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How Does Course Duration Impact Learning Outcomes In Accounting?

Discover how course duration influences learning outcomes in accounting. Explore the benefits of professional accounting courses and their impact on mastering financial accounting. Learn more about the offerings at the George Telegraph Institute of Accounts and find the right accountant course duration for your career success.

[astroboots]

Every You Every Me Issue #3

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x female reader

Summary: You are determined to meet your Spider-benefactor face to face and you go to ever increasing extreme lengths to do so. Problem is, Miguel O'hara is very uncooperative to your plans.

Word count: 5,500 words.

Content: Slowest of the burn, so slow you wonder if it's even burning. Near death experiences, the state of the economy and how expensive it is to live in a big city, the emotional whiplash of Miguel O'Hara.

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

[Previous issue] [Next Issue]

You saw them in the window display of a bakery in Greenwich Village. Round sugar cookies with red frosting and white eyes, decorated as a tribute to everyone's favorite neighborhood Spiderman.

Before you had time to properly think things over (would he even like the cookies? Is he on a strict superhero diet and workout plan? What if he's gluten intolerant?) you were already standing in front of the cash register having a dozen of them wrapped up in fancy crinkly paper and were $72 dollars poorer. 

Charging six dollars per cookie is practically highway robbery, but that's par for the course with New York bakeries. You wouldn’t be surprised if every bakery in New York was already a part of Wilson Fisk’s criminal empire. 

As you push open the door, box in hand, you wonder wryly to yourself why Spiderman’s ruder alter ego isn't there to save you from that.

You wonder, for Superheroes, what classifies as an event worth intervening in and what everyday citizens need to be saved from?

Financial ailment doesn't quite seem to qualify from what you've been able to glean so far.

Tony Stark, for all the wealth he’s amassed (a large enough treasure hoard that he would be capable of buying the whole planet of Mars according to Forbes) isn't massively involved with charities. He only donates to the one: his own. And the Stark Foundation is really just Tony Stark paying reparations for the damage he and his buddies caused in the first place.

Thor is an actual deity, and you still remember that write-up in Esquire magazine, where local waiters in New Mexico had called him a terrible tipper and a habitual smasher of glassware.

Assault and battery is up in the air. There are accounts of Superheroes intervening; that Tiktok videos of She-Hulk breaking up a bar fight that went viral a few weeks back. But then equally, there are memes of Doctor Strange peeking out the window of Sanctum Sanctorum watching a street fight unfold,, utterly uninterested in getting involved. The internet labeled it as "mood". 

As for murder and mayhem, there's a longstanding public debate as to whether Superheroes cause more than they prevent. Case in point: that Moon Knight guy that paints the streets of London red.

There is no rule book written to explain how Superheroes decides who is worth saving and who is not.

Does one have to be important and have a material effect on the state of the world?

If so, you fall pitifully short. The most world-changing decision you made as of late was deciding to opt out of utensils on your last GrubHub order to help save the environment.

So it makes you wonder: Why on earth has this non-costume accurate Spiderman saved you, not once, not twice, but 13 times to date?

That’s just the first of many questions you’d like to ask him. What does he know that you don’t? Does he know why the universe seems to be out to get you lately? Or why death itself is following you everywhere you go, nipping at your heels?

You haven’t had the chance to ask him anything, because despite all of your encounters, you haven't met him face to face since that very first time. 

Inconveniently, you don't exactly have a way of contacting him. Superheroes aren't listed in the phone book. 

With no other way to reach out, you go at it the old fashioned way. You write him a note from a page you've ripped out of your notebook:

‘Thank you for saving me. Can we meet? I have questions.’

You place the note on the window sill. Setting the plate with $72 dollars worth of Spiderman cookies on top of the left corner of the paper to make sure it doesn't get blown away in the wind. Then you leave the window open for the first time since you've moved into this apartment before heading to bed.

There's nothing else to do but to wait. 

You wake to the spit and splatter of rain against your window. It's gray outside, and the cookies you set out the night before remain untouched. You frown at the sight, but you can't say you're surprised.

There was never any real indication that he was lurking around you. Superheroes are bound to have more interesting things on their schedule than stalking a random insurance employee.

You don't know why you thought this would work in the first place.

Getting out of bed, you walk up to your window to inspect the scene. The note is where you have left it, ink a little smeared from the rain, where the plate has kept it in place on the right corner.

That seems odd, now that you think about it. You stare at the note, eye drawn to the watermarks. Why are there water stains bleeding into the paper if your window was closed? As crappy as your rundown apartment can be, water damage is the one thing you haven't had issues with.

You draw your eyes to the closed window being smattered with the rain outside. Didn't you leave the window open last night? You're pretty sure you did, hoping that the open window would be seen as a gesture of invitation. You had left it open… right?

You did.

You're sure you did.

He must’ve been here.

Rude, not-costume-accurate Spiderman was here.

Right?

Your eyes flicker back to the window.

Or maybe you did close the window?

You close your eyes trying to recall your evening, packing the length of your apartment as you replay the memory. Suddenly, you're not so sure anymore. You always close your window, and even though you had every intention of keeping it open last night, who is to say you didn't close it out of sheer habit?

It's strange. Because if he was here, he would've spotted the note. But it's in the same spot you left it yesterday right under the plate on the left side of it...

You eye the undisturbed note tucked under the right corner of the plate.

Wait, wait. Didn't you put the note under the left side of the plate?

You did.

Yes, you definitely did.

Which means, he was here... Right?

You feel like you are going insane.

Are you seeing things that are not there? Was he actually here and if so why did he go to such lengths to pretend otherwise. Why would he passive-aggressively gaslight you into thinking he was never here?

You decide on a redo.

Because if you can't trust yourself and your questionable memory, you can trust a recording.

A teddy bear nanny cam sets you back $50. Not cheap, but not as outrageous as your stale-cardboard-tasting Spiderman cookies. 

You set it up on your dresser opposite your window and link it to your phone as per the instructions.

As for the bait. After having tasted those brick cookies for yourself, putting it out for a second night for a man who has saved your life repeatedly didn't seem right. You decide to bake them yourself this time.

The added bonus is that you get to mix blue food coloring into the frosting for the decoration that goes on top. In retrospect, the red Spiderman cookies from last time might’ve implied that you’re calling him a knock-off Spiderman. 

Besides, even with the cost of living crisis: a bag of flour, baking powder, unsalted butter, sugar and eggs cost a lot less than $72 dollars.

This time, you don't write him a sloppily put together note. You decide to write him a proper letter. 

If he did visit your apartment, (and you're not just going insane) the fact that he moved the note meant that he must've read it. 

This note didn’t work. 

It must not have been compelling enough, you were kind of in a hurry… 

You’ll have to write something better this time. Longer. More emotionally compelling. Surely if you take the time to really explain your plight, you can make him understand why it’s so important he talks to you! 

The problem is that it’s hard to sound serious when it’s written on lined paper from your ruled notebook. 

That won’t do. You go to the nearest stationery store in your neighborhood, a chain outlet of Paper Source to get yourself some decent looking stationary paper with a matching colored envelope to boot. 

You immediately regret this part of your plan, because it ends up setting you back another $26 dollars. Why is 6 pieces of paper so damn expensive anyhow? Surely there’s a few trees left in the world to chop down?!

$102 dollars down in your bank balance, you sit down at your dining table that night, pen in hand and begin writing. You pour your heart onto the pages, setting out in as precise words as you can manage the effect your near death incidents have had on you. 

How scared you are, how confused you are, but also how grateful you are that he's saved you, again and again and again. That you believe if you and him can just meet in person and talk, if you could ask questions and figure out why this is happening, then maybe you can find a way to stop it from happening again.

Then you fold the letter and tuck it neatly into the matching envelope and slide it under the left side of the cookie plate and go to sleep.

When you wake the next morning, nothing seems out of the ordinary.

The cookies are still neatly arranged on your plate. The letter snugly tucked underneath it.

On the left side this time, you note. 

It doesn’t look like he came. 

The only thing is that you swear that the envelope is now several inches further to the left than where you left it last night.

Again, maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

You pull up your phone, opening the app linked to the nanny cam and press play.

There is nothing but the still frame of your studio apartment, your bed to the right and your window square in the camera-view. You speed up the video, but the only thing that takes you by surprise is that you apparently toss a lot more in your sleep than you thought.

The camera footage goes well into 3am, and you’re resigning yourself to the fact that this was all down to your imagination.

He didn't come last night. Probably didn't come the night before. Most likely you woke up from the rain, closed the window and were too sleepy to remember.

You sigh, setting down your phone on the table, prepared to let this whole endeavor go.

On your screen, a smudged shadow appears in the corner of the window. You jump to your feet from your seat, knocking your chair over in the process with a raucous thud. The dark figure grows larger on your screen, dark navy blue and lines of stark red that perches itself onto your window sill.

YES! yes-yes-yes! You knew it. You fucking goddamn knew it!

You were right.

Adrenaline buzzes victoriously in your veins, and you grip your phone harder. Your heart is pounding so fast and hard in your chest you can hear the drumming beat of it in your ears.

He was here!

(You're not cuckoo for cocoa puffs).

You watch as his large figure sits on your window sill. He's still wearing his mask, and while you can't make out the expressions underneath, the outline where his eyes would have been, painted in dark blue, now narrow into a slit on your screen. 

There's a hostility emanating from that glare that you are able to sense all the way from the opposite side of the screen. He stares down at the plate of cookies suspiciously. Then he just stays there, unmoving, having a staring competition with the cookies you baked in his image.

In the privacy of your living room, you have the luxury of taking the time to get a proper look at him without interruption. It's hard to ignore the fact of just how tightly fitted to his skin that suit is. The dark blue fabric clings to every line of muscles on his body and it makes your cheek prickle with heat when you look. It feels voyeuristic somehow, but you can't help but think that the more modest alternative would be if he had worn nothing at all.

He's absurdly ripped. Muscular doesn't even begin to describe it. Broad shoulders and a narrow tapered waist segueing into obscenely thick and defined thighs that have your eyes linger for far too long. You shake your head to snap yourself out of it, Jesus you are acting like a creep. This isn’t OnlyFans, though lord knows you paid for this privilege! $102 for a cam video! 

On the footage, there is finally movement. He reaches for a cookie, bringing it to his mouth. The blue fabric dematerializes on his lower face until it reveals his tanned skin and that ridiculously cut jaw of his.

His mouth parts. Fangs protrude where his canine teeth are supposed to be and the sight makes you nearly drop your phone in shock.

Is this Spiderman a vampire? Or is he like a tarantula Spiderman with fangs to match?

You watch in suspended horror as he bites into the cookie, those sharp fangs of his are in plain view as he chews. 

He leans over to reach for a second cookie and all your trepidation is forgotten for a second, because if he’s reaching for a second one, it must mean he likes them. You grin at your screen, culinary pride beating out any caution or fear you may have had. 

Then he lifts up the plate, picking up the letter. The anticipation is too much. You press your face closer to the screen to try to get closer, because your screen is too small to pick up any possible nuances in his expression. 

He's carefully opening the envelope as he starts to read. It's impossible to tell what he's thinking. There's no visible change of facial expressions in the outline of his masked eyes. His mouth, which is bared to you, doesn't so much as twitch.

It doesn’t take long for him to read it. When he's done, he tucks the letter back under the plate. Then he bends down over the plate of cookies, and for a moment you think he’s going in for a third. Instead his hand lingers on the plate, before he starts to slide the remaining cookies around the plate to your confusion. You watch in confusion as he picks up the cookies one by one to space them out more evenly. You don't quite understand what he's trying to do, wait… is Vampire spider man re-arranging the cookies to make it less obvious he’s eaten them?!  

The bastard really was trying to gaslight you into thinking he was never here.

Once he’s seemingly satisfied with his work, he straightens up, turning until his back is against the camera preparing to leave.

To your surprise his face turns around to take one last look inside. The direction of his gaze settles on your bed where you're sleeping. His eyes lingers there for a handful of moments, inscrutable over the mask.

Is he sad? Angry? You can't tell.

He finally looks away and then he leaps off the window.

Politely asking him in writing is clearly not working out for you.

You decide the only recourse you have left is to try and physically catch him.

Such a simple sentiment that had sounded so easy in your head, but you quickly run into logistical issues when you try to put it into practice.

The man is built like a tank. Can leap off of skyscrapers (and the window of your sixth floor) without breaking a sweat. Potentially also a vampire.

You're not exactly sure how you're supposed to catch someone like that.

Your google research is off to a shaky start. Somehow you end up down a rabbit hole of tutorials for non-lethal mouse traps. It's not very useful inspiration. Because you can't exactly build a 7 foot large cage trap to catch him the next time he comes around to help himself to cookies.

But the concept of having a lure trap set with bait seemed transferable and so you decide to go for a classic spring trap that you’ll modify. No cage, instead you set up a DIY contraption with a sturdy string attached to a bell meant to quickly alert you to his presence next time he comes around. 

The game plan is to wake up and corner him before he has a chance to abscond.

As for bait, you google things that vampires might like in a half-thought of plan it might be applicable. Unfortunately, there are no young virgin maidens you know of as far as the eye can see in New York (yourself included) so that was a no go. 

So you default back to cookies (because hey, at least it worked last time).

Amazon has your whole set up shipped and delivered by the next day and you implement phase 3 of your rapidly escalating attempts to reach out to him.

Unfortunately, it doesn't work. For one he doesn’t show up that night. Or the night after. It takes him four whole days to show up again and when he does, he spots your trap a mile away. When you review the footage on the cam the next day, he avoids the rope and the whole mechanism effortlessly. 

There's no sound on the nanny cam so you can't be sure of it. But you think from the way the line of his shoulders shake as he steps over the rope that he might be laughing at you. He’s definitely seen through few supervillain traps in his days so in hindsight the probability of success here was low.

He does however eat three of your cookies this time.

You get a little bit more desperate after that.

You decide that if a trigger trap to wake you won't work, then obviously, the next best thing is for you to simply stay awake.

The problem is that he doesn't show up every night. His visits are entirely random without an obvious pattern. Sometimes he shows up two nights in a row, sometimes he goes several days without making a guest appearance on your nanny cam footage.

It means you end up downing a whole carafe of coffee, and several energy drinks, every night for a week straight. Entirely unable to predict what night he's going to appear, you keep dooming your already tiny bladder to a dozen visits to the bathroom before the clock has even struck nine.

The saddest part of it is that despite being wired on enough coffee to power a nuclear power station by yourself, you never end up staying awake the whole night through. 

More often than not you end up falling asleep sitting upright by the dining table waiting up for him. Then the next morning you wake with a wry neck, a sore back and your face pressing up uncomfortably against the wooden surface.

But you're nothing if not tenacious. Tonight makes it the sixth night in a row that you’re doing this. You stare down the can of red bull on your dining table as you pick it up and lift it to your mouth. You’re going to keep going, hardness of the wooden table be damned.

You're surprised to find yourself waking up feeling well rested without any aches. Surrounded by the softness of your quilt and your even softer memory foam pillow. 

The luxurious comfort of it all is such a relief that you don't even question it at first. Don't question why you're in bed when the last thing you remember was nodding off against the palm of your hand and the hard discomfort of your dining chair.

In the sanctuary of your bed, you just dig your face deeper into your pillow and snooze for as long as you can. Ignoring the bright sun pouring in from your windows until it sears unforgivingly against your skin and you decide that it’s finally time to start your day.

By habit, the first thing you do as you get up from bed is to pull up the nanny cam app on your phone and press play on last night's recording.

There's nothing of interest. Seeing yourself read a book by the dining table and chugging down a series of Red Bull is hardly riveting television.

Yesterday you barely even make it until midnight because you can see yourself nod off at the table, head sliding off your palm and plonking down on the dining table. You flinch at the impact, vaguely impressed that the collision didn't wake you.

Your (maybe vampire) Spiderman turns up at 3 am.

Much like the times before, he perches himself on your window sill, peering inside (presumably to check for any new traps you might have laid out for him).

His broad frame stiffens, and then, with a smooth leap, he's inside your apartment.

Excitement rushes to your head, because this is the furthest he’s gone and the first time he's come all the way inside instead of just lurking on the window sill. 

He goes over to your bed, flinging the quilt to the side. He seems stressed, the dark shape of his eyes wide as he stands over the empty bed when it dawns on you what’s happening on screen right now. 

Oh, he's worried.

He looks over at you, hunched over the dining table, sound asleep and oh god, is that drool on your cheek? 

The line of his shoulder relaxes. The broadness of his chest rises then dips with a heavy exhale. Something warm trickles in your stomach at his obvious concern for you.

The mystery is confounding. You don't know him. You've never met him, but for some unfathomable reason he cares enough about you to genuinely care about your safety and you want to know why. 

He makes his way over to the table where you are. The mask slowly ebbs away, uncovering his familiar chin, cheeks and then finally his eyes. An other-worldly shade of crimson that has you spellbound and transfixed on the screen. 

You find yourself raising your phone closer to your face, trying to get a better look at him. Cursing the crappy quality of the video. You don't know what to make of the way he's looking at you. It's intensely focused, almost sad, and… and… And you don't know what, but it makes your heart leap up into your throat, chest clenching tight.

He bends over, wrapping his broad arms under your knees. He’s careful in his movements, cupping your head as it lolls to the side until you’re comfortably resting against his shoulders. It’s a practiced movement, as if he’s done this a hundred times before as he picks you up and carries you bridal style to your bed. Gingerly tucking you under the quilt with something that looks a lot like tenderness. 

It leaves you with more questions than ever.

Ever since you started your caffeine chugging marathon, work has become a new kind of hell.

You're already half-asleep and nodding off at your desk by 10.30. Eyes sore and strained as you stare at the bright screen and try to make sense of the endless columns that are all different and also all the same until your brain refuses to try to make sense of any of it anymore.

You need to go for a walk. Clear your head.

Maybe pop out for a coffee... smoothie. Definitely smoothie.

Outside, the heat is oppressive, far too hot for only being May. Definitely too hot when there are this many tourists around. The street is so crowded you can barely make an inch of headway, trapped behind a family with a stroller in front, trapped in front of a pushy businessman who keeps stepping on your heels every two steps, and trapped next to a guy who is really into his airpods.

With the excess of caffeine still trying to make its way out of your system and the unforgiving heat of the sun beating against your back, it all has the effect of making you feel like you’re hung over. Your breakfast is roiling in your stomach. Sweat plastered against every inch of clothing. You don't know why you do this to yourself.

Every morning you tell yourself never again, and yet every night, there you were, spending half of your disposable income on energy drinks.

Starting from today, you're going cold turkey on the stuff. You've finally given up on trying to stay awake long enough to catch your super-stalker in his cookie burglar routine. Endlessly chugging down caffeine every night is not working out for you. Neither are the DIY mouse traps.

You're running low on ideas of how to trap him. You have nothing else to go on anymore. No idea on how to summon the man. The only time you know he'll be there is the moment before each near-death when he's there to save you.

What are you supposed to do with that? Purposely throw yourself off another building to lure him out?

That's crazy!

…Right?

But maybe... No! Definitely crazy.

Someone screams, and you snap out of your thoughts. There's yelling and terrified shrieks all around you. You're caught in the throng of people, panicked bodies pushing and pressing up against you, all of them trying to run the other way.

You dig in your heels, bracing yourself against the stampede of people. They’re pushing in from every direction until it’s impossible to move an inch. It’s hard to turn your body, when second after second, someone is pummeling into your side, knocking into your bruising shoulder. You barely manage to crane your neck back far enough when you finally spot it. 

A red-green truck with a gigantic taco on its roof is careening towards you across the pavement, no driver behind the wheel. The sea of bodies parts around the out-of-control vehicle, people running left, right and forward to escape being crushed under the wheels.

There’s no time to react. It’s too close. Too fast. 

A hand clutches at your wrist and pulls you backwards, your vision obscured as your face is pressed up against a familiar solid warmth. 

"Hold onto me," he tells you, and you do. 

You're held firm against him as the ground underneath your feet disappears, and everything feels weightless. Then all you hear is a loud thunderous crash.

Your feet touch back down on the ground, and the strong protective hold on you unravels.

When you open your eyes he's already gone. You're left on the corner of Lexington Avenue, still trying to catch your breath. The mob of people is still there all around you, but the panic has passed now, everyone is standing still. Everyone is observing the wreckage of the run amok truck that is now flipped onto its side, rendered harmless.

Miraculously, somehow, nobody around you seems visibly injured.

From a distance, you can hear sirens approaching with a deafening wail. 

But your mind is elsewhere, on the shade of the familiar dark blue and red as you were being saved seconds ago. On his gentle voice in your ear that still thrums pleasantly in your chest. 

You want to see him again. 

It's Friday, and you break half an hour early for your designated 40 minutes of lunch, taking the elevator directly to the 72nd floor, which is under construction to renovate it into an open observation deck for the public next year.

The thing with commercial skyscrapers is that nowadays most of them have safety glass panels on all outside spaces of the upper floors to ensure that it is impossible to climb up the buildings and jump.

It's a safety feature that became standard after the financial crisis of 2008.

Turns out that imposing an 80 hour work week on your employees, where they don't get to see their family or friends or have a life outside of work, and then stripping them of their financial security makes a lot of people miserable and suicidal (who knew?)

The elevator pings open, and you exit into the construction zone, carefully avoiding the various tools scattered across the half-finished deck. On Fridays, the construction workers on the site leave by lunchtime, and the space is empty of people. 

Step by step, you walk up towards the edge of the terrasse, until you stand before the temporary safety rail, looking out over the sprawling city below you. Cars look like tiny moving pebbles and the people, a hive of ants scurrying from street to street.

It’s a dizzying view. Both beautiful and grotesque in its grandeur. The 72nd floor will be 28 more floors to fall from than the 44th was.

The air around you seems to thin, and your stomach wants to crawl down to your feet and hold on to steady ground.

Taking a deep breath, you lift the hem of your shirt, running your hand over the safety harness strapped around your waist, reassuring yourself it's still there. Then you feel along the attached cord, using the carabiner at the end to clip it around the rod of the safety rail. 

Being impulsive and daring in your quest is one thing. Reckless and stupid is another.

It’s not a real climbing rope and harness. Turns out professional safety gear is shockingly expensive, but you found a knock-off resistance training set, complete with harness and stretchy bungee cord rope, on Amazon for a very reasonable $15. You’ve already spent $72 on cookies, $50 dollars for a nanny cam set, and an extortionate $26 for stationary paper in your never-ending quest to lure out Fake Spiderman. You figure a rope is a rope, and you're not paying $100 more to get ripped off by the big climbing corporations. But you’re also not willing to go without.

After all, you've already fallen from the Chrysler building once, and you're not angling for a repeat.

As intent as you are on seeing your Spider-benefactor eye to eye, you're not quite prepared to die for the privilege. Your plan is just to make it look like you are going to jump.

Any superhero worth his dime wouldn't actually let you fall before they would be willing to save you.

That would be a real dick move.

You give your impromptu safety rig one last tug to make sure it's secure, then straighten your posture. Grabbing a hold of the metal rail, you hoist yourself up. You clamber onto it, gripping tight with shaking hands as you swing a leg over, straddling the bar.

Left leg then the right, until all of you are on the other side of the railing.

Then you stay there.

One second. Then two. You close your eyes and try not to look down at the many, many floors below, and how one gust of strong wind could probably knock you over and have you falling down the building again. You count the seconds that pass you by. 

Five. Six. Seven.

A strong gust of wind blows through your side, and your legs buckle at the strong resistance, hand gripping down on the metal railing to hold yourself steady so you don't fall off.

Eightnineten! Ok. Fuck. No. You're good. Fuck this! He's not going to come.

If he didn’t come when you climbed over, he's not going to turn up now.

You briefly let go of the railing with one hand, adjusting your grip so you can climb back to safety. The sun beating down on your back disappears and is eaten up by a large and looming shadow. Every hair on the back of your neck prickles in warning.

Your reaction is too slow, you don't even have time to turn around to see what caused it. Then all you hear is an angry booming voice right next to your ear.

"Have you lost your goddamned mind?!"

You panic, flinging out your hand to catch the bar, but the hard metal of the railings isn't there anymore.

There is a sharp metallic snap. The safety rope around your waist splits from the hasp.

He’s calling your name.

The world tilts and everything goes upside down along with it. Your stomach sinks with a sickening plummet, legs dropping through into zero gravity as you find yourself staring up at the blue and endless New York sky.

Then you're falling from the Chrysler building.

Again.

Fuck!

~ Next Issue

Dedication & Credits: To my dearest @thirstworldproblemss who has to constantly listen to me jabber on about this day and night endlessly and forever. She is in every sense of the word a collaborator on this project. She brainstorms, she pitches in, she edits and she beta-reads. This and so many of my works would not exist without her, please send her all the love if you enjoyed this story.

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[couldawouldashoulda50]

From Completely Different Worlds - William Nylander

Previous parts 1 2 3 In continuation of @misshoneyimhome's birthday celebration, here is Part 4 of The Sweden Chapter.

A/N - I found out I am very much a "discovery writer" in that basically, more and more ideas pop into my little head as I go. What I do know is that this is not the end, and there will be a Part 5. I had some interactions with a couple of readers that William needs to feel a little more "uneasy" (jealous) because Loren does indeed have other options. So, I tried to take a more nuanced approach in this part and then we'll see a little more of that in the next part. Poor William. *edit - to the anon that sent in ask re: outfits for Loren, it is covered in the next part.

Like the last part, this is 11k words - but I hope it's an easy read that it doesn't feel like it's long and drawn out.

Notes and Warnings - goes without saying - profanity, smut (basic p in v, oral - m & f receiving). I think that's it.

18+ only please.

The second Loren stepped onto the street outside of William's place, she felt a palpable energy that surrounded her and filled her senses. If she was totally uninhibited, there was no telling what Loren would do to expel that electric feeling. She literally felt like she could defy the laws of gravity and float to wherever William was taking her.

As he was back in Toronto, William made for an excellent tour guide in Stockholm. He was enamored with his city and it wasn't hard to understand why. In many ways, William embodied the best of what the Scandinavian metropolis had to offer. Stockholm was dazzling and vibrant. Calm one minute and lively the next. A rich and deep history mixed with a contemporary urban flair.

Loren was overwhelmed. She had longed to travel for many years but never had the time or the funds to make it happen. After facing near financial ruin once her ex was long gone, Loren started a Pinterest board of mainly sunny beach destinations as inspiration to save money. Places that she felt she would enjoy traveling to alone. Although Loren had many friends, after a number of years, her former travel partners had paired off, gotten married, and started families. She had embraced being alone, so the idea of vacationing alone as well seemed to suit her perfectly.

Now, Stockholm was kicking her little Pinterest board's ass.

If she thought nothing could outdo the scenery, she was sorely mistaken after she took her first bite at breakfast. The food was extraordinary and it appeared as though William had ordered literally the entire menu. Everything was fresh and healthy, with every color in all the food groups accounted for many times over.

The only thing more astounding than the food itself was how much William could pack away. Loren giggled as William leaned back, legs splayed, and rubbed his stomach that was looking less taut and more round than usual.

As they talked about the plan for the remainder of the day, the owner, who obviously knew William fairly well, approached their booth. William and Anton spoke animatedly in Swedish before William turned to Loren to introduce her. Anton asked how she liked the food and if William left anything for her. She teased that she had to arm-wrestle William for a bite here and there - she of course followed up by saying the whole meal was phenomenal. Promising to make her something special if she returned, Anton bowed to Loren and mockingly rubbed his abdomen to tease William before leaving to greet other patrons.

"You going to be okay to stand, or am I gonna have to carry you out?" Loren smirked.

"Ugh—I'm too full… carry me please…"

Loren shook her head and smiled. "You're such a charmer… wait—we need the bill, don't we?"

"No, everything's free in Stockholm," William chuckled. "Don't worry about it."

Loren flashed a warning glance towards him. "What about the tip?"

William leaned in closer to Loren. "Mmmm—say that again… about the tip…"

Loren raised her eyebrow and smiled coyly. "Something something… big tip—something…"

Despite the urge to kiss her, William tended to avoid public displays of affection. In the age of cell phones and trying to protect privacy, he had to. William settled for a quick but intense eye fuck with Loren instead as they strolled out the door.

William's itinerary for Loren's first full day was mostly relaxed. Nothing was on a specific timeframe and was as chill and easygoing as William himself.

Walking off the mammoth breakfast William just indulged in, they took their time, meandering along the sidewalk as William talked about the subtle and not-so-subtle cultural differences between Sweden and North America. He laughed when Loren admitted that she had long held the idea that all of Scandinavia had learned how to live life right versus the other countries to the south.

With an open invitation to come for the afternoon at the family lake house, William and Loren piled into his SUV for the 40-plus minute drive to pick up his beloved dogs and relax in the sun by the water.

As they drove, William wasn't sure if he had ever seen someone so enthralled by everything. He didn't think Loren was sheltered or hadn't seen a thing or two, but her natural curiosity was so endearing to him. Every highway sign she saw, Loren would take a picture of it, try to say the name phonetically, and then William would help her if needed. That's how the whole drive was spent—listening to and correcting Loren's pronunciation while Post Malone and The Weeknd played in the background.

As they pulled into the laneway at the Nylander’s, William almost wished the drive was longer. Loren managed to make the routine drive to the lake so entertaining in the most basic of ways. Where William was already in a fantastic mood, she managed to elevate it even further.

William had barely stepped out of the car when the dogs came barreling up to him, promptly swarming Loren right after. Camilla waved from the porch, greeting Loren with a hug before embracing her son.

As it approached 1:00 PM, the combination of the massive breakfast and the drive to the lake had completely sapped William's energy. Suddenly, he could barely keep his eyes open.

Camilla looked at William and chuckled at his wilting appearance. "Poor boy… did you both want to have a nap?"

"I'm a little too excited about being here still—but William, did you want to go ahead?"

William nodded and yawned, calling for the dogs. Standing behind Loren, he placed his hands on her shoulders, pulled her back a smidge, and gave her a gentle kiss on her cheek.

Camilla's eyes sparkled as she looked at Loren. "Here darling, you and I can sit outside at the back… I'm so happy you can keep me company."

William shuffled away but called back towards his mom. "Where's Dad?"

"We just found there's an issue with the water pressure, so he's down there looking at the water line."

"Oh—shit, that sucks," William commented mid-yawn as he entered his bedroom. "Ok boys, let's go…."

Camilla ushered Loren into the kitchen. "Would you like a glass of wine? I have a bottle of chardonnay that I was just about to open."

"If you're having a glass, I'd love one, thank you."

Camilla and Loren chatted as two glasses were poured half-full. Camilla clinked Loren's glass and said "Skål," and Loren reciprocated with a cheery smile.

The ladies settled into a comfortable spot on the west-facing deck. The day had been warm, but a cool, generous breeze from the north was an indicator that autumn would soon be upon them.

As it had been from the point Camilla and Loren first met, their conversation flowed so easily. It was very much like Loren experienced with William—there was a steady flow of thoughts, ideas, memories, commiserations, and everything else in between.

Camilla first asked about their day and laughed at Loren explaining about the owner of the cafe poking fun at William. Then Loren explained about taking pictures of road signs to learn about certain letter combinations in Swedish and the sounds they make. Camilla was impressed that Loren showed so much interest in learning the language and thought Loren's idea was brilliant.

They talked about family dynamics, Loren's job as a support worker, and her other work as well. Camilla asked about Loren's house, to which she showed Camilla some before and after pictures of her interior painting marathon. William's mother was once again very impressed with the interior, but it was Loren's gardens and planters that really wowed Camilla. Soon the two were wandering around the edges of the deck talking about perennials that would do well in afternoon sun.

Loren looked up and smiled as she saw Michael approach. He embraced Loren and then kissed Camilla on the cheek while a slightly exasperated expression appeared on his face.

"I think it's the foot valve—it's either clogged or damaged or both," Michael said.

Camilla looked at Michael with an air of concern. "So someone… I guess it will need to be you—you'll have to go underwater and try to untie the line to get a better look… oh Michael… that's not good…"

Loren listened to William's parents' exchange—the sum total of it was that neither Camilla nor Michael particularly wanted to wade out in water that had never felt warm all summer and was becoming excessively colder as the days wore on.

Loren had a lot of experience in this department. Having spent many a summer at her family's cottage that was shared across her father's side, Loren and her cousins were expected to help out when repairs of anything were required. It's where she learned every swear word in both English and French, and quietly practiced them to herself from about the age of three. That was among her first memories. Whether it was a snowmobile or boat engine roaring, if her tiny voice could be drowned out by a long loud sound, Loren happily rhymed off shit, fuck, asshole, prick, dick, cunt —and any combination thereof. It was her little secret with herself.

“If you'd like - I would love to help - I have my bathing suit here as well….just to even get a look at the valve itself and see what’s happening with it?”

Camilla ‘tsked appreciatively with Loren’s offer. “Oh Loren - no, we can’t have you doing that… you’re William’s guest - but thank you though. Plus, the water is very, very cold…”

“Our cottage lake never quite warms up either…I’m honestly used to it, and I kind of love doing stuff like this. I promise though - I won’t press, but I would honestly love to help.”

Michael smiled at Loren, visibly impressed. He wasn’t sure if any of his six children would offer to help, no offense to them. Michael looked toward Camilla and then the house. “Well my love, we need water….let’s just see what’s happening first and then we’ll figure out what to do.” He turned to Loren and asked if she was sure she wanted to get in the frigid lake.

“I’ve been actually dying to get in there - I’ll go get changed. Would you have a snorkel mask so maybe I can take a look at it underwater?”

Michael’s expression was a mix of surprise and growing admiration. “Yes, absolutely…just come down to the boat house once you’ve changed and we’ll size it up for you.”

Camilla looked back toward Loren with an air of gratitude. “Loren - you’re sure about this? We have some bottled water to get us through…”

Loren smiled and convinced Camilla that she was more than okay with doing this. Camilla gave her a quick hug and said she would get her a towel and they’d walk down together.

In the tote bag that Loren still brought everywhere with her, she fished out her two piece green bathing suit and tip toed down the hall, past William’s bedroom and straight into the bathroom next door. She didn’t want to risk waking William up by changing in his room.

Once changed, she tip toed back but Banksy caught sight of her and leapt off the bed to join Loren, followed by the family’s black toy poodle. With the pups in tow, Loren slipped out the sliding glass doors and rejoined Camilla on the deck.

As they walked towards the boathouse, Camilla seemed trepidatious about Loren venturing into the water but reminded herself that Loren was a grown woman. If she was able to help, even just a little bit, it would be deeply appreciated.

With the snorkel mask adjusted and sitting perched atop her head, Loren waded into the water. They weren't exaggerating - it was fucking freezing. She gasped as the chill enveloped her hips, waist, and then chest. Michael and Camilla stood by wincing, knowing the temperature under the surface was uncomfortably cold.

Michael called out to Loren. "Pretty chilly, isn't it? Are you doing okay?"

Loren's teeth were gnashed together as she turned towards William's parents. "Ummm… I think I'm either numb or getting used to it… not sure," she chuckled.

"If it gets to be too much, please come out… we can deal with it another way," Camilla called to her.

Michael leaned towards Camilla and said in Swedish, "My sweet, this is the only way—let's hope she only has to go in once."

Loren spit in the mask, rubbed it over the interior of the glass, and then rinsed it off in the water as Camilla, Michael, and the dogs watched in anticipation. She positioned and adjusted the mask so it formed a seal protecting her eyes and nose.

She submerged herself and swam under the surface to take a look at what had happened to the water line to affect the pressure.

Meanwhile, back inside, William woke up to Pablo whining at the sliding doors in the main room. He got out of bed, rubbed his eyes, and padded slowly towards Pablo, who was wagging his tail excitedly at the door.

After he let Pablo out, he saw his golden doodle join the group of onlookers standing on the walkway towards the floating dock. He was thoroughly confused and still groggy after not getting a full two-hour nap, which was oftentimes, his minimum requirement.

The air was more chilled than what he remembered it being when they first arrived, so William grabbed a nearby hoodie and started walking down towards the water.

As he approached the walkway, he remained totally baffled as he watched his parents watching Loren as her head popped up above the surface, and then her diving back under after reporting her findings.

Camilla looked over to see William's perplexed expression. She smiled at him as she stood with her arms crossed watching Loren tread water while still peering under the surface.

"What is she doing? Dad—it's freezing… why is she in there?"

Michael simply said, "She's a big help. She offered to see what's going on with the foot valve since we lost water pressure in the house."

William shook his head. "She offered? God—she's nuts…."

Michael chuckled. "This really is a big help… I sure didn't want to have to do it. She says the rope the water line was tied to came undone and the valve was at the bottom sucking in sand."

William watched as Loren dove underneath the water again, her round ass making a split-second appearance before she propelled herself toward the bottom of the lake.

As she resurfaced, she spotted William and smiled as best she could, given the mask gave her duck lips.

She peeled off the mask, which left a prominent red line where the rubber had adhered to her face. "Don't you dare make fun of me…," Loren teasingly warned William.

"Is it cold in there?" he asked sheepishly, knowing full well that it was.

"I'm tough… I've gotten used to it." That might have been true, but Loren was starting to feel the chill in her bones.

Loren asked Michael if he had a 5-gallon bucket, a drill, and some duct tape. He had all three readily accessible, and he and Camilla hurried off to retrieve the items, leaving William with the dogs watching Loren.

"Can I help with something?" William called to her.

Loren waded over to the walkway near where William was standing. The wind had picked up and had a little more of a northerly bite to it. She tried not to shiver, but her teeth chattered involuntarily with the exposure to the outside air.

William knelt down to greet her with a kiss. When he pressed his lips against hers, he recoiled quickly. "Loren—you're freezing—you gotta get out of there…"

"The air's way cooler than the water, but yeah, it's getting a little chilly," Loren said as her body shuddered. "We're going to need some rocks to put into the bottom of the pail. Something like those ones over there."

William jogged over to the other side of the ramp and grabbed a medium-sized rock, holding it up for Loren to approve. She smiled and nodded, then swam back over to the water line.

Michael had a sense of what Loren had in mind and he wished he had thought of it sooner. He drilled an entry and exit point into the top of the bucket, and he and Loren fished the line through the bucket, holding it in place with duct tape. Then the stones William gathered were added to the bucket, which was then submerged a number of feet offshore. It was simple to make, easy to put in place, and flawlessly effective once the water line spat out the trapped air and sand with the newly elevated pressure.

Once Loren emerged from the lake, Camilla was quick to wrap a thick bath sheet around her as they walked back to the main cottage. Loren was shivering uncontrollably but tried to get everyone to stop fussing over her. Loren kept saying she was fine, she just needed to warm up a little.

Michael suggested that she head to the sauna to really warm herself up after initially thawing her body in a warm shower. To Loren, that sounded heavenly.

William got the outdoor shower going for her. The Nylanders had an amazing wellness setup not far from the water—an outdoor shower, which William proudly reminded Loren was only working because of her, a 10-person hot tub, a cold tub, and then a beautiful cedar Swedish sauna.

Loren had already showered that morning, but the purpose now was not for cleanliness. Her teeth wouldn't stop chattering and her body still shivered uncontrollably. She was cautious and remained modestly in her bathing suit in the shower, until William reappeared with a thick robe for her to put on after the sauna. He added that his parents had gone into town to grab a few things so they'd be alone for a little while. He motioned to her bathing suit and said, "That needs to come off too," before he headed into the quaint wood sauna.

Loren stripped off her bathing suit, wrung out the excess water, and laid it over the edge of the enclosure to dry. Turning off the water, she twisted her long hair, watching it drip from the ends, wrapped a towel around her, and slowly opened the door to the sauna.

William was naked—his back reclined against the upper bench, his head tilted back and eyes closed, and legs parted. Loren's gaze immediately fixed on his flaccid penis. As always, the sight made her mouth water and her throat tighten. She felt an involuntary clench deep within her, knowing how well his cock fills her up when it's awake.

The dry heat was one half of the perfect antidote to help chase the lingering chill she felt from the water. The other half of that antidote was William. Still beautifully tanned, the defined ridges in his shoulders, arms, chest, and quads glistened with sweat under the soft lights.

William raised his head slightly, opened one eye to look at Loren. "You need to be all the way nude… lose the towel," he smirked.

Loren knew she had two choices—either defy William and keep the towel on, or hang it up next to the robe he brought and try to look sexy and not trip or stumble.

She unfastened the towel where she had it tucked in between the valley of her breasts. Right before the towel dropped, she held onto one corner and pinned it against her chest so that she was still a little concealed.

William chuckled at her. "You're not still shy about me seeing you naked, are you?"

Despite William's appreciation for confidence in a woman, there was something about Loren's bashful and humble nature that he found intensely arousing.

Managing to avoid slipping or tripping or doing a faceplant of any kind, Loren quickly draped the towel over the slats of the upper wooden bench just behind William, and sat elegantly with her legs crossed. In response to his question about her still feeling shy, Loren jokingly retorted, "Have we met?"

He turned his head to look up at Loren. "What're you doing all the way up there? You don't want to sit beside me?" He reached back with the arm closest to Loren and began to caress the back of her calf. A dainty gold anklet glimmered on her slender ankle.

"I like the view from here," Loren remarked softly and suggestively.

William continued to stroke the skin along the back of her leg. In the gravelly voice that's like music to her, he purred, "Why look when you can touch…"

Loren chuckled and reclined her head back against the cedar wall, trying to think of a good response. "Because sometimes the most gorgeous things in the world should be left undisturbed."

William's throat tightened with desire from her words.

He stood and ladled more water over the scalding rocks before turning back towards Loren. He knelt in front of her, motioning for her legs to open so he could slide in between them.

The heat from the sauna had only elicited a light layer of sweat over both bodies, but the temperature inside was climbing rapidly as they began kissing. Loren slid forward slightly, her lips and tongue coaxing moans from William's mouth. She wrapped her arms around the base of his neck as William gripped her ass hard, pulling her further towards him, even though there wasn't a millimeter between them. He nipped and kissed under her jawline, and when Loren's hands found their way down to his ass cheeks, she pushed his torso tight against her cunt.

Breathless, William slowed his mouth and his hands and leaned his forehead against Loren's neck.

Her hands and fingers smoothed through his hair as she wondered what was going through his mind. Instead, she reveled in his touch as his open palms roamed over her body.

William spoke in a low tone against her collarbone. "I don't want you to ever think that I—just because I don't say the actual words most of the time… I'm not the greatest with that—that I don't think that you are one of the most incredible people I know, Loren."

Loren kissed William's temple as her other hand smoothed up the nape of his neck through the back of his hair. She began to speak, but William interrupted her.

"Don't turn the compliment on to me," William warned playfully. "We're only talking about you."

He tapped her ass for her to raise her bum off the towel. He released his embrace and stood up, draping the towel over the bench he was kneeling on.

William guided her down onto her back, adjusted her rear slightly, and lowered his mouth down to her pussy. Fuck, she felt lucky—this was the second time William went down on her today—it was the reason their shower that morning took as long as it did.

But this version of William in that moment was not the version she experienced this morning. This morning, he was tender as his tongue stroked her clit, while the scruff around his mouth tickled her pussy in the most arousing way.

The William taking her now was far more needy. Within seconds of his mouth latching onto Loren's pussy, he had her thighs pinned, spreading her as wide as possible. His tongue lapped fervently, finding the most sensitive areas around her clit, making Loren's body twist and jolt as she moaned William's name. She realized, too, that they were alone and in a sauna. She didn't have to suppress cries or stifle moans this time.

Loren looked down to see William jerking himself as he tongue-fucked her. She smoothed back his hair, their gazes fixed on each other, before she cried out, arching her back and splaying her one leg to the side. Her cries and moans only fueled William to further intensify his dizzying oral assault on her pussy.

She glanced at him and then at the taut muscles in his arm as he rapidly pumped his cock. She knew that he wanted to fully serve her the best oral pleasure he could, but it became distracting with how much she wanted his cock in her mouth.

Between cries of how amazing he felt, Loren breathlessly asked if she could suck his cock.

She lay panting on the bench, smoothing William's saliva around her pussy while running her fingers up and down her slit. William moved and stood by her, his erect cock in her direct line of sight. Using the upper bench as leverage, William held himself up as he rested one thigh on the bench at the top of Loren's head. She could hardly wait for William to position himself just right. Within seconds, she licked and fondled his balls before putting them in her mouth. William groaned "Fuck, Loren" as she stroked his cock with one hand, slowly rubbed her clit with the other, and lapped at his balls at the same time.

William's hand slid over top of Loren's, taking control of running his middle finger through her folds. Between his saliva and her arousal, his fingers smoothly glided between her inner pussy walls, making Loren's hips rotate from the sensation. She adjusted her body to lie on her side and proceeded to deep throat William's cock, moaning and slurping as he expelled his tasty pre-cum in the back of her mouth.

William looked down at Loren just as she looked up at him as she slid his shaft from her mouth. Strings of saliva stretched from his tip—he nearly went weak in the knees as she gazed upon him and his cock like a gift from God. She gingerly held his member as her tongue found the highly sensitive frenulum.

He gathered up her hair in his fist and slowly moved his cock back and forth in her mouth as her tongue stroked underneath the tip, expressing more of the pre-cum fluids that she couldn't get enough of.

But William had other plans. Loren loved being railed hard, and he was determined to fulfill all of her desires in that moment.

"Loren—fuck… you're gonna make me cum… let me fuck you from behind… and be loud—you can let it all out…"

As beautiful as can be, she licked and kissed the tip of his cock in a show of worship and flashed the most spellbinding smile at William as she stood up and turned around for him.

His arms wrapped around her waist as her back leaned against his chest. They stood for a moment in that spot, just absorbing each other's touch. Soon, one of William's hands was cupping her breast while the other slid between her thighs.

Loren climbed onto the bench, and with William kneeling behind her, he gently bent her over. Loren lowered her upper body further, and with her ass in the air, she spread her legs and stroked her clit in anticipation of William's entry.

"Loren—fuck me—you have no idea how fucking hot you look right now." Biting her bottom lip, Loren glanced over her shoulder towards William. "So do you…" she said, full of desire, as her long hair, still damp from the shower, cascaded over the side of her body.

William kneaded the top of her ass cheek with one hand and held his cock in his other, gliding his tip through Loren's folds. Soon, he entered her. William's cock had a slight curve upward, and the tip rubbed perfectly against Loren's g-spot as he fucked her. Her hands gripped the wooden slats on the bench as William's thrusts became steadily deeper.

His head fell backward and his eyes closed as images of her in the water working alongside his dad filled his mind. He could not recall ever feeling such intense pride towards a girl he brought home before.

The pride—this sensation he felt in that moment—fueled his thrusts as he gripped Loren's hips, plowing her even harder. William gazed at how incredible she looked from behind as she cried out to him and how good his cock felt. Her voice, the sound of their slick skin slapping, watching her stroke herself as he bucked into her—to William, there was no better feeling than in that moment.

Loren hollered a string of profanities as her legs began to shake as she orgasmed. William slid one hand up to her shoulder and kept the other gripping her hip. Loren pushed back into him, allowing him to go just a smidge deeper when she let out a loud guttural shriek as a final climax, while reaching behind her, grappling for William's ass.

William pressed into Loren's cunt further, letting out his own feral grunts. William felt like he was losing his mind a little as his thrusts went into overdrive. Loren was riding the wave of another orgasm, gripping the underside of the bench, her ass and thighs rippling as he drove into her. Soon, William let out groans from deep in his throat, his own legs quaking as he spilled deep into her.

William stayed in position, smoothing the sheen of her back around with his hands. He watched her breathing slow while she moaned incoherent words into her forearm. He slid out of her slowly, his seed slowly seeping out just after his tip exited.

He always reveled at the sight of Loren after she came. She once explained she can hear him speak, but she's suspended in such a deep state of euphoria, she hardly has the will to make any part of her body move. It's almost like a complete separation of mind and body.

William loved knowing that's what he does to her.

The two had been in the sauna for a little longer than one probably should. Once Loren could move again, she gathered her towel, slipped on her robe, and stepped back out into the fresh afternoon air. William remained close behind her, stopping only for a quick dip in the cold tub. Not wanting to advertise the inevitable shrinkage from the cold water, William giggled as he sheepishly asked if Loren could retrieve his shorts before he stood up.

With hours remaining before their dinner plans later that evening, Loren and William settled in on the couch, wrapped around each other as each dog found a spot—Banksy on top of Loren's hip and Pablo nestled between William's legs. They had Tetris'ed themselves snugly together as the four drifted off for a nap.

Just over an hour later, Michael and Camilla returned—the dogs' alert startled William and Loren awake, the two stretching and giving each other a soft kiss before rising from the couch.

As they helped carry in bags from the car, Michael asked if they could stay for dinner. Michael remained so abundantly grateful for Loren's help that day that he felt it was the least he could do.

William smiled at his dad's hopeful expression but before he could decline, Michael quickly remembered they had plans already.

William added, "Maybe in a few days, okay? We can figure out something with whoever's available—"

"I'd like to do something maybe just for the two of you, does that sound alright?" Michael looked towards Loren this time for a response.

"I would love that—I've heard that you're a pretty amazing chef," Loren said warmly as Michael hugged her. "We can bring some wine as well?"

Camilla's eyes danced as she looked at Loren. "You could even stay the night—give us a chance to have some drinks and get to know you more."

Camilla thanked Loren again for all of her help, hugging her tightly.

As they walked out, Michael asked if they used the sauna. The question was directed more towards Loren but William answered "Yes" instead.

Michael smiled. "And—how was it—did it warm you up—relax you?"

Loren blushed as she remembered "relaxing" after her massive climax.

William coolly replied, "It was hot, Dad… and yeah, it was extra relaxing... I think Loren enjoyed it. I know I did."

Cheeky motherfucker… Loren thought as she glanced at William and then at Michael.

Michael read between the lines with William's comment and just laughed and shook his head.

—

Loren was the first one ready for their dinner plans that evening. She was borderline nervous—meeting a handful of William's closest friends is right up there with meeting his family. Even though the Nylanders were warm and welcoming, Isla's scornful gaze during Loren's introduction was undeniably still etched in her memory.

Loren fidgeted with her red sundress as she looked at her reflection in the long mirror in William's bedroom. She was beginning to second-guess and scrutinize her appearance. Her clothes, her shoes—everything—were mainly mass-produced with low-cost materials. She saw how stylish the Nylanders all were; even without trying, they all could easily grace the cover of Vogue.

It was more likely than not that his friends and their girlfriends were equally as stylish and sophisticated, and with that thought, Loren exhaled sharply and dropped her shoulders in frustration and dismay. Her insecurities once again resurfaced, attempting to convince her that his friends would laugh at her discount clothes and shoes—that her hair was too big, wavy, and messy-looking. That she really had no business being there as William's guest.

Loren decided to take a picture and send it to Chelsea, her friend and style guru, hoping she could either say "yay" to the dress or veto it and tell her to change.

Just as Loren took the picture, William walked in fresh from the shower—a towel barely tucked tight enough to stay put around his hips. Loren's eyes trailed to the contour on either side of his torso—"the v"—that acted like a sign pointing straight to his cock. His dark blonde hair flopped in certain spots and stuck straight out in others. To Loren, he looked freakishly perfect every single solitary second of every day, and in that moment, she was horny for him and frustrated with him at the same time.

A sizeable grin spanned his face as his eyes landed on Loren. Instead of reciprocating with her typical sweet smile, she rolled her eyes and scoffed at William.

"You know, William—it's not fucking fair," Loren half-smiled as she slowly shook her head. "Like—c'mon… you walk in with almost nothing on, your hair is perfectly imperfect—you know what? You're so greedy…"

William started to laugh. "Greedy?"

"Yes… really fucking greedy. Your whole family—you all got greedy in the gene pool and didn't leave nearly enough for the rest of us."

William's iconic laugh reverberated in the room. "Wait—hold on… that's a bunch of bullshit… you need to put your glasses on there, Chiquita…"

William sat on the edge of his bed, his legs automatically splayed as he propped himself up on his elbows. He chuckled again when he saw Loren's eyes fall once again to the bump his cock made under the towel. "I don't get it—where's—what's all of this about?"

On top of everything else she was feeling in that moment, she was the most embarrassed about her insecurities. She didn't feel like this all the time, but like mice running rampant, where there's one negative thought, a hundred more seem to follow.

So, she was honest with him.

"First, I'm just second-guessing my outfit—well, my entire appearance really. Second, I really hate showing how insecure I can be sometimes. It's not all day, all the time or anything, but I know it's not the most attractive quality to have... especially around you."

William often struggled to find the right words, but he never saw Loren as insecure. Vulnerable at times, yes, which brought out his protective instincts and kindness. Unbeknownst to Loren, William sometimes felt inadequate compared to her, but he knew that if he could at least comfort and reassure her, it was a good start.

"You know—my first thought is that it's hard to understand how you're not able to just know how fucking gorgeous you are… but then I think if you did, you wouldn't be who you are—which is even more amazing. If that makes any sense?" William pulled her close, his rugged hand cradled the back of her head as he pressed his lips against her hair. He breathed in her light fragrance as he continued to kiss her head. "If you are worried that my friends aren't going to like you because of this or that—they really are not like that. They're almost as nice as you, if you can believe it," William chuckled.

His hands then smoothed down the fabric of the back of her dress, soon slipping underneath the hem. She could feel his burgeoning hard-on as the towel finally unfastened and fell to the floor.

In an instant, William's mouth was latched onto Loren's neck, pressing her up against the wall. She couldn't resist him—she really didn't even try. She turned around so her ass was aligned with his erection. She leaned over slowly and suggestively said, "Here, let me bend over and pick that up—"

Loren soon received the "input" from William that she needed to help calm her worries.

—

William's assessment of his friend group was absolutely accurate. Loren was relieved and grateful that she was instantly welcomed into William's social circle—or at least the particular one that evening. Two of the women at the table, Ingrid and Malin, were the girlfriends of Anders and Erik, who all were at the bar the previous night with William. The third was Lisa, the buoyant, beautiful, and gregarious long-time girlfriend of Rasmus Sandin, William's former roommate and teammate before being traded to Washington.

To break the ice within his friend group, William wanted Loren to share his new favorite story—the tale of her airport security detention. When she had recounted the incident to William's entire family the day before, he was still laughing about it.

As the story went, Loren was "randomly flagged" by flight security, leading to her bags being pulled, scanned, and thoroughly searched. In her large suitcase, she had packed some camera equipment—a tripod, ring light, and other items—which she intended to use for recording interviews with random people against the city's scenic backdrop. The equipment had been carefully wrapped in bubble wrap and then nestled within her clothing. All her paperwork was impeccable, detailing the who, what, where, when, why, and how of her trip. As security rifled through her belongings, they seemed particularly intrigued by the combination of camera equipment and some sexy undergarments that Loren had packed to impress William.

The officers asked the standard questions—did she pack the bag herself, had anyone else had access to her luggage, and so on. Then one officer inquired about the purpose of the videos. Loren was stressed—words in both English and French tumbled around in her head like clothes in a dryer. She blurted out that they were "instructional videos."

The two men exchanged glances, then looked at the lingerie set she'd packed for William, and finally at the camera equipment. “Miss - are the videos pornographic in nature?” The officer who remained silent seemed rather hopeful.

“No! No - they are language tutorials - like teaching how to converse in French,” Loren gasped, her cheeks blazing.

“Are you able to show us?”

Mon dieu (my God) Loren thought to herself, dying inside a little.

She pulled out her phone and showed a more recent post, with her, very much clothed and covered - and not getting railed or giving fellatio.

After only a few seconds, one officer seemed perturbed with the tame, g-rated video and waved her off saying she could go.

William was completely taken with Loren as she animatedly finished telling the story, describing how she had to gather up a lace thong and a bustier and shove them back in her suitcase before running out and meeting William’s mother, no less. Loren explained that later, when she told the full story to his family, Camilla nearly choked on her wine from laughter.

As more stories were shared, an energetic buzz filled the air around the table. The four couples seamlessly blended, their laughter and conversation flowing freely. Loren, with her adaptable nature and engaging personality, found herself quickly embraced by William's tight-knit group of friends—much as she had been with his family.

William and Erik spotted a couple of empty pool tables from where the group sat in the corner of the bar. Soon, wagers were discussed, match-ups were made and friendly-fire chirps were said.

Ingrid and Malin observed Loren closely. Contrary to Isla's portrayal from the previous night, Loren embodied everything Isla had claimed she wasn't. This discrepancy didn't surprise them; Isla's relationship with the truth was often shaky at best. The ladies held their tongues, but they were brimming with curiosity, wondering if Loren was aware of Isla's blatant hostility towards her the night before. While Ingrid and Malin typically avoided gossip, Isla's unprovoked behavior had left them stunned and eager to discuss it. They knew Lisa held strong opinions about Isla's character and were keen to hear her take, which usually swung between witty and scathing.

After the men left the table to venture over to the billiards with full pints of beer in their hands, Ingrid and Malin exchanged glances, topped up Loren's wine, and started treading carefully with the trajectory of their desired conversation.

They first asked Loren basic questions about what she and William did that day, and then worked backwards from there. Loren smiled, knowing the direction Ingrid and Malin wanted to take their chat and suppressed a chuckle. As kind and friendly as all three women had been to Loren, she remained cautious with her words—she told herself to stick with the facts, avoid any personal opinions or any other petty remarks.

It was Ingrid who just cut to the chase with the question of whether Loren heard anything about the night before. And Loren explained what she had been told—which frankly surprised and impressed all three ladies that William had been candid about the situation and did not seem to bypass any major details.

The women were also impressed by Loren's frankness, honesty, and fairness with the complexities of being the object of William's affections. Although it was unspoken, each of the ladies could see how unique Loren was when they compared her against other women that William had spent time with.

Once the Isla conversation was addressed, no one dwelled on any of it.

Malin and Ingrid got up to use the ladies' room and it seemed the two were feeling no pain as they groped their boyfriends' asses as they walked by. Erik didn't seem to mind but Anders, who was trying to take a shot, flinched and sunk the cue ball instead of the solid green one he was aiming for.

Loren and Lisa giggled as Rasmus and William turned to look at them before chirping their friend about the missed shot.

Lisa smiled back towards Loren. "So, you were saying something before about a conversation you and Willy were having… about being out in public?"

Loren nodded. "Just about whether or not we should 'appear' like we are sort of—" Loren struggled to find just the right words to describe their undefined status. "Romantically linked? I guess that's the best way to say it," Loren finally said.

Lisa had known William for a long time through Rasmus' relationship, as William had been Rasmus' roommate on and off, and one of his most trusted friends. She cared for William deeply and, although she didn't always agree with some of his tactics and tendencies, she knew he was a good person at heart. Having had a front-row seat to some of the issues from his past relationships, Lisa understood why William had become incredibly guarded with women in general.

However, Lisa sensed something different in how William and Loren interacted. Though seated diagonally from each other—in an attempt to avoid immediate “guesswork” of who’s with whom by passersby—their connection was very apparent. The way they looked at each other when the other spoke revealed an incredible connection. Lisa didn't just see it; she felt it. She had shared this observation with Rasmus, who wholeheartedly agreed.

"So, you two aren't technically dating, in the traditional sense?" Lisa asked.

Loren looked down at her hands that were folded in her lap. "Well, I think it's a little different for him—people are so invested in the labels…single versus not. So, if someone were to ask him right now, he would say he's single. So, I guess that makes me single too…but it's not how I feel. When I really like someone, that's it for me. I literally don't 'see' anyone else, if you know what I mean."

Lisa nodded. "I do—fully. I felt that way about Rasmus when I first met him."

Loren chuckled and then went quiet. "It feels like a dangerous spot for me to be in though. He has gazillions of women that, whether they're single or not, would kill… or at least maim for him. I'm not trying to compete or anything because I just can't… or maybe it's more that I won't. I wanted to go slow with getting to know each other—somehow be interested yet be relatively detached at the same time. I'm not wanting to rush either because God—his life… just his life alone is dizzying. But the interest out there for him—like, how is any girl - me, or her, her, her…" Loren giggled as she continued to point out any girl in the vicinity of their table, "going to handle that amount of enticement of ‘their man’ from other women?"

Lisa completely understood, as Rasmus, also known as "Sandy," received quite a lot of attention in his own right. "It's a decision you make. And as time goes on, you have to keep making the decision to go left or right. I mean, Sandy isn't anywhere near Willy's popularity, but I will say—he's one of William's closest friends. You would not believe how many women want to go through his friends just for a shot at William. It's… yeah… unbelievable."

Lisa looked over at Sandy, who was already looking back at her. "But I feel supported. Loved. He's good to me, a good person to others. He's my biggest cheerleader," she said wistfully as she winked at her love. Lisa chronicled her own Olympic journey to Loren and all the injuries and accidents she experienced with being an alpine skier. The two continued to bond over Lisa's fearlessness versus Loren's absolute fear of heights—mainly falling from them.

Malin and Ingrid returned from the ladies' room, but came back from a different direction from where the washrooms were. In tow, a tall, good-looking man with a tray of shots arrived.

Loren thought she recognized him, but couldn't place from where. Lisa jumped up and gave him a hug, and just as Malin started introducing Loren, the name "Emil!" was shouted from the billiard tables.

The group of men all came rushing up, causing a bit of a comical scene—given that their fourth pint had kicked in. They laughed and talked excitedly in Swedish as the women laughed along.

While Isla's harsh assertion that Loren would struggle to understand Swedish conversations was unkind, there was some truth to it. But Loren actually didn't mind anyway. Just watching the warm and vibrant exchange, especially William's, was entertaining enough for her.

Emil saw Loren and immediately was taken aback by her exquisite features. Knowing everyone's relationship status in their group, it was automatic that he realized Loren was with William.

He selected the only shot glass that wasn't dripping over the sides and approached Loren, offering her the shot. They introduced themselves and cheered "Skål" just as William slid next to Loren, gently placing his hand on the small of her back. The three talked about how Loren had almost crossed paths with Emil in Toronto, as Emil had stayed at William's during the playoffs after Loren had returned home.

As the night progressed, Loren and the three girlfriends were perched at a tall bar table, watching the billiard playoff rounds: William versus Rasmus and Erik versus Anders. Emil, having had an off-night, had been eliminated in the first round of pool.

Finding a spot next to Loren, Emil struck up an easy conversation. They chatted about her impressions of Stockholm and William's performance as a tour guide. Emil also offered his own recommendations for favorite places to visit and things to do in and around the city.

Emil found Loren warm, funny, and charming—a stark contrast to his earlier date that evening. That encounter had felt doomed from the start, lacking any spark in conversation, common interests, or chemistry.

Chemistry is exactly what he was feeling now with Loren. Besides that, he was awestruck by - well, everything about her.

Emil and Loren both laughed as they watched William and Rasmus chirp each other mercilessly. Erik and Anders' game wasn't nearly as rowdy—the noise from William and Rasmus continually interrupted their concentration. Soon, the two tables were facetiously hurling Swedish insults at one another. Malin, Lisa, and Ingrid joined in with their own comments, eliciting raucous laughter from the group.

Emil chuckled with the repartee and did his best to translate the banter for Loren. Her eyes sparkled as she witnessed the how close William’s friends were with one another, and laughed at the cutting but amusing remarks being exchanged.

William looked over at Loren and Emil. Although Loren had been watching William’s game closely, Emil was telling her a longer story about the how’s and where’s everyone first met. Initially, he was happy to see his long-time friend keeping Loren company, realizing that he himself had not really been by to check on her for awhile.

As he waiting for Rasmus to take his shot, William’s glance bounced between the pool table and the bar table where Emil seemed to be quite riveted with whatever Loren was talking about. The longer William looked, the more unnerved he felt.

Loren took a sip of her drink and, as she looked up, her eyes met William's. She winked and flashed him a bright smile. William gestured, asking if she was okay—she nodded yes and returned the question. He glanced at the pool table, then at Rasmus, and finally back to Loren, indicating he wasn't doing well.

Loren feigned a slight pouty face and mouth the word “sorry” followed by another beautiful smile.

Emil smiled faintly at the exchange. He couldn't believe his misfortune that Loren was William's whatever-interest. William had already given Emil a sense of who Loren was during his Toronto visit, describing her as gorgeous, kind, among other things. But now, meeting her in person, Emil felt as if the universe was playing a cruel joke on him because she was so much more.

The final round pitted William against Erik, with William emerging victorious in record time. He claimed it was his first win against any of the guys. As Emil retreated to the other side of the group, William approached Loren. He leaned in close, declaring her his good luck charm. Loren caught a whiff of beer, realizing William was likely half-cut by now. As he ran his hand up her back, he asked if she enjoyed herself and if she'd be ready to leave soon.

Malin called over to Loren asking if she wanted to come to the ladies room with them - she had an idea for another fun night and wanted to talk while she peed.

Loren touched William's arm and said she's ready to go anytime after her conference in the restroom. He watched her admiringly as she glided across the floor and disappeared around the corner.

William was definitely feeling more drunk than not and was feeling a certain stirring in his cock, despite having Loren three times already that day. He didn't even realize the smirk he had on his face when he joined his friends standing around the high-top table.

With William’s overt attraction for Loren on full display, his friends hurled out some good-natured jabs, followed by some genuine compliments about Loren, to which William enthusiastically affirmed.

Only Emil remained quiet. That is, until he didn't.

He started to shake his head indignantly. “You don't fuck around with this one, Willy. She's already more than what you deserve, given how long you've strung her along for.”

As their mouths fell open, Rasmus and the other men quietly watched as the blue squiggly vein by William’s temple seem to pulsate with Emil's remark.

“You barely even acknowledged her - at least since I've been here. Just because you can fuck any girl that even so much as looks at you, the good ones - great ones even - are ALL expendable to you. Loren - she fucking was there for you, man…she looked after you - cleaned up after you, fed you - sucked your dick. She's an 12 out of 10 at least and all you're gonna do is rope her in with your bullshit and then fuck around on her once you've got her locked in.” Emil drank back the rest of his beer, threw down a bill in the middle of the table and walked out.

William looked around at the stunned faces around the table and then followed Emil outside. The fresh air and the sting of the words one of his closest friend just hurled at him helped sober him up a little.

Emil leaned up against the outside wall of the bar, looking across the street, and then down at the sidewalk.

William approached him. “Bro - what the fuck was that?”

Emil started shaking his head and clenching his jaw. “Sorry, man - I had a rough night I guess. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.” He thought for a moment. “Loren seems really amazing though. Good for you bro - glad you got her here for a visit. She gets to see the ‘real’ William Nylander.”

William knew the tone of Emil’s last remark but left it alone. “So this is more about Loren - dude…what the fuck, man…”

“No - not just about her - maybe it has nothing to do with her specifically. Meeting her just triggered something.” Emil slid down the wall into a squat. “It’s just - I’m fucking ready. I’m so ready to get the girl - the woman - who I’m meant to be with. To get the fuck on with life. You know how many dates I’ve been on lately - fuck me, dude…it’s fucking hard to find someone that I’m attracted to - and not just in the physical sense.”

William looked long and hard at his friend. He was pissed with Emil’s words but once again, they stung because there were threads of truth interwoven in them. “Emil - look, I know it seems easier for me, but it’s not…it might actually be worse. To know that they want me for me. Not for the money or status.”

Emil shook his head again. “But you’ve got that - in there - with HER. Wake the fuck up - you need to either cut her loose so she can start getting past the months you’ve strung her along or - “

“Fuck sakes Emil - I’m not stringing her along…. Jesus, what the fuck, bro. I care for her - a lot - and you know that. Look - I have to take things at a pace that I’m comfortable with…..this is a big thing for me too.”

Emil thought for a moment and his expression relaxed. “So - she’s not your girlfriend?”

William cocked his head to the side. He didn’t like where this was going. “Technically, no - she’s not.”

“So she’s here with you now, what happens when she leaves to go back to Toronto, and you’re still here? Are you dating in that situation?”

William bit the inside of his lip and thought about how to answer. “She just got here - and we’ll have to talk about it.”

“So depending on what you decide, she’ll either be available or not?”

William started to respond that it was Loren’s decision too but his voice trailed off, knowing that was not entirely accurate. “That will all be between her and I both - the two of us,” William said calmly, trying to emphasize this has nothing to do with Emil and he needs to butt out.

Emil looked at his long-time friend and shook his head, before turning on his heel and walking away.

“Hey - Emil…c’mon man…,” William called after him.

The only response William heard was “Greedy bastard” as Emil turned the corner.

That was twice William had been called greedy in the past 12 hours; however, only one was a joke.

William hung his head and then looked down the empty street before turning to go back inside. He and Emil had always been solid, but William got the feeling there had been resentments looming for a while. Poor Loren just happened to be the catalyst.

All four ladies had returned and congregated around the adjoining table. No one the wiser about the friction between William and Emil.

William stood close behind Loren, murmuring softly in her ear if she was good to leave. His hands circling around her waist then clasping together around her abdomen took her by surprise, but she sure wasn't complaining.

The ladies made tentative plans to visit a nightclub where Malin's friend would be DJing later that week. The men nodded and shrugged in agreement. It was a familiar, amicable exchange—the guys typically golfed during the day and escorted their girlfriends for a night out. This well-oiled routine helped maintain a peacefulness in their close circle of friends.

Loren and William said their goodbyes, exchanged hugs with their friends, and stepped outside to meet their Uber.

William tried to push his discussion with Emil aside and focus on Loren instead. He rested his hand on her knee, asking what she thought of everyone she'd met. He reveled in her smile as she talked about the personalities of the women she’d met, and even his male friends too. William pulled her in and she rested her head on his collarbone while he absentmindedly ran his finger along a small scar at the top of her kneecap. As unsettling as the conversation with Emil was, Loren’s mere presence

Try as he might, Emil and their heated exchanged remained a prominent thought in his mind. William thought about talking to Loren, wondering if she truly felt that he was stringing her along.

William pushed aside his thoughts as the Uber pulled up to his building. Once inside, he enveloped Loren in his arms, drawing her close and gently caressing her cheek with his lips. It was unbelievable to him at how, in just two days, there had already been two dramas centered around Loren—neither of which she had instigated.

William peppered her neck with kisses - the sensation from both his mouth and his mustache made Loren squeal as she gripped onto his body. His hands roamed, landing on her ass under her dress and giving both of her cheek an affectionate squeeze while he kissed down along her neck.

William finally pulled himself away - walking the dogs with blue balls did not seem enjoyable. Loren watched William change, offering to come with him. He gazed apologetically at her and asked if it would be okay if he went alone. He explained that some things had been mentioned to him by one of his friends and he needed time to mull it over. Loren did press for further clarification, she always assumed if William wanted to give details, he would. Before walking out the door, William pulled her in once more and told her he could hardly wait to join her in bed.

As the dogs lead William along their normal route, he decided to call Emil with the hopes that calmer heads might prevail. William reminded himself to ease into the conversation and to not jump in starting with “what the fuck.”

Emil was cordial initially when he answered, but then he softened as the two friends spoke. He apologized to William for some of the things he said, but he admits that other points he had made, he stood by - which William thought was fair.

“Look - I know it’s me…I know I’m the one that has all of this shit going on about finding “that” girl. I just wasn’t expecting to have the reaction I did when I met Loren - I know you told me all about her but fuck, she’s really something,” Emil said.

William nodded. “Yeah, she really is. She’s like good to the core.”

“So then I don’t get it - fuck, why can’t you just take the plunge…ask her if she wants to get more serious with you?” Emil chuckled “’Cause I swear dude, if she gave me a second look, I’m not hesitating…”

“Jesus dude - like I said - I can’t… I won’t rush this. It’s really not her that I’m worried about - this is me making sure I’m ready to go the distance with anyone. She’s the closest I have ever come to feeling that I can totally commit to someone, but I gotta do this in the way I feel comfortable.”

Emil paused. “Yeah, ok…I get it. Does she know that?”

William pressed his lips together, still tasting Loren’s lip gloss that transferred to his moustache. “I don’t think so - probably not. But I have something planned just for the two of us. I need us to just be completely alone with her and from there, we’ll figure it out.”

“She must be pretty fucking patient to deal with your wide array of shit,” Emil chuckled.

“Ha - yeah, she is. But she’s been through her own shit so I think she’s just as cautious as I am. She actually told me after her last boyfriend fucked her over, that was it - she preferred to be alone. But you know I’m so fucking adorable, she made an exception for me,” William laughed.

Emil lightly scoffed. “Whatever - maybe back in your boy band, fuck boy era… now, you’re all wide and hairy…you’re getting old, man…”

William just laughed. “I’m back at my building and Loren’s probably waiting so - we good?”

“Yeah - all good. Just let me know if something happens and she ends up being available, and I’ll - “

William started to laugh. “Fuck off dude…”

Emil continued “Hey - I won’t hesitate to - “

“Jesus bro - go jerk off or something…”

Emil paused “I’m not saying I already have but -”

“Okay - alright - don’t fucking need to know. See ya’ bro - talk soon…”

William chuckled as he slid his phone back in his pocket. The dogs immediately saw Loren curled up under a blanket on the couch when they walked through the door. He heard her muffled giggles as the dog’s onslaught of affection towards Loren ensued.

After a few minutes, William pulled Loren tightly to his body - they were both tired and ready for sleep. Loren found her favourite spot against his chest and stroked his back, drifting towards slumber.

Loren was somewhere between barely conscious and deep sleep, when she thought she heard William kissing her head and saying, just above a whisper “So amazing. Please be patient with me.”

[scotianostra]

On 21st July 1796 Robert Burns died in Dumfries, he was just 37.

Rather than go over Rabbie's life, this post mainly covers the last few weeks of his life, and him dealing with his iminent demise………

It is apparent from Burns’s correspondence, his poetry, and even from his First Commonplace Book that the bard was plagued by ill health on several occasions throughout his short life. ‘A Prayer in the Prospect of Death’, first published in the ‘Kilmarnock’ edition of Burns’s Poems, Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect is believed to have been written in 1784 when the bard was just twenty-five years of age and suffering a bout of ill health: O Thou unknown, Almighty Cause Of all my hope and fear! In whose dread presence, ere an hour, Perhaps I must appear!

Burns gives this poem the longer, more explanatory title, ‘A Prayer, when fainting fits, & other alarming symptoms of a Pleurisy or some other dangerous disorder, which indeed still threaten me, first put Nature on the alarm.’

Indeed, we might consider that the threat of illness never truly left the bard: there are several references throughout the poets’ correspondence to rheumatic episodes, hypochondria, physical injury, toothache and periods of ‘melancholy’. However, the first signs of the illness which would eventually claim Burns’s life began in the winter of 1795 when the poet was confined to his sick-bed for several weeks. His health declined over the course of the months that followed, and from the bard’s correspondence in the summer months of 1796 it would appear that he sensed the finality of this particular episode of ill health. In a letter to George Thomson on the 4th of July hewrote: ‘ I received your songs, but my health being so precarious nay dangerously situated, that as a last effort I am here at sea-bathing quarters. – Besides my inveterate rheumatism, my appetite is quite gone; & I am so emaciated as to be scarce able to support myself on my own legs.’ If you remember my last post about Burns at the beginning of the month where he sought the healing powers of the Brow Well and bathing in the Solway Firth near Ruthwell. Burns was soon aware that the sea-bathing was ineffective, writing to his father-in-law James Armour on the 10th of July that;

‘I have now been a week at salt water, & though I think I have got some good by it, yet I have some secret fears that this business will be dangerous if not fatal.’

Tragically, Burns’s final letters became increasingly desperate, and the poet expressed deep concern for the welfare of his family, it became clear the bard was preparing for the worst when he wrote to his brother Gilber:

God help my wife & children, if I am taken from their head! – They will be poor indeed. – I have contracted one or two serious debts, partly from my illness these many months, & partly from too much thoughtlessness as to expense when I came to town that will cut in too much on the little I leave them in your hands.’

Burns was right to be concerned. Indeed, he died in significant financial difficulty, overshadowed with the threat of debtors’ jail. Burns himself acknowledges this in a letter to his cousin, James Burness, on the 12th of July in which he states: ‘When you offered me money assistance, little did I think I should want it so soon. A rascal of a haberdasher, to whom I owe a considerable bill, taking it into his head that I am dying, has commenced a process against me, and will infallibly put my emaciated body into jail.’

Before this threat could be realised, Burns died surrounded by his family and close friends on this day in 1796.

While biographers and critics have offered several theories surrounding the cause of Burns’s death (many of which are fanciful and without evidence, some even hinting at conspiracy), scholars and medics who have examined the poet’s own account of his illness, together with those of his contemporaries, agree that the poet most likely died from bacterial endocarditis: a serious complication of his recurring rheumatic illness. Of course I dn’t think his like of alcohol helped though.

Robert Burns’s funeral took place at midday on the 25th of July 1796, I will cover it in more detail in a few days……

[jokeringcutio]

Open for Halloween Prompts & Updates

Hiya all,

I'm open for Reader insert prompts that are Halloween-themed or set during Halloween. If you want to be inspired, these are my fills from last year. They can be SFW or NSFW. I personally would love to write a few more consensual or more romantic kind of Halloween fics.

I'll accept prompts for fandoms such as: Stranger Things, One Piece, Harry Potter, Blake's 7, Joker (All versions), Peaky Blinders, Supernatural, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Wednesday/Addams Family, Xena Warrior Princess, The Lord of the Rings & Hobbit, Good Omens, Crimson Peak, Dead Boy Detectives, Beetlejuice, Enola Holmes & All Sherlock fandoms, Shakespeare's characters, Many European Movies & of course TRHPS, Five Nights At Freddy's & most Slasher Movies, & Many more so check out my interests or just take plunge and see if I will write your request.

Will I fill all prompts?

Unfortunately, unless I receive just one or two, I probably won't be able to fill them all. I am currently recovering from surgery (Yay, this is a good thing, means we're going to come back babesss) , but still have long-covid weighing me down. So although I'm poking my nose into Tumblr again, I still have limited energy and might have to make choices. But I'll try and fill as many as I can.

WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN????

Sorry, I was ill and it became so bad, I couldn't write anymore. Luckily, I've had surgery and got rid of the nasty things so things are looking up. I need a month or two to recover from the surgery. I'll still have my long covid stuff that is weighing me down, but at least I'll be able to write again and slowly return to the living.

WHERE"S THE JOKER FIC????* *Or any other fic I started but haven't finished yet. As said above, I was unable to write and update. The Joker fic: The Man Who Claimed to be Yours is finished, but as a rewritten version that was meant to be an ebook. Because of my health, I've been looking into other ways to make a living and since writing was the only thing I could do (until a few months ago), I decided to explore my options there. I have been working on original tales that I hope to publish in the near future. I WANNA HELP YOU OUT AND COMMISSION Thank you to everyone who kindly donated to my Kofi in the past, or asked me for one of my ebooks or for a commission. I am planning on posting a wishlist in the near future with financial goals I wish to achieve, and setting up a system where I will write a tale for people who donated as a thank you :) I will, however, keep filling prompts when I can, so don't worry about that. I do this for fun and I love sharing with you.

I DON"T KNOW WHAT TO REQUEST BUT I WANT TO READ

Yay, that is wonderful. You can always follow my account. I usually place warnings and add a 'read more' so the post won't show the entire text. If it's not your cup of tea, you should be fine and able to ignore it and wait for something that is more to your taste. And you can always send in a prompt at a later date, when you come up with something. Or just poke me via chat and we can try and think of something together :)

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 39 – Lying for Money: How Legendary Frauds Reveal the Workings of the World

This is one of those books I’d heard mentioned in a dozen different places before I finally decided to read it. I think it was the review in Thing of Things that finally pushed me over the edge and convinced me to read it myself? Very happy I did, even if I had a severe case of deja vu reading a few particular passages (and even if it does suffer from a few of the usual pop nonfiction issues at times).

The title gets across the substance of the book clearly enough; this is, to paraphrase the author, a work of counter-economics. That is, an attempt to illuminate the workings of an advanced capitalist economy by showcasing the sorts of crimes that take advantage of its complexity and parsitize it. It’s nowhere near as dry or academic as all that, of course (Davies keeps up a chatty, conversational sort of tone throughout, and takes every chance to dunk on academic economics as a discipline that presents itself); most of the meat of the book is case studies and anecdotes of particularly famous or illuminating frauds, which are all great reading. Honestly reading about con artists is so fun I should really feel guiltier about how hypocritical my disdain for more traditional true crime is.

The books, if not central thesis, then definitely on of the main things it keeps coming back to, is that the optimal level of fraud in an economy is higher than zero. Fraud is fundamentally an abuse of trust, after all, and if no one’s trust is getting abused, then that probably means that an unjustifiable amount of resources are being spent checking up on every possible thing, and a great deal of productive work isn’t getting done because people are too paranoid to work with each other.

The term Davies uses is the Canadian Paradox. Which is the fact (anecdote, popular wisdom, whatever) that Canada, with its mostly trustworthy institutions and rule of law and developed financial system, has vastly more fraud than, say, Greek shipping (I don’t know why specifically Greek and specifically shipping. Specifically Canada because in the ‘90s the Vancouver Stock Exchange was apparently the most full of scams and fakes in the world). The reason for this being that Canadian investors more or less assume that anyone with a stock listing is probably on the level, because they’re usually right; Greek shipowners, by contrast, absolutely expect to get screwed over if they leave themselves vulnerable, and so do business exclusively with people who they have strong relationships and embedded social ties with. The overwhelmingly intended takeaway being that the Canadian equilibrium is the one to aspire to.

The book’s organized around Davies’ own taxonomy of fraud – he divides the broader category into four distinct (if overlapping) types based on the trust they abuse and so (in a broad sense) are crimes against. Those types being: 1) the Long Firm (neither of the words mean what you think they do here), which is just lying and defrauding someone, buying on credit, reselling and skipping town before the first bill comes due, etc 2) Counterfeiting, of currency yes, but also legal documentation, audited account books, hell even mining samples, providing forged documentation that people trust so they accept your lies 3) Control Frauds, when employees or trustees take advantage of their control over assets to juice the books and manipulate returns in ways that maximize ‘legitimate’ profits for themselves (distinct from embezzlement, which is just taking advantage of control over assets to, well, take them) and 4) Market Crimes, which intuitively might not seem like crimes at all, at least in a moral sense, but are regulated or criminalized or made taboo because people engaging in them damages the wider structure society or the market or capitalism or whatever relies upon.

The types of fraud, you’ll notice, get steadily more abstract and conceptual as you go on – the only thing that distinguishes most control fraud from managerial incompetence and over-optimism is a paper trail showing they knew what they were doing. The only thing that distinguishes a market crime form just, being good at business, is the opinion of whatever jurisdiction your in’s regulatory authorities. One gets the sense that these sorts of tricky conceptual crimes interest Davies more than more straightforward sorts of fraud, and his discussions of them certainly get more philosophical than the mostly technical descriptions of long firms and counterfeiting.

Of course, you don’t really read a book like this for the theorizing – I mean, I didn’t, anyway – but for the interesting and absurd case studies of historical frauds. Of which the book delivers in spades; everything from the ‘salad oil king’ of New Jersey with with his vats of water with a layer of oil floating on top, to Ponzi and his original scheme, to the counterfeiter who destabilized the Portuguese economy sufficiently to pave the way for a reactionary military coup, to the first actually comprehensible explanation of the whole Savings&Loans crisis in ‘80s America that I’ve ever read to, of course, the 2008 Mortgage Crisis.

One trait of historical frauds that gets more salient the more of them you read is that, because many of them involve taking advantage of some since-patched loophole in law or regulation, in retrospect it seems positively absurd that they could ever have worked. The book cautions against this point of view – given how bewilderingly complex the modern economy is, there are doubtless more absurd loopholes and abuses of what people will take on trust now than there have ever been. People just haven't written books about them yet.

Anyways, speaking of 2008 - the financial crisis was a generation-defining event for the people who got fucked over by it, but it clearly did a number on the paradigms of guys like Davies too. It gets a chapter to itself as an ‘innocent’ control fraud. That is, an institutional setup and incentive set that inevitably causes massive amounts of crime even though the people at the top actually profiting from it all are, technically speaking, innocent (and most of the low-level employees doing the crimes are mostly just trying to meet aggressive sales targets and keep their jobs. Which, hardly justifies a lot of the conduct, but they weren't profiting from the enterprise like the managers and executives.) The term Davies uses is ‘crimogenic’ – as in, an environment that incentivizes and will almost inevitably lead to the commission of crimes.

A note on the author – Davies was a regulator and then a market analyst in the UK for much of the early 21st century, and whatever the specifics is clearly someone with an insider’s view of financial markets and investment banking. Not really an apologist – or I mean, he is, to the extent that he clearly considers them useful institutions that do more good than harm for the world at large, and considers the present regulatory setup governing the markets if not just, then at least pragmatically useful. But about the culture and foibles of the financial services industry itself he’s pretty cynical. In any event, as the book goes on he starts peppering in personal anecdotes about how he was personally involved with some event on the periphery of the frauds he’s discussing or saw them happen live, which I mostly found charming but I can see how it would grate.

In any event, it’s a very chatty, casually written book, by a centre-left pro-regulation but incredibly finance-brained guy. So, you know, caveat lector if you’re going to find that totally insufferable. For myself I found it a fun, casual read, and a more educational one that I really expected.

[bribritenma]

(Long-ass post ahead, just to lyk)

Soooo, about the "It's Starkid innit?" matinee in London...

I was supposed to go with a dear friend of mine. Unfortunately, she won't be able to go (😭), mainly due to work not letting her off that weekend 🙃.

Meaning that I have 1 (one) extra ticket for the matinee. 🎟

It is a seat in the stalls, row R. I decided to check on here if someone would want to buy it (unfortunately can't give it for free as I do need the money back, so please do not ask).

A sort of tumblrina to tumblrina kind of thing, my small giving back gesture to the tumblr Starkid community who was so welcoming to me all those years ago.  💜

If you are interested, please do manifest it in my DMs.

As I'm not at home, meaning anywhere near my computer, until Sunday's evening (Feb. 25th, let's say 7pm~ish, France time zone), I will not sell it until then. Don't worry if I don't answer until then and please don't ask me several times about it, it will get you off the list if there is one.

Just putting this out there now so there is more time for you lovelies to find this post and react to it.

If more than one person reaches out to me, I will literally put your handles in a bowl and pick one of them, not playing faves here as I don't want to be the judge of anything. Please don't contact me from several accounts, play it fair. 😇

The payment will be through PayPal or we can agree to a person-to-person ticket selling platform.

If through PayPal, I can send you the ticket or give it to you on the day (yay to meeting a fellow Dikrats), your choice. It just will be done after payment as, once again, I do need to make sure to get the money back (struggling french artist who is making unreasonable financial decisions for what seems their only chance to see their idols live after what will be the 15th year in the waiting speaking here).

I will put some new stuff on my Etsy over the next weeks so please check it out if you're interested! (Notably musicals related stuff😉)

Of course, you're welcome to follow this blog if you like it. 😉

Please do share this post to any SK fan whom might be interested! Share the love!

Can't wait to meet you all on the day!

[iasmelaion]

1,000+ Hours??

Steam tells me I've played over 1,000 hours of Stardew Valley. WILD! In my defense (?), that's over about 7.5 years, so it works out to about 130 hours a year, but still, it's by far the videogame I've played the most, and now that the 1.6 update is coming out in a couple of weeks, I got to thinking about just why that is, and why I enjoy the game so much.

For anyone who doesn't know, Stardew Valley is a farming life sim in pixel art style, where you inherit your grandpa's farm and are tasked with fixing it up and revitalizing the town it's in. It was created by a solo developer, ConcernedApe aka Eric Barone, as a passion project that took him years to make, because he did everything: the coding, the art, the music, all of it, while he had a part-time job and his girlfriend supported them.

It's a hell of an underdog story: solo developer labors away at this passion project for years, and then when he finally releases his game, it becomes an enormous hit. In the past eight years, it's sold over 30 million copies. At around $15 a game, all it takes some quick back of the envelope math to calculate that, even accounting for the cuts various platforms and past publishers have taken, discounted prices, and his overhead now that he has a small handful of staff, ConcernedApe has made hundreds of millions of dollars.

I mention all of this because in a lot of ways, Barone is living the dream. He did it, he hit it big: he worked really hard on this thing he loved, and it was a success, and people love it, and now he's set for life. Of course it came with its own costs: this GQ profile points out that it took a near obsessive dedication to pull off, and obviously, he couldn't have managed it without the financial support of his partner. But like, damn! It more than paid off!

The fanbase almost universally adores Barone: not only is he an incredible underdog success story, but he's released multiple updates for the game for free. Like, dude absolutely could have charged for the 1.5 update, it added a lot of content and the players would've been happy to pay for it, but it was free! He also personally helps people out sometimes, when bugs break their game saves, and he's supportive of the lively modding community (in fact, the 1.6 update includes a lot of updates that are specifically meant to make modding easier).

All that external stuff wouldn't really matter to me if I didn't actually like playing the game. But I do, and as I've thought about why I love it so much, I know part of it is the knowledge that it was, in fact, this one guy's passion project, and very clearly a labor of love that he devoted a ton of care and attention to. It's an inextricable part of what makes it feel good to play the game. (Also, it's nice to know the game isn't, like, evil, lol. No exploitative labor practices [other than the creator's own perfectionism], no microtransactions, no dark patterns meant to make you throw more money at it, though it is for sure an addictive game play loop.)

Anyway, it's been one of my emotional support videogames over the past seven and a half years I've played it. The great thing about my anxiety, to the extent there can be great things about it lol, is that it's very easily distracted, and games like Stardew Valley (and Hades) are A++++ ways for me to break out of an anxiety spiral. Very useful during the Trump times and the pandemic! Also, even when I'm not feeling notably anxious, it's just a super chill and satisfying game to play, one that gives you that sweet, sweet dopamine for accomplishing tasks, plus it's a great game to play while you're listening to an audiobook or podcast.

But like, I'm still kind of baffled about why this game. I've tried a bunch of different games that are similar, and none of them have hit for me like SDV. Like, objectively, I should be sick of SDV! Even with the amount mods add to the game, I've basically 100%ed the game with two different saves (the achievements I haven't gotten are the ones I'm NEVER going to get: never gonna do a Joja run, and never gonna come close to beating the Journey of the Prairie King minigame). And yet, here I am, still playing it!

Other games like it that I have tried, and even enjoyed, but that haven't held onto my attention like SDV has:

Animal Crossing: New Horizons: Like probably everybody else, I downloaded this just as pandemic quarantines and restrictions were kicking off in the US, and it became my Emotional Support videogame while I was stuck in my apartment. It was charming and comforting and cute, and the routine it added to anxious, isolated days was a true gift. It has plenty in common with SDV: farming and foraging mechanics, decorating a house, befriending villagers. But I abruptly dropped it in July of 2020 and just...never went back to it. It served its purpose for me, and while I think of it fondly, I don't really have any desire to play it again.

Breath of the Wild/Tears of the Kingdom: Not, strictly speaking, in the same genre as SDV. But I've played a lot of it, and it has some of the same vibes, if you will: gorgeous scenery, the ability to play it however you want, foraging, great music, a chill vibe (when you're not fighting monsters). And indeed, I do occasionally come back to these games! They truly are beautiful, and genuinely thrilling at points. But there's not quite enough structure here to make for a comforting gaming experience.

Littlewood: a cute little RPG with some of the same mechanics as SDV. I played about 40 hours of this, but got bored with how grindy it started to feel. SDV also has a fair amount of grind, but I think what keeps it from feeling too grindy is the amount of variety. Littlewood's grindiness felt like it was just about making Number Go Up. With SDV, you have a bunch of different kinds of grindiness: making money, catching all the fish, collecting stuff for the community center, collecting enough resources to build stuff, going into the caves to mine and fight monsters, etc.

Spiritfarer: billed as a "cozy management game about death", and not really fucking around with that description. Has farming and fishing mechanics, plus you get to explore the world by sailing to various destinations, but there's not really any replayability here. Also it is emotionally devastating. Like, you start it, and you're like, oh, the art is so pretty, the music is so nice, how lovely, how charming, there is an adorable cat here as well, and then the game reminds you, hey! you are here to help souls release their earthly burdens and move onto the next stage of the afterlife! And you will cry. Like, seriously, this is the only videogame to have ever made me cry.

Cult of the Lamb: darkly funny little RPG about being an adorable little lamb who's building a cult to your dark god. The vibe here was funny, with the juxtaposition of the cutesy art and the dark humor. I got bored with this, plus it got pretty buggy for me on my Switch, but it was fine!

Sun Haven: farming sim RPG, much heavier on the fantasy and anime vibes than SDV. I gave up on this one after 15 hours. There were a lot of little things that just piled up and annoyed me too much to keep going. Something about the game's balance and pacing also just felt off to me.

Dave the Diver: like, yes, this is about a guy diving into a Big Blue Hole to catch fish for his sushi restaurant, so objectively quite different! But honestly, this was a delight to play. It juggled its various different aspects in a fun way, cycling between the fishing, the RPG stuff, the restaurant management, and even a little bit of farming. The art style is neat, the cut scenes are funny, and it's pretty nice to just swim through the water catching the occasional fish. Again though, not super replayable, and the gameplay loop does get boring once you've played through the main game.

Roots of Pacha: this is basically SDV, but make it prehistoric. I liked the pixel art a lot, and it's a neat tweak on the SDV formula. I had fun playing it! But again, I finished the main game and felt no real urge to go back to it, or to grind out all the achievements.

Wylde Flowers: another cozy life/farming sim, but this one includes witchy elements. An art style reminiscent of Pixar movies, which tbh, is really not my jam in video games. This one stands out though for how it's fully voice-acted, which is a neat touch. Nothing out and out wrong here, I just got bored, and as noted, the art style is not my favorite. I think the gameplay loop here just wasn't as satisfying as SDV.

And finally, Hades: this is nothing at all like SDV, obviously. The only thing they have in common is a fishing minigame. But it and BotW/TotK are the only other games I've played anywhere close to as much as I've played SDV. Hades, like SDV, offers an immensely satisfying gameplay loop, one with enough novelty to keep you playing, and the art is gorgeous. An incredibly fun gaming experience, and yeah, I come back to this one every so often. It's pretty relaxing for a rogue-lite fighting game, at least, once you've gotten the hang of it!

Graveyard Keeper: I haven't played this, but I did watch some Youtubers play it, lol, and counted it a bullet dodged. Not because the game looked bad, but just because it looked the kind of grindy that would CONSUME me but that would be ultimately unsatisfying. Way better to have saved myself ~50-60 hours and just watched Youtubers play through it instead.

After all that, I'm still not quite sure what keeps me coming back to SDV over and over rather than other games in the same or similar genres! I'll keep giving other games like it a try: I'm especially excited to try Coral Island when it comes out for the Switch, and Chef RPG whenever it's released. But for now, I'm super excited for the 1.6 update, and can't wait to start a new save.

[mitchipedia]

Cory Doctorow’s “Red Team Blues” is the most exciting technothriller about a 67-year-old accountant you’ll read this year 📚

“Red Team Blues,” the latest novel by the prolific Cory Doctorow, is a gripping technothriller about billion-dollar cryptocurrency crime. I don’t often encounter fiction that pulls me in as hard as “Red Team Blues” anymore—I’m a jaded reader. But “Red Team Blues” kept me up well past my bedtime on more than one night, and I staggered around bleary-eyed at work the next day. I should send Cory a bill.

“Red Team Blues” is a departure for Cory. His fiction is mostly near-future science fiction. “Red Team Blues” is an old-fashioned private-eye novel crossed with a technothriller.

Also, Cory’s biggest novels are mostly about people in their teens and 20s coming of age. The hero of “Red Team Blues,” Marty Hench, is an old man. He’s 67 years old, a private investigator doing one last gig before retiring.

Marty is a big reason why “Red Team Blues” is compelling. He’s the first-person narrator of the book, and he speaks to the reader like an old friend, telling his story over fine scotch in a comfortable dive bar.

Marty is a callback to the classic detectives of the mid-20th Century. Like his antecedents, Marty Hench is a lone wolf. He has no wife and no family, though he has many friends. And he likes it that way.

Marty’s home is a luxury tour bus, called the Unsalted Hash, which he accepted as payment from a former client, an aging rock star. Marty drives his home wherever work or his fancy takes him.

One more thing about Marty: He’s an accountant. A forensic accountant to be precise. He investigates financial crime. And there’s plenty of that in Silicon Valley, where Marty often parks his bus.

At the beginning of “Red Team Blues,” Marty is called on by an old friend, who became a billionaire late in life after decades of pursuing a passion for fundamental crypto technology. An important secret relating to that technology has been stolen. It’s worth billions of dollars and could be used to sabotage global financial empires. Marty is hired to recover the secret—discreetly.

Marty does the job, but in so doing he gets on the wrong side of wealthy financiers who operate at a rarified multi-billionaire level where there’s no significant difference between legitimate business and criminal cartels. The financiers have already tortured a few people to death to get at the valuable crypto secret—and now they’re after Marty.

Through the course of “Red Team Blues,” Marty takes us on a tour of present-day Silicon Valley, where the early idealistic dreams of using technology to transform the world and make it better have given way to sheer greed. Marty moves from the luxury high-rises of the super-wealthy to homeless encampments just a short way away.

The setting of “Red Team Blues” reminds me of the 1930s Los Angeles of classic noir yarns, such as the novels of Raymond Chandler and James Ellroy, as well as the movie “Chinatown.” The LA of those stories is still new, but already corrupt and foul under the glittering surface. The Silicon Valley of “Red Team Blues” is like that.

Cory writes about the similarities and differences between “Red Team Blues” and classic noir detectives in this essay: Silicon Valley Noir

Aging is another theme of “Red Team Blues.” Marty Hench and the people he interacts with are mostly in their late 60s and 70s. They’ve been wildly successful professionally, but their careers are closing. They’re thinking about their legacy, and what they’re going to do next.

Marty is physically fit, but at 67 he’s not going to win any brawls or firefights—not when he’s up against pros, anyway. He thwarts the villains with his wits, not his fists or guns.

Like the heroes of classic detective stories, Marty attracts the ladies. He likes beautiful, intelligent women and they like him back. But here’s a thing that I like about “Red Team Blues:” The relationships are age-appropriate.

In detective stories about aging heroes, the heroes are often men in late middle age, and the women are at least 30 years younger. I find that kind of thing uncomfortable reading, because the writers are themselves often aging men, like their heroes. Reading those books can feel like the writers are sharing their own fetishes and insecurities in ways I would just as soon not be privy to. In “Red Team Blues,” Marty becomes involved with several beautiful, sexy women, and all but one of them are his age.

Additionally, Marty exhibits a refractory period that would be admirable in a man 20 years younger.

One of Cory’s great talents as a fiction writer is that he mixes compelling characterization with social issues. His “Little Brother” novels are about surveillance run amok. “Walkaway” and “Pirate Cinema” are about capitalism turned predatory. Like those novels, “Red Team Blues” is about social justice, but Cory never loses sight of the characters and the readers‘ need to care about the characters as people.

“Red Team Blues” is the first novel of a series. Chronologically, the series is unusual, in that each novel takes place before the previous novel. In “Red Team Blues,” we’re introduced to Marty at the end of his career; in follow-up novels in the pipeline, we’ll meet Marty at the midpoint of his career, and then at the very beginning, when both Marty and Silicon Valley are young.

And now for a brief tangent

Novelists who write series about the same characters over a course of decades have to decide what to do about the aging process.

Arthur Conan Doyle wrote over the course of decades about Holmes and Watson, and aged them more or less in real time. They are young men in their first adventure and old men in their last. Michael Chabon’s “The Final Solution” picks up Holmes’ life as a centenarian, with England on the verge of World War II; because of copyright, Chabon’s detective hero is never named, but he’s a retired detective, once famous, who now lives in the countryside and keeps bees.

Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin’s ages remain unchanged throughout the series. Nero is 52 and Archie is early 30s. In the first book, “Fer-de-Lance,” published 1934, they’re celebrating the end of Prohibition. In the final novel, “A Family Affair,” published 1975, Nero Wolfe, still 56 years old, is obsessed with the Watergate scandal.

In the first Robert B. Parker Spenser novel, “The Godwulf Manuscript,” published 1973, the detective gives his age as 37. He’s a Korean War veteran, an ex-cop who boxed professionally as a young man, and once fought Jersey Joe Wollcott. Spenser ages throughout the series, but slower than real-time; a fan developed a complex, tongue-in-cheek formula for determining Spenser’s age in any of the novels, and determines that in the 2006 “Dream Girl,” Spenser is 49-1/2, aging at a rate of slightly less than 1 year for every two that pass in the real universe. But Spenser’s aging isn’t linear; in some of the middle novels he talks about needing glasses to read and being less tolerant of coffee, and then Parker gives that up. Parker died in 2010, but Spenser lives on, in a series of novels written by Ace Atkins. (I’ve read a few—they’re good.)

And of course “MASH” was on the air for 11 years, while the Korean War lasted only three. The characters aged with the show. They had to; back then there was no CGI magic to make the actors appear younger.

I’m not aware of any series that runs backward in time, like the Marty Hench novels. So Cory scores a first there.

Disclaimer

Those of you who follow me here regularly know I’m a huge fan of Cory’s work; I link to him here often, sometimes once or twice a day. He’s also an old friend. But despite my flagrant conflict of interest, you can trust this review. If I didn’t like this book, I just wouldn’t say anything about it.

This is not a courtesy I extend solely to friends. I don’t like giving negative reviews of creative work anymore. Even if a book or movie is a stinker, a lot of people worked hard on it. Let somebody else do the job of steering you away from bad work; I’d rather shine a light on work you might enjoy.

Also, I’m fortunate enough to be friends with a few successful science fiction and fantasy writers, and I’ve found that how I feel about them personally has no bearing on how I feel about their work. I can like a writer just fine as a person, and not care for their work. In fact, that’s usually the case with my writer friends. And I can think of at least one writer whose work I’m very fond of, but who is unpleasant in person. Cory is a rarity for me—a writer who I like a great deal both as a writer and a person. I sincerely enjoyed “Red Team Blues,” and I hope you do too.

[gtiaindia]

Deep Dive Into The Professional Business Accountant Course For Success

Explore the path to success with a deep dive into the professional accounting course. Learn essential financial skills with our comprehensive financial accounting course. Discover the accountant course duration and start your career today!

[lionews]

Hi. I never really post here. I mainly just lurk to keep myself informed on what is going on in the community.

I think about a few days ago or so, I saw that someone made a post asking about a user I had commissioned for custom decor a while ago. I don't want to scroll down and find the post, so you might have to just take my word for it. I wanted to wait a bit longer to post this, but I feel I have waited long enough as is. You are free to ignore this post but if you do read, I respectfully ask of you to not harass/witchhunt the user mentioned or myself. I do not have a desire to "cancel" anyone. I am sure this individual is a decent person. There is absolutely no resentment I hold towards this individual either, just disappointment towards my own mistake. I am only posting this to inform others of my experience and hope it doesn't happen or has happened to anyone else. If you have trouble reading long paragraphs like I do, scroll down to where it says "Long Story Short" in bold.

Almost a year ago I had commissioned #105942, a decently known custom decor artist for two pieces of custom decor. One was going to be a mane+fluff, the other other was wing+tail attachments. One other was going to be commissioned as a Christmas gift for a friend but I had not sent a deposit since there was no response on if it would be accepted in game since the custom decor had pot leaves. I had to save up GB from sales so I could send the deposit and get the CD rocks. I had told her I would buy GB and send the deposit in a week, but due to my financial struggles, I chose not to buy the currency and I failed to communicate on that. I hold full accountability on my lack of communication. I did eventually send the deposit of 80GB (I swore it was 70GB but she said in messages it was 80GB) on 01/20/2023 and I recall purchasing both rocks on that same day, which is an additional 20GB (but that's on me). I had 50GB set aside in my bundles so I could pay her later once I was able to approve the first WIP of the pieces. That never came.

I can say in full confidence I failed on my part to communicate more with her. It takes two to have a conversation. I didn't want to bother her as I felt I would rush her in the art process and simply waited for her to reach out to me. We didn't speak again until I made myself message her on 07/17/2023 and she replied stating she was busy with her baby, which I completely understood. She said she would have an entire weekend to work on my commissions and would have an update by Saturday, which would've been on 07/22/2023. There was no update.

I didn't reach out again until 11/30/2023 when I decided to message her. I kept her situation, with her now having an entire life to care for now, in mind when asking for a refund. I said I couldn't quite remember if the amount was 70GB or not since I could not find the receipt in the "Sent Messages" folder on Lioden, which I assume was because she deleted the gift notification from her folder. She said that life was hectic with her baby at the time, which I understood, and stated it was 80GB she owed and would get it to me after she had sold a lion of hers. I agreed.

Messaged her again on the 12th of December to see how the sale was going. She said she was still waiting for it to sell.

Skip ahead to the 22nd of December, I reached out again and asked if her lion had sold. She said no, but she would be buying GB after Christmas and would issue the refund to me after the holidays and I told her it was no problem, since it was nearing closer to the holidays n' all. I understood she would be busy around then.

I reached out again on 01/03/2024 just wanting to peek in. No response.

Reached out again on 01/11/2024 asking if she was okay, since there had been no response, but I could see that she had posted an ad on Discord in a Lioden server she and I are both in and on a thread on Lioden. Of course, I was a tad peeved. I reached out to the Lioden mods, not expecting anything to be done since all conversations she and I had were over Discord and, as expected, nothing was done. I sat on it for bit, wanting to give her the benefit of the doubt. I haven't sent another message, but I know if I do I would be met with nothing anyway. I already know I will not be receiving a refund, but I don't care. I'm not sure if anyone else has had an experience like this with this user. I feel I may be the odd one out, since I haven't heard of any complains in regards to them.

Long Story Short

I commissioned #105942 for two pieces of custom decor almost a year ago. Sent the first deposit on Jan 20th 2023. Was never sent a wip/she never worked on it. Asked for a refund (80GB) in November and she said she would give me a refund after one of her lions sold. Messaged again on December 22nd 2023 asking if said lion sold and was told it hadn't but that she would be buying GB after the holidays so she could issue me the refund ASAP. Reached out on Jan 3rd 2024 to check in and was met with no response. Messaged again on Jan 11th 2024 but never received a reply back, despite seeing some activity on her part on Lioden and Discord.

Link to proof: https://imgur.com/a/fLMPn4n

If the link doesnt work, I'll try again.

.

[scotianostra]

Happy Birthday, Scottish radio deejay and broadcaster Ken Bruce, born February 2nd 1951 in Glasgow.

He was educated at, or at least attended, Hutchesons’ Boys’ Grammar School in Glasgow, where his achievements included being named “Laziest Boy in the School”. He did however, become Captain of Curling and took his team to the final of the Scottish schools Championships, such were the sports in Grammar schools!!

On leaving school, he studied accountancy for two years before discovering that he was not cut out to be a financial genius, or indeed any other kind, and became involved in a car hire company, rising from washing the cars to minor management.

In his spare time, he enjoyed hospital radio, and eventually talked his way into the BBC in Scotland, where he became an announcer. He read the news, introduced concerts and laughed, smoked and drank a great deal. He has, of course, improved his behaviour since then by giving up smoking.

His own daily show in Scotland followed, and he would have played out his days there had Radio 2 not come calling. The Saturday Late Show in 1984 was his first regular gig, and this led to the offer of the Breakfast Show the next year, when Terry Wogan departed for television. The year after that, he moved to the 9:30 slot, where he has remained, with just two intervening years in other slots, ever since. In 2019 it was announced that his show had had become the most popular radio programme in the UK, with 8.49m daily listeners.

In 1988, he became the radio commentator for the Eurovision Song Contest and has being doing that ever since too, although he is never quite sure why.

Ken loves proper live music though, being a failed drummer, and has a special soft spot for orchestral concerts, which is why he is delighted to have been involved with Friday Night Is Music Night for over ten years.

He has avoided the telly over the years, finding it all a bit frenetic, and also with a feeling that the viewing public are not quite ready for him; but he is happy to go on Countdown every so often because it is more like radio - no-one rushes around pretending it’s important.

He has been married three times and has six children, so is an obvious descendant of Robert The Bruce, whose experiences with the spider led him to “try, try, try again.”

When I posted about Ken in 2022 he had recently commented that he was content to remain at Radio 2 until the call comes to restore him to his rightful place on the Throne Of Scotland, well he hasn't retaken the crown, he did however quit the BBC in April last year, since then he has been on the commefcial station Greatest Hits Radio. Just yesterday there were stories that he is going from strength to strenght there, and has seen his audience grow to 3.8m, as his old station continues to lose listeners. Greatest Hits Radio, in large part thanks to Bruce’s success, has seen a large jump in its average audience over the last 12 months, up 70% from 4 million to 6.8 million

Someone once mentioned Ken looked a bit like the late Sean Connery, although Ken says it was because he impersonated him once, anyway, he briefly got to meet “Big Tam”, Ken says

“He sauntered up to me with a faint smile on his face and said: ‘I hear you think you look like me.’ I muttered awkwardly: 'Oh well, sometimes on one of my good days … ’ To which Sean responded: 'And one of my bad ones.’ He walked away, seemingly amused, but nowhere near as amused as my colleagues.”

[wordsmithic]

What fascinated you to combine both Greek and Persian mythology?

Seems such an interesting setting and to be truthful I don't remember any ya book having a Persian "retelling" mythology. Asia minor is being misrepresented and in literature at least it's used as a medieval setting mostly looking like Aladdin without the magic 😅 or has the stereotypes of modern day slightly diminishing the countries.

Which is a shame because persian culture was as amazing like ancient Greece. It had epics in literature and rich mythology and gods.

Hello! Thank you so much for the ask!! First I need to clarify that my book is not a YA; The two MCs are a Financial Accountant in her late twenties and a literal Dad who is more than two thousand years old 😁 For those who don't know, the setting is our modern era.

This Dad, Raphael's character, is what made me consider adding Persian culture. Sometimes characters pop into your head a certain way. His modern name would be Raphael either way because this Semitic name is widespread or recognizable in the parts of the world he travels and he wants to be a "chameleon" (as I write in the book). His personality also appeared set and fixed in my mind.

I wanted Raphael to have a big influence and ancient presence in human societies. Such prominent civilizations were first developed in antiquity near the fertile crescent of the near east. In the beginning, I was thinking that perhaps Raphael would be an Assyrian but when I was researching a bit and got introduced to Persian culture I realized Raphael IS the definition of a Persian man 😂

While there are - of course! - so many types of people within an ethnicity and people are people everywhere, I felt the character has a set of traits that were more representative of the outlook of the Persian culture. His type of savviness, his love of poetry and romanticism, his type of cosmopolitan attitude, his type of drama, the type of luxury he loves, his type of tenderness towards his lovers and his children, his neverending quest for progressive change which coexists with certain traditional values (as I know them in Greece), are all things that I could envision in an immortal who lived different eras of the Persian history.

In the book there are many different Persian characters. Raphael just happened to fit a certain mold from the beginning. The more Persian content I saw, the more I felt he could fit there. I also got to write hints or references in the story about Persian mythology and Persian epics, which was great!

Persian culture is a delight to explore because it has sooo much in common with Greek culture (words, customs, attitudes)! It's like learning more things about your cousin. I could describe Greeks as "depressed, unhinged Persians who do 20% less tarof and 80% less poetry" 😂 (at least North Greeks)

[strzzeka]

OneOff

In December 2021, I published Thirstysomething, a story about two guys who started a bar where the entire staff are arm amputees and wear hooks. This is the middle story of a trilogy. OneOff is their second bar, not far away from Thirstysomething, where all the staff wear peg legs. Things soon get out of hand as stump jealousy raises its inevitable head and most of the bar staff end up teetering about on two pegs.

legbry.blogspot.com/2023/02/oneoff-sequel-to-thirstysomething-dec.html

As always, here is a sample.

Conrad started early and drove the three hundred kilometres to Philip Lee’s home and studio.

            – How good to see you again, Conrad! Welcome. Do come around to our atelier. The peg legs are packed ready for transport. I was expecting you to request a courier delivery.

            – Well, apart from wanting to finalize our financial transaction together, there is something I would like to discuss with you which you hinted at on our first visit.

            – Very well. Let’s go inside and James can place the package in your car. James! Would you take the peg legs to Mr Colby’s car?

            – Certainly, sir.

            – Oh, how officious he is! Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea?

            – A mug of tea would be very welcome.

            – I’ll see to it. Shall we go into the sitting room or will this be suitable?

            – The kitchen’s fine. Now first things first. How would you prefer the payment to be made?

            – Bank transfer to my company account would be perfect.

            – Very good.

Conrad activated his banking app and made the transfer, showing Lee the debit.

            – Thank you very much.

He tottered to the lower kitchen counter and fussed with a teapot. He brought over two stoneware mugs and returned for the tea.

            – What else was it you wanted to discuss? More sculpting work for me?

            – No, not yet at least. I am sure there will be more in future if you are willing to carry it out. No, I want to talk with you about your ex-army surgeon contact. More precisely, I would like to know if he would be willing to perform two disarticulations of my legs.

            – Good heavens above, that is rather drastic, don’t you think?

            – My man Colin has two disarts and uses a torso socket with stubby legs and crutches. He appears to me to be the epitome of eroticism. I wish to emulate him. I find my long thigh stumps to be a source of continual dissatisfaction and I wish to be rid of them as soon as possible.

            – I see. It seems odd to me that you should dislike having such long stumps but everyone to his own. I have your details, of course, and I shall forward them to my friend. He will certainly let you know if he is available for the operation in the near future and you will be able to work out a timetable between yourselves.

            – Thank you very much. I myself have my hands full, so to speak, for the next few weeks as we start our new bistro but I hope that I will be approaching my final body shape by late summer. I may yet decide to forgo my left arm to make it symmetrical with my right stump.

            – You would be a bilateral upper arm amputee using split hooks and mechanical elbows and sitting in a torso socket with peg arms for mobility.

            – Exactly. And I would like you to make two torso sockets with matching peg arms for us. Which reminds me, I have brought your scanner back. It’s in the car.

            – Oh good. Thank you.

            – All this is a secret from Colin, by the way. It’s not that he wouldn’t approve but I want to surprise him.

            – I understand. I shall be discrete and bear your secret in mind when I communicate with you.

            – Thank you for your hospitality. I must be off now in order to be back before opening hours.

            – Yes, of course. Please remember me to Colin. Goodbye, Conrad.

Conrad stumped over to his car, checked that the peg legs were stashed securely and removed his stubbies and arm prostheses. The return journey would be stump-powered.

[mindthetimes]

Flows and Phones

The mobile phone-a seemingly necessary weapon against mass destruction and financial attainability. That is quite the understatement, for behind the screens, the circular shaped cameras that are floating, almost as though they are in their separate world, lies a secret. That secret is, of course, not something completely susceptible to, or prone to misdemeanor and acts of accordance to, well, what the mobile phone is capable of, but merely an act of brands and their co-interaction with the metal parts that are meticulously coinciding to form the device that creates, well, what we know as the good life.

What is this life that one speaks of? Social interactions, penned within thoughts that make oneth a human being, no doubt. I'm not criticizing it in particular, but I'm trying to lead that thought towards our disconnect with the rest of the world that was evident in the previous years, and depending on your current state, from society as a whole.

Merely a matter of heat waves and fury, it seems, as we are coinciding to being lead towards personal accountability towards digital literacy, and making it a "you" problem, and letting the algorithms be the judge of that, it seems the artificial intelligence that we give a salary to with our time and usage, is the peak form of what this all entails, the light at the end of the tunnel. And, well, nothing's wrong with that, I presume.

Not until the artificial intelligence goes rogue. And that's kind of what cybersecurity as a profession is concerned of mostly. Making sure the A.I. follows its contract, right? Like, what if it thinks I'm not human? Wait, am I okay for thinking that? Or even writing that down? And posting about it here? Heavily sus.

Well, people would say we're not in 2020 anymore, playing Among Us, and it has been many a turn since those times of fragility and hiding. But I'm not one to talk about that-I'm here for phones, and well, who they are as devices in our lives. Surely, they're not...living creatures, right? Because I swear I can hear the machine whirring and humming, and what it hopes to convey. (I'm definitely talking about the democratic impact of supply and demand here, and what the purchaser chooses to bring home as their mobile device, and how that maps out the future...)

Ten years from now, or just the near future, what would phones look like in conjunction with our daily lives?

7-inch phones. Phones that look like tablets, or a move towards phablets, where screen is king. More multitasking. More cross-eyed folks. Sounds good to me.

A new OS joins the competition. Step aside, Android and iOS, we've got something huge coming and it's no longer a bi-pedaled cycle.

Sharp corners. 'Nuff said.

Bold text. I'm not a full-time tech enthusiast, I'm speaking from personal experience on my phone usage through the years, which I hope has not been a thorough waste…

This is getting ridiculous. I'm not supposed to be talking about phones like this…help me…

Being a phone user still does not sit well with me, so... the PC is there for a specific reason. I'm currently sporting a Xiaomi Redmi 13, which I did not thoroughly assess before making the purchase, but the jump from the Xiaomi Pocophone F1 seems to be...great, as far as I know. I don't...want to divulge into further details *cough* no custom ROM support yet *cough* but it's too early for things like that. En garde, carpe diem! En garde, carpe momentum! Let the...no.