make sure you don't take too much of it, as overdosing on it can cause inflammation to get worse. They also cannot hurt if you already have problems. Many times people will assume the only way to deal with swollen prostate symptoms is with drugs or surgery.

For, people who find it difficult to commit to healthy eating due to their work life and constant travelling, they can opt for Ultra Prosta-Fix prostate supplements. Also avoid fatty foods, sugars and those that have been processed. More than two and a half millennia later, surveys conducted show that most men pay little or no attention to their health needs. This kind of scenario can be very common to many men over 50 years of age.

There are many health supplements available on the market and you also have to study these to always make sure which one is best for you. These are the type of berries that are used in many of the prostate health supplements. Here are 10 tips that reduce your chances of developing prostate cancer.

Men who consume more diary products are among the highest deaths from prostate disease. It's time to start looking at the natural ways to promote prostate health. However, there are certain things that you should know about it before you start taking it.

About half of men above 50 suffer from urinary and prostate problems, and as you go above the age ladder, the incidence of prostate issues increases. When it comes to saw palmetto and Ultra Prosta-Fix prostate supplements, it doesn't usually hurt to try them and see if they work. Hardly any merchandise stays in the market that long if it is not backed by good research and testimonies.

[beingcounsellor]

Ismail blogger - A well-known personality in blogging

Ismail blogger is a good personality in the field of blogging. You may have seen people in your life who face difficulties but very soon they realize the realities and become successful persons. Mohammad Ismail is one of those people. He changed his life through the internet and now he is known as one of the top bloggers in Pakistan. Ismail faced many hardships and difficulties in his childhood. He earns the title of “Ismail blogger” due to his remarkable work in the blogging field. Here in this article, I will tell you about the success story of Ismail. How did he achieve this success and how he becomes a well-known personality in Pakistan?

Who is Ismail blogger?

Mohammad Ismail is a successful freelancer who is known for blogging. He belongs to Sawabi, KPK. Ismail was not very intelligent in his school days. So, he got average marks in his intermediate. After that, he took admitted to the Institute of Management Sciences Peshawar. When Ismail completed his education. Many companies offer him different jobs. But Ismail wanted to do something big. He wanted to set up his online business. He wanted to help the other people who are jobless in society. Those people are educated but they have no work to do. He is a very kind person and with his efforts, he helped a lot of people. Ismail made many courses regarding blogging, freelancing, Affiliate Marketing, etc. A lot of people took help and guidance from his courses. There are many bloggers who write on Ismail bloggers. So, now Ismail Blogger becomes a brand in Pakistan. He gives many interviews on Television, Radio, Voice of America Mashriq TV, etc. Ismail is such a great personality. Because he is leading the youth employment agency of the World Bank in KPK.

His journey

When Ismail was in sixth class, his father died. At that time his family had no money to spend on the education of Ismail. So, his mother borrowed some money for his education from Ismail. That was a very hard time for the family of the email. That was unable to take 2 meals per day. So, to move forward Ismail start selling books and notes. In this way, he starts supporting his family to meet their financial needs. With the passage of time, Ismail starts selling mobile accessories and some other tech-related products. He became a master in the mobile field. So, people start calling him by the name of Guru. In his struggling time period, One day Ismail received an email that If you want to earn money online then contact us. After this message, Ismaili's life changed. He starts working and learning online. So, in this way, Ismail starts his online journey.

What type of work he did do in the beginning?

Ismail started his online work from PPC (Paid Per Click). After some time, he realizes that he is investing in the wrong site. So, he stops working on it. He starts investing in another niche HIYP (High Yield Investment Program). This time he succeeds. He generated more than 3000$ in just 45 days. But also, in this case, after some time he realizes that this way of earning is not allowed in Islam. He also observed that the chance of loss is much higher than the chance of profit. So, he stops working on that site. After that, he did many other online things to make money online. He also sells a cracked version of the software but he does not succeed. He also started a blog Mashable. pk but he failed. So, after so many failures he was just seeing something that can really work for him. So, his friend motivates him to start blogging. Finally, he took an initiative to0 blogging. He started his own blog Techvela. It is an educational blog in which you can learn about the ways of earning money online. He also teaches people to how to avoid scams and false schemes.

Achievements of Ismail blogger

Ismail blogger is a successful freelancer, blogger, and motivational speaker. He has achieved so many successes in his life.  - Ismail blogger is ranked 12th position as a top blogger in Pakistan in 2013. Very soon he became on the list of top 10 bloggers in Pakistan in 2014. In 2016 he ranked in 9th position in the blogging field in Pakistan. - In 2014 he received an award for best idea presenter in KPK. - Ismail earned a lot of money through his blogging. - Ismail was selected as incubating at the Entrepreneurship development center in 2013. - Ismail was featured by Tribune and Techjuice. - He has a professional team of bloggers and writers. - Ismail also has a YouTube Chanel with more than 62,000 subscribers. Read the full article

[marginalmadness]

Summer Nights: 2/4

Pairing: Rabbit!Hybrid Jungkook x Y/N

Rating: Mature (later explicit)

Genre: Hybrid!Fantasy, Romance, Fluff

Synopsis: A freak weather anomaly leads to a chance encounter with a rabbit-hybrid, and your kind nature results in you gaining a small, fluffy lodger, who questions your taste in television shows. It’s won’t be for long…will it?

Warnings/Tags: This chapter involves Jungkook going into heat.

Author’s Note: If I called @johobi​ patient before, I fucked up the tenses to bad in this chapter, it took her HOURS to fix. But she approved of the chapter which I’m happy about because this is the one I was most worried about. Jungkook Goes into heat in this chapter, and I hope nobody wants to kill me when they finish it.  Chapter 3 is only a week away! <3

Previous Chapter: Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Tags: @kookiebunny97��� @mintyrae​ @skswriting​ 

Word Count: 5.6K

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction for entertainment purposes only. The events depicted here are entirely of my own imagining, and have no basis on actual people or events.

I hope everyone is enjoying BE, and Life Goes On.

Summer Nights: Chapter Two

The next morning is the first day of your new-new normal. You wake to the sound of music coming from the living room. You pull yourself to your feet, shuffling from your bed to find the sourc

The next morning is the first day of your new-new normal. You wake to the sound of music coming from the living room. You pull yourself to your feet, shuffling from your bed to find the source of the enchanting sound. To your shock and delight, you find Jungkook hopping around the kitchen happily, ears and hair bouncing as he sings along to the radio and prepares pancakes. His voice is divine. You stand there enraptured, caught under his spell. He drops the spatula in fright when he turns to find you leaning against the wall, watching him silently.

 “Please continue,” you urge him. But he shakes his head, blushing and hiding behind his ears. “Your voice is so pretty. Please?” you coax, stepping towards him. Jungkook considers you from behind his ears for a second. Then, tentatively, he picks up the spatula and resumes his song while he washes it clean.

 From that day onwards, he wakes you each morning the same way, voice drifting through the bedroom door he leaves slightly ajar. There’s always a stack of warm, fluffy pancakes waiting for you in the kitchen, and beside it a bowl of yogurt-drizzled fruit. As soon as you’re seated, Jungkook extends a freshly brewed cup of breakfast tea to you. You eat together in the early morning light, the radio playing in the background. And while you get ready for work, Jungkook cleaned up the dishes from breakfast. 

 Domestic heaven. 

At the end of your work day, you come home and thank God he’s still there. Sometimes he’s typing away on your laptop. Jungkook signed up as a freelance transcriber as a way to make money while staying with you. It was something to do while you were at work, too, restless soul that he is.  Sometimes, though, you come home to find him flopped on his side in a patch of sun, having a nap as a bunny. 

You cook dinner together now. Well, when you say together, you mean you take his direction, since Jungkook is a much better cook than you. He uses some of his free time to look up recipes he thinks you’ll like. 

It’s ridiculously heartwarming. 

After dinner, as is your routine, you split the washing up and curl up together to watch some Netflix. On the days you do all the washing up, Jungkook doesn’t fight you for control of the TV. 

You still tease him over the first and only time you watched a horror movie. The first jump-scare forced him into rabbit form and he leapt into your lap in fright. Jungkook spent the entire movie there, shivering. And the rest of the night he spent pressed against your side in a tight, furry ball. Of course, the next day he insisted he wasn’t that scared, he just didn’t want to bother you by transforming back and forth.

He did a similar thing when you were watching a sappy romantic movie, but you don’t tease him about that. The second you noticed him sniffling at the lovers’ separation, he turned into a rabbit and hopped off his chair and over to you. You expected him to come cuddle, but he scrambled onto the back of the sofa and situated himself by your head instead. Every time there was a particularly romantic moment, he would nudge you with his nose and tickle you with his whiskers. And when he was feeling particularly bold, he’d grip your shoulder with his front claws and rub his chin over your cheek and neck. It tickled so much it made you squirm. 

After extricating yourself from his clutches, a quick search on the internet told you that rabbits do this to mark their territory. You have trouble looking him in the eye the rest of that day. You know he’s attracted to you; have done since that first night. But he’s been ever so respectful. For some reason, the thought of him marking you as his makes your skin flush and burn.

Shopping for groceries is an experience, too. Jungkook skips around the store, picking multiple things up, asking you if you like them before throwing them in the shopping cart. It doesn’t matter whether you need them or not, just if you like it. That’s good enough for Bun. He’s so happy and energetic, his smile wide and eyes sparkling until you bend over into a freezer to pick up some ice cream. When you turn back, Jungkook is clinging to the cart, his eyes wide and entire body stock-still. All but his foot as it wildly pounds the ground.

“You okay, Bun?” you ask with a tilt of your head. His mouth drops open into a shape as round as his eyes. Mimicking you, Jungkook tilts his head before blinking and shaking it. And then he coughs, practically vibrates, before muttering something about cereal and running off in the opposite direction of the cereal. 

Ever since that peculiar day, Jungkook has insisted on going grocery shopping alone. Something about getting out of the house and becoming more independent. But he blushes and averts his eyes as he says it, foot tapping wildly until he kicks over a plant pot. He cleans up the mess without another word, chewing on one of its stricken leaves and purposefully avoiding your eyes for the rest of the day.

Your weekends become different too. Before Bun arrived, you’d spent them relaxing after your work week, alone and in peace. Now you have a tiny, demanding rabbit that follows you around your apartment, tripping you up. And now you also have a fully grown, demanding man. A roommate - for lack of a better word - with which to do things. Now you have Saturday walks in the park and Sunday brunches. Imagine that.

 Jungkook is incredibly physical. Forever moving, rarely still, bouncing from foot to foot, wiggling when excited. When you praise him, he claps and dances. The day you get a promotion at work, he hugs you so tightly, lifting you up and spinning you in the air because he’s simply that happy. He binkies about in excitement just as much as he did in bunny form, long hair and floppy ears bouncing wildly as his eyes crinkle in happiness, sending things flying in his excitement. You’ve already replaced one particular lamp three times.

But then Jungkook starts marking his territory in human form, too.

You’re chopping something for dinner on some nondescript day when Jungkook approaches you from behind, hands sliding gently over your hips. You could shake him off easily if you wanted to. But you find yourself not wanting to. His chin rests on your shoulder as though he’s just watching you work, but then the subtle rub starts. Across your shoulder and into the crook of your neck, until an involuntary shudder runs down your spine. It snaps Jungkook back to his senses and he pulls away.

—-

The day everything changed was the day from hell. Work had been awful, just one fuck up after another. None of which were even your fault, but all of which you were expected to fix.

You come home to a tidy apartment, subtle scented candles burning and soft music playing. Jungkook is in the kitchen cooking, and you’re sure the ingredients you can smell are ones he’s shopped for today.

“Welcome home.” He smiles over his shoulder at you. “Dinner is almost done if you want to get washed up.” He turns back to stir the pan on the stove. When you walked through the front door you were on the verge of tears. Now your eyes are misting up for the complete opposite reason.

You drag your sorry ass over to him and practically collapse against his wide, strong back, wrapping your arms around his tiny waist like he often does you.

“Thank you,” you practically sob into his shirt, screwing your eyes closed in an effort to not actually cry. You try to keep the emotion out of your voice but Jungkook knows you well enough to sense you’re upset by something. He immediately switches off the stove burners and turns to wrap his arms tightly around you, holding you without a second thought.

 “What is it? What’s wrong?” he asks, voice full of concern. Large, strong hands brush the hair back from your face.

 “I just had a really shit day, and you just—” You turn, arms flailing, motioning to the clean apartment and dinner on the stove. Jungkook nods in understanding. “—you made it all better.” His eyes go round as he blinks at you in shock, before melting into something warm. He tucks your hair behind your ears and tilts your head as he moves in, as though he were going to kiss you. Your eyes flutter closed as his nose brushes yours, but his lips never touch yours. “What’s this?” you ask in a whisper, blinking your eyes open to find him smiling at you softly.

 “A rabbit thing,” he says simply, resting his forehead against yours with a soft grunt of air. It doesn’t quite reach a growl. You know it's a rabbit thing; you researched. But you didn’t expect it in human form.

 “Okay.” You don’t push, don’t demand an explanation for a deeper meaning, just accept the affection from him. You lean in and brush your nose against his in return, causing him to gasp and grunt again, hand moving from your face to your waist. It lingers there for a few seconds before Jungkook gently, physically, pushes you away, his large eyes looking bigger than usual. His pupils are blown out, almost entirely black. Breath comes from his parted lips in short pants and huffs.

 “You should get cleaned up while I finish dinner,” he says softly, stepping backwards. There’s an arm’s length of space between you now. You nod at him, hands finding his, giving him a squeeze as you back out of the kitchen. You don’t let go until the space between you is too far for your fingertips to touch. His eyes don’t leave you until you’re completely out of sight.

 You close the door quietly, leaning your forehead against it and taking slow, deep, grounding breaths, trying to calm the racing of your heart. What was that? Sure, it isn’t the first time he’s done it; he did it on the night he transformed and kissed you. Somehow, though, it felt as intimate as him kissing you again. Is it wrong to feel this way towards Jungkook? He’s your Bun, your charge; you’re his caretaker. Are you taking advantage of him? Is he only acting like this because he’s thankful to you for taking care of him?

 You push off and away from the door, feeling heavy. It’s almost like there’s a rope connecting you to Jungkook and forever pulling you towards him. You change out of your work clothes into something more comfortable. If that more comfortable thing happens to be something just a little clingy in certain, flattering places, and it makes you feel pretty, then you tell yourself you need the ego boost after the day you had. It has absolutely nothing to do with wanting to look good for Jungkook. You head to the bathroom to wash your face and brush your hair into something more relaxed before returning to the kitchen. And Jungkook.

 “Nope!” Jungkook yells, stopping you before you can even enter the kitchen, two strong hands taking you by the shoulders, turning you around and practically marching you towards the living room. You pout over your shoulder at him, but he’s just grinning and laughing at your pouty face. You slump onto the sofa and he leans over the back of it, hovering over you, his eyes crinkling as he laughs musically. Ever so carefully he takes you by the jaw, rubbing his chin over your head, tilting you to the side so he can whisper in your ear.

 “Sit and relax, I’ll bring you dinner.” His voice is light and full of joy.

 You sit and pout, grabbing the remote to put some music on. At the exact moment you drop it back to the table, a bowl of food is placed in front of you. You blink up at a grinning Jungkook as he retreats eagerly to the kitchen, presumably for drinks. His enthusiasm is infectious. You pick up the bowl of pasta, twirling your fork in the creamy sauce and noodles, and take a big bite. It’s delicious. Delicious enough to have you moaning with pleasure and sliding back against the couch.

 “Kookie, this is amazing!” you groan, licking the sauce from your lips.

 Jungkook stares at you, eyes wide, focused on your tongue as it slides along your lips. You hadn’t even realised he’d come back from the kitchen. He places a glass of wine on the table in front of you, ducking his head and hiding behind his ears as he shuffles to his spot on the sofa, bowl in hand. You watch him slyly out of the corner of your eye. His face is so red, so glowing you can almost feel the heat radiating from it. “I made it,” he says, still staring intently at his food. “I found a recipe online I thought you would like.”

 “From scratch?” you ask, amazed. He nods, biting his lip and refusing to look at you. You reach across the space between you and thread your fingers into his soft, wavy locks, rubbing the spot just behind one of his floppy ears. “Bun this is amazing, it tastes amazing!” His head lifts up, eyes so big they sparkle in the low light. “You’re amazing,” you whisper in a soft voice. Jungkook ducks his head again, hiding once more behind his long ears and curly hair. He eats his food slowly, more picking at it than anything. You, on the other hand, tuck in enthusiastically, all manners and grace gone, letting him see and hear your enjoyment of the food. You know how much it pleases him when you unabashedly enjoy his cooking. When you ask for seconds, handing him your empty bowl, Jungkook binkies across the room to the kitchen, bouncing on his heels as he piles a second serving of noodles and sauce into your bowl.

 He hands it back to you soon after and sits beside you on the sofa, knees curling under himself. Reclining on the back cushions, he observes you as you eat, arms crossed and eyes sparkling. When you’re half way through your second serving and can’t eat a bite more, he whisks away the dishes and returns quickly to your side. 

 Jungkook flops over and places his head in your lap. “Will you…” He bites his lip, turning to bury his face in your sweater, his cheeks burning crimson again.

 “What? What do you want, Kookie?” you ask, carding your fingers through his hair and rubbing a thumb over the gentle fur of his ear. It twitches repeatedly.

 “Just this. Will you play with my hair? Stroke my ears?” he asks in a small voice. It’s unusually meek for him in his human form.

 “Of course I will, Bun. Anything you want.” You smile, running your fingers through his hair, nails trailing down his scalp. His leg kicks out, narrowly missing the coffee table. You hand him the remote. “Pick something to watch.”

Jungkook shuffles, turning to face the TV. With his head still in your lap, he curls up into a ball, enjoying your ministrations. You continue to pet him, running your fingers through his hair and stroking his ears, twirling locks of hair around your finger before releasing the resulting curl. You lounge there together, the stress of the day bleeding away from you thanks to a stomach full of good food and your hand tangled in the hair of—Jungkook—whatever he was to you right now.

You don’t know exactly when you fall asleep, but you wake to strong arms holding you, carrying you to your room. Jungkook places you delicately on your bed and you fling yourself backwards, curling up to drift off again. But before long you’re being shaken gently awake and sat back up. Soft, cotton pajamas are pushed into your hands.

“You need to get changed,” a soft, deep voice says firmly in your ear. A warm body presses against your back.

You pout, eyes resolutely closed, but begin taking off your sweater. Large hands help you when you get tangled on your arms. It’s even more of a struggle to unhook your bra. You flail for a while before dropping your arms and slumping back against Jungkook with a tired, pathetic whine. If you were properly awake you might have noticed how his breath hissed through his teeth, or how his nose rubbed your temple. 

With more force than is probably necessary, Jungkook grips you by the shoulder and props you forward. Then, with just one finger, he pulls your bra band away from your back, taking all care not to touch you at all. By some black magic he manages to unhook it, sliding the straps down and off your arms before discarding it on the floor. Not once does he look over your shoulder. He pulls the camisole of your pajama set over your head, guiding your arms through the straps before you wake enough to take over and pull both arms through.

“Now the shorts,” he grunts, low and gruff. It’s unusual enough that you pout at him over your shoulder.

“Bossy bunny,” you mumble, standing and kicking off the comfy leggings you had on. Somewhere in the back of your head you register a soft ‘”shit’” that you’re too tired to acknowledge. You pull on your shorts and sit back down, immediately flopping to your pillow. You feel your body being turned, tucked beneath the sheet pulled over you. Sleep comes easily to you after that.

—-

You wake up while it’s still dark outside. Jungkook’s chest is hot against your back, his knees curled and tucked behind yours. A muscled arm hangs heavily over your waist, keeping you close to him. You lift it as carefully as possible and slide out of bed, tip-toeing stealthily across the soft carpet and out of the room. You head to the kitchen and grab a glass in the dark, in search of a drink for your parched throat.

You drink your fill and shuffle back to bed, bringing a glass with you just in case. Although you slip into your room as stealthily as you’d left it, Jungkook is awake when you return. He sits with his arms wrapped around his knees, bottom lip snagged beneath his prominent front teeth.

“Kookie?” you ask softly in the darkness, making your way back to your side of the bed. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“No, I just—I reached for you and you were gone,” he says, watching you place your glass of water down and climb back into bed. “I was waiting for you to come back.”

“Silly rabbit,” you coo. Jungkook rolls towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist and tangling a powerful, muscular leg with yours. You settle back, stroking his head and mulling over his unusual clinginess as sleep comes to claim you. 

But then you feel a pressure against your thigh, and you’re suddenly very awake. 

Jungkook undulates his hips to a subtle rhythm. “Wha-” you begin, turning to look at him. But he buries his nose beneath your jaw, his breath coming out in soft,  heavy huffs in time with his movements. He grinds against your hip with a desperation. You swallow audibly, forcing yourself to ask as your face burns. “Jungkook, what are you doing?”

“Sorry,” he whines. “I can’t help it, I just—” He throws his thigh over your hips, shifting until he’s hovering over you, weight on his knees and forearms. His hips drop to roll against your stomach, a thick bulge straining the thin material of the pajama bottoms you had bought him. Jungkook ruts against your sweat-covered skin as you stare up at him, eyes wide, frozen in shock. Heat floods through you, stirring your insides until you’re panting. He is, too. His mouth hangs open as he huffs in time with his thrusts, lips grazing your jaw until they reach your mouth. He caresses it softly with his own, barely a whisper of a touch. Once. Twice. Just like that first night he turned. The third time, he kisses you. Your eyes flutter closed and you kiss him back. Nothing more than a delicate tilt of your head and a careful brushing of your lips against his. This is wrong, a voice in the back of your head whispers. This man is practically a stranger.

Only he’s not.

He’s shared your bed as a human for the past two weeks, and ten weeks before that as a rabbit.

You’ve spent evenings curled up together, watching shows you both enjoy. You know his moods, as he knows yours. Your hand feels as comfortable tangled in his hair as it does amongst his fur, and you can read his eyes in both forms exactly the same.

He’s your Jungkook. Your Kookie. 

Your Bun.

He exhales heavily, his tongue lapping at your lips for more. Warm breath fans your face and you practically tremble with anticipation. Jungkook tears himself away to run his hands down the curves of your body, and as you look up at him, your mouth dries at the sight of his godly form. The ever-present glow of the city creates a subtle neon halo behind him, heightening his otherworldly, divine presence.

“I-I—“ As suddenly as he came onto you, Jungkook scrambles backwards off the bed, falling ungracefully to the floor. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry!” he yells, eyes watery and wide with terror. He rushes out of the room so quickly he doesn’t even stand up straight. Just heads straight for the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. You follow too late, reaching your bedroom doorway just in time to hear the bathroom lock snap into place.

You drop to your knees outside the bathroom door, knocking on it gently. “Jungkookie, what’s wrong? Please, come out,” you call.

“I can’t,” comes a whine from the other side of the door. It almost sounds like a sob. “I have to stay here. Can I have a blanket please?” The voice is strained and tight; unsure. It’s not like the warm, bright voice you’ve come to know at all.

“Okay,” you agree. “I’ll get that for you. I’ll be right back.” When you return with the requested blanket, you let Kookie know with a small knock on the door. He cracks it open just enough for you to push the bedding through. In doing so, you catch a glimpse of his eyes. They’re wide and a little teary, his pupils huge. His face and upper chest is worryingly flushed. Jungkook notices you scrutinising his appearance and slams the door shut before you can comment. You hover on the other side of the door, not wanting to leave him. “I’m not upset with you, Bun. I understand if you want some space. Good night.”

You shuffle your way back to bed, curling up under the duvet for the first time in weeks. Because despite the heat and humidity of summer, it feels far, far too cold.

—-

The fullness of your bladder wakes you, demanding you seek relief immediately. You can tell by the noise outside that it’s late morning, and you hope Jungkook is already awake. You roll out of bed and shuffle over to the bathroom, trying the handle and finding it still locked.

With a reluctant sigh, you knock. “Jungkookie? Bun, I need to pee. Can you let me in please?” A few moments later there’s shuffling behind the door and the soft click of a lock opening. A sunken-eyed Jungkook stands on the other side, eyes averted. The duvet you gave him wraps him like a shroud. It hangs over his head, hiding his ears, his hands clutching it tightly at his chest. He stares pointedly at his feet as he shuffles past you, and if it weren’t for your desperate need to pee you’d stop and talk to him. But that’s a conversation that can wait until you’ve made breakfast.

You finish in the bathroom as fast as possible and make your way to the kitchen, noticing how he sits curled up on the chair in the corner of your living room.

You pull out all the things you need to make pancakes and crank up the volume on an upbeat playlist; mostly songs Jungkook likes listening to in the mornings. “Jungkook, could you help me please?” you ask sweetly. “The strawberries and bananas need slicing.”

He perks up at that, ears twitching before his eyes dart over to you. He loves bananas, almost obsessively loves them. I knew that would work, you smile to yourself. Jungkook fiddles with the waistband of his pajamas and you try to forget the outline of his hardness straining against them. Try to forget how your skin flushed when he rocked it against you. You focus back on the batter, giving it an extra hard stir, making sure there’s no lumps in it. That’s the reason for you beating it so vigorously. No other reason.

You sigh, pinching yourself before switching on the burner on the stove.

Jungkook begins chopping fruit. Yes. You smile to yourself, watching him out of the corner of your eye as you work on two stacks of pancakes. The tension in the air between you two eases, and soon you’re both dancing to a song that Jungkook listens to often; its easy choreography something you developed together. The song changes into something new, something you’ve never heard before, but you sway your hips nevertheless as you ladle batter into the hot frying pan. Jungkook bounces from foot-to-foot, endlessly energetic as he works his way through half a bunch of bananas and the entire bowl of strawberries. He’s piling the chopped fruit up on plates when you push between him and the counter with a small, murmured excuse me. The step he takes back to allow you access isn’t quite big enough. Even then you don’t notice; so used to squeezing around one another in the modestly-sized kitchen as you are.

 Jungkook, however, notices.

Your ass slides firmly against him and he grips your hips almost painfully hard, pressing you into the counter.

“Ow! Jungkook, what are you—” Your question becomes a squeal of surprise when he buries his nose behind your ear and grinds his rapidly hardening cock into the cleft of your ass. Only two, flimsy layers of clothing separate you. 

“I need you so bad,” he growls as he rubs his nose through your hair, the underside of his chin skimming the column of your neck. You arch back into him, throwing your head back to expose more of your neck to him. You’re usually a lot more reserved with men—a lot—but something about Jungkook makes you want to be wild. Maybe it’s the way you feel so safe with him. His body is a solid presence against your back, his thrusting desperate and needy. Gone is the sweet, delicate Bun you’ve come to care about. He’s been replaced with someone who grips you, growls at you, and yet you still feel safe in his arms.

It’s Jungkook. He’d never hurt you.

You groan, something between a whine and a whimper being ripped from the back of your throat as he rubs himself against you. Then, suddenly - unwelcomely - cold air hits your back. 

Jungkook has torn himself from you for a second time. 

You turn but he’s not behind you. Spinning in place, you see a fluffy tail vanishing around a cabinet and a pair of light grey pajamas left in its wake. You follow fast enough to watch him hightail it out of the kitchen and across the living room, straight under the chair in the corner. He never sits in it as a human, preferring to sit next to you on the sofa, but it’s his favourite place to hide as a bunny.

You crouch, peeking under the chair, trying to coax him out.

“I’m sorry, Jungkookie. Come out and talk to me, please?” you beg to the huddled mass of fur under the chair. He stays where he is, shifting in a way you know means he’s settling in for the long haul. You stand up, running to turn off the stove before dashing to your bedroom and throwing on some clothes. After grabbing your bag, you check under the chair again. Jungkook is still there. “I’ll be right back, okay?” you tell him, before rushing out the door.

You all but run out of your apartment building, dodging people on the street as you head to the florist a block and a half away to get a custom bouquet made. It’s ugly as hell, but it’s not supposed to be for looking at. All of the flowers are suitable for rabbits to eat, and you get triple the ones you know Jungkook is particularly fond of.

You rush back to your apartment on a sliver of energy, taking extra care to preserve your gift, but the whole journey takes you less than twenty minutes. You discard your shoes and bag by the door and head straight for the chair, placing your peace offering on the floor before it.

“I have a gift for you,” you say, pulling a white hibiscus from the bouquet and presenting it to him. “Please come out and talk to me, Bun.” You watch as Jungkook hops forward, unable to resist the pull of his favourite flower. You untie the haphazard collection of flowers and lay them out on the decorative wrapping paper for him. It does the trick and draws him out from under the chair. You hold your hand out to him carefully, letting him come to you on his own terms. Jungkook devours a rosebud and hops forward, bumping your hand with his nose. You sigh, tension you didn’t know was building melting from your shoulders.

Somewhat placated, you head back to the kitchen. The pancakes are now cold but nothing that can’t be reheated. You store his breakfast in the fridge and slip a couple bits of banana onto the paper with the flowers. Jungkook leaps at them, devouring them with relish before following you into the kitchen and circling your chair as you eat your pancakes. He reaches up, nudging your foot to get your attention. And by attention, he wants more bananas.

Once you’re all done with breakfast, you move to the living room. There are several episodes of a TV show you and Jungkook have been watching together that you need to catch up on, and that’s your usual plan for the weekend. Jungkook, however, has other plans. He jumps into your lap, purposefully knocking the remote out of your hand. You tangle your fingers through his fur and feel him shudder under your touch.

“Do you want to tell me what's wrong now?” you ask softly, thumb rubbing soothing circles between his eyes. Beneath your hand, Jungkook transforms. He curls in on himself, doing his best to obscure his nudity, and buries his head in your stomach. You run a hand down his back and find his skin is clammy and feverish. “Oh my god, are you sick? Bun, you’re burning up!” you exclaim, panic injected into your tone.

“I’m going into heat. It’s why I keep—why I keep—” His voice is high-pitched and strained again.

“Why you keep rubbing against me?” you finish for him, raking your nails through his long locks. His ears and tail twitch and Jungkook whines. Nodding, he curls in on himself tighter. “You need a partner,” you say matter-of-factly, but he shakes his head in disagreement.

“No. I don’t need a partner...” he says simply, the implication left hanging. You move his ear carefully, brushing his hair from his face and cupping it with one hand. Your thumb strokes his cheekbone until his tightly-clenched eyes open.

 “Then, tell me what you want,” you whisper. His eyes narrow like he’s assessing you. Assessing the full implication of your words and trying to decide how to answer you.

 “Normally I’d mate with someone in a nest—” Jungkook starts before he’s racked by shudders. He buries his face in your stomach again and whines.

 “My bed,” you offer. “You can build a nest there if you need to.”

He shoots upward at your words, watching your face carefully. “But—” His eyes are wide, mouth agape as he draws the logical conclusion but not daring to hope. “--where will you sleep?” He asks as though he is scared of the answer.

 You carefully brush his hair back from his face, thumbing over a floppy ear. “I c-can—“ you stutter, before taking a deep breath. “I’ll figure something out.” You lean forward, pressing your forehead to his. Your lips are so close like this, close enough to brush against each other as you speak. It’s not quite a kiss, but your intention is clear. “If you need anything—if you want anything...” You trail off. 

 Jungkook wastes no time. He sits up and crawls into your lap, his bare, muscular thighs straddling yours as he kisses you deeply. His hands, no longer rough, cup your face delicately as though he can’t believe he’s been gifted something so precious. Even as his naked hips roll against your stomach.

 “Iwantyouwantyouwantyou. Need you,” he chants between kisses.

 And in an act of madness - or perhaps sanity - you give yourself to him completely.

Next Chapter

[gigagendergt]

Apocalypse, pt 1

Hi! I’m a long-time lurker in the g/t community and a long-time writer as well. This is a story I’ve whipped up that will hopefully turn into something interesting. It won’t have nsfw or vore, and not all the big guys will be monstrous. (You’ll see some g/t hopefully next chapter.) Nice to meet you! 

Read: Part One, Part Two, Part Three

It started with the nightmares.

People woke up screaming, falling out of beds— people woke up sleepwalking to strange places, abandoned parking lots or odd doors in basements or out into the woods with the full moon shining. The experts claimed mass hysteria, some group hallucination, like the dancing plagues or Salem witch trials. The government assured calm despite the disappearance of the President. The Vice President’s references to God grew more and more with every passing day.

“We remain one country under the Lord,” she said from the TV, voice crackly with static— the signal seemed to come through disrupted, and so were the phone lines and radio and internet, though no one knew why— “and one country we remain. We must be strong for each other.”

People tried. They huddled together in their houses, whispering over communal meals. Shortages abounded. Some neighbors teamed up to try and feed the poor— others stockpiled, vanished into their houses with cans of soup and dried beans, didn’t answer the doorbell or the knock if someone came asking. Those who could sing or play an instrument would go out on the balcony and perform to empty windows and miserable people and those miserable people would be a little happier, if only for a few minutes.

It lasted like that for a while, and then the demons came.

—

Demons weren’t their official name, of course. Scientists classified them, called them by a variety of more mundane terms— UBO was one of the early ones, standing for Unknown Biological Organism, before the scientist that coined it went mad, got into his car on a Tuesday morning, and drove it into the Mississippi. (That more than anything else made people call them demons.) The Vice President referred to them as plagues and harbingers and vowed to bring the rage of God down on their heads, and so demon fit well enough, if only to mock the governmental response.

“Hundreds of us dead every day from those bastards,” I heard a man complain once, “and they keep promising us the wrath of God. Well God’s been gone for two thousand years, and I’m not waiting for him to come back.”

There were people that believed the whole demon thing, of course. Apocalypse cults and churches and preachers on the street. Christian moms and veterans, too, tended to fall into that category. The rumors only grew wilder now that the TV’s were out and we had to rely on broken radio transmissions and old-fashioned newspapers. Cameras couldn’t capture a demon’s picture. They were here to wipe out the Earth. They were biological lab mutation from some foreign country. They were monsters created from our own sin. They were human, once. They were killing only sinners. They were killing innocents and families. They could be stopped if you prayed. They could be stopped with fire. They could be stopped if you hid in a deep bunker and never came out. They could be stopped if you painted your door with lamb’s blood like old Jerusalem. They couldn’t be stopped.

The rumors went on and on, always conflicting each other. I never knew what to believe.

That was, until I saw one.

—

It was a Wednesday night and it was boring. I’d been crammed into the apartment with Viraj and his girlfriend for too long, and they were sick of me. I wanted some air. I took a walk, even though it wasn’t something people did much at night anymore. I knew the places to avoid and the places to stick to— I grew up here, in this small town with the old colonial buildings on what passed for main street and the monuments to names no one remembered and the brick shops. I cut through an old path and was out by the river in seconds. The Mississippi stretched long and deep out before me. It was always beautiful.

I hated the politics around the Mississippi, the old-age names and the history and the confederate references to battles lost a hundred years ago, but the river itself seemed to transcend all that. It was older than the people who’d built cities on it and it was older than the people who lived here before them. I didn’t know much about myth, but looking at that river made me wish I did. I wondered what the river was to the Native Americans, and if it had a different name.

I guess it didn’t matter, I thought. Even if I learned the name, I’d never get it. It wouldn’t roll right off my tongue. It wasn’t for me.

I got dark skin from my Dad, but it felt weird to call myself black. I never knew what “being black” was  supposed to feel like. My Dad didn’t stick around and my Mom was super traditional, an old-school Catholic. She didn’t even let me watch Harry Potter as a kid. I’m about as white as it’s possible to get without looking it.

 I looked out at the Mississippi, and I felt empty. I didn’t even feel like I had a name.

I knelt down to take my shoes off. It felt like a baptismal moment, like maybe if I walked out into the water I’d find the answer. I started untying one of my shoelaces.

I still don’t know how it happened. There was this tremendous noise behind me like a nuclear bomb, and I staggered and whipped back around and in the main section of town there was some massive form I couldn’t even make out in the darkness. I remember trying to process the scale, trying to make it make sense in my mind. I felt like the silhouette had to be close until I saw the flashes of light at its feet and realized they were buildings.

“Holy shit,” I breathed.

The perspective snapped into focus and it had to be— fifty, sixty feet? More? The form was hunched over and it had claws instead of hands, long claws, too long, thin and spindly and unnatural. It turned and I saw the flash of what looked like eyes but patterned over its face and body, clustering in groups like boils.

It opened its mouth and shrieked, and I pressed my hands over my ears and cowered close to the ground. Even far away it was deafening.

Then it spoke, and that was worse.

“-Persecuted, but not forsaken-

-struck down, but not destroyed-

-why would trust be given freely-

-what had broken the heart-

-overseen the destruction of planets-

-chalchiuhtotolin-

-I never knew myself and so I destroyed-

-to damage and degrade the amygdala-“

It spoke in a thousand different voices: some male, some female, some in between, some speaking english, some speaking languages I recognized, some speaking languages I couldn’t even perceive or shape out words, some just screaming. It gibbered and babbled and shouted and I pressed my hands so hard over my ears that it began to ache and pushed my forehead into the ground like an ostrich trying to stick its head into the sand. My vision pulsed into a gray tunnel and closed up.

I must have blacked out.

When I woke up, I wished I’d stayed unconscious.

[manysmallhands]

#44: Little Mix - Black Magic

Released - May 21st 2015

Highest UK Chart Position - #1

Spotify streams to date: 533,968,603(!!!)

First Heard - On release

I am ashamed to say that, over the last 20 years, and especially the last decade or more, i have largely missed out on chart pop. I can blame a lot of it on illness, in that i’m never sat in front of the TV with other people nor stuck in the car with them either, and so i avoid the kind of community experience which means that you know what’s in the charts whether you like it or not. But part of it is just to do with the fragmentation of entertainment in general: the radio station I listen to has its own “hits” now and the places I look for music on the internet are often as clueless as I am about stuff outside their lane. As such, I know next to nothing: I could perhaps vaguely tell you what Call Me Maybe and Get Lucky sound like but I wouldn’t swear to it, and while I’m sure I’ve heard New Rules and Shake It Off (and I’m pretty sure that I enjoyed them too), I can’t remember a note of either. This is not to be snobby - I like pop music, I really do! -  but there’s just a lot going on these days and this stuff tends to slip past you unless yr paying attention. But just once in a while, I surprise myself by actually noticing something and so here we are. 

I have no idea why I heard Black Magic when it came out, because I haven’t regularly known what was at number one since about 2006. But I remember looking up the video for some reason and it blew me away completely, certainly enough that I’ve got the (really quite good) Get Weird album on my computer somewhere too (don’t let them other suckers hate on you!). At first, my main takeaway was its vibes-based similarity to Girls Just Wanna Have Fun, which is a dangerous place to go in a post Blurred Lines-case world (I think I heard Blurred Lines just the once - not feeling too bad about that tbh). But this is not merely a cheap rip off (tbf it is a bit of a cheap rip off, just not merely so): the stomping bridge and four lines each girl group dynamics make it a bullishly modern update of an earlier era, albeit one with enough familiarity that the styles compliment rather than clash. And above all, it’s simply a wonderful and exciting pop song. I feel like I’m being played as I enjoy it - as surely it must have been at least in part created to gain some wider appeal beyond their younger fanbase - but as the pleasure centres of my brain light up every time they shout “HEY!” and the tears well in my eyes at the “falling in love” coda, I have to admit that they won fair and square. Black Magic is the secret potion in itself and, as my third and final number 1, it’s also (alongside King Kunta (#43)) another satisfyingly popular jewel to decorate this otherwise rather obscure end of the list with. Now just watch someone split the vote with Shout Out To My Ex.

[mx-julien]

Pixal and Nya haggling and running around the Ninjago equivalent of the Lady's Market in HK (famous for its bootlegged goods and having an assortment of everything) [link for Ao3]

inspired by art from @cinnamonkittenz (used here with permission)

from an ask by @all-0f-the-above

///

"Humidity is at 85% and the temperature is 39 degrees Celsius," Pixal taps an embedded piece of green plastic in her cheek, neatly obscured by a hologram when she pulls her finger back, "My fans have been running all day."

"Stop complaining-" Nya grabs her hand, "Your hands are always so cold," she wipes her left hand in her jean shorts, "Eugh, I'm the one with sweaty palms."

Pixal grins, the right side of her mouth tilting up to made it more lopsided than usual. She lifts her right hand, the one that's not being held, and gestures to Nya's armpits, "Your hands aren't the only things that are so sweaty."

"Yeah," their eyes meet and Nya scrunches her nose, "But at least you can turn off your sense of smell."

"That I can!" she beams and starts swinging their arms back and forth, "You, however, are condemned to the struggles of humanity."

Their bickering continues off and on for a few more minutes as they navigate the stalls, an array of fold-out plastic tables beneath tarps suspended on thin metal poles. At the back, there are tall white plastic grids that clothes sellers display styles on and people selling anything of value hang there to put off theft.

About ten minutes after voicing her annoyance at the heat, Nya stops in her tracks, eyes trained on a displayed item, and dragging Pixal back with her.

"What? What is it?"

Nya leans closer to her audio sensors, "Does that say 'Channel'? Like, 'TV channel' or 'radio channel'?"

Image lookup, connected to the internet through LTE, informs her that it's a bootleg Chanel handbag. Proper terminology should probably be updated since, when full, it would probably require the utilizing both hands. Upon further inspection, its only indication of fake-ness is that the leather handbag the size of a large cereal box with two interlocking 'C's has the word 'Channel' on its side. She chuckles, "Yes, it does."

Eyebrows knitted together and nose scrunched up, Nya doesn't seem to immediately find it funny, "Wait, but they know it's a word-" she looks at her out of the corner of her eye, "Right?"

Pixal puts an arm around the ninja's waist, pulling her out of the way of more foot traffic and bringing her mouth closer to her ear, as to not let the vendor overhear them. "It can be assumed that someone in the production process understood the meaning, but it's how they avoid particularly strong legal cases being pushed against them. It could always be worse-" she shifts them to the left, facing towards a clothes stall, and lightly knocks their heads together, guiding Nya's eyes and pointing at a pair of black underwear with a white elastic waistband, "See Carlvin Kleen?"

At this, Nya starts giggling, "Or Victorya Searcat?"

"H&N?"

"Whatever it is," she pulls Pixal closer to her, "I don't want you trying to buy it-"

"That was once."

"It was a whole bag of four by two by two electric NXTgen 17 motors! One of the most common- and cheap - things sold; you bought it for twenty gold."

Pixal pushes her away half-heartedly, allowing herself to be pulled back in right after. The topic is dropped a soon as her favorite Smith sibling notices a dress at the stall to their left- "Is that supposed to be American Eagle? Oh my god-" she puts a hand over her mouth after having noticed the tag, "-it's almost unrecognizable!"

"You mean Australian Eager?"

The sellers have start to give them looks like they're trying to say "I know that you know that I know that they're ridiculous but you also know that I can't say anything about it," with their eyebrows and the timing of their "could you not" glances.

Pixal cuts them some slack, putting her hand over Nya's mouth and arm around her shoulders until she's pushed off.

They walk around a bend and under some lantern string lights, dodging harried consumers and sellers calling out at them to look at their hoverboards and purple Barbie knockoffs. Up at their left, Nya spots a clothes stall. There's a rack displaying some more expensive items at the front, then she spots two along the right side wall and one at the back that's adjacent to the checkout counter. Overwhelmingly, the color palette is a light blue, which must've been one of the things that drew her attention, as it's one of the few colors the both of them like. Pink is the other.

She goes through the racks quickly and thoroughly, making the hangers scrape a symphony against the stainleas steel rail, and ends up picking out a bomber and a light trenchcoat. The former is an impressive find in the bright store: it's black with red accents, geometric swirls and two dragons entwined on the back. Her other choice looks like something Pixal will be stealing artfully borrowing from her in the future. It's white, long, and decked out in small, bright blue flowers embroidered like they're falling from the sky and collecting near the pockets and bottom of the coat. It has a wider, flat collar and minimalistic buttons, both in style and number.

Content with watching her girlfriend shop, Pixal doesn't pick out anything. Instead, she approaches the counter as Nya's admiring the scarfs hanging from the ceiling, "How much for the coat and jacket?"

The owner, a younger person, rests an arm on the glass counter, "Both?"

She nods.

"17 gold, 33 silver."

"33?" She crosses her arms, "Could you do 22?"

"22 is too low!" They gesture vaguely at the rest of the clothes, as if to allude to her disgracing the store with the offer, "No, no. You can get it at 31."

"How about 24?"

"31." They place their other arm on the glass, needing to lean over it slightly now, as they are a little taller than average, causing some strands of black hair to fall out of a ponytail, partially obscuring one eye.

"25?"

"29."

"I'll give you 27 silver and give the hangers back."

"Deal." They hold out one hand, only to have Nya come in and shake it, saving Pix from having to explain why she only appears to have human skin. Behind the projection of a medium complexion, there's just metal- two millimeter thick titanium plating to be exact. Looking the slightest bit sheepish, she avoids their gaze.

"I'm paying," Nya explains, smiling a bit apologetically, the tails of her brows turned down a little. Handing Pixal the clothes, she can grabs her wallet and puts twenty-seven silver on the counter, joined moments later by two plastic hangers.

Pix elbows Nya slightly as they're waiting for the recipt to print. She speaks lowly, leaning towards her for the duration of it, "See that receipt? It's for a tailor's shop in the area."

"How can you tell?"

"Have you not been looking at the street signs we pass?"

The smartass comment earns her a skeptical look from her shorter counterpart, "No, and you haven't either."

"You're right; I looked up the zip code."

The little black book, more vertical than horizontal, rests on a table behind the counter that's closed off from the shopping area. The paper in question is sticking out of it.

In fact, now that she's looking, Nya notices their kakhis are paired with a dark blue button down that is nicely fitted, accentuating a wider waist and more muscular, flat chest. Their shirt doesn't seem too tight, either, as they put the receipt in the bag and hand it over the counter.

Bag in hand, Pixal's just impressed that she didn't cave to the first counteroffer. She'd done research after botching that deal at the Mech. Market. It seems to have paid off.

Just before they step onto the main path through the market, Nya turns around, calling over to the shop owner, "Excuse me?"

They pop up from behind the register, probably securing a lockbox or stashing the hangers, "Yes?" one of their eyebrows is raised, making their forehead wrinkle a little.

"Do you know if there's a traditional tailor around here?"

~*~

It's right near the harbor, where the sun is so strong it paints Nya pink and gold by the time they're standing on dark red carpet.

The tailor's shop smells- well, musty would be inaccurate - it's much closer to old fabric, mixed just slightly with secondhand smoke. At the front, an older man shuffles into view, walking through a curtain made of wooden beads. Pixal sees that, behind the counter, the floors are tan linoleum.

He sets his elbows on the corner of the wooden counter and smiles at them, crows feet coming into view, "How may I help you girls?"

///

was originally going to include:

Rather unexpectedly, there isn't much area exposed to sun and the ground they walk on is cool. These people set up their spots early in the day before it got unbearably hot; locals- they know what to do. Persons from the village surrounding the market are much more adept at weaving through the shirts, underwear, and knockoff purses. At one point, a middle-aged man of about 5'6" took a sharp turn in front of them and walked between stalls. When they peered in his direction, Pix realized there was a restaurant behind some of the makeshift shops.

He doesn't even crack their top ten most interesting people they've come across, though.

which is based on this time i was @ Lady's Market and my father literally did just that, which blew me and my sister's minds. you can do that though bc the market is made up of tarp tents set up on streets, which obscure the brick and mortar businesses behind them. but it did feel like we were going to secret shops.

yes, i miss HK so i made a fic about lesbians running around the Ninjago equivalent of the island and having fun because hey i have to live vicariously through some people.