#i listened to liability on repeat to make this post and i now have Too Many feelings about this concept

[matcha-lemonade-enthusiast]

i’m going to give a comprehensive list of songs that hit way too hard for me or that i cry to, because im little lonely (only child syndrome) and have no one else to tell 😁.

Liability by Lorde

i so vividly remember listening to this song for the first time, and it was like someone put how i felt every single fucking day into a song. i just felt like a huge burden to everyone and everything. especially since i had to whole sad clown thing going on (being the life of the party and silly until i had to be apart from anything that happily distracted me). so many nights were spent laying on the ground and staring at the ceiling, or sobbing in a dark closet to that song. thanks lorde 😍! (/s)

Stay by Post Malone

by far one of the most embarrassing songs on this list 😭. sorry unfortunately i dabble in hating mainstream artists (particularly yt men). however, an old friend of mine showed me this song as one of her fave sad songs to cry to, and i was like thanks im stealing this for my playlist 😁. once again just a song that put my thoughts into words (omg i love art), and i really just needed someone to hug me and tell me everything would be okay. also strangely, it’s a great song for if you’ve had a rocky relationship with your mom or anyone you love so deeply you’d do anything for but shit happens and you both fumble the ball, so now everyone is pissed off. like post simultaneously asking someone to (hopefully figuratively)put their cigarette out on his face, but also stick around for him and love him and tell him everything is okay? yeah real.

I’m Not A Mountain by Sarah Kinsley

fully almost cried when i saw/heard this live, because Sarah almost cried. *defeated* yeah. just another lonely girl who can’t set a boundary to save her life so she runs from her problems and has a sharp tongue song. i’ve said things that i didn’t mean out of anger and so deeply regret because i caused a friendship to end. i have people i (sort of) want a relationship with that i can’t get back because i’ve learned too much and im living in the past in some ways (rightfully so imo) (yes im contradicting myself ik). but yeah sometimes i wish i was a mountain too.

Last Time We Never Meet Again by Sarah Kinsley

sarah kinsley you will always be famous.

but fr this song was simultaneously a swift kick to the gut, but also a breath of fresh air. i was fresh off of calling it quits with a guy (like a month lol), and i had a lot of firsts with him (first serious relationship, first music festival, first time traveling without family, etc) not s*x though someone else beat him to it lmao.) so basically i was ranting to my mom and friends about him and everything i didn’t like that he did, because everything around me reminded me of him and it PISSED ME OFF to no end. then this album (Escaper) dropped (thank god), and once again this song was just everything i felt. like i can’t stand you, i never want to see you again, but hope everything works out how you want it to (im not a monster guys cmon). he called me tho like last week to make small talk and then ask me questions about his personality and stuff. so then that re-pissed me off bc i deleted his number while i was drunk on vacation, and i don’t follow him on anything anymore like pls take a hint.

Casual by Chappell Roan

self-explanatory.

Magnolia by Laufey

let me preface this by being a butthole and let everyone know how cool i am, because i was into laufey before she was uber famous. like im talking tickets to her show were $30. anyways!

basically a girl strung me along, and then left me for a mid yt man 😁. this song was there for me when i was too embarrassed to tell my friends what happened. didn’t cry, but definitely gazed out of my window on a rainy day and listened to the song on repeat for an hour or two (yes this is a part of my villain origin story) (yes i know im a terrible villain fr, more sad and lazy than vengeful)

Baby by Brittany Howard

feeling like i wasn’t enough and didn’t measure up (especially romantically)

Sullen Girl by Fiona Apple

my mom actually played an old fiona apple cd for me while we packed up our house to move. this song really stuck with me bc that whole summer (‘22) was a blur. the second half of the song genuinely sent me into shock because it gave me war flashbacks of childhood trauma that i try to repress 😍. then my mom told me, she pictured me as the sullen girl during my lowest moments and i cried and we hugged.

Cellophane by FKA Twigs

self-explanatory. especially if you’ve seen anania’s tiktoks to this song (doing mundane tasks, deadpan thousand yard stare, and this song blaring). i feel the same way girl, me too. also that music video is literally stunning.

Prey by The Neighborhood

ahhh an old classic. honestly the whole Wiped Out! album is good to cry to but this is a personal favorite. sobbed for two hours then fell asleep because why not. i felt like a waste of space that couldn’t do anything right (i still feel like that sometimes). you are so right jesse rutherford i do feel like something is wrong (i have extreme anxiety, everything feels off and i will freak out at any moment) i feel like prey (i will be chastised and ostracized the moment i do something wrong, and everyone is watching, also i was unmedicated).

okay besties this was a really short little playlist and long thoughts i randomly wanted to get out. thanks for letting me be annoying and reading 😍 (i say to my 5 followers, 2 of which are bots)

[jaskierisbi]

okay but songfic for liability (lorde) with jaskier feeling useless in a keep full of strong witchers and sorceresses and whatever the fuck ciri is

he’s just a bard totally not human either but that’s another post, an artist, using sarcasm and humor to get by in a world of danger and death

LIKE GUYS

They say, "You're a little much for me || You're a liability || You're a little much for me" || So they pull back, make other plans || I understand, I'm a liability

The truth is I am a toy that people enjoy || 'Til all of the tricks don't work anymore || And then they are bored of me

like, not to mention how fucked up his mental state is right now???

like he goes from singing all too well (jaskier’s version) to helping his ex-nemesis-new-best-friend escape the country to being tortured for information about his ex best friend (the man that he loved for over 20 years) to being saved by yen, to trying to save her, to being imprisoned, to seeing geralt again, to seeing yen almost sacrifice ciri, to seeing geralt hold his sword at yen’s throat, to (finally) going to kaer morhen, to witnessing a shit ton of witchers be killed, to seeing yen slit her wrists, to her geralt and ciri disappearing ALL WITHIN A FEW DAYS

we literally saw him sleeping with a bottle of alcohol when yen came into his room. he’s obviously Not Okay

and now he’s an outsider in this cold and unfamiliar place. geralt and yen are with ciri, the witchers have each other, so where does he fit in? why is he there?

maybe he tries to leave in the cover of night (because apparently kaer morhen is a lot easier to access than literally ALL OF US thought???), or maybe he stays and is subdued and muted because he’s afraid of being a bother or being kicked out. maybe he keeps to himself, pulls into himself.

he’s always been a little too much for everyone. people always liked him until they didn’t. yes, geralt apologized, and he does get why his friend lashed out, but that doesn’t take the hurt away. that the man he loved considered his best friend for over twenty years was tired of him too

he doesn’t want to be thrown aside again. he doesn’t think he can survive it. he knows what he is: weak, silly, useless. a liability. but he’s weak and wanting, and yearns for a place somewhere in this makeshift family

anyways then yen notices it and there’s softness there because she knows what it’s like to feel like the weak and useless one and they’re something now, and she wants to comfort him because she cares about him and he cares about her

geralt doesn’t notice, but he does notice when yen and jaskier become a Unit. when they talk softly and share touches and give each other meaningful looks. (the cognitive dissonance of seeing them be enemies to whatever this is is VERY real)

idk how it ends, probably with an ot3 and plenty of comfort for the hurt

…anyways now I kinda want to write this 👀👀👀

[volturialice]

me: i’m not gonna write any more of the drugged!human alice au

also me:

it has a title now too I guess. posting in a huge rush because I was supposed to be out the door ten minutes ago, so it’s even more unbeta’ed than usual. oh well

2,180 words

warnings: drugs, discussion of date rape, vomiting

rating: T

pairings: jalice

part 1 here

perihelion 2/?

It’s hard to tell visions from dreams. Sometimes, Alice doesn’t know which is which until a vision is coming true right in front of her, and then it’s like, okay, too late to do anything about this now. It means all of her dreams are high stakes—any nightmare could become a life-ruining disaster, any good dream could be made or unmade real by some hidden catalyst she doesn’t know about. She’s pretty sure she almost bombed the PSAT because she didn’t wear the blue top she had on in the dream where she scored a 189.

But her inability to tell the difference was never that big of a deal until Forks—until she started dreaming about the Cullens, and Jasper specifically. She wishes she could tell which of the Jasper dreams are real. They’re just so…well, horny. If Alice knew they were visions, and not her subconscious making a complete, desperate idiot of itself, she could be less embarrassed about the whole thing.

Tonight she dreams of Jasper and Rosalie in a room with green walls and shiny wood floors. They’re different in the dream, somehow—more still. Rosalie doesn’t sit. Jasper doesn’t blink.

Between them, an open doorway gapes into darkness. Just visible in the room beyond is the silhouette of a prone figure on a bed, unmoving. They watch it for an uncomfortable amount of time before Rosalie speaks.

“If she were any other human, I would have hunted you for sport, you know.”

“I know,” says Jasper, sounding impossibly old and tired.

“I would be off absolutely wrecking your shit right now, and then I would take care of the liability, because that’s how it works in this family. But she’s…this.” Rosalie grimaces, gesturing to the figure on the bed. “And why was it you told us you were following her, again? To ‘ensure her silence?’ Right,” she scoffs, evidently too disgusted with Jasper to keep looking at him.

“She hasn’t said anything. She won’t.”

“No, she won’t, because you’ll stop her at all costs, will you?”

Jasper’s face doesn’t betray the slightest twitch, but his eyes harden almost imperceptibly. “Not that way.”

Rosalie whirls back around. “You were supposed to be the one person I could count on to do what’s necessary! And now you’re telling me you won’t? Listen to yourself!”

Jasper throws up his hands. “Why are you here, then, Rose? Why are you helping her?”

“I’m helping you, you jackass! I know you all think I’m this narcissistic bitch, but I’m not…not inhumane, okay?” Rosalie levels a contemptuous glance at him, then looks away. “I don’t want some girl to be date-raped, however dangerous she is. And I’m not about to sit by and watch you make a complete mess of things.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence, but I think that ship may have sailed,” grumbles Jasper.

“I’ll say. I drive up and she’s going on about how you’re stalking her and claiming you’re dating? She should have been killed the moment she figured out what we were, but instead you’re following her around protecting her because of some bizarre psychic connection she claims you have? Make it make sense, Jasper.”

“Edward confirmed her ability is real.”

“Great, so she’s a bigger freak than us. That makes it all ok,” snaps Rosalie, dripping with sarcasm. “Wonderful to know your abysmal taste in women hasn’t altered after all these years.”

Jasper ignores both the jab and the implication. “Earlier you made it sound like you were on her side.”

“I just think you ought to admit what’s really going on here. You won’t let us kill her—fine. It’s utterly irresponsible and stupid, but I can accept that. But it’s not like we can allow her to keep existing out there as a human, knowing what she knows.”

Jasper barks out a humorless, incredulous laugh. “Are you advocating that we should have Carlisle change her? You, Rosalie Hale, want to ‘take away her humanity?’”

Rosalie shrugs. “I’m not saying she wouldn’t be better off dead. But she’s not a very good human, is she? I gather she’s not exactly thriving. They have to pump her full of drugs just to keep her functional, and her human peers still think she’s insane. Be realistic. Her life was over the moment she learned the truth about us.”

Jasper’s only response is a slow shake of his head, like he still can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Rosalie’s eyes narrow. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about changing her. Don’t tell me it wasn’t your first thought, when you realized you didn’t want her dead. I may not be the mind reader in the family, but I know that’s a lie.”

It takes Jasper a beat too long to answer. “Of course I’ve thought about it.”

“Not enough, apparently. Right now, we’re in as much danger as she is. If she were one of us…well, her life is already ruined anyway. At least then we’d have her oh-so-special ability on our side.  Surely you can see the strategic advantage,” Rosalie rebukes. “Better Carlisle changes her than the Volturi. Has it occurred to you that if they ever find out she exists, the decision will be taken right out of your hands?”

“It’s not in my hands.”

Rosalie rolls her eyes again. “Hers, then.”

He sighs. “The possibility did occur to me.”

“You think she wants to learn Italian and live in a sewer? Eat tourists?”

“I have no idea what she wants.”

Rosalie laughs. “Right, because she’s playing it so close to the vest. She called you a simp. Do you know what that means?”

“We’re not talking about this.”

“Funny how you never want to confide in anyone, yet here we are.”

Jasper’s look says that isn’t what’s going on here, but he doesn’t respond. They settle back into tense silence.

“What are you going to do about the man? The one who drugged her?” asks Rosalie after a while.

“Eliminate him. Quietly.”

Rosalie nods. “Carlisle won’t like it.”

“He doesn’t have to.”

“Can you actually do it, though? Without slipping?”

Jasper doesn’t answer, which is an answer in itself.

“I could do it.” Rosalie’s voice is quiet.

“It’s not your problem.”

“Exactly,” Rosalie insists. “It wouldn’t be a problem for me. If you slip…well, we may not have to move, but you won’t be able to come back to school for months. Going to trust the rest of us to babysit your human?”

“I won’t slip,” says Jasper, but for the first time, he sounds uncertain.

Alice’s dream chooses this moment to blur and shift. Jasper and Rosalie melt away, voices distorting until they’re drowned out by other voices, other sounds and images that crowd in and pull at her, like being tossed around in a rough ocean. They come one after another, too fast to make sense of them—muddy tires, a burst of cut-off music, a slow, dark ooze crawling over pavement, an echoing splash. Familiar red eyes, looking down at her.

Then Alice is awake, and the eyes looking down at her are black. Wait, no. There are no eyes looking down at her. It must have been part of the dream.

She’s lying on something soft—a bed. Above her is a white ceiling. Her head throbs with a confused, cotton-y ache, and her mouth tastes disgusting.

What the hell happened? Alice isn’t great at piecing together chronological sequences at the best of times. She remembers being in Port Angeles…splitting up with Bella in order to meet her friends from the art show at a bar, and then…people talking, her legs sticking to the green leather barstool.  The lights getting blurry around the edges, the cool, slippery feel of condensation from the glass in her hand, and…oh. Oh, shit. Jasper.

Jasper had been there. The last thing she can recall is Jasper approaching, his face twisted in rage so murderous that she’d thought, huh, I guess he really is a vampire.

She rolls over and—speak of the devil—there he is, standing kind of a weird distance away, halfway between the bed and the door. He looks far less murderous than she remembers.

“Good morning,” she croaks, struggling into a sitting position. “Um. Where the hell am I?”

“Port Townsend,” says Jasper, which means absolutely nothing to her. She’s only been in Forks a few months—is she seriously supposed to know Washington geography?

To Alice’s immense relief, she’s still fully clothed. She does a surreptitious check to make sure her boobs aren’t falling out of her shirt, and when she looks back up there’s a glass of water in front of her face. She takes it and chugs the whole thing down in a few gulps. Why does she feel so hungover? She had only had, like, two drinks last night. Certainly not enough to make her black out and forget the whole evening. No, this big, empty gap in her memory feels more like when they used to drug her at the hospital. In fact, it feels exactly like that.

Jasper takes the empty glass from her and hands her another full one. He’s still watching her in a way that makes her want to squirm and fidget. Why had he been so angry last night?

She chugs the second glass of water while her sluggish brain tries to add it all up. Angry Jasper plus no memory plus waking up in a bed in a strange place, equals…yikes. Maybe she shouldn’t be drinking whatever he hands her.

“Uh,” she taps her fingers against the empty glass, “why do I feel like I’ve been roofied?”

“Because you were. Here,” says Jasper, handing her something else. Her own phone, somehow fully charged. One new voicemail, from…herself.

Future Alice, this is Past Alice. You’re probably pretty freaked out right now, but it’s okay! Jasper didn’t drug you. I repeat, Jasper did not drug you. Be nice to Rosalie; she’s there to help. Now put the phone down, you’re about to hurl. Bye!

Alice has just enough time to think, Rosalie? before a violent wave of nausea hits and she’s throwing up into the waste bin that appears in front of her face. “Ugh,” says the person holding it, and sure enough, there’s Rosalie.

There’s something extra humiliating about throwing up in front of two vampires, one of whom she kind of has a thing with and the other of whom is his super-hot sister who hates her. Thankfully, her stomach was empty except for the two glasses of water.

Rosalie blurs out of the room—damn, she’s fast—and reappears without the waste bin. It’s weird being on the bed while Rosalie and Jasper are standing, so Alice gets to her feet, already feeling way better. “Whose house is this?” she asks.

“Mine,” says Rosalie, practically shooting laser beams of resentment from her eyes.

“You wouldn’t let us take you home or to the hospital,” explains Jasper. “This is Rosalie and Emmett’s beach cottage.”

“Cottage” seems like the wrong word for this place, now that Alice gets a look at it. It has eight- or nine-foot ceilings and the view out the window—a vast, gray body of water that might be the ocean or some kind of bay—looks like a default computer desktop.

“Oh. So, then…someone else drugged me last night?” She tries to remember who she was talking to before Jasper came over, but she’d talked to so many people at the bar that they all kind of blur together in her head.

Jasper nods.

“Like we’d ever need to drug you,” says Rosalie. Oh, right. Vampires.

“So you just…watched me sleep?”

“Yeah, it was riveting. I had no idea snoring like a lawnmower was a side effect of rohypnol.”

So Alice was supposed to be nice to Rosalie, huh? Easier said than fucking done.

Something pushes at the back of her mind—Rosalie and Jasper watching her sleep. She, Alice, had watched them watching her sleep—from outside her own body. A vision, then, and not a dream.

She tries to remember the rest of it on the drive back to Forks, staring out the back window of Rosalie’s BMW like a kid with the two vampires up front. There had been something else in the vision, something besides the disjointed set of images. Jasper and Rosalie had talked about her, about whether or not she should be a vampire. She sneaks a glance at Jasper in the car mirror, at his downcast, shadowed eyes. Had he ever actually said whether he wanted Alice to be a vampire or not?

His eyes snap up to meet hers in the mirror, so suddenly she almost jumps. Alice looks away, guilty for no real reason. The vision, think about the vision.

There had been something else in it: a plan. They were going to…something. Something about slipping, something Rosalie thought she could do better than Jasper…

Right. They were going to kill someone.

.

.

rosalie @ human bella: noooo don’t become a vampire you’re so fertile aha

rosalie @ human alice: yeah nobody’s impregnating this little gremlin. bite away

[bronte-deserves-better]

What is UP, fuckers? Today I present to you: 12.5k words of pure self-indulgence by Auriel, posted by request of my discord friends who i've been bothering about this fic for like a week. Massive shoutout to y'all for tolerating me i have NO idea how you do it.

Title: Can’t find my way home (but it’s through you)

Wordcount: 12834

Warnings: flashbacks, panic attack (neither of those are from the POV character though), misgendering, injury, kidnapping, not too-graphic torture, brief mention of hospitals, mentioned abuse, annnnnd I think that's all.

I’ll link the AO3 in a reblog, but since I know AO3 is blocked for some people I’m also putting it here.

"How are we supposed to get to him?" Gisela was practically snarling in frustration as she paced. "Bronte is a cornerstone of the Council- and seemingly as unbreakable as one!"

"You're the people person, not me," Vespera reminded dryly. "I'm not the master of manipulation. Experimentation is my field."

"Well, fuck." Gisela flopped in a chair next to the other. "I was so certain Fintan was what would cause him to fall apart. Fintan turning against him, Fintan's supposed 'death', and then of course that dramatic reveal at the announcement."

"Fintan does have style, I must admit."

"He does. But even he hasn't been able to touch Bronte. Bronte barely even hesitated to speak against Fintan!"

Vespera sighed. "Gisela, I have no idea why you're telling all this to me."

"I'm brainstorming. Shut up."

"Brainstorm away, then."

"Right." Gisela resumed her pacing. "We had a weakness- we had his brother. But Fintan's starting to lose the will to fight him any longer, which is a dangerous liability. Not to mention that Fintan doesn't seem to be able to hurt him."

"I don't see why we can't just torture him," Vespera said, sounding bored.

Gisela glared at her. "In order to torture him, we'd have to kidnap him, Vespera."

"That can be arranged, you know."

"I know. But it's easier to break him from a distance. Or to..." She trailed off.

"To what?"

"Oralie!"

Vespera frowned. "What about Councillor Oralie?"

"Oralie is how we get to Bronte. You see, Vespera, from what Fintan has told me, I've been able to discern that Bronte fancies himself a protector. You can see it in his votes on the Council, too, always out to protect as many people as he can. Now what better way to crush his spirit than make him very aware of the fact that he cannot protect one of the people he cares about most?"

“Clever. And cruel. I like it.”

-

The announcement had come without warning, the elves of the Lost Cities assembling in Eternalia to hear some sort of Council plan to do something or other with the registry. Sophie hadn’t really been listening, and now she kinda regretted that since she was staring off into space when the first black-cloaked Neverseen members glittered into view.

“Shit,” Grady hissed.

“Language,” Edaline hissed.

Sophie stared at the Neverseen members. “Fuck.”

Everyone seemed to move at once, rushing to confront them. Even the Council made a move, Bronte raising his hands in a familiar gesture that Sophie knew meant he was preparing his inflicting, while some of the others rushed forward. And when all the chaos cleared, the duo of Neverseen members were levitating in the air, holding Oralie between them. Sophie watched as one of them shook back her hood, revealing Lady Gisela.

“Good evening, Councillors.”

Bronte, unsurprisingly, was the first to act, surging forward with a call of "Oralie!"

"Take a step closer and she dies," Gisela hissed, digging the knife she was holding a little further into Oralie's neck. "We wouldn't want that to happen, now would we, Miss Pyren?"

"My name is Bronte," Bronte spat, but he took a step back.

"Good."

"What do you want with Oralie?" Emery demanded.

"She's the kindest of us," Bronte agreed with a glare that could shatter steel. "Leave her alone."

Gisela threw back her head and laughed. "You want to know what I want with your pretty colleague here? Well, Pyren, I want to show you how absolutely and utterly powerless you are. Look at you. You're an ancient, a wielder of one of the most dangerous abilities in our world, and a Councillor for so long most people can't even remember when you were appointed. And yet you can do nothing to save your very best friend."

"Don't listen to her," Oralie pleaded. Sophie was close enough to discern genuine terror on her face. "She's just trying to get in your head."

"Silence!" Gisela slashed the knife lightly down the side of Oralie's throat, and Sophie watched blood begin to bead there. "You will say nothing, you pathetic excuse for a Councillor."

Oralie went silent at that, but her eyes blazed with defiance.

"You see?" Gisela directed a smirk at Bronte. "This is what happens when you're not careful enough with the people you love...people will take them away from you, Miss Pyren."

Sophie watched Bronte's hands clench and unclench helplessly. "Don't call me that."

"What, your last name? You want to keep your heritage a secret? You always said you were proud to be a Pyren, even when pyrokinesis was banned."

"No-"

Gisela smirked again and slashed a second line on Oralie's throat, causing the empath to hiss in pain. "I don't suppose anyone else feels like being stupid and trying to stand against me? You say this ancient is the strongest of you...but she can't even save her best friend."

"Stop calling him tha-" Oralie was cut off by a slap across the face from the other hooded figure, who Sophie recognized as Vespera.

"Stop your uppity commentary. Gisela and I will be leaving shortly, seeing as none of you have anything interesting to say."

Sophie could see a few tears forming in Oralie's eyes as she silently raised a hand to the red mark on her cheek.

"My associate is correct." Gisela's voice was triumphant. "It is time we leave- and show all of you just how weak your Councillors truly are." 

Vespera raised a crystal to the light. The elves of the plaza scattered. Gisela stepped into the beam with Oralie. The Council and bodyguards rushed to try and stop her. Sophie stood paralyzed. And above it all, a single, desperate scream rose.

"Oralie!"

The silence left in its wake was devastating, broken only by a soft, shuddering sob. Sophie turned to see Bronte's face crumple, tears dripping down his cheeks. Meanwhile, the rest of the Council just stood and stared awkwardly. 

Sophie was about to go running on stage herself when Emery quietly stepped out of the line, extending an arm and pulling Bronte into an embrace. To everyone's surprise, the ancient Councillor put up no resistance, instead burying his face in Emery's shoulder as his small frame shook. 

"We will find Councillor Oralie, and we will bring everyone responsible for this to justice," Emery addressed the crowd. "The Neverseen will not get away with this. In the meantime, we ask that everyone return home and remain calm, and the eleven of us will rule provisionally."

"What does that mean?" Sophie whispered to Grady.

"Technically, the Council isn't allowed to act on anything without all twelve of them," Grady whispered back. "It's called provisional rule when an incomplete Council takes action in urgent situations."

"Oh."

Elves were starting to leave, murmurs abounding as people reached for home crystals or pathfinders. Sophie decided not to follow the rest, instead grabbing her parent's hands and dragging them through the crowd towards the Council. All eleven remaining Councillors had now broken rank, the rest surrounding Bronte and Emery with varying levels of helpfulness. 

"There there," She heard Clarette say as they got closer. "We'll do perfectly fine at hunting those motherfucking orc-faced sons of dipshits down."

"What did you just say?" Alina demanded.

Clarette repeated the sentence, and Sophie realized she had been speaking in dwarven before as the rest of the Council sputtered. Bronte was the only one who didn't react at all, completely motionless in Emery's arms. 

"Hey," Terik said quietly, and it took a moment for Sophie to realize he was talking to her.

She waved awkwardly. "Hi, I guess."

"Did you need something?"

“I- no, I just wanted to...” Sophie trailed off. What did she want? “I wanted to talk about what just happened and check on the Council.”

“Well, we’re-“ Terik shot a glance over his shoulder to where Clarette seemed to be violently cussing out the Neverseen in multiple languages as Liora patted Bronte on the shoulder. “Well, arguably not fine, but we’ll solve it.”

“The Council will find the kidnappers and bring them to justice,” Emery agreed. Both of his arms were now wrapped around Bronte, who was still silent.

“Yeah, I mean, but I can help, right? I’m the leader of Team Valiant.”

“This is a matter for the Council.”

Sophie refused to give up so easily. “Well I also wanted to check on Bronte. He’s my inflicting mentor, and one of my points of contact on the Council.” 

“I’m sure Bronte will be fine,” Terik said, but he didn’t sound convinced. 

His words were made even less reassuring by the fact that the short Councillor was shaking and didn’t bother to make his own statement. 

“Bronte?” Sophie asked.

Nothing.

“Bronte?” 

He didn’t even look over at her.

“Bronte,” she tried one more time.

Bronte was still silent, and Emery sighed softly. “He’ll be okay, Sophie. We’ll get Oralie back, and in the meantime, we can certainly rely on his stubbornness.”

“Promise me you won’t let anything bad happen?” Sophie was aware she sounded childish, but some things were more important than her pride.

“Promise,” Emery told her, and she wanted to believe him. “Bronte‘s more than capable of physically defending himself, and as for the rest...well, Councillors support each other.”

"No we don't," Ramira muttered.

"Ramira!" The rest said in unison.

"I think we're going to leave you guys," Grady decided. "Come on, kiddo. Let's go home."

Sophie didn't have the energy to protest.

-

Meanwhile, in the Neverseen hideout, Oralie, Gisela, and Vespera had just shimmered into view, only to be met with a furious Fintan. 

He stalked towards them with murderous intent on his face, and Oralie flinched back. 

"GISELA-"

"Fintan, what in the world are you so worked up about?"

"You kidnapped Oralie? Without TELLING me??" Fintan was practically snarling. "You fucking idiots! What the fuck do you expect kidnapping Oralie to get you?!?"

"You see, my dear Fintan, there is such a thing as 'using others to strike at your true target'," Gisela sighed.

"And who the fuck are you trying to strike at? Sophie Foster? There are far more effective ways to do that!"

Gisela rolled her eyes. "Why would we kidnap Oralie to get at Sophie? No, we're trying to get at your sister."

"I don't have a sister."

"You know who I meant."

Oralie felt like throwing up at the misgendering, but she didn't dare say anything with the knife at her throat.

Fintan's expression didn't change, but Oralie thought she caught a hint of disgust in his voice as he spoke again. "You two have the planning skills of a carrot, collectively. My brother wouldn't give a fuck about some quiet empath. Besides, look at her now! She's bleeding and hurt. What do you expect that to get you? It certainly isn't going to win you the sympathy of the elven world."

Gisela opened her mouth, but Fintan cut her off, stepping closer. "Listen, Gisela, Vespera. You've made plots work before. But when it comes to the Council, you need to listen to me." He reached out an arm, tugging Oralie to his side with surprising strength. "Now I'm going to go fix up her wounds before these get infected and we lose our only valuable prisoner."

"As you see fit," Gisela muttered bitterly.

Oralie tried to pull away as Fintan tugged her down the hall, but the diminutive ancient was remarkably strong, and she was forced to remain by his side. 

"What do you want with me?" She hissed, trying to ignore the pain in her neck.

"Shut up," Fintan hissed back.

"No."

"Shush!"

Tugged close to his side as she was, Oralie could feel that he was truly angry, red-hot rage on the surface of his emotions, but below that was...fear? No, that wasn't quite right. Focusing in on the emotion, Oralie realized that Fintan was worried. Concerned, even. Startled by that, she was quiet all the way to their seeming destination, an unmarked door.

Fintan turned the knob and then kicked the door open, revealing what looked like a crude medical bay. "Come on."

Oralie winced as he yanked her inside none-too gently. "What do you want?"

"I want to fix those damn slashes." Fintan pointed at one of the cots. "Sit, let me find the cream we have for this."

She obliged, wary of what Fintan might do if she didn't.

To her surprise, he did precisely what he had said he was doing, retrieving some nasty-smelling ointment. "This hurts like a bitch, but it will disinfect those."

Fintan reached for her, and Oralie flinched away, remembering how he had looked the day Kenric died. "Don't touch me."

"But-" Fintan sighed. "Here. Put this on your neck, please, and a bandage too."

Too startled by the fact that Fintan Pyren had just uttered the word 'please' to disobey, Oralie did so. He hadn't been lying; it did hurt quite a bit, but she could feel the sting fade after a moment. "Why are you being kind to me?"

Fintan wouldn't meet her eyes. "Bronte cares about you."

"I didn't realize you cared so much about him still."

"I don't!" 

It didn't take her ability to know that was a lie. "Then why would you help me?"

He sighed, seemingly realizing the corner he had talked himself into. "Fine. I care about Bronte far more than I should, and he cares for you in turn. I helped you out of love for my brother. Nothing more."

"You sound just like Bronte when he's trying not to care," Oralie mused quietly.

Fintan's expression shuttered. "My brother and I are nothing alike. I'm a killer, he's a Councillor."

"You were a Councillor," she pointed out.

"That was a long time ago." Fintan shoved a tin of something in her face. "Here. Bruise stuff for that slap on your face."

Oralie recognized the deflection, and let it slide. "How do you know so much about wound care?"

"The Neverseen aren't exactly careful with themselves."

That didn't quite answer her question, but she let that slide too, applying the bruise cream. "What do you plan to do with me?"

"I don't know, Gisela doesn't tell me shit. We'll probably hold you hostage or something."

"If you plan on interrogating me, you should know that I won't break," Oralie murmured. 

"Anyone breaks with enough pressure," Fintan said, but he didn't seem like he meant it. "Come on, let's get you to a cell before Gisela gets on my ass about 'security'."

His flippant tone reminded Oralie of the Fintan she had known before the pyrokinesis ban, but she was wise enough not to say that as Fintan dragged her through the halls of the hideout. 

The cell Oralie was placed in was freezing cold, and she was already shivering as Fintan locked the door. His gaze was apologetic, but he said nothing as he turned and left. 

Knowing she needed to keep as much of her skin off the cold metal floor as possible, Oralie stripped off her thin Councillor's cloak and set it down as a barrier. She took off her circlet too, not wanting cold metal on her head, and tucked it into her dress. Then, she shed her heeled shoes, in case she needed to run, and tucked her feet under her dress in a futile attempt to keep warm, shivering all the while.

After that, there was nothing to do but wait and try to keep warm. By the time she guessed it was nine pm or so, she was curled up as tightly as she could manage. And by an hour after that, she had given up on sleeping at all that night.

Just when her tired eyes were finally starting to close, the cold seeping into her bones, she heard the door of the cell click open and light footsteps move across the floor. Deciding it was best to remain still, Oralie kept quiet as she felt a heavy, warm piece of fabric settle onto her. Through her half-closed eyes, she could see wavy, ice-blond hair fall into her vision when the person bent down to lay whatever it was over her.

The footsteps retreated, and the cell door closed. Only then did Oralie dare sit up and see what the person had left her; it was a Neverseen cloak, warm and smelling vaguely like wildfires and the serums from the medical bay. She recoiled at the smoke smell, but ultimately her need for warmth overcame any disgust. Laying back down, she found that the cloak was a little shorter than she really needed. It was warm, though, and if she curled up she could fit under it well enough. 

With the added warmth of the cloak, she was asleep within minutes.

-

In the Lost Cities, Emery and the other Councillors had long since given up on getting anything productive done that night and were collectively having a variety of arguments that ranged from how to best rescue Oralie to what the hell a 'clam chowder' was. 

Personally, Emery was well aware of what clam chowder was, but he had bigger concerns than watching Zarina and Clarette debate it. Namely, Bronte, who was sitting next to him and staring off into space. 

"Bronte," Emery tried one more time. "Bronte, please."

He said nothing, so Emery turned to Liora. "What the fuck are we going to do?"

"Why would I know?" The conjurer didn't wait for an answer. "Let's take him back to one of our castles. Bully him into getting some food and sleep, and in the morning we'll try to handle the rest."

"We can go to mine," Emery decided. "Bronte, is that okay with you?"

Bronte continued to stare past Emery's head, but he nodded slowly, and Emery counted that as a victory. 

"Right." Emery stood up, making his voice louder to address the rest of the Council. "Bronte, Liora, and I are heading out for the night. We're getting nothing done, and we all need to sleep or we'll get nothing done tomorrow as well. I know it's tempting for us to spend all night on the search for our colleague, but we need to rest or we won't be ready to continue tomorrow."

"I agree with Emery," Noland signed from the corner, shooting Emery a tiny smile. "We need to rest."

"Emery is right," Clarette agreed. "Let's go."

The Council split off, leaving the room in groups of one or two. It was both heartbreakingly familiar and heartbreakingly different from how the usual routine went; it was almost always that Councillors walked back to the castles in groups, discussing with their political allies or friends, but with Oralie gone, those groups had already shifted. Usually, Terik walked back alone, but today he was signing back and forth with Noland. Derek, who usually walked with Noland, looked rather put out by this, and had chosen to team up with Alina. Meanwhile, Clarette, Velia, Ramira and Zarina were all walking together in a tight-knit little clump, which wasn't too unusual; usually those four stuck together and left in some configuration, sometimes duos or trios. 

Usually, Emery walked with whoever he wanted to talk to that day, having no defined group. For the past few months, he had made a point to walk back with Alina so she would feel welcome on the Council. But Alina and Bronte despised each other, and today Bronte needed Emery more. So Emery had fallen into step with Liora and him, heading back to Emery's castle. 

Liora reached the door first, and pushed it open without even asking Emery. "Well, your front room is...ostentatious."

Emery sighed and decided it wasn't worth fighting with Liora over interior design today. "I know."

He almost wished Bronte would make a blunt comment about it, as would be typical for him, but the other was silent as he stepped inside. 

"Food first," Liora said, and Emery nodded along as she wandered into his kitchen and started banging around.

"Liora is a shit cook."

Emery whipped his head around so fast he almost gave himself whiplash, finding Bronte hadn't changed posture or expression at all. "What did you say?"

"Liora is a shit cook," Bronte repeated. His voice was hoarse, quiet, but Emery had never been so relieved to hear an insult in his life.

"I am not," Liora called from the kitchen.

Bronte just snorted quietly. 

Liora did turn out to be fairly awful at cooking, but they all ate it anyways. Afterwards, Emery found spare rooms for the other two, down the hall from his, and settled down to sleep. 

He woke up again at maybe one am to a near-scream from down the hall, leaping out of bed and immediately hurrying to see what was going on. Liora's door remained shut, and she was still somehow asleep when he peeked in, so he hurried to Bronte's room and pushed open the door.

"Bronte?"

The other scrambled backward, pressing against the headboard of the bed. "Don't- stay away."

Emery flinched back from the words. "Are you okay?"

Bronte didn't answer him, instead pleading under his breath for something Emery couldn't hear. 

Emery took a step forward. "It's okay. It's just- it's just me."

Bronte didn't reply once again, but he didn't flinch when Emery stepped forward again. So Emery started talking again, quietly, offering up whatever reassurances he could manage as he slowly made his way across the room. Talking had always been his skill, ever since he was in Foxfire and talking his mentors into teaching him more advanced subjects. Always speaking, always deflecting and lying and persuading, never part of the action. Opposite from Bronte, he guessed. Now he was grateful for all that, though, his words allowing him to reach the other.

"You're safe," he told Bronte quietly.

Bronte's gaze was still filled with terror when he looked up at Emery, fear mingling with sorrow and guilt. "They- they tried to hurt Fintan. They tried to get him but I got in their way and I tried to get them to stop and-" he choked on a sob. "And I lied to my inflicting mentor when she asked about the bruise, I said that- I said that we were playing tackle bramble even though I've never played tackle bramble, but- but they hurt him. They hurt Fintan."

For once, Emery's voice failed him. "Who?"

"Mother and father," Bronte choked out. "Don't let them hurt you, don't let me hurt you."

Emery still didn't know what was going on, but his heart was breaking for the other when he knelt by Bronte. "Shh. It's okay. No one's going to hurt me, and no one's going to hurt you. I promise."

"I promised too, you know." The older Councillor laughed bitterly, and his voice was lighter, younger, when he spoke again. "I promise, Fintan, I'll never let anyone hurt you." He dropped the tone. "But they did."

"I'm sorry," Emery murmured. "I'm sorry."

Bronte's laughter turned into sobs, and before Emery had time to comprehend what the fuck was going on, he was holding a sobbing Bronte for the second time in less than twenty-four hours. At this point, it wasn't even close to the worst thing that had happened this week. So Emery knelt on the hardwood floor- why oh why had he never gotten a carpet for this room- and let Bronte cling until the other had gone quiet.

"I'm sorry," Bronte said finally. His voice was still rough. 

"For what?"

He didn't answer. "Go back to bed."

"Okay, but are you sure you're okay?"

"Go back to bed, Emery."

Worried and a little hurt, Emery had no choice but to retreat to his own room.

The next morning, Emery and Liora found that Bronte was gone, a note left on the kitchen table that said "Thank you for the hospitality. You were very kind. I will see you at the Council meeting today." It was signed with a scribbled "Bronte.". 

Emery and Liora glanced at each other.

"That's abrupt," Emery said, although he suspected he knew why Bronte had left.

"Typical of him, really," Liora remarked. 

"How much do you know about Bronte?" So Emery was curious, sue him.

"We don't get along very well. But we have worked together for a very long time." Liora frowned, stepping over the doorstep. "'Don't get along' might be an overstatement. It would be more accurate to say that Bronte is deeply guarded, and I am deeply introverted, and as thus we simply never got to know each other." 

"That makes sense. You're rarely one to speak to the others outside of our work." Liora was one of the few who always walked back to her castle alone.

"Indeed. But I have known Bronte for long enough that he is not such an enigma to me."

Emery started towards the Councillor's meeting building. "What do you know of him?"

"I know he is grumpy, introverted, and guarded. I know he has resisted any and all efforts for anyone to get to know him, but he loves his brother and his best friend more than anything in the world. He would kill and die for Oralie without hesitation.”

“We all know that one,” Emery muttered.

Liora laughed quietly. “True. You see, Oralie was appointed not long after I was, and Kenric at the same time. But Oralie and Kenric were much, much younger than I. Besides even the commonalities that Bronte and Oralie shared, it was natural for him to take on an older sibling role to the two of them. Meanwhile, I was quite independent when I started on the Council, and the only person I asked for advice was Carsil- I believe you met them? While Oralie instantly bonded with the Pyrens, I have always been more reclusive.”

Emery nodded, pausing at the door. “From what I know of Oralie, Kenric, and Bronte, that seems right. Do you know why Bronte is so...reluctant to make friends?”

“I have no idea. But I would expect his ability and his past have something to do with it.”

Don't let them hurt you, don't let me hurt you. 

Emery stepped into the building after Liora.

-

Oralie woke up the next day half-wondering if the cloak laid over her had been a dream, since she was shivering slightly, but when she sat up, the Neverseen cloak fell to the floor.

“Not a dream, then,” Oralie murmured to herself. 

Her next move was searching for weaknesses in her cell, which there appeared to be none of, followed by pacing futilely and trying to think. That was followed by sitting hopelessly on her cape thinking about Bronte’s face when Gisela had leapt her away, which turned into thinking about Kenric, which turned into thinking about Sophie. 

Sophie. Oralie had never before wished to be a telepath, but now she would have chosen abilities as strong as her daughter’s if it meant being able to contact her friends- her family- even one last time. 

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, Gisela arrived in time to pull Oralie out of her depressing thoughts spiral. Most certainly unfortunately, she proceeded to drag Oralie through the halls, tie her to a chair, and begin asking a ridiculous amount of questions.

“No. No, I don’t know. Why would I know who Sophie’s biological parents are? I’m not a member of the Black Swan.” Technically, that was the truth, so Oralie stuck to that story. Thankfully, she had long practice at lying and getting away with it, despite the weakness all Empaths shared. Much as that had made Sophie hate her, it came in handy when being tortured by the Neverseen. So Oralie lied and lied and deflected and refused to answer, and Gisela got steadily madder and madder. 

“Is there nothing that will phase you?”

Oralie stared up at her calmly, trying to ignore all the cuts and bruises that were now scattered across her body. “Nothing.”

Gisela smirked. “Is that so? Well I know your looks matter to you, so…” She flicked open her knife again, slashing it across one of Oralie’s cheeks and then the other. Slash slash. Two agonizing cuts, two streams of blood dripping down Oralie’s face.

Silence.

Oralie broke the quiet, taking all of the pain she had been repressing and letting it go, letting the cry trapped in her throat and the tears in her eyes go free.

Gisela looked startled. “Pathetic. So easily broken.”

Oralie let out her most pathetic sob in response.

“Honestly. So weak,” the polyglot sniffed. “Now tell me what you know.”

Instead of obeying, Oralie started crying even harder, feeling tears sting the cuts on her cheeks.

“Stop that! You’re supposed to be a Councillor, not a pathetic mess.”

“I- I-” She shuddered weakly, unable to muster the energy to respond even if she had wanted to tell Gisela anything.

“Stop your crying!”

The snap reminded Oralie distinctly of some less than lovely people she knew, and she took that emotion and turned it into even more tears. Fragile, she might be. Easily broken, she might be. But shards of glass were even more dangerous than the whole they once had been, and Oralie had learned to take her brokenness and make it a weapon.

So even as Gisela kept asking questions, Oralie just cried and cried until the other finally gave up and dragged her back to her cell. 

“Sit here and think about your pathetic life, Councillor crybaby,” the other hissed.

Oralie just shuddered again, letting a sob shake her entire body. 

Gisela stomped away in a huff, and Oralie gave herself two more minutes to cry before she wiped her tears, got up, and started trying to figure out how to stop her face from bleeding. She could still hardly believe that had worked, but she would take whatever scraps of time to herself she got.

Her solution to her face ended up being pressing the Neverseen cloak to her cheeks until the bleeding had mainly stopped. And while she did that, she tried to brainstorm ways to get out. Sophie. Sophie! Knowing Sophie was the only telepath powerful enough to reach her, she tried calling out with her mind, to be met with only silence. It seemed that Sophie wasn’t listening- or hadn’t found her. Defeated, Oralie sat back on the floor and started trying to break her circlet to turn into a lockpick or make-shift weapon. Every part of her body ached, but if she could focus on survival it became easier to ignore that.

-

In Eternalia, Emery watched something new in Bronte’s expression break each day, the circles under his eyes getting steadily darker and the pain in them persisting. The Council’s search for Oralie had been mainly futile, as it seemed the Neverseen had somehow disabled the tracking device in her cloak. And even Alina, who had never liked Oralie, was feeling the pressure. Oralie was beloved by so many, and to have her gone was a devastating blow. Especially to Bronte.

The Senior Councillor had been especially distant from Emery ever since the day of the kidnapping, when he had completely broken down in Emery’s arms. Emery half-suspected he was embarrassed, but it hurt anyways when Bronte snapped at him. 

Despite their distance, it ended up being Emery who found Bronte crying in the Councillors’ meeting room a good hour after the rest had gone home. Emery had lingered in the building, checking on one or two last things, and when he wandered back into the meeting room to grab his stuff, he found the other sitting there. 

Despite his usual eloquence, the first thing he could think of to say was “Well, this is awkward.” 

“Fuck off,” Bronte snarled, but he looked too much of a mess for the words to really be impactful.

“It’s not the end of the world if I see you upset.”

“I know. But I refuse to let you get hurt.” 

“What is that even supposed to mean?”

“I’m an inflictor. Put the fucking pieces together, Emery.”

“You’re scared of...hurting me?” Emery was strangely touched, despite the other’s harsh words.

“Yes. Now leave me alone.”

“No.”

Bronte stared at him. “What?”

“I said no.” Emery took a breath, steeling himself. “Listen, I know you care about Oralie most. Everyone knows she’s the only one you’ll ever talk to. But Oralie isn’t fucking here right now. We might be working on getting her back, but that doesn’t mean you get to just- just push everyone away and refuse any help in the meantime. And I know you’re scared of hurting me, or scared of vulnerability, or whatever the fuck it is, but please just let me fucking help, Bronte.” He was startled when his voice broke on the last sentence, words coming out all jagged and torn-up.

Bronte’s expression hadn’t changed much, but Emery thought he caught shock on the other’s face. “You actually care?”

“Of course I do! Isn’t it obvious?” Emery found himself rubbing at his eyes to keep from tearing up. “I was fucking worried, and you just up and left and- and stayed away. Because you’re scared or whatever.”

“I was just being cautiou-”

“Well fuck that! You’re the elf who goes charging headfirst into danger and didn’t even falter when King Dimitar threatened to rip your head off that one time. And somehow you’re too afraid to let anyone help you? You’re a coward, Bronte.” 

For a second, Emery thought he was going to get absolutely destroyed, but Bronte’s face softened. “I’m sorry, Emery.”

“It’s fine,” Emery whispered, turning his head away. 

“No, it was shitty.” Bronte stood, holding his arms out awkwardly, and Emery took the embrace. Bronte might have been a full head shorter, but Emery felt very small compared to the other’s ancient presence. Emery was made of gold, soft and malleable but loved and charming. Bronte was made of steel, sharp and unflinching and plain. Which one of those was better, Emery couldn’t say. But, for just a moment, he allowed himself to be soft, leaning on Bronte’s steely presence. 

-

Meanwhile, in the Neverseen hideout, it had been a full week since Oralie’s capture. Every day, one of the Neverseen members had taken a turn trying to interrogate her. Giesla had given up after the second day. Fintan had asked some questions and done a little half-hearted threatening, but Oralie could tell he wasn’t actually prepared to follow through on his threats. So she had told him nothing. Vespera had been the worst, cruel and calculating, but Oralie had kept her mouth shut. Somehow. And now she was back in her cell in a haze of exhaustion and pain, staring blankly at the corridor Vespera had left via.

Finally, her blank stare landed on a set of keys that had fallen from Vespera’s belt, and that was enough to break through her numb tiredness. Keys! To her cell! She reached through the bars, finding the keys only inches from her fingertips, and swore under her breath. The keys glittered just out of her reach, taunting her.

Oralie rummaged around in her dress, retrieving her circlet, and slammed it against the floor. 

Once. 

It didn’t break. 

There was something symbolic, maybe, about Oralie not being able to break the object that was a physical representation of her responsibilities. The embodiment of her duty to the Lost Cities, encased in a circle of metal that was heavier than it looked. 

Twice.

The circlet began to crack. 

But she was more than her responsibilities. She had gone beyond the Council seat she held. She was not just Councillor Oralie, she was something beyond the title that so often preceded her name. 

Thrice.

The metal snapped entirely. 

Oralie wasted no time into bending it into a straight line with a slight hook on the end, reaching out again and snagging the keys. 

From there, it was fairly simple to reach around and unlock her cell. Oralie tucked the keys into a pocket of her dress, and bundled up her Councillor’s cloak into a small enough ball to fit in another pocket. The Neverseen cloak, she donned, and the broken circlet went into her right hand, ready to fight if need be. She left her heeled shoes behind in the cell, knowing they would be of no use in a fight, and slipped into the hallways of the hideout.

Oralie realized fairly quickly that she now had no shoes, no idea where she was going, and an entire hideout of Neverseen members to evade. Nevertheless, she refused to squander her chance at freedom. So she crept along, making her way towards the healing wing she and Fintan had been in earlier. Thankfully, she arrived there without incident, pushing open the doors and shutting them with a sigh of relief.

Unfortunately, Fintan happened to be in the healing wing currently, bandaging his hand.

Oralie froze, hoping he hadn’t seen her.

Fintan turned at the noise of doors shutting, and gaped at her. “Oralie?”

“Fintan,” Oralie said quietly. 

“How did you get in here?”

Oralie shrugged apologetically and tried to look innocent.

Fintan wasn’t buying it. “You escaped your cell somehow, and somehow managed to navigate to this wing.”

“I remembered the way.”

“Clever.” Fintan’s smirk seemed almost impressed. “As a leader of the Neverseen, I’m afraid I can’t allow you to escape, however.”

Oralie’s heart clenched in fear, but she refused to let it show on her face. “And what are you going to do about it?”

“Well, I’m obligated to tell you that you should absolutely not go into the storeroom of this wing. That would be a terrible idea. And you should definitely not kick open the panel behind the burn cream boxes. That would hurt. And definitely not help you escape.”

“I will definitely not do that,” Oralie told him. She would have been smiling if she was any less exhausted.

“Good, good.”

“Thank you for the cloak, by the way.” She held it out. “You can have this back, sorry for bleeding on it.”

“No, no, keep it. But remember, you should definitely not be wary of the ways it might be similar to your Council one.”

Ways it might be similar...ways it might be similar...trackers! Oralie nodded. “Thank you, Fintan.”

“Don’t mention it.” He stepped aside to let her pass. “Oh, and…tell Bronte I said hello, will you?”

“I will. He misses you,” Oralie added impulsively.

“I’m afraid he’ll have to continue missing me.” Fintan’s sorrow was genuine, and Oralie didn’t need to brush her hand against his as she passed to know that.

She did anyways, needing to know if Fintan genuinely cared about helping her. She found nothing but mild concern, sorrow, and a hint of fear at what the other Neverseen members might do, which was more than enough proof that he cared. Much like Bronte, Fintan was not as subtle as he thought he was.

So Oralie headed into the storeroom, looking around for the box of burn cream. It appeared to be near the back wall, and when she scooted it aside, she found a loose panel in the wall. So she followed Fintan’s advice and kicked it as hard as she could, hissing an “Ouch!” under her breath as her bare foot made contact. The panel fell outward, though, and Oralie was able to crawl outside. The dirt felt wonderful after a week of cold metal floors on her bare feet, and she allowed herself a moment to breathe before putting the panel back in place and running from the hideout.

The Neverseen base had appeared to be in a deciduous forest, as the tree leaves were currently red, orange and yellow, and it was populated by what Oralie guessed were birches and maples. The setting didn’t really matter, though, only getting away from her captors. So she ran until she was out of sight of the building, and only then allowed herself to flop onto the ground.

Remembering Fintan’s words, she took her broken circlet and used it to cut open the seams of the cloak, looking for trackers. She found a little disk fairly similar to the ones in her Councillor’s cloak, and set it on the ground. Over that, she put her Councillor’s cloak, and took a moment to breathe and brace herself for what she was about to do.

Shing! The broken circlet slashed through the soft skin on her left index finger, and Oralie sprinkled the blood all over her discarded cloak. There. That should throw them off her trail. 

She wiped her bloody finger on Fintan’s cloak, got up, and started walking. 

Her walk turned out to be a very long one, stumbling over seemingly endless tree roots and pushing through seemingly endless bushes. Even as night fell, Oralie forced herself to keep moving. She couldn’t afford to be caught. She couldn’t afford to be caught. That was the chant that kept her on her feet, even as her entire body ached. Her legs and feet ached from walking, her arms and hands ached from what Vespera had dealt, and her face ached from the slashes Gisela had given her. Still, she staggered onward until it was nearly dawn and she was able to see a little settlement on the horizon. 

As she got closer, she could tell that it was clearly a human town, with quaint architecture and a few humans bustling about. Still, if she concentrated, she could read the signposts, which were in one of few human languages she knew. The one Sophie spoke. Well, Sophie spoke all the languages. But the one Sophie had grown up with. English! That was the word. Language? Noun? Oralie shook her head, trying to clear it, but it only made her more dizzy. Blood loss and sleep deprivation probably had something to do with that, she reflected, which was evidence that she had been friends with Bronte too long. Only Bronte would be so clinical about something like this. Fuck, she missed him. And he was probably worried about her, seeing as she had gotten kidnapped. Sure, Oralie had bigger problems than Bronte’s worry, but it was easier to think about her best friend than the fact that she had staggered into the human town and humans were staring, or the fact that she felt like passing out.

Which was what she proceeded to do, right on the doorstep of one of the houses. 

-

Around that time, Sophie was getting a hail from Bronte. It might have been the middle of her Elven History session, but Sophie picked up the imparter anyways, ignoring her mentor’s indigent sputtering. 

“Miss Foster, history is a very important subject!”

Sophie rolled her eyes to herself. “Bronte? What is it? Is there word of Oralie?”

“Slow down, Miss Foster,” Bronte grumped. He looked exhausted, dark circles under his eyes, which were rimmed with red, but his grumpy voice was as steady and familiar as ever. “We do not have word of Oralie, but I am hailing about her.”

“Are you- are you talking to a Councillor?” Sophie’s mentor sputtered.

“Yes, I am, so please let me talk!” Normally, Sophie would never be so rude, but this was not a normal time. “What about Oralie?”

“We need your help. Emery has an idea.”

“And you’re agreeing with Emery?” Sophie couldn’t help but ask.

Bronte sighed, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “In this case, his idea isn’t completely idiotic.”

“I heard that, Bronte!” Emery hollered from offscreen.

“Fuck you, Emery!”

“We’re Councillors!”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Bronte huffed another sigh. “Anyways. Please come to Eternalia as soon as possible. You can tell your mentor- who sounds rather disgruntled- that this is extraordinarily important Council business. I’ll send you a signed note or something if you need.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” Sophie turned to her mentor. “Excuse me, sir, but I have to go. Extremely important Council business.” 

“Really?”

“Yes,” Bronte called from Sophie’s imparter. “Trust me, the Council knows the importance of education. But this is more important.”

“Oh- oh okay, then. See you next week,” He said, but Sophie was already grabbing her bag and running for the Leapmaster.

“Bronte, where do I go when I get to Eternalia?”

“The Council secret meeting building- I’ll give you directions.”

She barely even thought to concentrate as she threw herself into the beam of light, re-forming near the Councillors’ castles in Eternalia. “Where now?”

“To your right,” Bronte directed. “That plain building about fifty feet from the end of the row of castles.”

Sophie hurried over there, forced to stop running by the stitch in her side, and banged on the door. 

Bronte opened it mere seconds later, gesturing at her to come inside. He looked even worse in real life than over the imparter, short hair sticking every which way and tunic wrinkled, but his strides were determined when he led Sophie down the hall. 

The rest of the Councillors looked only somewhat less frazzled as Bronte pushed open the door to their meeting room. Even Alina’s hair was out of place. But the determination in Bronte’s strides was mirrored in all of their eyes, and for the first time, Sophie could see how they were truly leaders. 

“So, what’s Emery’s idea?” She asked, wandering inside as Bronte shut the door. 

“Well,” Emery started, “You remember how you’ve been able to use telepathy to call for help? Oralie isn’t a telepath, but if we can reach her, we might be able to figure out where she is and coordinate rescue efforts.”

“Okay, but...we don’t know where in the world she is,” Sophie argued. “I don’t know her mind well enough to reach her from a huge distance, not like Keefe.”

“And that’s where I come in. You see, I’ve been the spokesperson for well over five hundred years,” Emery explained.

“And he gets to poke around in everyone’s heads because of it,” Zarina contributed.

“Exactly. I know my fellow Councillors’ minds as well as I know my own. But I’m not strong enough to reach all the way across the world.”

Sophie was starting to see his strategy. “So if we worked together, I might be able to help you reach Oralie, and you could help me find her mind?”

“Precisely.” Emery’s gaze was piercing. “I haven’t been kind to you in the past, and it might be difficult to trust me. But I’m hoping you’ll try.”

The hope in the Council’s gazes was almost disquieting. 

“For Oralie’s sake,” Sophie told him. “But I want my cognate here.”

“Very well,” Emery said before anyone else could say anything. “Bronte, could you hail him?”

“Why is it always me?” Bronte didn’t wait for a response before he pulled out his imparter again and set about hailing Fitz. 

Fitz arrived ten minutes later, rather out of breath. “What’s going on?”

Emery gave him a quick rundown.

“That’s insane,” Fitz informed him. “But...Sophie is pretty amazing. So I guess it’s worth a try.”

-

Oralie drifted in and out of consciousness, hearing worried voices around her but not having the presence of mind to translate their words. She felt hands lift her, people moving her from the ground to something else, then to a place that smelled sterile. After that, she was conscious for only brief snatches, sometimes feeling hands on her injuries or needles prick her skin.

“Bronte,” she tried to cry, not knowing what was happening only that she needed her friend. “Bronte!” 

He didn’t come.

In her most blurred moments, Oralie found the name on her lips was “Kenric!”, but by the time she was completely unconscious, she remembered his death. 

She woke up fully to sunlight streaming in the window of a room she didn’t recognize, falling across the comforters of a bed she didn’t recognize. “What...what happened?”

No one responded, and Oralie realized she was entirely alone. Naturally, she scanned the room to try and discern where she was. Floral wallpaper, stained. Hardwood floor, somewhat old and warped. Lacy curtains, very dusty. It was clear that this was not the Lost Cities, nor any of the lands of the intelligent species. Which left only one place: the Forbidden Cities.

Oralie blinked, and her memory of last night- last morning, really- came flooding back. Right. She had escaped and walked to the human town. Which meant one of the humans had picked her up and brought her here. 

Just as Oralie was wondering where that human might be now, the door swung open to reveal a rather elderly human woman with smile lines around her mouth and eyes, and hair streaked through with silver. She bustled over to fuss with the comforters, and then startled. 

“Oh! You’re awake!”

Oralie tried to summon up the correct English words, cursing herself for not practicing enough. “I am.”

The human smiled and said something about eyesight and leaving that Oralie didn’t quite catch. “Anyways. What’s your name?”

“I am Oralie. What is yours?” Oralie knew her speech was probably a little stilted, but she cut herself a little slack, given what she had just been through.

“Brenda,” the human- Brenda- answered. “How are you feeling?”

“A little… fuck,” Oralie muttered under her breath. “Tired? English is not my first language.”

“Ah, that’s okay, dearie. Now, the doctor said you should have some food and water.” She said something else that Oralie didn’t catch and hurried out the door.

When Brenda returned, she was carrying a tray of some human food, and there was another human with her. “This is my wife, Susan,” she explained to Oralie.

Oralie nodded, grateful for Brenda’s clear and slow speech allowing her to catch the words. 

“Have some food,” Susan told her, and despite the unfamiliarity of the food, Oralie was happy to obey. 

The duo stayed in the room while she was eating, chattering to each other in English too fast for Oralie to catch. The food itself was not bad, but Oralie would have eaten it even if it was. Finally, she was finished, and Brenda grabbed the tray and hurried off.

Susan turned to Oralie, and Oralie could feel pity and concern radiating off her. Still, Susan’s voice was steady and gentle when she spoke. “Brenda and I did not go to the police. We took you to the hospital, and told the doctors we did not know how you got injured.” 

Despite not knowing what ‘hospital’ or ‘police’ meant in the Enlightened Language, Oralie understood enough to know that there was a ‘but’ coming.

“But,” Susan added, “your wounds look deliberate.” 

“Deliberate?” Oralie asked slowly, trying to get the English syllables through her mouth.

“Done on purpose,” Susan told her. “We were hoping you would tell us who hurt you, so we can make sure you’re safe.”

Oralie took a moment to process the sentence, and then another moment to come up with a lie. “My- my boyfriend. I...ran from his house.” She let the memory of Vespera’s tormenting turn her eyes tearful, selling the lie.

“I’m so sorry. Brenda and I will make sure he never hurts you again, okay?”

Oralie nodded.

“Can you answer two more questions for me?” Susan asked.

Oralie nodded again.

“Who is ‘Bronte’? You were calling for him.”

She didn’t have to think much this time. “My older brother.”

“And ‘Kenric’?”

“My…former boyfriend. Not the bad one. He....” Oralie hesitated, trying to remember all the polite human euphemisms for death. “He passed away.”

“I am sorry for your loss.” Susan stood. “Brenda and I can let you stay here for a bit. Until you’re back on your feet.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

-

Back in Eternalia, Sophie was nervously linking hands with Fitz and Emery, hoping it would work.

Hello? Fitz’s voice asked in her head. I’m past your blocking, and I think I’m past Emery’s too.

He is, Emery’s mind murmured.

Hi, Sophie said to both of them.

Fitz sent her an image of him waving, and she smiled.

Emery offered a polite mental hello.

Right, so, should we get started? Fitz asked.

We need Sophie to do that, Emery told him.

Sophie’s stomach knotted with nerves. Right. Yeah. Okay. I’m going to reach out. If you guys could like, guide me and send mental energy, that would be great.

Fitz sent her a thumbs up.

Emery nodded mentally, somehow. 

Sophie’s first try was utterly overwhelming, humans’ and elves’ thoughts pouring into her brain and any sign of Oralie lost amongst the chaos. She lost contact with Emery maybe five seconds in, and Fitz had to reel her mind back in.

“Ow,” he said out loud. “That was overwhelming.”

Emery was frowning. “I think we lost touch.”

“We’ll try again,” Sophie told the other telepaths.

Thankfully, they both nodded.

Two tries later, they had established that the problem seemed to be that Sophie simply couldn’t keep touch with Emery’s mind. 

“Aren’t there any other telepaths that know Oralie’s mind well enough?” Sophie groaned in frustration, and then winced as Emery looked offended.

“The ideal choice would be Kenric,” Bronte told her. “But…”

“That’s not an option,” Emery finished. “And I doubt any other living telepath has read Oralie’s mind as many times as I have, at least of the ones you’ve worked with.”

“Don’t you lot do like, trust exercises?” Zarina asked. Her feet were propped on the Council’s meeting table, earning her glares from everyone else. 

“I mean…” Fitz glanced at Sophie. “Worth a shot. Although I don’t know how much I trust Emery to catch me falling off a table.”

“I’ve caught Bronte falling off a cabinet,” Emery argued.

“Yeah, but Bronte’s like, four feet tall,” Sophie told him. “Wait, you’ve caught Bronte falling off a cabinet?”

Bronte glared at Emery. “Fuck all of you.”

“Maybe you could try some ones that don’t involve tables,” Terik suggested. He looked faintly amused.

“Only if they involve hearing the story of Bronte falling off a cabinet,” Sophie joked.

Emery shrugged. “I mean, that story does involve one of my secrets. But it wouldn’t be fair to Bronte.”

So five minutes later, they were back to trying trust-falls. So far, Fitz and Emery had both caught Sophie, and Sophie had caught Fitz and then proceeded to fall on her ass.

“I think this is a really bad idea,” Emery informed her, but he toppled off the chair anyways.

To her own surprise, Sophie didn’t immediately drop him, although she did lower him to the floor very quickly.

The rest of the Council seemed greatly amused by all this. At least, until they took the exercises back to being mental.

Okay, so we’re all telling each other one non-illegal secret? Fitz asked.

Emphasis on the non-illegal, Emery told him.

Right. Gotcha.

There was a moment of mental silence, and then, I’ll go first. 

Sophie silently thanked Emery for that as he went on. You all know about the miniature ball at the end of the Elite Towers, yes? I went with someone not on my match list. 

Fitz audibly gasped. That’s like, a huge scandal.

I know. Nothing bad ever became of it, obviously, but...it was a big deal to the few people who knew about it then. 

Why? Sophie asked him mentally.

It was a big deal because I went with another aspiring regent, who- well, I won’t tell you his name, but at the time it was quite the scandal for a young and promising Foxfire graduate to be going out with another man.

Sophie didn’t know the elves had homophobia. That’s iconic, honestly.

I wish I could say it was, but only a few people even knew we were together. Emery’s mental voice sounded pensive. And, of course, it’s been a very long time since I last saw him. 

Well I was going to say that one time I put fart a la carte in Biana’s breakfast so she would be gassy for the opening ceremonies, but now I feel kinda silly, Fitz told them. Um. Wait. If we’re being gay….

Sophie tried for a joking tone. Don’t tell me you’re actually gay and not into me. 

No, but Keefe was my first kiss. 

...Do I have permission to tease him about that?

Ask him, not me.

Emery sounded like he was smiling mentally. That’s sweet, actually. 

And I have a lot of questions, Sophie added. But I guess I should say my secret now.

Probably.

Right. Uh. Keeping with the theme, I’m just going to come out now and say that I’m bi. 

Whoa, Fitz said, but he didn’t seem like he thought that was a bad thing. 

Right, Emery told them both. Now that we all understand each other a little bit better, should we try again?

This time, Sophie felt both of the others’ minds right alongside hers as she searched. Fitz was mainly there for support, but Emery’s mind guided her strength across the world until they brushed against a mind that felt both soft like silk and hard like glass.

This is Oralie, Emery’s mind whispered. His mental voice was faint, stretched over the massive distance. 

Sophie made the extra leap to touch Oralie’s mind. Oralie. Oralie!

Silence. And then, a faint, almost disbelieving Sophie?

-

Susan had left the room a few moments before, after Oralie had asked which town she had made it to (some small town that Oralie didn’t recognize, but she memorized the name of just in case). And so Oralie was once again alone with her thoughts, which once again turned to the people she had left behind in the Lost Cities. Sophie, Bronte, even Emery. And of course Kenric. Even now, he never seemed far from her thoughts, although her emotions had become a little more mixed and muddled as the initial surge of grief faded. Still, Oralie supposed she would be missing him forever. Which was a rather depressing thought. While she was making herself sad, she might as well think about Sophie and the hatred radiating from her daughter when they spoke. Oralie had been an empath long enough to know that rage most often stemmed from hurt- but the fact that she had hurt Sophie did not wound her any less than the thought that Sophie hated her. Maybe she would ask Bronte for advice on how to fix this whole damn mess.

Bronte. It had been so natural to say he was her brother, beyond even needing to lie to these humans. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t close enough to qualify, a brother in everything but blood, but Oralie had no idea how he’d feel about having another blonde disaster of a younger sibling. 

The first time a familiar voice entered her head, Oralie thought she had imagined it. She had clearly just been thinking about Sophie too much. 

But the second time, she couldn’t ignore the desperation behind the call. Sophie?

Oralie! There was genuine relief in Sophie’s transmission. Where are you? Are you safe?

I’m safe, for now. I’m in a little town called Wetherby- it’s a human settlement, but it was the closest place to go when I escaped the Neverseen, since I didn’t have a leaping crystal. 

You can get by in a human town?

I speak a little English, Oralie explained. And the people who helped me are very kind- they’re a human couple who lives here. I told them English was my second language and they didn’t question it.

Okay, hang on. I’m transmitting all this info back to Emery. We’ll come get you, Sophie said, and Oralie had never felt more reassured by a sentence from a much younger elf in her life.

Thank you.

Of fucking course. It’s not like we’d leave you there. I mean, for one thing, Bronte would kill me.

Is he okay?

Depends on how you define okay. Sophie sounded like she was choosing her words carefully. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week but he’ll probably be fine once you get back.

Thank you, Oralie thought again. 

I mean, you’re welcome. I’m going to go update everyone else and look for the town you told us, and then we’ll update you again. 

Okay. Tell Bronte and the rest that I said hello?

I will.

-

Sophie blinked her eyes open in time to see Emery face plant onto the table.

“Ow. Fuck.” He sat up, rubbing his head. “That hurt even more than having these idiots scream in my head. Is this what it’s like for you all the time?”

Sophie shook her head. Sure, she had a bit of a headache, but that was more from hearing humans' thoughts while looking for Oralie than anything. “When it’s someone that I know well, it’s not bad.”

“Then I admire the strength of your telepathy.” Emery ground his palms into his eyes for a moment, looking pained, and then straightened up fully. “But! We know where Oralie is.”

“Where is she?” Bronte demanded.

“Some human town in Britain,” Fitz told him. “She escaped from the Neverseen and somehow made her way there.”

Bronte looked almost proud. “That sounds like Oralie. Anyways, how are we going to get her back?”

The rest of the evening was spent finding human maps, researching human clothing, and getting a leaping crystal to the exact coordinates made. Sophie, as primary human expert, had to be present, and the rest of Team Valiant was summoned as well. So while Dex, Fitz, and Biana went to the Forbidden Cities for human clothes and Wylie and Stina pored over the map, Sophie was charged with checking in on Oralie one more time. This time, she didn’t need Emery to guide her as she reached for the other’s mind again.

Hey.

Hi, Sophie, Oralie offered. Any word?

Bronte says ‘you’re a damn idiot and I’m going to fight anyone who hurt you’, and we’ve got a plan to get you home.

That sounds like Bronte. And what would the plan be? 

Well, we’re working on a leaping crystal to where you are, Sophie explained. I’ll go into the city itself to find you, if you describe the house you’re in. 

That sounds smart, with one caveat: why would a teenager be picking up a fully grown adult?

I don’t know, I’m your daughter or something. She almost regretted that when she felt Oralie’s mind flinch.

How do you feel about being a niece? It’s... a long story, but people have been asking questions and my current story is that I ran from my boyfriend- you’ll see why when you get here. But I haven’t mentioned any children.

And you have mentioned a sibling?

I may have had to lie and say that Bronte was my brother. 

Sophie sent a mental groan across the connection. I don’t want to be his kid.

Oralie’s mental voice was too amused for her liking. I know, but you don’t look exceedingly different, and we need a story.

Fine.

Okay. I’ll tell Susan and Brenda- the human couple- that I’ll be going to live with my brother and his kid.

Gotcha. We’ll be there tomorrow morning at nine.

 -

Sophie’s voice faded from Oralie’s head, and Oralie stared at the fluffy comforters, trying not to think about the words ‘I don’t know, I’m your daughter or something’. Rather unsuccessfully. 

Thankfully for her, Brenda came bustling back in. “Hey there! Susan and I are going to eat dinner, do you want to eat with us?”

Oralie considered for a moment and then nodded.

“Great! Let’s go on down.”

So Oralie sat with the human couple, trying the human food cautiously. Brenda seemed happy to carry the conversation with occasional input from Susan or Oralie, which she was grateful for. Even if she didn’t quite catch some of what the human said, she could nod along. 

Eventually, the conversation came around to Oralie’s situation. “I was able to...call? My brother,” Oralie told them. “He says that it is okay for me to live with him and his daughter.”

“Oh, excellent!” Brenda beamed at her. “When will you move in with them? No pressure to leave, of course.”

“He said he would be here tomorrow at nine.”

“That soon! Well, we’ll have to get you some better clothes than that hospital gown.”

Oralie glanced down at the thin fabric and nodded. “Thank you very much, I owe you a lot.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. The bill from the doctor is the worst of it. You’re not covered by our insurance.” 

“How much do I owe you for that?”

Brenda radiated worry, biting her lip anxiously. “Worry about that when you’ve got a stable place to live.”

Oralie made a mental note to tell Sophie to pay these two back with a ridiculous sum of human money. “Okay.”

The next morning, she woke up early to golden sunlight falling across her bed. For a second, she almost thought she was back in Eternalia, since her room there was always lit by dawn, but the stained floral wallpaper soon dispelled that notion. 

Susan came in perhaps a half hour later, setting some human clothes on the bed. “Here you go. These used to be mine, but I think they should fit you okay.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem. There’s a shower in the bathroom at the end of the hall, the one with a blue door, if you want.”

Oralie nodded and got out of bed slowly. Her legs still ached from all the walking, and the rest of her body wasn’t in much better shape, but she was determined to take a shower and stop smelling like the Neverseen hideout and the human medicines. 

That turned out to be easier said than done, but if she avoided the largest wounds, she could get mostly clean. And it helped that Susan’s old clothes smelled mainly like dust. 

Oralie turned and glanced in the mirror, and she hardly recognized herself. Even after only a week with the Neverseen, her face had become leaner. Tougher. There were bruises scattered across every visible section of skin, and several gashes. Her cheeks were bandaged with large bandages, and her hair was wet and tangled. In the human clothes, she looked almost human, but she could also see why Brenda and Susan glanced at her with such worry radiating from them. 

Snapping herself out of her reflection, Oralie borrowed the hairbrush on the bathroom counter to try and de-tangle her hair, which was easier said than done. She mainly managed it, though, with a lot of wincing. At least it didn’t seem like such a rat’s nest.

Once she was done with that, there was nothing to do but wait for Bronte and Sophie to arrive.

-

Bronte and Sophie were currently having a muttered argument over having to pretend to be father and daughter.

“Well it's not like I really strongly desire to be your kid,” Sophie muttered to him as she fumbled through the pile of human clothing the others had brought. 

“And it’s not like I have a strong desire to have you as a child,” Bronte muttered back, but he didn’t seem actually that grumpy.

“What about ‘I’d be proud of you if you were my daughter’?”

“I’m just saying that you’ve accomplished incredible things.”

“That sounds pretty fucking kind to me.”

Bronte huffed. “I am not kind, I am very mean. But...I would be very proud of you.”

Sophie tossed a t-shirt at him. “Here, you can wear this. My human dad had a literally identical one. Plus, can’t you be a proud mentor already?”

“Well yes, I am a proud mentor. Now shush, stop making me look nice in front of the rest.”

“Ha, I’ll ruin your evil reputation.”

“Everyone knows I’m the Councillor not to fuck with,” Bronte grumbled as he took the jeans Sophie was handing him.

“Haha no. That’s like, Emery.”

“Emery has the backbone of a chocolate eclair.”

“I heard that!” Emery shouted from the background.

“Good!” Bronte shouted back.

Sophie, meanwhile, was picking up a beanie. “Here, you can use this to hide your ears.”

“I hate modern human fashion,” Bronte grumbled, but he left to get into the clothes anyways. He looked very strange in jeans and a t-shirt, the bright orange beanie hiding his pointed ears and the casual human clothing greatly reducing how intimidating he was.

“Hi, temporary dad,” Sophie told him. She had gotten into her old human clothes before even coming to Eternalia, and was surprised at how strange the jeans felt after years of elven clothing. 

Bronte just sighed. “How am I doing at the whole ‘looking human’ thing?”

“You gotta slouch a little more. And stop glaring at everyone. You’re a chill dad.”

“I am not,” Bronte muttered, but he softened his stare and posture a little bit. 

“Great!” Sophie told him. “Let’s leap there, shall we?”

“Let’s go.”

-

It was almost ten minutes after nine when a knock sounded from the front door.

Brenda went hurrying over to open it, shooting Oralie a smile as she did. “Oh, hello! Would you be Oralie’s brother and niece?”

“That’s us,” Oralie heard Sophie say in flawless English. “I’m Sophie, and this is my dad, Bronte. He doesn’t speak English super well- we’re an immigrant family.”

“Ah, and you’ve lived in the UK most of your life, Sophie? That makes sense. Anyways, I’m sure Oralie is eager to see you.” Brenda turned back to Oralie. “Your family is here!”

Oralie stood up, giving Brenda her best reassuring smile as she hurried over to the front door. “Sophie! Bronte!” The others may have been dressed in strange human clothes, worry on their faces and tension in their stances, but they were here. They were here.

To her surprise, Bronte rushed forward and threw his arms around her tightly, solidifying for Oralie that he really was real and here. 

“Bronte!” Oralie hugged him back just as tightly, letting herself relax for the first time since Gisela had grabbed her that day. 

“I was so fucking worried,” he whispered. 

“I’m sorry-”

“Why would you fucking apologize for being kidnapped by the Neverseen?” Bronte pulled back, and Oralie noted the tears glimmering in his eyes. “It’s not your fucking fault and it’s never been your fucking fault. I am going to hurt every one of those dipshits, though.”

“It’s okay, Bronte. I’m okay.”

“Your face is covered in bruises.”

She winced. “Yeah.”

“I’m still going to hurt them.”

“Okay.”

“And you’re going to be okay,” Bronte added quietly. “I’ll make sure none of them lay a hand on you ever again.”

Oralie could feel herself tearing up a little at that, so she pulled him into a hug again. Bronte didn’t protest, only hugged her tightly and let her fall apart for a minute. 

-

Meanwhile, Sophie was having an awkward conversation with an older human couple. “Yeah, we were really worried about my auntie Oralie.”

“Her injuries were pretty bad,” agreed the small, round-faced one who had introduced herself as Brena. “I do hope you’ll bring her ex to justice.”

“We will,” Sophie assured them. “Br- Dad will make sure of that.”

“He sounds like a sweet brother,” the other, Susan, said.

“Yeah, he and my aunt are really close. We don’t really talk much with grandma and grandpa because they live so far away.” “Do you just live with your dad?” “Just the two of us,” Sophie agreed. “It’ll be nice to have my aunt around.”

“I can imagine.” Brenda smiled fondly.

Sophie glanced over at Oralie, who was absolutely covered in bandages. “Are we going to have to pay you for medical bills?” “Well, they put her down as Jane Doe. And we offered to pay the initial fees, but they’ll probably bill you for the rest once they figure out who you are.”

“Gotcha. I’ll tell Dad, we’ll see if Auntie is covered by our insurance. We can pay you back for the initial stuff too-”

“Don’t worry about it, hon,” Brenda told her. “We’re happy to help, and it’s a good thing that Oralie is safe now.”

“Thank you so much.” Sophie made a mental note to have the elves help these two out in some way. 

“Of course, dearie.” 

Susan handed her a slip of paper. “Here’s my phone number, contact the two of us if you need any extra help.”

“Thank you,” Sophie said again.

“Sophie!” Oralie’s voice called. “We are heading home!”

“I better go, but thank you again and I’ll keep in touch,” Sophie promised.

Susan and Brenda waved as she hurried away. 

-

The trio arrived back in Eternalia to a lot of commotion and excitement. 

First, Oralie got swarmed by the other Councillors, who she was surprised to realize were genuinely glad to have her home. They looked in varying states of frazzled, ranging from Alina (perfectly groomed as ever) to Terik (whose hair was sticking straight up). And they greeted her with maybe less dignity than was generally required from the Council. 

“Oralie!” Clarette called. “You absolute fucker!” 

Oralie knew that was her way of showing worry. “Hello, Clarette.”

“Thank goodness you’re back,” Terik said. 

“We were all incredibly worried,” Emery agreed. “Especially Bronte.”

“Shut up, Emery,” Bronte grumbled from next to her.

“I’m not wrong, and you know it.”

Even Liora waved hello, and Noland signed enthusiastically to her about how good it was to see her safe.

Finally, Elwin cut through the commotion, shoving through the Council very politely. “Excuse me, excuse me, but if Councillor Oralie is hurt than you’re going to need a doctor!”

Oralie smiled over at him. “Elwin!”

“Oralie!” He pushed past Emery, looking her up and down. “Oh dear, oh dear. Did they take you to a human hospital?”

“Yes, they did.”

“Right, well I’ll have to start undoing some of that damage, then.”

So Oralie sat on the grass outside of the castles in human clothes as Elwin gave her what felt like a million different elixirs. “Sophie, is this what it’s like to be you?”

“All the time,” Sophie told her with a laugh. 

“This is probably my comeuppance for the time I laughed at Bronte after he got stabbed on accident during a diplomatic mission to the goblins and had to drink some truly disgusting sludge,” Oralie mused.

“I’m still mad about that, you know,” Bronte huffed.

“I know, you hold a grudge.”

“With good reason.”

“I only laughed a little bit,” Oralie protested. “And only after I was certain you were going to be okay. His face at the medicine was so funny, you should have seen it,” she added to Sophie. 

“Oh, I bet.”

Bronte threw his arms up with a huff. “None of you respect me.”

“Nope!” Elwin said cheerfully. “Plus, you turned down an emotional support stuffed animal.”

Oralie made a shocked face, causing Sophie to giggle. “You can’t do that!”

“Yes, I can.”

“Hmm. Well I’ll just have to get you one and sneak it into your castle.”

Bronte grumbled under his breath. “I knew I shouldn’t have given you the key!”

Oralie couldn’t help but smile at the familiar grumbling. “Too bad, you did.” 

“I’m happy to provide the stuffed animal,” Elwin told her. “I have an alicorn named Mr. Sparkfluff if you want him.”

“That sounds perfect, actually.”

“I should warn you, he’s sparkly.” Elwin handed her a very sparkly stuffed alicorn, and Oralie giggled. 

“He certainly looks it! Alright, Bronte, am I sneaking in at 3 am to leave him on your sofa, or are you just taking him home?”

“It’s not like you won’t show up at 3 am if I don’t,” Bronte grumbled, but he reluctantly took the alicorn. “Does his name really have to be Mr. Sparklefluff?”

“Yes,” Oralie, Elwin, and Sophie all said in unison.

“I guess this is just my life now. Do remember to knock if you come over at some ridiculous hour of the night. Sometimes I’m even asleep.”

“Rarely,” Oralie murmured to herself. She tried to smile. “And don’t worry, I’ll knock when I come bother you about whatever paperwork we’re doing this week.”

“Lovely. If it’s more about ogre-troll relations, I vote we give it to Emery.”

“Is it going to be?”

“Probably.”

“Just going to betray me like that, Bronte?” Emery asked as he wandered over.

“Yes.”

Emery sighed and turned to Oralie, shaking his head in mock-sorrow. “It’s a cruel world out there. Betrayal by your own friends.”

“Cruel indeed.” She laughed, finding it easier to forget the darkness of her Neverseen cell in the bright sunlight of Eternalia.

After a minute, Elwin and Sophie joined in, and Emery chuckled. Even Bronte smiled. It wasn’t really that funny, but they were all here and alive and somewhere near okay, and that was reason enough to be happy right now. 

[a-crimson-lion]

A (Hopefully) Reasonable Response

For @kiricookie .

[Read this if you want the following ramblings to make any sense.]

(Sorry this is so hecking long and all over the place, I just wanted to be thorough.)

[Manga Spoilers and Movie Spoilers Ahead]

I’m gonna do things a little differently here.

For starters, I’m gonna not gonna be addressing the fandom at large, because the fandom at large won’t be able to give me an answer.

I’m just talking to you, kiricookie. Because it’s your post, and you deserve to know what people (like myself) think of it. Just letting you know right now, and this is with absolutely NO sarcasm: I won’t be rude. I’ll do my damndest to not be rude.

Because you didn’t go and make that post and share it with the entirety of the world wide web just for it to get ridiculously crapped on without so much as a glance.

So, I’ll read it. I’ll think about it. And I’ll give you my thoughts. You don’t have to read them if you don’t want to. But common courtesy makes it so I leave the opportunity. You deserve that much.

You probably already know what this is about anyway. So I’ll start with something… unexpected, at least coming from someone like me…

...you’re right.

To be more specific, you’re right about Tenya. You’re right about how his split second decision to murder Stain should be concerning and in fact is concerning. You’re right about how he’s the most prone to lose his control and how his emotions get the better of him. You’re right about all that.

*Internal wince* Now, if you don’t mind me going into other details…

I’m not saying anything that spurnned on Tenya to murder the Hero Killer was in any way justified; it wasn’t. It never could be, it never should be. Murder is wrong no matter how the hell you look at it, and even if you have no choice but to go through with it, you shouldn’t be happy that you had to take someone’s life under any circumstances. But looking through Tenya’s perspective for a moment… he lost a brother, in a way. He lost a hero. Someone extremely close to him, who inspired him and others, who did nothing but good in any way he possibly could. And then he got cut down by someone who Tenya only knows as the antithesis of good and now his brother can’t do any good, or at least not as much as he used to.

Again, that doesn’t excuse attempted murder. In a morbid way, it’s sort of the logical extreme of when we saw Tenya at the start of the series: he immediately writes of Izuku because he only sees him as a hindrance and recognizes his own shortcomings after the fact. He immediately guns after Stain because he did something unforgivable in his eyes, and recognizes his own shortcomings after the fact.

In the heat of the moment, Tenya is prone to failure. He is prone to misjudgement. We’re talking about the same guy who decked his best friend because he was about to do something borderline illegal. The entire point of Tenya is to showcase the distance between what he wants to be and what he actually is, and the steps he takes to get there.

But yeah, the murder plot was a tad… oh who am I kidding, a HELL of a lot of overkill.

But circling back to why we keep scrutinizing Katsuki about his mannerisms while we keep praising Tenya from sunrise to sunset… I can’t speak for all of us Bakugo antis, because I know some of us have legitimate reasons for disliking him and the others are butthurt record players on repeat that you mentioned, but I can at least give out my reasoning behind it.

We don’t talk often about Tenya having a murder episode because he never tries to do it again, and he legit tries to improve and avoid anything similar happening again.

After the Hosu incident, Tenya admits that Stain was right about him, and he resolves to not be a screw up from then on out. He makes an effort to be a better class representative, a better example than what he had been setting before. He doesn’t deck Izuku just because “hE aNgY” during the Hideout Raid arc; he doesn’t want Izuku to make the same mistakes as he did, because everyone else was worried about Tensei, Stain, and Tenya, but Tenya was so dead set on “righting a wrong” that he ignored everyone around him and nearly got himself killed for it, and if things were any worse in Hosu, Tenya might not have been the only one dead. For all intents and purposes, that’s what Tenya thinks is happening again when the Bakugo Rescue Squad suggests tracking their friend down.

And like you mentioned when Tenya offered to lend an ear to Izuku when the Shie Hassaikai incident was tearing him apart from the inside, that’s the progression coming full circle. Tenya realizes that there are other people in the equation that he needs to listen to and that need to be listened to, otherwise they’ll do something completely ludicrous and get themselves and/or other people hurt in the process.

And the thing is, Tenya only needs to have his “Oh f***” moment once. And it’s barely brought up again, which puts out of the audience’s minds.

(Sidenote, while you’re “heroes not killing is weak” thing kinda came out of left field with me, I actually agree. A whole lot actually. Just so you know.)

The thing about Katsuki is that everything supposedly “wrong” with him… is still kinda going on to some extent. Sure, the people at UA have thicker skin and are willing to brush him off or call him out, but that doesn’t change the fact that some of his behavior is… highly concerning.

Personally I tend to avoid the Episode 1 suicide baiting (“avoid,” not “ignore”) because it was forever ago and it is repetitive, but I still think it needs to be addressed to some degree. In any case, Katsuki’s actions throughout the series are what get me and others to not think he’s exactly hero material. In any team exercises, he often puts himself at the forefront (not without reason, but still) and tends to shy away from tag-teaming unless his back’s against the wall. Despite what the Joint Training Arc would claim, Baku did most of the heavy lifting on his own, with little to no actual teamwork, though that’s more of a narrative problem than an in-universe problem. Even his teamwork with Izuku is still shaky at best; he keeps yelling at him, berating him, and telling him to do his best just so he won’t screw Katsuki over.

Say what you will about Katsuki’s “unique” personality, it may fly with his classmates, but realistically speaking, it’s gonna be a problem for when he does get into Professional Hero work. Can he be rude and snarky on professional business? Absolutely. Does he have to scream at his partner(s) whilst making them feel like they’re at the bottom of the barrel? Eh…

Before I commit to your last paragraph, I wanna bring up something. We can both agree that Tenya lost a hero when Tensei was attacked, right? We can both agree that his decision to ignore everyone and go in guns blazing was terrible, 0/10, wouldn’t recommend, right?

Okay. It’s not to the same degree, but… Katsuki has done something similar.

Katsuki lost a hero too. His name was All Might?

And what did Katsuki do well after the fight was over. He didn’t talk about it with anyone. He dragged out his childhood friend so he could rough him up, because fists is the only way he knows how to deal with his disconnect of societal expectations and, as AO3 would attest, Katsuki is complete s*** at feelings.

Katsuki did the same things Tenya did, albeit to a lesser degree. They both lost a hero. They both didn’t talk about it to anyone. And in the end, they both tried to hurt someone in order to alleviate their pain. The aftermath is… admittedly lucky for both parties.

So, about your last paragraph before the GIF… do you wanna know why antis (at least like me) keep bringing up Katsuki’s previous mistakes. It’s less so because they ever happened, or even because Katsuki did them. It’s more so because despite what the narrative and most of the fandom may think, Katsuki’s mistakes are never treated as such, at least not substantially. Eraserhead doesn’t even bother giving Katsuki a pep-talk about his behavior on the first day, or at any time he’s there to witness Katsuki acting like a jackass. All Might doesn’t stop the training exercise when Katsuki nearly kills a fellow student, which he was aware of being a possibility but it’s fine so long as he dodges, and it isn’t even addressed properly afterwards. In the Final Exams, Katsuki hitting his partner and later being dragged out the gate doesn’t bar him from passing, like say, Hanta; while Katsuki did contribute more, it doesn’t change the fact that his initial uncooperative behavior wouldn’t fly in the Pro Hero world, and he made himself a liability in those last few seconds against All Might. Even him losing the Provisional License Exam isn’t as big of a deal, because Katsuki gets to learn about a really important Quirk, no one’s grilling him like, say, Izuku is getting grilled, and not having his License and getting an additional day of house arrest spares him a potential “maybe strength isn’t everything” ass whooping from Mirio. I could go on a bit longer, but I think you get the jist.

Now, I’d absolutely LOVE it if society didn’t royally f*** up Katsuki’s perspective the way it did, but the problem is that the narrative has absolutely no intention of showing or admitting that Katsuki’s perspective is problematic. Ever since Deku vs Kacchan 2 decided that was enough development for Katsuki, he is always in the right, 100% of the time. Any opposition is few and far between, and will often be seen in the wrong anyway despite the legitimate concerns a person like Katsuki would present. Sure he can tell a kid not to look down on people during the Remedial Course arc, but when the Cultural Festival comes around he immediately decides to look down on the other classes. The fact that a majority of UA hates Class 1A is some grade-A bulls***, but the speech Katsuki gives to 1-A is also bulls***.

It essentially boils down to “F*** everybody else and only do things for yourself.” Because that’s what heroes are supposed to do…

That aside, Katsuki needs help. He needs therapy, anger management, and someone who won’t take his s*** just because he’s a so-called natural born leader with a flashy Quirk, because that’s what canon essentially boils down to. Any time Katsuki takes the lead, at least in my eyes, it’s less so because he’s a legitimately good leader and more so because the narrative has decided he’s the only one who should be taking charge.

I want Katsuki to improve, even if I personally have given up on the prospect of that happening. The problem starts when the narrative continually insists that Katsuki is more or less in the clear and is totally fine when really, he isn’t.

Izuku needing help is obvious and valid, but Katsuki needing (and getting) help is valid, too. Now if only the narrative could pick up on that.

And as for that last bit of your post… really, I can only speak for myself. As strong as Izuku is, as much as his opinion matters in this entire debacle, I can’t help but feel like Izuku is more blinded by nostalgia more than anything else. He still wants a connection with someone he’s known since childhood, and I can respect that, but the thing is, Katsuki spent nearly a decade telling Izuku, intentionally or otherwise, that he didn’t want the same thing. This continued from the time Izuku tried to help Katsuki out of a river all the way until after the Sludge Villain incident. And society had a hand in that bulls***tery, Katsuki was never the only culprit, but he was still a prominent one. And I don’t know about you, but nearly two years is probably not as long as you’d like to think it is, because that’s how long that it’s been since the overplayed, overrepeated suicide bait. And even ignoring that, two years isn’t enough of a gap between the near decade of societal degradation Izuku had to suffer through.

I don’t hate that Izuku is so forgiving. I hate that Katsuki isn’t willing to accept or consider it in any meaningful capacity. I hate that in a world where Tenya Iida, Shoto Todoroki, Kota Izumi, and even Gentle Criminal exist, that Katsuki has to be the contrarian because of his damn pride. And again, society f***ed up on that end, but that doesn’t stop the fact that Katsuki has actively refused to pursue other options, instead staying on the first and foremost thought of “blast it,” with his Quirk or his voice, unless he’s in combat, in which case it becomes “blast it but don’t be stupid about it.” Because Izuku’s forgiveness has worked before for the benefit of others. What does Katsuki get from Izuku’s forgiveness he doesn’t even fully accept, other than another obstacle he sees that needs to be beaten?

Yeah he’s still 16, yeah he’s a teenager and therefore still has the time to grow proper, but you know who else is 16? Tenya Iida. Shoto Todoroki. Two prickly, borderline asshole characters who also received gradual growth, faced setbacks and proceeded to grow past them. Meanwhile, Katsuki is still just passing the halfway point. I’m not putting that on Katsuki, but if Hori really wanted us to root for him, he shouldn’t have displayed that characters like Tenya and Shoto are able to develop overtime at faster rates than Katsuki can, and as much as I can keep playing the society card, Katsuki wasn’t the only one bombarded with high expectations. Shoto, Tenya, Momo, and potentially Mina all come from backgrounds wherein high expectations were expected of them; Shoto grew up in a confirmed abusive household for crying out loud, and we’ve seen him trying to grow past his issues.

Katsuki has yet to demonstrate anything similar. After Deku vs Kacchan 2, he’s still yelling Izuku’s ears off, or throwing his mask like a ninja star because comedy, or trying to fight a big time villain again because he still actually hasn’t learned to take a loss. Maybe it’s because he internalized most of his self-hatred and projected it onto Izuku so long, but I really can’t say for certain. The change doesn’t have to be night and day, but it can certainly be more substantial than what we’re getting now, and that alone disappoints me. And I’m sorry to say it, but the wait for Katsuki to finally grow beyond his excessive asshole tendencies and graduate to decent asshole is draining on me, and no longer a big contributor to me keeping up with the story (Izuku is a big contributor to that, because I’m basic).

Changing each other probably wouldn’t be advised, but their dynamic and their issues with and independent of one another should still be addressed. I have a big issue with “win to save, save to win” because of this, actually. Katsuki has to give a s*** about people, sure, but Izuku doesn’t need to focus more on winning when he already wins enough as is. It’s a false equivalence that further justifies the worst parts of Katsuki. That obsession with winning, with never falling behind in the eyes of society, only further fuels his need to put others down and push his physical capabilities to the maximum while he puts his emotional spectrum on the backburner. And the “friendship” he has with Izuku isn’t gonna change that, because again, Katsuki’s primary concern is surpassing One for All, surpassing Izuku as the Chosen One. He has yet to display any major concern for Izuku beyond the extent of his Quirk usage in the main series. The closest thing we’ve gotten was a look of shock on his face during Heroes: Rising, and this was in response to Izuku suggesting that he pass One for All.

On that note, Izuku cares about Katsuki, as a person, as a rival, and as a friend, and he has displayed this time and time again. Katsuki has only shown care for Izuku as an obstacle, as a challenge he must overcome and one he wants to overcome without hindrance. He has yet to show any semblance of care for Izuku beyond that with meaningful context, believe it or not. And quite frankly, I’m getting sick of people wanting to bring Katsuki on board just because Izuku is giving him the benefit of the doubt when he arguably hasn’t done anything proper to earn any of Izuku’s trust. I know Izuku’s not weak, I know he’s sound of mind, but Katsuki is not a rational subject for Izuku. He has known this boy since childhood, he has seen what he is capable of, and his optimism keeps him in a favorable light. That is incredibly noble of Izuku, and I commend him for it, but I cannot stand by the decision when Katsuki’s attitude towards Izuku and his actual contributions to Izuku’s journey don’t show anything direct or substantially reflective on Katsuki’s end.

...but that’s just me. The hell do I know anyway?

And if you actually bothered to read this word vomit… thanks.

-Crimson Lion (18 August 2020)

[turning-dreams-into-chaos]

Banished (Part 35)

*Not My Gif*

~Banished Master List~

Summary: When the 100 was sent to the ground, Y/N Y/L/N was one of them. Having been locked up for almost 8 years, how will she react to surviving on Earth? Especially when she gets banished…

Post Date: 2-16-20

Paring: Bellamy Blake x Reader

Word Count: 2.5K

~Master List~

~The 100 Master~

*Based on episode 3x06 of the 100, Bitter Harvest*

It’s been over a week since Octavia and Clarke left Arkadia. Clarke went to Polis, back to Lexa to convince her not to go to war and Octavia had been your outside man, keeping her eyes on everything outside the wall and reporting back through a radio. You hadn’t spoken to Bellamy since that day he tried to turn you, only glances across the room. He’s tried to talk to you, heading your way in rooms to apologize but you left the room before he could.

You just dodged Bellamy in the mess hall, heading down the main hall before running into Kane.

“Octavia radioed, there’s news.” He said as you looked over your shoulder, hearing footsteps behind you before shaking your head.

“Not here. Too many ears.” Kane led you to his room as you followed, no longer hearing someone follow you. Kane and you sat on the bed facing each other. “What’d she find out?”

“They’re still taking samples at the river bank. She doesn’t know what they’re doing but they’re armed and willing to kill a kid to cover it up.” Your eyes went wide, covering your mouth with your hand.

“They’d kill a kid?” You couldn’t imagine Bellamy being okay with this. But then again he did just Murder 300 grounders who promised your protection. Kane put his hand on your knee, knowing your thoughts.

“There’s another meeting today in the chancellors office. We need to know what’s happening in that room.”

“So what? We spy on them?” You asked him. You both slouched against the wall, trying to come up with something before Kane sat up, looking at you expectedly.

“We spy on them.”

You hoped he’d say more but he didn’t, only standing up and looking around his room. “Repeating what I said isn’t making anything clearer.” You told him as he pushed aside a stack of paper before find a metal disc.

Raising a brow at him, he explained. “We plant a bug in the office and listen in on the meeting.”

You guffawed at him, taking the piece into your hands. “We’d know all their plans.”

“Just one problem.” He frowned, crossing his arms in front of his chest and tapping his lip. “How are we going to get it in place?”

You looked down at the disc. You needed someone who was on your side. Someone who was quick witted, knew how to get in and out of places. You met Kane’s eyes with a smirk, clutching the bug in your hand. “I think I know someone who can help.”

You left Kane’s room, walking around the ark and trying to not to raise suspicion before stopping outside, seeing Miller and Harper talking. They smiled at you when you approached, Harper wider than Miller’s as you looked towards him. “Can I borrow you?” You asked. He looked taken back but nodded, saying bye to Harper and following you back to Kane’s place.

Kane was pacing in the room when you entered, stepping aside to show Miller. He looked confused, licking his bottom lip and scoping around the room. “What’s going on?” He closed door, eying you who sat onto the bed.

You held out the disc, watching Miller raise as brow at you. Kane and you told him the plan and after a few minutes Miller was fully informed, deciding if it was something he could do. “And if this doesn’t work?”

“It’ll work.” You assured him as he shook his head.

“And if it doesn’t?” He needed more than just your assurance if he was actually going to break into the chancellors office.

“You’re a thief Miller. You’re telling me you can’t plant a bug?”

“You’re forgetting the part where I got arrested.”

“Easy.”You smirked as you tossed him the tech. “Just don’t get caught.”

“Will you two knock it off?” Kane rolled his eyes as he checked the bug making sure it worked before the three of you headed out, stopping to set up a room to listen in.

As you got closer to the office you hung back, not wanting to seem weird while walking with the men. You rested against the wall, keeping an eye out as Kane put the code in the door.

“Good afternoon, Chancellor Pike.” Someone said down the hall as you warning Kane, nodding towards the hallway. Kane slipped Miller the bug and let him in the room. He started down the hallway as normal, you following with him when you run into Pike and Bellamy. You only spared Bellamy one glance as Kane and Pike began talking.

“We need to talk about these things Jaha’s been giving out.” Kane said as you kept quiet, hoping Miller would hurry.

“That’s Abby’s department. I have more pressing concerns.” Pike said, pushing past you and Kane. You felt your heart race faster as you turned around, getting them to stop.

“Like the imprisoned grounders?” You spoke out of turn as Pike turned around, narrowing his eyes at you. Bellamy was concerned, stepping closer to the conversation and keeping his eyes on you.

“Interned.” Pike said. “For their safety as well as ours.”

“Imprisoned.” You repeated yourself, standing your ground. Pike didn’t expect to be having with conversation with you of all people. Kane put a hand on your shoulder, pulling you behind him.

“They wanted help. If we won’t give it to them, then we should at least let them go.” He suggested. Bellamy spoke up, calling them a liability and saying they would reveal their defenses to their people.

You scoffed, coming out from your spot and finally acknowledging Bellamy. “We’re talking about Lincoln here.” You reminded him, disgusted in the way he’s disregarding your friend. Lincoln saved your lives, how could he just talk like that. Bellamy’s eyes softened as he looked at you, suddenly feeling his stomach twist.

Miller drew your attention away from the group, coming down the hall behind Pike and Bellamy. He nodded to you as he passed, indicating he was successful as you sighed, feeling a little better in this moment. Bellamy, who hadn’t stopped watching you, caught the moment, furrowing his brow. You and Miller never got along before, so this exchange here unnerved him.

He knew something was up.

He was so focused on you that when Pike and Kane walked away he wasn’t aware, only snapping out of his thoughts when he met your eyes. “I didn’t know you and Miller were so close.” Your stomach flopped as Bellamy nodded behind you.

“Why do you care Bellamy?” You asked, hoping to divert the conversation.

It seemed to work as Bellamy took a second to answer, placing his hands on his hips. “I’m just saying be careful. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

You watched Bellamy leave, following after Pike as you took a deep breath before following Kane into a new room with a table in it.

“Are you okay?” He asked as you entered the room, closing the door softly behind you. You knew you should’ve told them Bellamy was on to you all but instead you just nodded, watching Kane get set up. “Y/N, can you grab the radio and get Octavia on?”

You reached for his bag, pulling out the radio and turning it on. “Hey floorgirl, got your ears on?” You smirked into the device when you heard Octavia chuckle from the other side.

“Hey Y/N, good to hear your voice.” She said as Kane got your attention, telling you they were starting.

“We bugged the chancellors office, O. Pike’s having a meeting.” You sat on the couch next to Miller, holding down the button for Octavia as Pike introduced Monty and Monroe to the group, making you bite your lip.

Pike went on, telling them all about planting agricultural and fields. Until Monty pointed out a flaw in their plans.

A village in sector four, people who weren’t threats at all.

“We need that land.” Pike told them. “Arkadia will be starving in a year.”

Hannah told him about the child they found, saying the grounders lost their army and wouldn’t resist but Monty just shook his head. “They’ll resist. They’re grounders.”

“Even if they don’t, the commanders message was clear. But that doesn’t mean we can start taking-“

Pike cut him off. “What would you prefer, die fighting for your home or starve to death? Will you do what needs to be done for your people to survive or what?” Bellamy didn’t need to think before knowing he’d do whatever he needs to protect Octavia and you.

“What needs to be done.” He assured Pike who just nodded at him, wanting to believe Bellamy knew where his head was at.

The meeting ended and you all stayed silent, processing what you just heard. You could hear Octavia running through the walkie-talkie when you cleared your throat, running a hand over your face.

“So whats the plan?” Miller asked, hoping someone came up with something.

“I need my horse!” Octavia shouted over the radio.

“Miller? You got the horse?” Kane asked as Miller nodded, leaving you two in the room. Kane moved to sit next to you, putting an arm on your back and his hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, whats going on?”

“What if we’re too late?” You whispered, clasping your hands together and leaning into your bouncing knee. Kane sighed, looking at the empty wall in front of you both. He honestly didn’t know what to do if it was too late. He was blind to the village with no way to make sure Octavia got them out.

“We’ll figure it out Y/N.” He promised you. You smiled at him, reaching up to grab his hand.

Kane felt normal with you here now, as if your past was just that and you could move on.

Miller came back in, telling you he was setting out as you stood up, pushing yourself away from Kane.

He didn’t object as he stood up himself, both of you following Miller out of the room and going your separate ways.

You spent most of the day worrying yourself, wishing you had gone with Miller to give Octavia her horse. You watched from afar as Bellamy and Pike took a group out, headed towards the village. Bellamy and Kane were talking before hand but not for long and the moment Bellamy walked away he saw you across the room. But unlike all the other times, he didn’t start to come over, instead telling everyone to get a move on it.

You couldn’t help but admit it hurt a little as you left the room, hearing the sound of the rover die out meaning Bellamy left.

Off to go destroy a village.

You must of look pretty distraught as you sat in the mess hall, sipping on a bottle of beer because the seat across from you was taken. You looked up, seeing Jaha’s face before he slid the chip he showed you last week on the table. You looked at it, not saying a word as you took another gulp of your drink.

When Jaha matched your silence you groaned, slamming your fist down on the table. “I’m not taking that.” You told him, pushing the chip back at him.

“Tell me Y/N. If you could erase all the pain you’ve experienced in your lifetime, would you not?” His voice was unwavering as he spoke, making you sit back in discomfort.

“Of course I would.” He gave you a smile, one that didn’t show happiness but opportunity. He pushed the chip past the middle of the table, looking at you dead in the eyes.

“Then take this. Let it take your pain away.” You narrowed your eyes at the white chip. “Pain makes you human. Without the pain, what would I be?” You leaned onto the table, your hands inches away from the chip. Jaha reached forward, putting his hand atop yours.

“Happy.” He said simply before getting up and leaving. You sat there, staring at the supposed ‘happy chip’ that Jaha left you.

There was no way some little chip could wipe the years of damage and pain brought onto you. You picked it up, running your thumb over the infinity symbol.

“No pain.” You whispered, twirling it in your fingers. You felt someone’s eyes on you but you didn’t see anyone stand out after a quick sweep around the room. You looked down at the chip again. “What a load of crap.” You mumbled, shoving it in your pocket.

You spent the rest of the afternoon there, trying to distract yourself from everything happening outside the gate. You mind travelled back to the chip in your pocket through out the day. There was no way it did as Jaha said, there was no way it would ‘erase your pain’.

Miller walked into the Mess Hall frantically, looking around before his eyes fell onto you. He quickly went over, taking the seat next to you as he leaned onto the table. You knew something was wrong by the way he kept moving his eyes around the room. “Miller what happened?” You lowered your voice, keeping the conversation between the two of you.

“They’re back. And they’re missing people.” You felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“W-who?” You didn’t know if the words actually made their way out of your mouth or if you just mouthed it. You tried to repeat yourself but you couldn’t, clearing your throat and taking another drink.

“Monroe and Lacroix.” He told you and you hated the fact you could breathe again. It wasn’t Bellamy. He was still alive.

“Ok. Let’s go.” Miller and you stood up when your hand found the chip once again. You closed your eyes, giving it one last squeeze before following after Miller.

Later that night, Bellamy knocked on the door to the Chancellors office, coming inside to see Pike at work. “You wanted to see me, Sir?” He asked as Pike nodded, leaning onto the table next to him.

“How you holding up?” Bellamy sighed, breathing out heavily and saying he’s been better. Pike nodded, understanding. “We need to talk about your sister. Two people died today because of her and the soil’s poisoned from the ash.”

“The grounders did that. Octavia tried to warn us.” Bellamy argued for his sister, trying to get Pike to let up on her.

“After she warned them. Bellamy you know as well as I do that someone is giving her information in the camp.” Bellamy didn’t say anything, hoping he wasn’t going where Bellamy thought he was headed. Pike looked at the board containing all his plans. “Kane and Y/N.” He announced bringing Bellamy’s fears to life. “We need to find proof.”

“Yes sir.” Bellamy agreed before Pike dismissed him. Bellamy left the room, taking a moment to think over his actions. Biting his lip he let his head fall, making his way down the hall. He looked over his shoulder as he approached his destination.

“Just a minute!” He heard after he knocked on the door. There was a moment of silence, Bellamy thinking of retreating before the door opened into your room. “Bellamy?”

“We need to talk.” He sounded serious as you hesitated but ultimately stepped aside, letting Bellamy into the room. You checked the hallway, seeing no one before closing the door.

A/N: I know it’s kind of late but oh well! Tell me whatcha think! Not really proud of this chapter, I don’t know really. Guess they can’t all be good. 🤷‍♀️ What do you guys think is gonna happen next?

*Reblogging with Banished*

Permanent: @literal-fand0m-trash @just4muggles @saturn-aka-six @nathaliabakes @whyamihere-bro @colored-confetti @wiseeggspickleslime @btsiguess-kpop @galacticstxrdust @independentgirl @wellhellotherelovey @hollymac79 @delicately-important-trash @emcchi @rauwz @herondalescecilys

Bellamy: @jodiereedus22 @nyxxxwtp @danielabetancourth

[sushigirlali]

If You Don't Love Me, Lie To My Face - Part I (Reylo Fanfic)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Epilogue 

Summary: Grifter!Rey helps U.S. Senator Leia Organa's son, Ben Solo, out of a jam when a couple of muggers invade her turf. Afterward, she debates robbing the rich American herself, but can she protect her heart while stealing his?

Pairing: Rey + Ben Solo | Finn + Poe Dameron

Rating: E

Continuity: Modern AU

A/N: For the first time ever, I’ve actually written most of the story before I started posting! I think it will be way less stressful since I don’t have to “keep up” with updates. New chapters will be posted each Friday. Enjoy!

Master list –> AO3 | ff.net | Tumblr

——————

If You Don't Love Me, Lie To My Face - Part I

By: sushigirlali

——————

Kennington, London

——————

There are moments in life that make you question everything that came before. A look from a stranger, an incident at your job, a terrible movie... things Rey Niima was usually able to push past without pause, but tonight, she was finding it extremely difficult to ignore the feeling that her life was about to change forever.

"Hey, give us your wallet!" A pair of brawlers had cornered a man at the mouth of a nearby alley, drawing Rey's attention as soon as she stepped out the back door of her favorite pub, The Black Prince.

"Excuse me?" the would-be victim responded indignantly. His voice was deep with an American lilt, his stature intimidating.

Did these fools really think they could steal from a man like that? But then, not all criminals were as intelligent as her.

"You heard me! I want your wallet!"

Rey hung back from the potentially violent situation unfolding before her, sizing up the assailants. Their outfits were all black, including the ski masks covering their faces, but she couldn't see any identifying marks or gang affiliations. "Must be lone wolves," she thought.

There was something familiar about the tall one doing the talking, but she couldn't place them. It probably didn't matter, though, because the redwood with the nice accent looked like he could take the both of them with one hand tied behind his broad back.

Still, for some reason, she was finding it hard to walk the other way. Definitely not because the man was the most striking person she had ever seen. No, it had to be due to the fact that these bums were causing a ruckus on her turf. At least, that's what she kept telling herself, frozen to the spot as she was.

"Listen, I just got done volunteering at a shelter all day and just want to get home. Please allow me to leave unmolested."

"Volunteering at a shelter?" she muttered under her breath. "Well, fuck. But it's not your business, don't get involved." Rey was turning around to go back inside the pub when the sound of a gun cocking drew her up short.

"Don't make me repeat myself again, pretty boy."

"Whoa, hey, there's no need for that!"

"Then empty your pockets! Now!"

"No," he said crossly. "Put that thing away before somebody gets hurt."

"Dammit," Rey groaned, retrieving the silver baton clipped to her belt. Sometimes, she really hated having a conscience; in her line of work, it was a real liability.

"Hey, get your hands off me!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she growled, resolutely stalking toward the turbulent scene. "Oi! You lot!"

The big guy and his sidekick paused to look in her direction. "What?" the leader said in a surprisingly feminine voice.

"Not a guy," Rey mused. "Based on your absolutely abominable bullying technique, I don't think you're getting that guy's wallet any time this century, so why don't you just leave him alone and move along."

"Excuse me?" the woman said threateningly.

"I'm sorry, did I stutter?"

"You move along, little mouse, this doesn't concern you!" the shorter guy spat.

"You do know who's neighborhood this is, don't you?" Rey said tauntingly.

"Yeah?" the first one said dismissively. "So what."

"So, knock it off! We don't need the fuzz coming down here because some hooligans are roughing up a foreigner."

"Hooligans?! And who the fuck are you?"

"Me?" Rey sneered, flicking the baton out to the side so that it extended into a long poll. "I'm no one."

"Phas," the skinny guy said nervously, obviously recognizing her at last, "we should go."

Rey had never been so proud of her reputation as a grifter who was just as likely to steal an expensive piece of art from the peerage in an elaborate heist as kick a thug's ass in the street.

"But the boss—"

"He'll understand."

"But—"

"Phas!"

"Fine. But don't think this is over!" the woman yelled before running off with her companion.

"Well," the American said slowly, "that was an experience I never wish to repeat again." He smiled at her. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

"You're welcome," Rey replied gruffly, still riding high on adrenaline. "Do you always walk around by yourself at night in a city not your own?"

"Do you always save unsuspecting passersby from thieves?" he retorted.

Her phone went off, but she didn't answer it. Up close, the man was even more attractive than she had initially thought. "Suit looks expensive, too… and is that a Breitling?" Perhaps it was her lucky night after all. "Only if they're handsome," she said smoothly.

"Oh, uh…" he flushed at her compliment.

"Hmm… not the reaction I expected." It was kind of refreshing, though. "Sorry, I—ugh, one sec," she said as her cell went off again. "My brother," she explained, checking the caller ID. "I have to take this or he'll just keep phoning until I pick up."

The man shrugged, "No problem, I'll just wait over here." He stepped up onto the curb and walked a few paces away.

Rey nodded and lifted the phone to her ear. "What?" she said shortly.

"Who's the stiff?" Finn asked without preamble.

"Nobody."

"Right," he huffed. "Are you working him?"

"Undecided, stop pushing."

"Whatever you say, Rey. Just be careful."

"I will. Where are you anyway?" she said, humored by his tough older sibling act.

"Hanging outside the pub, just around the corner. Why? You need me?" Finn teased.

"No, I'll catch you later. Don't wait up." She ended the conversation before he could respond and stuffed the phone into her back pocket. "Sorry about that, uh…?"

"Ben," the stranger supplied, moving closer again. "Ben Solo."

"I'm Rey," she said, holding out a hand.

Ben's lips quirked and he gave her a firm handshake, his huge hand dwarfing hers. Rey felt a shiver run up her spine at the brief contact, but she shook it off.

"So, what's that for?" he indicated the weapon still in her hand. "Joining the circus?"

"No," she grinned, "it's a bo staff. I use it for self defense."

"And the defense of others," he said warmly.

"On occasion." She folded the bo staff back into a baton before reattaching it to her belt.

"Can I get you a drink?" he nodded toward the pub. "To say thank you?"

"I was actually on my way home before I… bumped into you."

"I could… walk you home? If you want." He didn't sound desperate, but it was a near thing.

"I'm not from around here," she said evasively. She couldn't really bring him back to her base of operations, which was only a few blocks down the street, but she didn't want to stop talking to him either. "What a dilemma."

"No? Where are you from then?"

"Nowhere."

"Okay… Well, I promise I'm not a pervert or a serial killer or anything," he said earnestly, "so you can come back to my hotel with me if you want. It's late and I'd hate for anything to happen to you."

She crossed her arms. "Because I'm a woman?"

"Hey, I'm 6'3" and double your weight and I almost got jumped like ten minutes ago," he reminded her. "It can happen to anyone."

"Fair enough," she allowed, lowering her defenses. "Still…"

"I can call my security detail if you want verification that I'm not a psycho," he offered. "I'd just like the opportunity to get to know the woman who saved my hide."

Rey's interest sharpened. "That's sweet, but uh… security detail?"

"Yeah," he said nonchalantly. "My mother is a U.S. Senator. I'm in town on her behalf. She was supposed to come herself, but her re-election campaign is heating up and she couldn't spare the time."

"You disapprove," she said perceptively.

Ben's dark brows shot up. "Yeah, actually. You a mind reader, Rey from nowhere?"

"Something like that," she smirked. "I prefer the term grifter."

"Grifter?" he said curiously. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"Oh, you know," Rey winked for effect, assuming the privileged American was about to run in the opposite direction, "I swindle rich people out of their valuables by preying on their weaknesses. Basically, I'm a professional bad guy."

Ben looked hopelessly confused by her explanation. "But you just helped me."

"Well, sometimes I like to help out the little guy." Rey looked him over. "Little big guys too."

"Like Robin Hood?" he said, disarming her with a crooked smile.

"What? I wouldn't say I'm—I'm a hero or anything," she stuttered.

"Well, you're my hero," he said smoothly, holding out a hand. "That's my driver pulling up over there, in the black Jag. Join me? Please?"

"I… okay," she agreed, placing her hand in his, "but just for a little while." This time, she couldn't ignore the shiver.

——————

Alarm bells should be going off in her head, but Rey felt perfectly comfortable with her new companion. It was odd, considering her trust issues, but Ben didn't seem to be only interested in her looks. And she knew she looked good tonight, her dark leather leggings were basically painted on and her lacy bra was visible through a mostly sheer black tank top. Add on her subtle smoky makeup and half-up hair style that emphasized her cheek bones and...

"Rey?"

She loved the way he said her name, almost like a caress. "Yes?"

"Are you hungry? I haven't had dinner yet."

"Oh, sure," she said, never one to give up a free meal. Though she did kinda wish something else was on the menu… "What is wrong with you? You just met the man! Note to self: masturbate more."

"Chinese okay?"

Her mouth watered. "Perfect."

"What do you like?"

"Besides you?" she said without thinking. "Uh, I mean—anything, really. Noodles, if they have them."

Ben let her comment pass, but he was beaming. "I like noodles too. Maybe some kind of chicken? Orange?"

"Excellent," she seconded.

"You're easy," he said, but then caught himself, looking horrified. "I mean to order food for, not—"

"It's okay," she laughed, patting his thigh. "I know what you meant."

"Sorry, I haven't done this in a long time," he said sheepishly, catching her hand before she could remove it.

"This?"

"Gone on a date."

"Oh." Was this a date? Rey couldn't remember the last time she had been on one. Pretty much anytime she'd been alone with a man not her brother in the past ten years it was because she intended to rob them.

"Not that this has to be a date," he said quickly, releasing her hand. "Sorry, I keep saying stupid things."

Dammit, but he was cute. "You don't have to keep apologizing," she replied lightly. "Let's just have dinner and talk and see where that takes us." Maybe the night would lead to some fun extracurricular activities, maybe not, but at least she'd be able to case his place. Based on what she knew so far, the guy definitely came from old money. "Just keep reminding yourself that he's potentially a mark, not a boyfriend, Rey."

"Sure," he smiled, looking relieved. "Hey, Poe?" he said to the driver. "Can you pick up some food after dropping us at the hotel? We're starving."

——————

Ben fumbled a little opening the door, but quickly recovered and ushered Rey inside with a gallant sweep of his arm. The hotel was nice, but not extravagant, something she found odd for the son of a U.S. Senator. Then again, he had apparently been helping out at a shelter all day, so maybe he really was as down to earth as he seemed.

"The bathroom is through there if you need it," he pointed toward the bedroom.

"I'm fine, thanks."

"Okay, I'm just going to grab a quick shower. Poe should be back within the hour, so make yourself at home."

"Can I join you?" she was tempted to say. "Sure, I'll just watch the telly."

Ben nodded and left the room. A few seconds later, Rey heard the water start. Flipping on the TV, she left it on the cartoon channel before having a look around.

There weren't any expensive electronics or pieces of art in plain sight, so Rey could only assume that anything valuable would be in his room. "Oh, well, nothing gained, nothing lost. Better update Finn, though."

Yanking her cell out, Rey sent a quick text to her brother with Ben's name, the hotel's address, and a couple sentences about the modest state of his living room. He answered her almost immediately, sounding concerned.

Finn: Are you sure about this bloke? If you're not there to rob him, I assume that means you're interested in something else?

Rey: Yes? Maybe? I don't know. We just met, but…

Finn: At least text me later, okay? So I don't have to worry

Rey: I will. Love you 3

Finn: Love you too, peanut

Finn: ...check the room safe if you get a chance. Those types of hotels always have them and you never know what might be inside ;)

Rolling her eyes, but knowing he was right, Rey listened for a moment. It sounded like Ben was still in the shower, so she took the opportunity to pop into the bedroom and search his closet. A standard issue hotel safe was at the back, surrounded by some very nice black suits.

It wouldn't have been hard to crack the safe if she had her gear, but her heart wouldn't have been in it even if she did. She didn't want to rob Ben Solo, which was a first. Still, she did appreciate a challenge...

"Did you need something?"

Rey whipped around to see her host in nothing but a low slung white towel. "No, I—uh…"

"Would you like something to change into?" he inquired kindly.

Unable to respond with his magnificent chest and long thighs on display, Rey just shook her head in the negative. His brow creased and she felt like a kid who had been caught snooping for Christmas presents. "Shit, shit, shit, I've totally blown it!" Backtracking to the living room, she wasn't surprised when he followed. "What should I do? Oh, god, I don't want him to think…"

"Rey, what you said earlier… about being a… what did you call it? A grifter? Are you—mmph!" he started, unable to complete his thought as Rey impulsively reached up to kiss him.

But instead of pushing her away and demanding an answer, Ben threaded his fingers through her hair and dragged her closer. Taking his response as permission, Rey wrapped her arms around his waist, gripping his bare back as the kiss went on and on.

Somehow, they ended up next to the couch. Rey pushed Ben into a sitting position and climbed onto his lap, rubbing her clothed core against the tent in his towel. "Rey," he whispered, lips trailing down to her neck, "Rey, I want you."

"Yes," she responded as he reached for her waistband. Coming up on her knees, she growled when he yanked her leggings and underwear down her hips with one forceful tug. Things were getting out of control, going too far too fast, but she didn't care; she wanted him too. "Help me," she demanded, legs trapped by the constricting garments.

"I've got you," he huffed, reaching behind her to unzip her black combat boots and pull her pants the rest of the way off.

Meanwhile, Rey tore her top and bralette over her head before going to work on the towel barely covering his lap. "Wow!" she blew out a breath, zeroing in on his ardent erection when it was uncovered. He was big, maybe bigger than anyone she'd ever been with. Would he fit?

"Fuck," Ben sighed, sitting back to stare at her body, "you're beautiful, Rey."

Feeling weirdly shy about the sincerity in his sinful voice, Rey kissed him again in lieu of a response, reaching between them to spread herself for entry.

"Wait," he said, gasping for air, "what about protection?"

"Implant," she mumbled, rubbing her slit against the tip of his penis. "I'm clean, are you?"

"Yeah, I haven't—oh, god—uh, done it in a while."

"Good." She felt strangely possessive of him, this man she had just met. It pleased her that he didn't sleep around. "Fuck me, then. Raw."

Ben slammed his mouth down on hers again, positioning his dick with one hand and gripping her left buttock with the other. But he didn't ram himself home, instead he teased her hole, sliding only a fraction of the way in before retreating. He did it over and over, mimicking the action with his tongue until she was incoherent with desire, squirming, imploring him to fill her…

And then he was, and she found that he fit very well inside her indeed. His thick cock seemed to be made for her, hitting all the right spots and ones she hadn't even known existed until now. "Ben!" she cried, furiously pumping her hips in time with his thrusts. "This is—you're—"

"I feel it too!" he returned, palming her breast and teasing her erect nipple. "From the first moment I saw you, I—"

She licked his mouth, begging for entrance, not wanting to hear his sweet words even as they made her heart soar. He opened for her, but was obviously frustrated that she had cut off his declaration. Before she knew it, the hand squeezing her ass drew back and lightly smacked against her butt-cheek.

"Oh!" Rey jolted at the slight sting, but it wasn't in pain. On the contrary, she requested, "Again! Ben, do that again, please! I'm—"

Knock, knock.

"Oh, shit, Poe's at the—"

"Don't you fucking dare, Ben Solo," she growled, bouncing up and down on him with renewed vigor. But the driver started knocking harder, likely because of the guttural sounds erupting from Ben's throat. "Come on, man, can't you tell we're busy?!"

"But—shit!" Ben hauled her against him, no longer playing, just looking for relief before his friend broke the door down.

Rey found his soft grunts and swears endearing, so she took pity on him and increased her pace even further. "Come for me, Ben," she instructed, grinding down on him with all her might. "Come now and then we can eat. Or you can eat me, whichever you prefer."

The dirty talk seemed to work, because in the next minute, Ben was biting down on her shoulder, shaking with the force of his orgasm. Not far behind, Rey led his hand to her swollen nub, needing just a hair more stimulation to tip over the edge. Almost instantly, his trembling touch sent her into climax. Still vaguely aware of what's-his-name banging on the hotel room door, she pressed her mouth to Ben's pectoral to muffle her cries and came for what felt like ages…

"That—was—amazing," Ben panted, hugging her so tightly she thought she might pop. "The—best—I've—ever—had!"

"Me—too," she couldn't help but admit.

Loosening his hold, Ben cupped her cheeks and kissed her softly. "Thank you."

"Ah—you're welcome," she said, smiling like an idiot. Before she could lean in again, Poe resumed making his presence known.

"Ben? Are you okay? Answer me! Did that woman kill you? Your mother will be so pissed if you're dead." He hit the door again. "Either answer me in the next ten seconds or I'm going to get security!"

"I'm fine, great, alive, whatever!" Ben called back loudly. "And annoyed," he said to Rey. "Go into the bedroom for a minute while I get rid of him."

"Okay," she agreed, gingerly getting up. They both groaned when he slipped out of her, which Rey found gratifying. "Can I use the shower now?"

"Sure, there are towels under the sink. My sleep shirts are in the top drawer of the dresser," he offered.

"He wants me to spend the night?" she mused, feeling giddy and terrified all at once. "Alright," she said aloud, picking up her clothes and disappearing into the bedroom she'd been casing earlier, "call out if you need backup."

"Will do," he chuckled, "will do."

——————

Ten minutes later, Rey emerged from the bathroom feeling fresh and back in control. Picking a long sleeve shirt out of Ben's dresser at random, she pulled it over her naked body before toweling off her wet hair. The black cotton was as soft as it was big, but Rey didn't mind; it smelled like Ben.

Catching her reflection in the floor length mirror by the closet, she was amused to see that the garment fell to her knees like a sack, giving her already slender body exactly zero shape. "Oh, well, it's not like I plan on wearing it lon—"

A disturbance in the living room suddenly diverted her reverie. Sneaking to the door, she carefully cracked it and peaked out.

"You can't just keep her here!" Poe nearly shouted at Ben.

"Keep your fucking voice down," he snarled back. "You're not my boss or my mother and you can't tell me what to do. I'm a grown ass man!"

"Maybe so, but you're acting like a teenager! You can't just sleep with some chick you picked up off the side of the road when Leia is counting on you to—"

"I told you," Ben said through gritted teeth, "she saved my ass and I wanted to get to know her. I didn't hire her for the fucking night!"

"Could have fooled me," Poe scoffed. "For all you know, she could have been in on the attack and—"

"Get out!" Ben ordered, clearly at his wit's end. "I'll call you when you're needed again, if you are."

"Are you firing me?!"

"Not yet," Ben said grimly, marching to the door and flinging it open. "Just go before I forget that you're my best friend and say something I regret."

"Fine," Poe said, storming out of the apartment. "Let me know when you come to your senses!"

Ben slammed the door shut, then turned around and leaned on it. Scurrying back into the bathroom before he caught her eavesdropping, she started combing her hair, attempting to look natural in case he came in after her. When he didn't, she tried not to feel disappointed.

Leaving her damp hair hanging loose around her shoulders, Rey found him sitting at the dining table in his towel with several brown paper bags in front of him. He looked lost in thought and she hoped he hadn't taken Poe's opinion about her motives to heart. "Wotcher, Ben?" she asked hesitantly.

"Hmm?" he said, looking up at her. "Sorry, I was just...uh…" The arrested look on his face made her toes curl. "Wow, you look amazing."

"This old thing?" she joked, sidling up next to him. "I borrowed it from a mate."

"He has good taste," he said, opening his arms.

"I certainly think so," she said coyly, moving to sit sideways on his lap. Rey curled one arm around his neck and placed the other one on his chest. "Are you still hungry?"

"For food?" he choked, holding her so that she wouldn't slide off.

"Food," she nodded, leaning her forehead against his, "and other things."

One of Ben's large hands inserted itself between her thighs. "These kinds of things?" he murmured. "I think we can—fuck!" he bit his lip as he discovered that she wasn't wearing anything underneath his shirt.

"We can certainly fuck," she teased, "but—oh!" Rey gasped as he stood with her in his strong arms. "Ben? What are you…?"

Before she could get the words out, he'd pushed their dinner out of the way and laid her down on the table. Placing the backs of her knees in the crook of each arm, Ben pulled her forward until her butt was on the edge of the table and her pussy was level with his mouth.

"Having dinner," he said in the most ridiculously sexy tone of voice she'd ever heard, flipping his nightshirt up so that she was bare from the waist down.

"Oh, god!" she whimpered as he lowered his head. "Ben, you don't really have to—ah!" Gripping the back of his head as he started to lick her folds, Rey shuddered every time his long nose bumped against her clit.

"Enjoying yourself?" he said a little arrogantly. "Is this why you came home with me? Cause you wanted me to make you feel good?"

Considering how very well he was treating her, and the uncertainty on his face, she decided to play along. "Yes, Ben, I wanted you the second I saw you!"

He smiled slightly, then resumed tasting her. "So, does that mean you want to come?"

"That would be lovely," she sighed, enjoying the pressure of his wide mouth.

His mouth quirked at that. "Never heard sex described that way before."

"Then you're doing it with the wrong people."

"Oh?" his gaze turned hot. "And how many people have you been doing it with?"

"Not many," she said hurriedly, "and not in a long time."

"Good girl," he said silkily. "So, if I were to put my fingers inside you, would your cunt feel… full?"

"Yes!" she panted, so wet she was dripping onto the table now.

"Let's see then."

Arching her back as he slid two fingers inside her body, Rey realized that she had never really known sexual satisfaction until tonight. She was twenty-five and still basically knew nothing about sex and relationships. "Huh."

Ben stopped moving, lifting his dark head to look at her. "Rey? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," she said dreamily. "I guess I've just never felt this way before."

He held her eyes for an extended moment, amber striking against hazel. "Yeah, me too." And then he was fingering her again, sucking and teasing her slick opening until she was crying out his name in ecstasy.

Afterward, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them. Needless to say, they skipped dinner that night.

——————

Rey grunted as she felt Ben leave the bed the next morning. He had been her heater since the sheets and pillows were strewn about the room. "Come back," she said hoarsely, throat worn from use. "I'm cold."

"Just a moment," he laughed, opening the bedroom door to fetch something from the living room. "Your cell has been going off for an hour straight."

"My cell?" she yawned. Then, "Oh, no." She sat bolt upright. "Wait! Don't—"

"Rey?" Ben called in disbelief. "Who the fuck is Finn?"

——————

A/N: I love Kingsman and always think about Rey being a punk with a heart of gold like Eggsy. I didn't include the spy angle, but I was able to visit The Black Prince, where scenes were filled for the movie, a couple years ago and have fond memories. Anyway, reviews are appreciated! <3 

[kotekie]

can you do a character ramble for burgh or N?

O ye! Sorry I took so long anon to get to this!

I may do another N post as I have quite a bit on him. (He's a character I hold very dearly and have theorised over much). Safe to say he may rival Colress in the number of rambles i have on him- but for now I'll try not to make it too long.

(Chances are there will be a bunch of em after a Grimsley character ramble-)

(Hyperfixationsarefunkids)

Quick rule:

-games only. Anime and manga not included in this analysis

Anyway! Onto Burgh!

Burgh man! V snazzy man.

Pretty sure he took on the gym leader role just to get inspiration for his art. He absolutely strikes me as the kind of guy who would do that.

Mainly because of his badge quote. The fact that there is an 'um' in there indicates he may not take the non battling side of it all too seriously. Especially highlighted in his national gym quirer with the presenters commentating on his weirdness.

But that's certainly not implying he isn't passionate about it at all. O no his dialogue indicates that he is hugely passionate about it from the 'a-MAZ-ingly' he emphasises even after losing. It's unlikely its sarcastic because every line of his dialogue seems to leak pure passion and love for battling and his bug type pokemon.

Everything about him seems to leak pure energy truthfully. From his dramatic battle Sprite animation to the energetic dialogue this man is a bundle of energy with a clear love for bug type pokemon!

However there is one exception. That's in his memory link with Lenora, where he seems much more quiet then usual.

I quite like this memory link because it shows Burghs hardworking and curious nature. He actively seeks out others opinions on things and actively goes out to widen his knowledge and inspiration.

Lenora's dialogue asking him whether he was coming to find inspiration again shows this a repeat thing. He's active in his art and his inspiration and it shows him listening to other people's views.

In team Plasma hideout he even admits he love the diversity of Castelia. His willingness to listen to others views and admitting he loves the diversity portrays him as a open minded character, or at the very least someone who is very willing to learn from others!

In his bw national gym quirer it implies he is somewhat vain. Stating they thought he was likely staring at himself in the honey.

I disagree because he doesn't really boast often about himself in his dialogue. Most of it is spent gushing over bug type pokemon.

Really what I think was happening was he was getting inspired by the honey to create a new art piece.

And that's all for Burgh! I'm sorry it's a bit short in comparison to my other rambles but it's all I managed to come up with. If you could send in a certain topic you would like rambled on about Burgh I'll be happy to ramble about him again! He's definitely a character I'm suprised I never really got into when I was younger. He's definitely a character i would have thought i liked a lot more.

Onto N!

For this ramble I think I'll stick to one topic. I'll make separate posts on any more rambles related to N.

As for the topic. I would like to discuss what I believe to be the 'base idea's of N's character.

To clarify what I mean by a 'base idea'. When I study or create characters I usually start off with a one word idea that encompasses the character and their motivation on a basic level. Some may have multiple but some have one.

N's is 'Kindness'. N is a kind character. He has a pure love for pokemon that is the fuel that is used by Ghetsis to push him to be a puppet King. It's his kindness that makes him call Ghetsis 'Father' even after all that has happened.

I don't know if N has forgiven Ghetsis, but he certainly did seem willing to give him another chance. Even after it all.

Truthfully, I believe it wa his inner kind nature that was the driving force towards him realising that Plasma's twisted ideals were wrong.

In my opinion I think it's his kind nature that got him killed in Rainbow Rocket Ghetsis's world. And I mean killed, because that kind nature would have become a liability to Ghetsis and once he had the world under his control he could easily come up with plane to get rid of N and use his death and to bring everyone to elect him as the new king.

(N's and Ghetsis relationship is a topic for a whole other ramble-)

To add on to my early points about N being Kind. I highly doubt N would ever use violence against a human even during bw. Only exceptions are self defense and to protect a pokemon or person.

I believe from the very beginning he valued human and poke lives equally, but at the start he valued pokemon happiness over human happiness before realising that the two cannot be truely separated.

This base idea of N's base idea being Kindness fuels a lot of my thoughts and theories about N. And imma end it here cause it's late (andihaveschooltommorow-)

But do expect more N rambles! I have plenty more on different topics and so on.

Feel free to send in more character rambles requests! Always happy to do more! ^-^ I did ask you send in a character and a specific topic (if you can)!

But before I answer any more requests I have a specific Grimsley ramble I wanna sink my teeth into so be ready for that. ;3

(But still feel free to send em in so I can brainstorm-)

Have a lovely night! ^-^

[songisforyou]

Now We Sit in Your Car, and Our Love Is a Ghost (5/8)

I keep playing on repeat / the same set of memories / I’m in the passenger seat / and you are there next to me. 

The first boy I date is one I learn to care for on a twenty-four hour drive to Colorado, and on seven-hour drives to and from Kentucky. I don’t think I am ever in love with him, but I learn to love asking him questions in the bubble of the front seat, the night flashing by outside. Inside that bubble, there are no secrets, nothing is too stupid to say, everything we say is full of meaning, and I get to choose the music for hours on end.

I like the way the hours slip away when they’re ours / and I like the way the highway waves goodbye behind the car.

I remember the boy distinctly drenched in the gold of sunrise on the drive back, crossing state after state until the sunrise becomes a sunset and we finally find home in the middle of the night. I sit next to him, trying to memorize his profile, wondering if he sees me the way I see him: beautiful. Wondering if he sees me the way I see him: in great detail, observing the angle of his wrist, one hand holding the bottom of the steering wheel, the way he sings along quietly when I pick the right song. 

I know you like wide open spaces / and long horizon lines. / The sun sets in the rearview mirror, we’re / almost out of time. 

I write songs about him. They are songs about cars, about sitting next to the driver. Of course Lorde, too, falls in love in a car, and the car serves as the vehicle to convey her love story. 

The journey starts in Pure Heroine. In Pure Heroine, “400 Lux,” Lorde sings, “you pick me up and take me home again / head out the window again,” and the chorus calls to mind endless cookie-cutter blocks passing by in the suburbs, the roads “where the houses don’t change / where we can talk like there’s something to say.” She captures the magic of feeling important, of how the car can turn the trivial into the essential, the mundane into the meaningful, providing the closest thing to freedom that she can find in suburbia. 

The final track of the album, “A World Alone,” opens “That slow-burn wait while it gets dark / bruising the sun. / I feel grown-up with you in your car. / I know it’s dumb.”  I think of this stanza all the time. I play it on almost every car ride when the sunset begins giving way to dusk. The sentiment is the same as in “400 Lux,” where the car becomes a place where we are important. We can fall in love because we can talk to each other here, and in this car, we inhabit a world alone. Maybe it’s stupid. It’s almost unbearably tender, the simple music behind the words, the lone notes, the space around them, the gradient of soft color against the car, the lump in my throat. Maybe I look back one day and think that the things I said were trivial, not as profound as I thought, that I was just a kid—but it doesn’t matter. In those moments, we believe in what we say to each other. We hear each other.  

Lorde doesn’t have a driver’s license (to this day). Like me, she is always in the passenger seat, never alone, never an independent traveler, always existing in relation. In his car, she must have felt like an adult. I wonder if she wanted to reach over the seat and touch his face, if she kept looking at him when he was looking at the road, drinking him in, waiting for his eyes to flicker toward her and back to the street, if she sang harmony along with the radio and wondered if he thought her voice was pretty (it’s unconventional, a low, alto growl, but it becomes addictive, works its way into the heart of the listener)—if she did all the same things I did, craved the same things I craved, worried, like I worried, that she was making too much of these moments. Is it stupid?

In Melodrama, we hear the aftereffects of the love, the memory of it. The two songs that mention his car are “Hard Feelings” and “Supercut,” a song about the end and a song about remembering the beginning after the end has come.  

In the first, she writes “now we sit in your car / and our love is a ghost.” I swallow these words on long car rides with my ex, when we are in the same group for weekend climbing trips. In the second, the ghost is explored. A supercut is a montage, and Lorde’s is one that cuts together “all the magic we gave off / All the love we had and lost.” In her head, the same moments replay — “In your car, the radio up / In your car, the radio up.” The line repeats itself like the memories, abruptly cutting back, somewhere between supercut and short-circuit. “We keep trying to talk about us / I’m someone you maybe might love.” The song calls back to “400 Lux” and “A World Alone,” a beautiful representation of the way we remember our relationships, our habit of recalling the best parts, of getting lost in nostalgia, finding ourselves wrapped up by the ribbons that tie us to the people we loved.

The love is remembered in one car; the post-breakup recovery in another. “Liability,” one of the most vulnerable, heart-wrenching songs on Melodrama, expresses Lorde’s attempt to come to terms with her breakup, opening with “Baby really hurt me / crying in the taxi / he don’t want to know me.” She is no longer welcome in his car. He doesn’t want to know her (“he,” not “you,” a far cry from the intimacy they shared). Instead, we imagine, he has put her in a cab. A stranger drives her home. Similarly, the entire album begins with “I do my makeup in / Somebody else’s car. / We order different drinks / At the same bar.” We know from this line that she is going to the same place as he is, but she can’t go there with him. She has to take someone else’s car. To begin the album this way is to emphasize the excruciating awareness Lorde has of their parallel paths and the distance between them.

The recovery, in the end, requires finding a new way to move through the world. “I ride the subway, read the signs,” she sings in the second verse of “Writer in the Dark.” In real life, while writing the album, she “took lots of subway rides, auditioning rough mixes of songs on cheap earbuds, which helped give her a sense of how the music would sound in daily life.” The subway is independent, solitary. It enables her to focus on her work. It doesn’t require her to dedicate her attention to the person next to her, the way conversation in the car does. It might be something like her new life, the one where she faces thousands of strangers every night instead of facing the specific person she once loved from the passenger seat. On the subway, in the stadium, she is always on display yet perhaps often unseen, unknown. She has emerged from the privacy of a love affair (in his car) and the privacy of her own heartbreak (in another car) into the individual-yet-communal and decidedly-unromantic experience of public transit. Perhaps it reminds the girl she used to be, when she wrote, “we ride the bus with our knees pulled in” (“Buzzcut Season”) or “we count our dollars on the train to the party” (“Team”), before the complications of the relationship took over. But perhaps it is different — now, there is no mention of anyone else with her. The independence is more complete, if bittersweet.  

I take the train from school back to my city. I’ve never driven anywhere alone, since I didn’t get my driver’s licence until a week before I returned to school for senior year, where I don’t have a car. Sometimes I remember the bubble of my ex-boyfriend’s car, but I also think of the way I can put in my headphones on the train and just sit with my own thoughts. It’s a lonely release, a haunted freedom.

[emometalhead]

Okay @megsann13. I listened to Pure Heroine and Melodrama, so here's my song by song review of Lorde's music. I apologize in advance because this is long.

-----

Pure Heroine -

Tennis Court: Loved it! One of my favorites! Not quite sure why, but it gave me Taylor vibes and I really liked the sound. Also lyrics!!! "And I am only as young as the minute is full of it. Getting pumped up from the little bright things I bought. But I know they'll never own me". The whole song was just perfect lyrically but those stood out.

400 Lux: I liked it. Didn't stand out too much, but I enjoyed it. I would listen to it again. Nice vibes.

Royals: I've heard this one before. I really liked it back when it was on the radio all the time years ago. I think I enjoy it more now because I understand the lyrics rather than just appreciating the fun sound. I couldn't keep the Weird Al parody out of my mind while listening to it though lol.

Ribs: YES. Loved it. Lyrically, sonically, everything! Just wonderful vibes. 🖤

Buzzcut Season: I'd seen lyrics from this one before but never listened to it. The was also one of my favorites. "I live in a hologram with you" Looooooovvvvvveeeeeee

Team: I feel like I've maybe heard this one before. Was it on the radio? Anyway, I liked the sound a lot. When she sings "cities" I melt! Lovely song. The beginning is just so powerful. "Cause what this palace wants is release." 😍😭

Glory and Gore: My final favorite from the album. I can't explain quite why I enjoyed this one so much, but I really really did.

Still Sane: Not one of my favorites but I did like the beginning a lot. The vocals felt floaty if that makes sense. The background vocals were pretty throughout.

White Teeth Teens: I liked it. I listened to this one a few times in hopes I'd like it more but it didn't totally click with me. I expected to like it a lot more than I did.

A World Alone: This is definitely a song to cry while dancing alone in my room to and that's wonderful. Vibesssss.

Bravado: Poppy and peppy. I liked it. Added it to my pop playlist. Not sure it's a song I could listen to all the time but there's definitely moods for it. Overall a very good song.

Million Dollar Bills: Poppy, fun sound. Added to my pop playlist. Kind of same assessment as Bravado.

The Love Club: Funky beat. Liked the lyrics. Similar assessment to the previous two. Not sure I'll listen again, but it was fun. "What about the kid? It's time the kid got free. Be a part of the love club. Everything will glow for you"

Biting Down: The vibes. Yes. The song gave me like good anxiety. I felt a bit tense listening to it, but it was a good intensity. It elevated my heart rate and I'm not quite sure why. I kind of loved it. Next time I'm in a weird place mentally I might just put this song on repeat.

Swinging Party: A bit slow for my taste, but nice. I really focused on the vocals and lyrics for this one due to the music being a bit hushed and not distracting. I liked it.

Overall I'm not sure I'm going to listen to the album in it's entirety again, but I really enjoyed it. I added most of the songs to my main playlist so I'll definitely hear them again. I'll probably have some stuck in my head later.

Melodrama-

Green Light: I think I've heard the shouty part of the chorus before. I really like it! Added to my playlist and will listen again!

Sober: LOVE LOVE LOVE! So good! One of my favorites for this album! Vibessssss.

Homemade Dynamite: I liked the sound. It was a little difficult to focus on. I think I'm learning that I prefer her brighter sounding songs. None of them are particularly bright and poppy which I really like, but the brighter ones seem to be the ones I'm more drawn to. The darker ones just aren't heavy enough. I listen to mostly rock and metal so this has all been VERY lowkey and muted for me.

The Louvre: Again I got Taylor vibes. Not totally sure why. I it's think a combination of the lyrics and the the long notes that she holds into a crescendo. I liked it. I'll listen to it again eventually, but it wasn't my favorite.

Liability: Totally disregarding my previous comment about preferring the more upbeat songs, this might be my favorite of hers. Not even just from this album, overall. So sad. It hurt, but made me want to keep listening just to really FEEL.

Hard Feelings/Loveless: "I care for myself the way I used to care about you." MY HEART!! This whole song is a lyrical MASTERPIECE! Why am I heartbroken??? I've never even gone through a break up or had a relationship!! She's just that good!! All of the background sounds!!!!!! Soooo good!! I didn't really enjoy Loveless which was disappointing. It felt like a bit of a letdown after that first 4 minutes. I liked the ending lyrics but I just didn't vibe with the sound.

Sober II (Melodrama): Every time she says melodrama it cuts into my heart just a little. I felt lots of emotions. One of my top ones for this album.

Writer In The Dark: Okay so I love anything that uses the phrase "rue the day" so that gave it points. Her vocals in this are heavenly. Love it.

Supercut: Very nice to listen to. Could dance to it. Could cry to it. Overall really enjoyed it.

Perfect Places: Fun sound. Not one of my favorites but it was pleasant. I liked the lyrics.

------

So basically, even on the songs I didn't love I still had a great appreciation for the lyrics. All of the songs had a cool sound. It's not really my vibe but I still enjoyed it. I definitely plan on listening to some of those a lot more. It's hard for me to listen to too much music outside of the rock/metal genres at once so this was an interesting experience. I actually listened to almost all of it this morning but got busy and wasn't able to listen to two songs lol so sorry this didn't get posted until late in the day. (BTW my top favorites are definitely Tennis Court and Liability.) Time to go back to some of my usual music now but this was fun and pleasant.

[cindylouwho-2]

RECENT NEWS, RESOURCES & STUDIES, early October 2019

Welcome to my latest summary of recent news, resources & studies including search, analytics, content marketing, social media & ecommerce! This covers articles I came across in the first part of October, although some may be older than that.

[I am out of town for nearly a week in late October, so don’t expect another update until the end of the month at the earliest.]

Just a reminder - you don’t need to read everything here! I try to organize the material by topic and provide a brief summary so that you can easily skip things you don’t need to read. 

I’ve tried to improve the layout for better readability, by bolding key words in each paragraph - do you find that helpful, or too hard on the eyes?  Leave a comment below, email me through my website, or send me a message on Twitter.

TOP NEWS & ARTICLES 

14 elements that will help your product pages get sales. Trust badges & reviews can really make a difference. Also, here’s a really simple explanation of how your descriptions should try to sell the product: “Bridge the gap between features and benefits: A feature is essentially a fact about your product or offer. The benefit mainly answers how a feature is useful for your customer. Tell them exactly “how” a particular feature is useful for them, and “why” they should make this purchase. Product descriptions that bridge the gap between features and benefits can lessen buyer’s guilt and ease the buying decision.” 

It’s time for holiday season forecasts! Halloween spending is expected to be steady. While some are predicting up to a 4-5% increase in US November-December retail spending this year, others are worried about consumer debt. There is still “a stubborn wealth gap in the United States that appears to be once again worsening and in fact is "the biggest it’s ever been." The Gini index, a standard economic measure of income inequality, for the U.S. in 2018 was "significantly higher" than 2017, after widening steadily for the last 50 years, according to a Sept. 26 report from the U.S. Census Bureau.” Note that online retailers are finding that the holiday season is less crucial than it used to be, since people shop online all year now. “...the holiday season accounted for almost 24% of all retailers’ sales in the late 1990s, but is closer to 21% today.” Finally, “A late Thanksgiving this year, falling on Nov. 28, means there are six fewer days between Thanksgiving and Christmas than in 2018. In fact, 2019 is the shortest possible holiday calendar scenario”.[emphasis added by me]

Kansas state tax collection on online sales is in question after the lack of a minimum on revenue or orders is criticized. The dictate kicked in October 1st, requiring any business selling anything in the state to register, which didn’t exempt small businesses as other states have done. This is important - if they manage to apply this tax to even the smallest businesses, and win any court challenges, other states are likely to follow suit. 

ETSY NEWS 

Etsy released a new stats page last week, which like most things they do these days, isn’t finished yet. You can read the announcement here, and a more detailed explanation here, including a discussion of the conversion rate numbers now provided. [I don’t find those very useful on Etsy, as I find I get a lot of visits that are not from buyers, such as people checking out my SEO.] Also note that there will be a Q & A thread this week in the forum, starting October 14th at 10 am EDT. 

When a listing is clicked from any search, there is now a link at the top saying “Back to search results” which only goes to page one of the search on Etsy, not the page you were on. It even does this when someone clicks on your item from a search of your shop. 

They made some recent improvements to the buyer app, including integrating shop names into the regular search. No need to tag with your exact shop name! (Mobile & desktop search also work the same way; the app was the last hold out.)

More holiday marketing tips continue to roll out, including this one on merchandising. It includes a list of holidays at the end (although Canadian Thanksgiving was just 5 days away on the date of publication, so that seems to have been a waste of space). Potentially more useful to some of us is the transcript of the podcast on shopper behaviour during the holidays. [includes links to the podcast if you would rather listen] “9% of our buyers do the bulk of their shopping in late December right before the holidays” and “On Etsy specifically, searches around the holidays spike for gifts in conjunction with a descriptor of the recipient. We see searches like “gifts for grandma,” “gifts for boyfriend,” and “unique gift for a friend” spike.” Finally, “In terms of uniqueness, 90% of Etsy buyers would rather give a unique or one-of-a-kind gift.” They also cover some specific research on holiday shopping patterns in the UK & Germany, compared to the US. 

There is a new help file on search called Beginner’s Guide to Etsy Search, and while it is up to date, I am not sure why it is needed, when they already have a page (they even link to it) called “How Etsy Search Works”, which isn’t as up to date. If they are planning on releasing new instructions, as they told me months ago, they are going about it really, really slowly. 

Etsy Ireland lost money last year, apparently due to the DaWanda deal. “Etsy, whose mission is to “keep commerce human”, faced a wave of criticism from users after designating its business in Ireland as an unlimited liability company in 2015 so that it didn’t have to publicly disclose financial information about the unit. The company has, however, published annual accounts for the subsidiary for both 2017 and last year.”

Meanwhile, free shipping & Etsy Ads have produced quite a stock boost for the main company. “KeyBanc’s comments were echoed by Canaccord Genuity, which earlier this week wrote that the company’s initiatives were driving “robust growth and improving profitability.” Analyst Maria Ripps called free shipping “an important step in bringing Etsy’s platform closer to par” with other e-commerce leaders like Amazon.com Not only will free shipping improve “consumer perception around the platform,” but she estimated that it could add upside of 3%-5% upside to 2020 estimates for both revenue and adjusted Ebitda. The company’s Etsy Ads initiative, she added, “should ultimately attract high affinity customers with strong repeat purchase behavior.”  Also, they noted that no major analysts no recommend selling the stock - most say “buy”, with a few saying “hold”. 

Etsy partnered with Blackrock Emergency Savings Initiative to help US sellers deal with the financial pressures of self-employment. 

SEO: GOOGLE & OTHER SEARCH ENGINES 

Google’s advice on how to get your category pages to rank well is worth reading: among other things, you shouldn’t keyword stuff. 

If you want your content to get the featured “0” position at the top of Google search, you should check out this article on featured snippets, or this Whiteboard Friday from Moz. [video & transcript]

More analysis of Google’s September core update shows that it may not have been as dramatic as the June update, but “your money, your life” (YMYL) sites still seem the most affected. SEMRush said the biggest winners were “DailyMail, eBackPage.com, lasd.org and marionschool.net. The biggest losers were TheFourMusic.com, Monks.org, BraidingClub.com, PascoLibraries.org and RoyalCaribbean.com.au.” Other case studies saw a lot of change in health and medical sites. 

Another study states that websites still get most of their traffic from organic search. 

If your own website isn’t ranking on Google, there are numerous fixable reasons, although some are more difficult than others. 

Google says that HTML sitemaps aren’t necessary to good SEO. 

If you are getting less organic traffic to your Patreon page recently, that could be because their SEO team accidentally de-indexed the entire site. It’s been fixed, but it could affect some pages for the next few weeks, if Google doesn’t recrawl you right away. 

YouTube is the 4th most visited website, so improving your YouTube SEO can provide a huge boost in traffic. 

CONTENT MARKETING & SOCIAL MEDIA (includes blogging & emails) 

Facebook’s experiment on hiding like counts has rolled out in Australia. (Articles looks at the sociological studies behind this)

Instagram launched an account posting tips for “creators”, which the author notes does not focus on making money off of that content. 

They have also expanded their Shopping part of the app, however, which is about making money. 

And IG has released a Snapchat challenger called Threads, a standalone app run by Facebook. Techcrunch did a more detailed review & analysis. Right now, it doesn’t have any ads & they say they have no plans to add them. 

Hubspot uses their own Snapchat account experience as a case study in how to make Snap work for business. (includes video & step-by-step instructions, if you are new to Snapchat.)

Twitter and Tweetdeck had a bad outage for several hours October 1-2, and it still isn't clear what happened. 

If you use Twitter for your business, you should also be using Twitter lists. (I use Tweetdeck to organize mine.)

Now that it is working again, here are the best-performing hashtags on Twitter over the past few years. 

ONLINE ADVERTISING (SEARCH ENGINES, SOCIAL MEDIA, & OTHERS) 

Hubspot’s comprehensive guide to Google Ads is completely up to date for all new developments, and covers search ads as well as ads across Google’s network. [video and text]

They also put out a Facebook ad checklist, with video, text & screenshots. 

And they also did a guide to YouTube advertising. [video and text]

Research and ad placement are key to getting better conversion from Facebook ads. 

Gen Z (younger than millennials) don’t yet have full purchase strength as a cohort, but they influence buying in their households after seeing ads on Snapchat. Since Gen Z shows the least brand loyalty of any generation, it's necessary to reach them in new ways.

Shopify now has an integration with Microsoft Ads, which include all Verizon properties (Yahoo, AOL). More than 116 million Americans use Bing searches each month in some way. 

LinkedIn has improved its ad tools, including audience forecasting. 

Quora has improved ad targeting; they say they have over 300 million monthly users. 

STATS, DATA, OTHER TRACKING 

Advanced tips for site search in Google Analytics can get more out of the data than you thought was there.  

Facebook will likely be paying out $40 million to settle a lawsuit for grossly overreporting video watching stats, including video ads. 

Google Search Console is now reporting a lot fewer links for websites than in the past; it’s not clear if this is a bug or not. 

The Console is now reporting on your videos.

Everything you need to know about Pinterest Analytics. 

ECOMMERCE NEWS, IDEAS, TRENDS 

If you use abandoned cart emails on your website, make sure they are optimized for conversions. 

Ecommerce fraud rates are definitely increasing. “... digital goods have seen such an increase in fraud because they often have a streamlined purchase process that requires less information than other items.”

Google launched its new Shopping pages, which is not the same as Google Shopping but is connected to it, and allows buyers to check out on Google rather than retailer websites. 

Amazon apparently surveyed Handmade sellers recently asking how they felt about Amazon Handmade.

Will Amazon face consequences in the US for its competitive activities? It’s looking more likely now. “Bloomberg reported in August that Amazon was dropping sellers' products in searches on its site if they priced a product cheaper on rival sites, behavior the news service noted could draw antitrust scrutiny.”

BUSINESS & CONSUMER STUDIES, STATS & REPORTS; SOCIOLOGY & PSYCHOLOGY, CUSTOMER SERVICE 

We all have difficult customers occasionally - here are 9 tips on how to deal with them. 

While most web browsing happens on mobile, desktop users are still way more likely to buy. They also spend more than mobile buyers. 

Gen Z members plan on doing most of their holiday shopping in physical shops this year (just like baby boomers), but many will do research online first. Also, “Forty-two percent of shoppers said that low prices are the top motivator for making purchases and 31% said free shipping was also a shopping incentive.”

Offering fewer options can lead to more sales. (The article has great suggestions on different ways to use this info.)

MISCELLANEOUS 

Vimeo app Magisto is facing a class-action lawsuit over holding biometric data without the owners’ permission.

Haven’t heard much about the EU privacy law lately? It turns out that businesses that are GDPR-compliant are more successful than those that are not. The shocker is that only 28% of the companies surveyed were actually completely compliant, so this may be correlation and not causation. Also, the results were self-reported, so maybe not that accurate. 

Here’s a decent list of free website builders, but I strongly suggest doing your own research on any that sound good, as the writeup isn’t very detailed. (The Etsy forum is a very good place for some of this research, as you can ask very specific questions of people who probably have similar needs to yours.)

Chrome is going to block embedded content that isn’t from an https site, beginning in December. [if your website isn’t yet https, get on that right away - it is going to become more & more crucial for being seen.]

[shreddedparchment]

The End of the World Pt.6

Thor, the Truth, and the Great Ocean Road

Pairing: Thor x Reader

Word Count: 2,342

Warnings: I guess this one has fluff? Romance galore, angst, glorious sunset

Masterpost

A/N: I feel like I’m churning these out too quickly. Am I churning these out too quickly? I can’t help it though. I get the idea and I just have to get it down and then I’m super impatient to see if people like it and so I post it. Should I slow down? I don’t wanna. This story is also kinda writing itself. I have ideas for parts 7-10...possibly an eleventh...Anywho, I hope you all love reading this as much as I love writing it. xoxo Let me know what you think!

The security you feel, cradled in Thor’s arms as you both soar through the blue and orange evening sky, is unlike any feeling you’ve ever felt before. Though the wind rushes by your ears, deafening you to anything but the vacuum of the warm air, you take solace in the feeling of Thor’s strong heart beating against his chest. And even though you’re happy in his arms, you’re also still reeling from your encounter with Tony.

His words had not been wrong. You are a liability and nothing more than that. You aren’t useful. Not to Thor. Here you are again, taking him away from his mission to find his people so that he can comfort you because someone had hurt your feelings. You shut your eyes against the wind, clutching tightly to his shirt, hiding your face in his chest in embarrassment and disappointment with yourself. He doesn’t seem to notice as he extends his arm a bit more and Stormbreaker allows you to fly faster.

Your skin prickles and the small hairs on your arms and behind your neck stand on end. You can smell the charge of the electricity coming off of both Thor and Stormbreaker, the crackle of that charge the only other sound mixed in with the overbearing wind.

Suddenly you feel yourself surge downward. You don’t even slip in his arms he’s got you so tight. Gravity pulls you down faster than it would if it were just you. With Thor’s added weight and Stormbreaker’s lead you all but careen towards the ground. The sound of the wind begins to get closer as the ground approaches. Before you crash your stomach is sent into a dizzying upset as Thor pulls you two out of the dive and you somewhat gently touch ground. He holds you up so that his feet touch first and the carefully he lowers you.

Once you’re on your feet you begin to take notice of where you are.  Beneath your feet is yellow sand, coarse and warm from a day of endless sun. Behind you stands a tall cliff made of limestone. It burns orange in the evening sun. The rush of the jade water fills your ears propelling you to a beach only half as beautiful as this one but more beloved because of the memories it holds for you. You miss your family suddenly and you feel just a little bit worse.

“What do you think?” Thor wonders. He sets Stormbreaker down in the sand where it glistens in the light.

He moves towards the water, his body relaxed and a pleased and peaceful smile on his lips.

“What do I think about what?” You ask trying hard not to let your mood taint your tone, but you can hear the regret in it and in your attempt to keep it from showing your voice is too quiet. Barely above a whisper.

“This beach.” Thor clarifies. “It’s my favorite of all Earth’s beaches. The road nearby is a memorial built for fallen soldiers in one of Earth’s World wars. It’s admirable that the humans wanted to honor their fallen warriors with such a beautiful sight.”

Ever the warrior.

“It’s nice.” You agree and let yourself look at its beauty with untainted eyes. The limestone pillars of rock that protrude from the shallow waters is particularly beautiful. The sun makes them burn as it slowly begins to turn the water to fire and the sky up above darkens, speckling slowly as the stars come out to also enjoy the coming night. The sand turns to a burnt orange, you look down at your feet and reach down to pull off your shoes. You let them fall and spread your toes, burying them in the sand. It really is beautiful.

“I’ve wanted to come back to see it for quite some time. I found it when I was last on Earth. I came with-”

“Jane?” You don’t mean to say it, but it comes out anyway. Tony’s words have you focused on her. Concentrating on your jealousy when all you want to do is forget it. To move on. To grow up.

Thor finally turns to look at you, he seems to suddenly realize that you’re not in the same happy place he’s in. His smile is gone, his brow is furrowed, and his blue eyes are searching your face for some sort of clue as to why you aren’t really here with him.

“I was going to say, when I came with Vision. It was a short trip but one that I greatly enjoyed. What is the matter?” He turns and casually moves towards you. His arms swing at his sides, his shoulders are relaxed, and the only indication that he’s vexed is his expression. Concern etched all along the corners of his slightly narrowed eyes as he continues to search your face.

You bite your lower lip, a bitter huff of a laugh escapes you, and you shake your head. “Sorry.” You whisper. You know he can hear you.

“Why?” He stops five feet away, leaning back on his right foot.

“I’m just, not myself today.” You look up at him and attempt a smile but only manage to grimace.

“Yes, I can see that. What has upset you? Was it me? Did I say something wrong? Or was it what happened with Hulk in the lab? He’ll come to like you, Y/N, do not worry. He will soon see how amazing you are.” He takes two steps towards you, but you take one back. He freezes. Real worry drowns his eyes as he looks down at your feet then back up at your face.

“If I have upset you, please tell me what I can do to make it better and I will do it.” He’s certain now that it’s him and you know he’s not exactly wrong, so you don’t deny it.

You lick your lips, tilting your head to the side slightly as you swallow hard. Honesty was the best policy, right?

“I finally got to meet Tony Stark.” You say. Your voice is surprisingly strong as you say it.

“Okay?” He urges you to continue but he doesn’t move closer.

“You’ve never told them about me. Any of them. I’ve known you since Sokovia, Thor. Why haven’t you told them about me?” You didn’t intend for your hurt to seep into your words but it’s there and he hears it.

“I had nothing to tell. At first.” He admits.

“Nothing?” You repeat in a disbelieving whisper as you take another step back. Thor moves one step closer in response to maintain your current distance.

“I meet so many humans when I visit Earth. I don’t tell my friends about all of them. That would take hours.” He laughs once at the silliness of telling the Avengers about all the humans he meets and though you know he isn’t laughing at you it feels like he is and you look away again, biting your lip. “And at the time-”

“I was no different?” You finish. “Just another human. I get it. Please don’t elaborate anymore.”

You turn as if to leave but Thor was your ride. Where will you go? You realize this and stop both because of this and because Thor suddenly rushes forward, taking hold of your wrist to slowly, gently, turn you around. He’s always so gentle. His hands are strong and can break bones and metal and other things so easily. His fingers glide gently along the length of your forearm, up past your elbow, and stop to rest on your lower bicep where they gently caress you. His other hand follows suit and he lowers his head as he tries to catch your eye.

“What else did Stark say?” You’re sure he can sense that there’s more to it, but you shake your head. “Fine, do not tell me. It does not matter.”

“Why can’t you just call me your girlfriend?” You spit it out because it’s been on your mind every time he’s introduced you to someone and though defining what you have with Thor has never been very important before, something about being thrown in with his friends seems to make it matter so much more. You hate that it does, but there it is.

“Is that what you’re upset about?” He half laughs as he speaks, still ducking his head to try and catch your eye which you keep glued on his chest. It would be so pleasant to listen to, his laugh, if your heart wasn’t aching and pounding. You feel the rush of blood in your ears as your fear mounts.

He laughs genuinely this time, a chuckle, deep and light. Pleased and happy. It makes your own heart ache. He pulls you close suddenly, pulling you into his arms as he rubs your back slowly then leans down to kiss your head. When you don’t speak he renews the distance and even increases it to about two feet so that he can look at your face which you finally let him see.

You’re crying. You didn’t mean to. It just happened. And your embarrassment grows. His own expression sobers as he observes you and the pain you must be feeling.

“Y/N, calling you my girlfriend has never felt right. I have known from the very beginning…well, no not from the very beginning. From the second time that we met I knew that you could never be my girlfriend. It’s such a human term. Trivial. It has always felt wrong to call you so because you are so much more to me than a girlfriend.”

He lets that simmer and though at first your heart had ached; his explanation begins to lessen your grief. You blink, trying to clear your eyes of tears, and attempt to read beyond his words. “What?”

“The word ‘girlfriend’ has always seemed so temporary. It’s not a word I want to use when I refer to you.” He clarifies.

“Then…what? ‘Lover’?” You wonder. Which to you sounds just as temporary as ‘girlfriend’.

“No, that’s just as temporary as ‘girlfriend’. Anyone can be a lover.” He agrees. “How about ‘Queen’?”

Your heart stops and skips a beat. Then stops again. Your mouth falls open and you finally bring your eyes up to meet his where his own electrifying blues are beaming at you.

He chuckles again at your, no doubt, ridiculous expression and reaches for your arms, once again taking hold of your lower biceps to pull you closer but not too close. “If I’d know this is what you were stressing over, I would have told you of my intentions when we were in your apartment. Were we on Asgard, I would seek out your family and ask for their blessing. They would have accepted me, of course, being a Prince of Asgard and I would only have needed to express to my mother that without you I would know no happiness. I would have told her the story of how you offered me shelter when I was wounded by a leftover Ultron bomb and how the kind and sweet woman who buys herself flowers asked for nothing in return. She would have accepted you, loved you as a daughter, and my father would have admired your strong will of heart so much that he would have had no choice but to accept you.”

You’re crying again but this time your tears are your joy escaping. The unbelievable miracle happening before you must be a dream!

Thor smiles that goofy smile that you know and love, wide, eye crinkling, and unabashed. He reaches up with his right hand to wipe at a tear on your left cheek.

“Since we do not have families to speak of anymore we can forgo the ceremony of my people but if Banner and Pepper are to be believed, I do have one observance that I must abide by.”

Without warning, Thor suddenly drags his right leg back and gracefully lowers himself onto his knee. He pulls you down onto his lap so that he can wrap his arm around your waist as his right hand rifles through a pocket on his pants.

“Oh my God.” You utter in disbelief as tears continue to stream slowly down your face.

“Yes.” He agrees. “I am, forevermore, your God of Thunder.”

Thor finally produces the ring; a thin band which ends in a Celtic knot, on which sits a solitary yellow diamond.

“What do you say, Y/N?” Thor sighs, seemingly as nervous as you are. You’re so dizzy that you think you might pass out. You went from sheer emotional torment to an extraordinary emotional high in the span of a day. “Will you be my Queen and rule New Asgard by my side as my wife?”

You stare at his soft, nervous smile, unwilling to believe that this God has chosen you to be his life’s companion. After what for him must feel like an age, you nod.

“Yes.” You whisper, unable to speak any louder for fear of passing out.

Thor chuckles heartily, his laugh sending vibrations into your chest.  He holds out the ring and you let him slip it onto your left hand. You look at his face, admiring it once more before you grasp the collar of his shirt and slowly pull him closer. You feel the scruff of his beard first as you lean in and touch your lips to his for a soft kiss. For the second time in your life, the world melts away in a blur of blissful haze.

As his left hand slides along the length of your spine and the right moves up your calf, along your knee, and finally comes to rest on your thigh, you can’t help but deepen the kiss. He pulls you closer, squishing as much of you to his body as he can.

Bathed in golden light, on the sands of a beautiful beach, you and Thor seal your engagement with a kiss.

@bionic-buckyb @mdgrdians @ulired @biawol @markusstraya

[boobdolan]

a review of melodrama (2017) by lorde

hey what’s up it’s your boy b-dawg. the b is for boobs as in breasts. this post is a track-by-track review of melodrama, the grammy-nominated sophomore studio album by ella yelich-o’ connor (aka lorde), a new zealand singer-songwriter who likes to dance funny and eat onions. her first album was pure heroine which was pretty big bc i think people (angsty teens) related to her songs about being an angsty teen.

i’m gonna keep it real with you chief. when i first heard green light (the lead single from the album) i thought it was pretty ass. but you know what. i’m an ass man despite my username. so eventually by some karmic circumstance i was reintroduced to the album and i realised: “hey! this is pretty dope! 😎” and then i ended up writing a 4000-word extended essay on it for the IB. but that’s another story.

green light is also the first track on the album, and it’s a hella effective one. with its intro bringing listeners acapella ella™️ over sparse piano chords, it kicks open the door to the sound of melodrama and immediately subverts any expectations for a pure heroine 2.0. as the song progresses we get additional elements of new and old - the boom-bap drums recall the hip-hop influences that permeated pure heroine, while her high-pitched backing vocals in the chorus introduce listeners to new vocal stylings from a singer who was previously known for being a Cool Bean who was Too Cool for all that stuff.

as the maximalist bop green light ends, listeners are thrown even further away from the sound of pure heroine with sober. personal note: sober was the song i most liked on the album upon first listen. and I can see why. it’s because i’ve got good taste! from the spacey uber-processed backing vocals to the bongo beat to the horns in the chorus, the song’s really unlike much else in the pop scene today. i especially like the “night, midnight, lose my mind” intro because when i first heard it i was like “wtf???? cool 🤠” anyway, point is, ella and her bf did well on this track.

at this point one might think, “this girl has a thing for acapella intros to her songs”. and she does! homemade dynamite starts, like an action movie, in situ, with its musings about top gun and the house party that the album is conceptually based around. one thing i love about the song is its synths. the 80s inspiration is obvious, with the synth pad emulating the iconic Fairlight sound on kate bush’s running up that hill. however, the moodiness of the synth pad is contrasted with a sprightly riff that comes in every now and then, emphasising that Potent Teenage Mix of Emotions™️ that the album is focused around. lorde also uses contrast in her lyrics, pairing wordy, literary, stream-of-consciousness style verses with almost childish phrases like “know I think you’re awesome, right???” it’s things like this that really encapsulate the state of being teenaged to me - that uncertain transitional period between adolescence and adulthood.

the following song starts with a very indie-sounding guitar, which is an unconventional sound for a lorde song. but the louvre is so typically lordey in that it shows off one of her greatest skills - the ability to create memorable, quotable lines with unique phrasing. who else would think of stammering the line “i overthink your punctuation use”?? who else would think of using a spoken “broadcast the boom boom boom boom and make ‘em all dance to it” as a hook??? another thing of note in this song is its extended U2-esque instrumental outro, courtesy of jack antonoff. sometimes when i listen to it, i understand why ella is banging him.

jack then mumbles the intro to the next song and starts playing the piano. after a few bars, ella joins him and her voice basically has sex with his tinkling on the ivories. liability is objectively great. lyrically, she reaches mind-bending extremes that many of her contemporaries can only dream of achieving. there’s a verse where she goes “home, into the arms of the girl that [she] loves” which is very interestingly constructed - it hits listeners with the initial shock of “oh wait is ella coming out” and just Leaves It for a few lines. and theN BOOM!!!! she’s actually talking about herself. that’s pretty cool. one other thing is her rhyme scheme in the line “the truth is, i am a toy that people enjoy ‘til all of their tricks don’t work anymore” which has a devastating effect that always gets me, even though it greatly takes advantage of her bananies voice.

now the listener is halfway through the album, and at this point they’re likely as hard as the feelings in the title of the next song. hard feelings/loveless brings us back into the world of electronic drums and synths after the minimalism of liability, and it does so excellently, providing an ambient atmosphere with its muffled beat and echoey distorted guitar. this song used to be one of my least favourites on the album because I thought the L O V E L E S S chant in the second part sounded kinda dumb and edgy. but then i watched lorde’s performance of the song for VEVO and ?????? WtF????? it really shines with a small choir and a boombox. fantastic. i also appreciate the little paul simon sample that bridges the two parts together - it’s a rare example of lorde wearing her influences on her sleeve for this album. also paul simon is one cool mf. i pop my pussy to graceland 24/7. 😎👌

taking a note from jack antonoff’s albums, the next song is a reprise, which have been used by many artists after the beatles to say “hey look my album is cohesive!” even though the only reason why it’s cohesive is because it’s cohesively shit. that’s not the case with sober II (melodrama), which functions as a response to the first sober. the parent song’s repeated calls of “can you feel it?” are immediately countered in sober II’s first line: “you asked if i was feeling it, i’m psycho high”. that’s cool because it reinforces the house party concept of the album. however, while i think the strings and trap drums combo sounds cool on paper, this production choice is the album’s first misstep because it sounds like jack put together 2 apple loops on garageband that didn’t quite fit.

luckily, before lorde turns into one of the migos, we’re treated with another piano song - writer in the dark. a word about lorde’s vocal performance in this song: WOW!!!!!!!!!! 😃😃😃 good stuff! in the verses, her raspy, imperfect voice highlights the intimacy and personal nature of the lyrics. in the chorus, she double tracks her voice and sings with a more round tone, which gives the eerie effect of sounding a bit like kate bush. it’s ok. i’m a bush man too. jack does a little production trick in the outro where ella sings the hook progressively louder as he fades out her vocal and lets the song be overtaken by strings. while it’s cool, i feel like he quite obviously snagged it from the outro of david bowie’s “heroes”, where a similar trick was achieved by the production god brian eno. jack then did it again on the song slow disco by st. vincent later in the year. side note: i’m still kinda pissed about what he did to st. vincent’s masseduction. more on that another time.

the next song, which should’ve been a single, features the metaphor of a supercut. i’m not sure how i feel about that because, on one hand, the term feels very millennial, like a better-written version of katy perry’s save as draft. you know what i mean? like those songs that aged fast - crazy in love with its pager reference, and payphone with its..... payphone reference. on the other hand, a supercut is pretty timeless, as montages have been used in cinema since the french first figured out how to make moving pictures. and the word sounds cool, so it’s ok i guess. but that’s beside the point. the song’s really nice, with some very interesting moments. one notable instance is lorde’s phrasing and the instrumentation in the prechorus - “in your car, the radio on”. the instrumentation just stops for a beat after ella sings the line, in a genius move that makes the song Even More Boppable!!. another moment is how the beat changes during the final choruses - from mellow, with her voice sounding like it’s coming out of a cassette player, to full, regaining all the instrumentation of the original choruses. then the song ends with a weird echoey vocal outro that’s a fantastic moment for me, especially after the intensity of the final choruses. boner time!!!!! 😃 one last cool thing about the song is that i feel the line “so I fall into continents and cars” is an Excessively paul simon thing to say. it’s one of those abstract things that just sounds GREAT, like “fat charlie the archangel sloped into the room” from his song crazy love, part II.

speaking of part twos, the end of supercut transitions into the bassy, atmospheric synths of liability (reprise). unfortunately, i still haven’t gotten round to fully appreciating this song. to me, it’s the biggest misstep on melodrama. don’t get me wrong - it’s a nice enough song, it’s really chill, but it feels slight because of its association to the majestic, melodic liability. apart from their lyrics, there’s not much that links the two. i feel that liability needed no reprise; it’s a work that stands on its own. i felt the same way about yandhi when kanye west announced it. yeezus doesn’t need another album associated to it! it’s perfection by itself. also, someone pointed out that the drums on liability (reprise) are the same as those on taylor swift’s call it what you want, and the last time taylor and jack screwed up a great indie artist’s work was fast slow disco, which we don’t talk about in this house.

finally, we come to the end of lorde’s house party with perfect places. and what a brilliant ending it is. there’s something so stirring about the drum beat, with its crunchy, decisive snare. there’s something equally moving about the synths and chord progression in the chorus, which give me chills like loud organs echoing in a church. when put together, they sound industrial, menacing, as if they move into your soul and alienate you from your own body. but at the same time, they’re an emotional release, a source of comfort like bruce springsteen’s cathartic 70s and 80s albums. another cathartic element - the use of the word “fuck” in the chorus. i could write a whole essay on it tbh. to me, it represents an intensely freeing release of the bad vibes and negativity in one’s life - for lorde, perhaps, her failed relationship and the state of the world in 2016. you know how studies have shown that when you shout “FUCK!!!!😡😡” after hitting your toe on furniture, it helps ease the pain? it’s like that. so while saying something taboo on the record is such an edgy angsty teenage thing to do, but also reflects lorde’s release from her pain. or maybe i’m reading too much into it.

the album ends as it begins, with ella’s bare vocals, reminding us that she is once again the Queen of Indie Pop. overall, melodrama gets a

9/10

for being really cool. peace out bitches. 🤠

[artswaps]

Could I ask you about Stay the Course? Thank you :)

Of course! Here’s the summary for it: 

Keith had done the math long ago.Before he’d even left Voltron, he’d thought about this kind of scenario, knewhis answer far in advance; If it came down to it, was he willing to die forthis war?The answer was always anunshakeable yes. His team has a few things to sayabout that.Or; During negotiations with Lotor,Keith stays at the Castle as a representative for the Blade. But when TeamVoltron find out about what almost happened at Naxzela, it causes the tensionbetween them and their wayward Paladin to reach a paramount.A series of conversations follow,in which not everything is mended… but maybe, finally, some steps are taken inthe right direction. 

It’s a post-Naxzela fic!! I started writing it almost immediately after s4, but when the seasons started coming out faster I lost a lot of motivation for writing it since it largely lost relevance. I still wanna finish it though!! The fic is mostly made up of a lot of heartfelt but sorta-awkward conversations between Keith and different members of the team. I wanted to write something that would address the distance between Keith and the others, and attempt to at least partly bridge the gap of understanding there. 

Also, I’m me, so there’s a lot of self-indulgent sappy K&L friendship lol (but there’s some emotional scenes featuring all the Team Voltron characters! They all care about him ;__;;)

It’s unedited and a lil shaky, but here’s an excerpt from the beginning of the fic, set directly after Lotor’s intervention and the battle coming to an end:

He knows he should be concentrating on Lotor,making sure the prince doesn’t pull anything. But there’s a dull haze threadingthrough his awareness, a tiredness more vague than the post-battle fatigue he’s familiar with. Keith is struggling to process everything that had justhappened, fighting to stay present and alert. Somewhere along the way, his mindstarts to wander. A fog of blurred-together images muddy up his head-chaotic laser fire, a harsh purple glow, a sudden wave of flame cascading towards him- afterimages oftheir narrow escape.

Even through the exhaustion, something hard and on-edge twists tightly in his stomach. It leaves hismuscles tense and his teeth clenched; Like he’s still bracing himself for a collision.His mouth feels dry.

Keith’s tight grip on his ship’s controls hasn’tlet up at all since his attempt at the barrier. Even through the post-battlediscussion and the current lull of activity, it remained iron-clad andwhite-knuckled. His wrists ache, hands cramped and sore; though his mind is becoming sluggish and unfocused, relaxing his body at all seems impossible.

Frustrated at his scattered thoughts, Keithlooks outwards, watching for Voltron’s arrival amidst the endless blackness.

There’s a minefield of debris from theweapon Lotor had destroyed floating outside. Nothing more than twistedscraps of singed metal, now. He turns to watch the remains as they spin slowlyaround, deceptively peaceful for what they once were.

If he’d hit that shield, would that be him?Lifeless and adrift in the nothingness of space; Just a broken, twisted thingleft to decay in the stillness? Would someone have found his body, eventually? Orwould it have been well and truly lost- eroding quietly away. Just anotherscrap of space junk.  

Or maybe there would have been nothing left ofhim at all, burnt away entirely on impact- gone up in flames along with theship.  

A coldness seeps through him, achilling feeling that starts in his chest and trickles into the pit of hisstomach. It travels up and outwards, freezing through his ribcage likestalactites, snaking slowly up his throat until he’s choking on it, breath snagging on the ice in his insides. He’s frozen over. Numb.

The debris spins idly on the spot.

Keith can’t tear his eyes away.

Distantly, he hears the tinny voices of Mattand Coran conversing over the comms. One of them might have said his name, butKeith’s only vaguely aware. It’s too hard to pay attention over thetoneless buzzing noise coalescing in his head.

His hands, rigid as they are, tremble slightly. When had that started?

His ears ring. The universeslips away, melds into discordant flashes of bright violet light, overlapping patterns of galra tech, unyielding and condemning and Voltroncouldn’t die, that would mean the end, but Keith could. Keith couldafford to die and if there was achance he had to take it, there was a chance, just one chance- don’t think justfly, don’t think, don’t think, get the job done, don’t watch- close your eyes and wait for-

“Keith!” 

Awareness slams back into him andhe snaps his head around with wide eyes, stifling a strangled gasp. Matt had opened upa visual channel, and is looking at him in concern.

Keith suddenly remembers where he is andwhat he’ss meant to be doing. The ice in his lungs relent just a little as his face heats with shame, and he quells the quiet wave of panic swelling inside him with a glanceat Lotor’s ship. It hadn’t moved. Just how long had he been spacing out for?

He gives the buzzing in his mind anothermoment to die down. Matt is still watching him, eyes searching. Waiting for aresponse.

Right. Talking. He could do that... probably. Keithblinks a few times, swallowing thickly.

“Sorry, what?” he manages to reply, voicestrained. His mouth is bone-dry and his skin feels too tight. How long had Mattbeen calling him for? An edge of embarrassment worms its way into theconfusing anxiety coiling in his gut.

Geta grip, damnit he chastises himself.

Matt pauses, eyeing him cautiously. ‘Are youdoing okay?’ he asks. Keith resists the urge to scowl at him.

‘I’m fine,’ he bites out, terse. ‘Is Coran onhis way?’

Matt frowns at the deliberate subjectchange, but only hesitates a moment before affirming. ‘He’s starting up thewormhole jump now. Shouldn’t be a minute. Do you…’ he trails off, hesitating.Keith bites his tongue and feels his shoulders tighten even further.

‘Listen, the Captain and I have this under control.If you wanted to head in when the Castle gets here, we’ll be fine without you.’

Keith wants to argue. At the very least forthe sake of his pride, he wants to snap at Matt and tell him he’ss okay, he’s alive and breathing andready to keep doing his job. Not to mention the large part of him that’sreluctant to let Lotor’s ship out of his sight for a second, nevermind his earlier slipup, but…

But he trusts Matt with this. He knows he andOlia are just as capable of handling Lotor as Keith is, and in any case, theprince didn’t seem too inclined to cause trouble right now, as unnerving as that fact is in itself.

And Keith is exhausted, unfocused, mind amess and body too wound-up. Like this, if something did happen, he would be a liability. He’d just get in the way.

Better to remove himself from the situation,and let someone else cover for him. He shuts his eyes for a moment, takes asteadying breath to try and calm down, ground himself.

‘Okay,’ he relents, and even to himself hesounds tired, flat. the fight drained from his voice. ‘Yeah. I’ll do that.’ Mattgives him a small, relieved smile, and the panel displaying his scarred facewinks away.

Keith sits and waits for another minute,closing his eyes and trying to breathe deeply through the silence. He forces himself to focus on the repetition of the rhythm; in and out. Inhale, exhale. Repeat.His shoulders finally relax a notch, the anxious feeling in his chest fallingaway to enervating numbness.

By the time Coran arrives with the Castle, hishands still haven’t stopped shaking.

[jefferyryanlong]

Fresh Listen - Ray Barbee, Tiara for Computer (Um Yeah Arts, 2018)

(Some pieces of recorded music operate more like organisms than records. They live, they breathe, they reproduce. Fresh Listen is a periodic review of recently and not so recently released albums that crawl among us like radioactive spiders, gifting us with superpowers from their stingers.)

Around Christmas-time 2018, my good friend Nathan invited us to a shindig at the Hawai'i Bowl, a post-season exhibition game at the Aloha Stadium, UH vs. LA Tech. Pregame was an all-you-can-eat/drink “tailgate.” Over-salted and overheated meatballs and short ribs, prepared frozen food from institutional distributors, served alongside twelve-ounce Coors Light or Heineken. The kind of party more fun in the abstract--in real time, you inevitably get sucked under a sluggish and dehydrated day drunk, and no quantity of soggy tater tots can pull you out.

As soon as we took our seats under a canopy set up just beyond the parking lot and in front of the entrance to the stadium, we realized conversation would be impossible. The band, a nameless cover group that interspersed Christmas tunes with their catalog of oldies, was too loud, and we had no choice but to drink silently and listen resentfully. The lead guitarist, hamming it up in an a Santa hat, was for the most part terrible and tried to compensate with a series of funny faces to the audience. (Granted, there were a few lines and riffs he had somehow motivated himself to practice to an almost polish). My girlfriend Rachel, who hears music with a far more sophisticated ear than I ever will, thought the drummer was “dragging” in most of the songs, but I just attributed his playing as part of the overall mess. Eventually the band gave over to the bass player, a thin white dude in an Aloha shirt, and he shocked all of us by manifesting not only the note-perfect bottom end but also the soulful vocal stylings of Motown’s greatest hits. But the true revelation of this performance was the keyboard player.

Nathan described her voice as Dionne Warwick at the Apollo, the sound of a class act singing her way back to the roughest definitions of her soul. While the keyboardist did have the coffee and cream smoothness of Dionne, she also carried in that voice a swallow of grit on the back end. It was a voice with some miles on it, a voice that had sung the story of heartbreak so often it could open up that valve to the universal pain in the speaking of a vowel, a syllable. This wasn't just the voice of God--it was undeniably human, the voice of desire and desperation and exultation.

But not just her voice that surprised and moved us--it was her mastery of her keyboard, a general issue piece of equipment, a preset memory bank of synthesized sounds. She could power her way through piano chords on covers of Adele, she could color the bass player’s R’n’B aspirations with bursts of faux horns. And when she needed to emotional immediacy of a note bend, a twang, that offset cry that simulates the human voice coming to grips with great feeling, the fingers of her left hand caressed the synth’s pitch shifter, modulating the artificial tones toward something that came close to natural. As fake and insufferable as they are in other cover groups, this specific keyboard transformed the liabilities of this imperfect band into strengths.

Because of the perceived dangers of displacing otherwise capable musicians, electronic synthesizers were surprisingly slow to be incorporated into popular music. The earliest recordings of synth music were put to tape by avant grade composers and theorists. For the most part failing to re-conceptualize the parameters as a whole new different conglomeration of sounds, these musicians took it upon themselves to recreate classic pieces of music through programming and note translation. (Their radioactive experiments, which pulsate and glow with the impossibility of ever striking a listener to the emotional core, are nonetheless compelling, unlistenable gems, evolving later into the computer program that stiltedly regurgitated an idealized, dehumanized melody, the theory of which was data-entried into its memory banks).

Kraftwerk pushed toward pop music as a synthesizer ensemble, but a true human face was not added to the cold, detached robotic visage until artists like David Bowie or Donna Summer coopted the German aesthetic for their Berlin and disco records. Stevie Wonder, perhaps because of his universal acclaim as a songwriter, vocalist, and instrumentalist, doesn’t receive enough credit as an electronic music pioneer, though he was utilizing synthesizer technology as early as 1972′s Music of My Mind. Over layers of weirdly chorded synths (all of them played himself), Wonder inserted a soul into the music, with his pure, flawed voice. With his inimitable, low-key drum style, he imparted a living heartbeat.

Ray Barbee’s Tiara for Computer references the trading away of old wealth for new knowledge. Specifically, an ornate but inherent useless crown-petite for the technological advantage of digital processing. As we as peoples evolve, we are learning how important it is to be plugged into the resources available via great swathes of digitized information, and progress itself is now dependent on effectively utilizing this digitized information. To evolve nowadays, to simply grow, is to synthesize the mind with the databases we move between daily. At least, that’s what we’ve convinced ourselves of.

With the help of Tortoise percussionist John Herndon, Barbee carries forward Stevie Wonder’s aesthetic, though without vocals: synth layers with a live backbeat. If there is one drawback to this approach, it’s that Tiara for Computer comes close to sounding like a Tortoise record, minus the off-kilter timing and overly cerebral melodies. Like his skater-musician colleague Tommy Guerrero, who appears on Tiara for Computer through his handclaps, Barbee’s musical drive is based on setting minimal and insanely catching melodies--through riffs and repeated lines--in stone. There are, for the most part, beginnings, middles, and ends to his songs, and on this record, aside from a few exceptions, Barbee doesn’t waste his time with free-floating beeps and tones, those textures that rise to the surface on the periphery of Radiohead records.

A fluctuating drone kicks off “Pink Noise,” an electro-alarm that announces the sonic equivalent of of a video game race over translucent tracks refracting pixels of light into rainbow prisms under the air wheels of futuristic machines. A bass synth figure keeps the track moving briskly along, subtly propelled by a tightly strummed electric guitar creating the impression of velocity. First buried low in the track, the guitar bursts into a shower of sparks as the song makes its last sprint around the length of space circling our heads.

There will come a time when the guitars and pianos and violins and saxophones of our present will exist as mere artifacts, like reproductions of lutes from Ancient Greece. The expression of the infinite well of human feeling will be predicated on the communication through a digitized language, absorbed through synapses that have evolved adequately for these missives to hit their mark. “Future Blues” is is Barbee’s rough sketch at what this music will sound like, discovering in the programmed notes of electronic keyboards a means to delicately portray he desolation of the human condition. The song could almost be a sketch from the outtakes of Kid A, grappling with it does the undead cry of technology in a struggle to capture a living sentiment.

“What’s His Neck” continues the exuberance of “Pink Noise,” a more melodically sophisticated piece accented by Barbee’s guitar and a chorus of handclaps. The fullest “band” song on he record, the song accelerates to a rave-like intensity. In contrast, “Ocra vs. Jaba” comes across as almost sanctimonious. Despite the complicated drum figure and Barbee’s groove-based riff, the overwhelming synths drag the song into a kind of slow motion, a ponderous moment that creates in the imagination a starship docking on the interior of a space station.

Herndon has several shining moments on Tiara for Computer, but his impact is never so apparent as on “Tina Cut.” As a drummer, his role in the song is minimal, tasked to ground Barbee’s sequenced movements with a steady beat that could never be replicated by a computer. The slight accents that vary between the snare, hi-hat, bass drum, and cymbals--plus the breathless manner in which Herndon pushes the sonic monolith of synths through a kind of weightless space--comes as close to a credible synthesis between electronic and live instruments. The sequel to “Tina Cut,” Ornithology,” replaces that living rhythm with a more mechanized beat, capturing Barbee’s thinking out loud through his synths.

“Holding Company,” with its processed acoustic guitar arpeggios and slacker groove, calls back to Tommy Guerrero’s laid back aesthetic, with a little of Oliver Nelson’s “Skull Session” thrown in. Barbee forsakes his firmly established melodies on the album’s title track, a tightly orchestrated freakout that, if stripped of its electricity and played by horns, could be the outro of a jazz record, notes arising and from the noise and latching onto one another briefly before traveling astray. 

With its hybridization of live and electronic instruments, Tiara for Computer might have been produced ten, fifteen years ago. It is not a groundbreaking record in the sense of reshaping the potentialities of this music. What is important about Tiara for Computer is Barbee’s excitement in engaging new modes of expression beyond his already formidable guitar work, while composing music that is, in its complex simplicity, quintessentially his own. Barbee is growing into the 21st Century, hypothesizing new ways of playing and hearing as he develops his aesthetic palette.   

[entitledunemployedmillennial]

Endless Job Searching

While I waited for my unemployment benefits to come in the mail, and for the past 6 months or so. I’ve started applying for jobs in whatever way I could. Monster, Craigslist, Dice, Ziprecruiter, Indeed, any major job search site, every major company you named it I did it. All unemployment insurance in all states require people going to receive benefits to apply for three jobs a week. And more increasingly, they require you to sign up for the unemployment office website, register their information, and register your three applications on their website so they can verify that you’re actually seeking work.

Most people apply to at least ten jobs a day. But in reality in order to actually get any type of job in a metropolitan area you need to apply for 125 jobs a week. Here is a list of all the jobs titles I’ve applied to:

Linux Systems Administrator

Linux Administrator

Site Reliability Engineer

Linux Analyst

Solaris Administrator

System Administrator

Technical Writing

Software Engineer

Unix Engineer

Unix Systems Adminstrator

IT Support Analyst

Help Desk

IT Manager and IT Lead

They’re with Large companies, small companies, recruiting firms, temp agencies. And or the most part despite being well qualified for these roles, I rarely get a call back.

Many of the applications range from simple ones that just want your name, address, phone number, email, and your resume to ones that require you to make an account to simply apply for a job with your resume, or in some cases you are required refill the entire application for the Applicant Tracking System so that it will be parsed with keywords or buzzwords set by the employer’s Human Resources Department. If it does not fill enough buzzwords, it won’t be selected.

And even if it does fill in enough buzzwords, it would not not be selected anyway. This is because ATS systems have beyond buzzwords to secret algorithms that determine if your resume would be actually seen by a human. These same systems are in some cases, used by state courts in the United States to determine sentencing in criminal cases. Due to the use of algorithms, you can be rejected for any reason: Length of unemployment, length of gaps between jobs, which type of experience you have, place of living, email. In some cases, certain address you put there will put your name and application on a blacklist, meaning that you may not be hiired ever from a company that uses such a blacklists. This affects people living in homeless shelters who are actively seeking work, not knowly that they have been placed on a blacklist for doing what they’re supposed to do to stay in a homeless shelter.

In some cases, the applicant tracking system is glitched and it’s apparent that HR did not even test their systems.

In many cases, most companies have a 5 year experience requirement for their positions. This is done to legally discriminate recent graduates, and those who don’t have recent experience in the employment field. In some cases, they only want paid, professional, and recent experience. Shutting out people who took the advice of volunteer to get paid experience. Even people who volunteer in a different field who get employers to look at their resume are rejected because the volunteer experience is not related to the field they wanted to work in.

Due to all of this, the standard advice for job seekers that have been repeated to them over and and over simply do not apply anymore.

Due to the advancements of ATS systems, most people don’t bother reading resumes anymore. In many cases, just type in buzzwords and just email job opportunities to as multiple people as possible. Then they do the usual phone screening, and then phone interview, then in-person interview, then finally a job offer. That’s the usual practice.

In reality, companies have been known for taking a long time in hiring people. Even in times of low unemployment or a labor shortages. In some cases, the job opening can be fake in order to college resumes and get a feel of the job market. In some cases, the job opening is placed there to fulfill Equal Opportunity Employer regulations because they already have someone who the employer want via a referral or a internal candidate. In some cases, companies may choose to refile the job opening over and over again because the people they apply for the job, may not want be the ones the employer wants. So it’s more easier not to hire anyone than to risk a liability or a bad hire.

Recruiters do the same practices of most employers these days, and they do it with no consequence because instead of actually advocating to the employer on your behalf, or actively seeking and apply for jobs for you, they apply for one position and three positions and call it a day.

In practice, what recruiters do is sales. Not actual recruiting. In actural recruting role, the person finds a person, reads the resume, after sometime they call the person in. After the screenig and phone interview, they will send you to the person the actual company for a interview.

Often times they will tell you that they will call you when there's a update or will call you on like Wednesday. Then wednesday comes along and then you realized that they have not called back because they forgot. So you have to call them yourself. Then when you follow up with them, they seem to routinely dodge your phone calls and emails. When you do catch up with them, they will pull an excuse and pretend that they didn’t hear that you said that you missed their voice messages.

Indian recruiters, whose whole business scheme is to spam resumes in areas where no one want to go with a 3 or 1 month contract. They’re hoping that people who are unemployed  are desperate to post their resume so they can use them to prove to the US company that want to hire a person who is part of the overseas company attached to recruiting “business” that they tried to find a US candidate. Or in some cases, steal the information for their own ends: Such the job experience and place them on their hire they actually want that is from overseas, or steal the person’s name, address, and phone number as a form of identity fraud.

These practices have been active since the 2008 recession and have not changed because company simply realize that it’s easier cheapen the cost of labor by hiring less or none at all. Some of them I won’t include are abolishing on-the-job training programs for new hires, or outsourcing them to the workers on their own dime and time. But what most companies did was outsource hiring and recruiting to HR executives, ATS firms, and the recruiting industry as a way to cut costs. In some cases, companies post their listings on several job postings, to several recruiting firms. So the amount of jobs that are posted may not be real at all.

But the most insidious and unprofessional thing about the job market since is they way respond to job seekers. These days, they’re actually not genuine, some cases it’s totally fake as you can in some cases listen between words of interviewers and people calling you or calling you back. Despite systems that allow you automate sending rejection letters to each state of the process, most employers choose not to even though it can take less than five minutes to set them up.

Often times, you will never hear back. And this is done via ignoring your phone calls, emails,and voice messages. In some cases, recruiters place your number on a block list, straight to voicemail. It’s unprofessional but a routine practices nowadays in the age of the internet, and cell phones. But if a job seeker calls out a employer for doing so, they will make the job seeker the bad guy for not playing their game.

If you do get a hold of the HR person calling you, they will tell you a generic statement.

We have too many applicants

You’re resume is impressive, but we decided to go with other candidates

You’re not a good fit

We’re not decided to go with other candidates

We closed the position.

The same thing with email statements, too. It’s all generic because they don’t want to risk a lawsuit. You can argue that the hiring practices today, is to find excuses not to hire even a candidate that is not perfect but can work with: Zero-Liability Hiring.

Despite the Trump’s Administration boasting of a 4.1%, and a now absurd 3.8% unemployment rate, you would think that companies might suddenly change their tune and maybe be more flexible. Sadly, they haven’t, as it’s too profitable to change practices.As a matter of fact, for the tax breaks Trump promised and signed to Congress, most companies have pocketed the tax reductions they got instead of reinvesting it into hiring more people.

Now as for my story, almost all companies I’ve applied to have not acted like they’re desperate to hire people. In some cases, they stalled or made excuses why they can’t move forward.

The worst part is that I got laid off during the worst part of the year: The Holiday season. It's the time where employers despite posting job openings, are less inclined to actually pull their weight when it comes to the job application process, and will flake or stall out the first change to avoid giving applicants a callback closer the actual holidays come.

(The only exception is if you know someone that is willing and able to help, and will actually keep trying to help instead of seeking a one off thing and then going away if it does not work out).

In many cases, I’ve tried applying for jobs and casted a wide net to even places in the Northeast such as New York, Boston, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Delaware. Same result, never hear anything back or they refused to go forward because I don’t live in the area where the employer is. I’ve even applied for jobs that are outside my field. Anything and I get no reply back response.

I’ve created multiple resumes over the past six months: There was one that had my job experience for the past 7 years. I had a federal resume to apply for federal jobs. I had a full one that is similar to the federal resumes, but without the federal government specific sections. I even had a dumbed down resume with just the last job I had. It didn’t matter, which resume as none of them got me the job.

And I’ll tell you why. Despite the fact that the unemployment rate is is low, there are too many people applying for too few jobs that exist in the market. 95% of the job growth since the 2008 economic recession is for part-time/contract work in low wage service industries, with the exception of fields that are in bubbles such as the STEM field, and the Oil/Shale industry during the oil boom before OPEC caused a oil glut in 2014.

Instead of companies expanding full-time job openings the jobs since 2008, they kept it low on purpose because it’s more profitable to hire less or none at all. This is what we call a jobs shrinkage. This is why you have one person doing the job of 2 or 3 people without a wage increase. And when the person finally quits, they will spread out the work to new hires that will be paid much less.

But it does not matter what I experience, because to American society I’m a worthless entitled unemployed millennial