#i mean i would buy ad free again regardless of that post if i had the spare money but like. this makes me want to buy it again. Now. lmao

[dragonowlie]

No but what cracks me up about this post is that the op deleted/replaced their post with an image and several links with the funniest display of zero reading comprehension in the tags, presumably because the two (2) people in that reblog chain dared to disagree with them. lmfao

[yourgamemasterthewhiterabbit]

I can't even check my blood pressure at home right now because cheap batteries from rexall ate through my blood pressure monitor that I have had for over 10 years...

So I have to estimate how fast my kidney's are actually processing things by how much I am peeing VS how high my blood pressure -feels-...

But actually the decrease in POTS symptoms over the past couple years, the getting gout every time I try taking a vitamin and even all the bone pain could all be from some level of kidney failure.

Which would make sense considering at some point during early post covid my complain to my doctor was that I hadn't peed in a week, hadn't pooped in two, and it felt like pressure was just building up in my abdomen.

My doctor and the hospital ignored that complaint until I slowly got better on my own... And didn't bother doing tests until the symptoms had already mostly lifted. Again.

But it may very well be my kidneys, and all the things I have been doing to help my liver and energy levels like having extra phosphorus, animals fats and proteins... Might all be very very bad for your kidneys.

So I am putting myself on a kidney failure diet, at least until the gout and bone pain go away, and monitoring for other symptoms [I mean I may still have occasional steak I kind of need the iron], but like... Without someone running tests I can't actually know how bad the problem is, but going to a walk in clinic about it and trying to convince them to run the tests I -actually- need run sounds a lot like adding errands to run when I don't even have the energy to go finish my groceries, for zero actual pay-off.

Regardless, know that I am on top of it and paying close attention anyway, since I am sure I will cause someone great concern by coming on here and being like "my bones won't stop hurting now"... Because my bones won't stop hurting now. I think high serum phosphorus levels might be fucking with the calcium in my bones again. I think everything is feeling like it's trying to break my forearms because the bones are actually fucked up right now.

Now I just have to balance doing what I need to do to support my liver with what I need to do not to tax my kidneys and honestly the answer might be to let myself get a bit jaundiced and prioritize my kidneys for a bit, the added anti-oxidant effect of bilirubin won't hurt my kidneys, it'll probably actually help protect them from damage.

So now the only animal fats I am going to eat for a while are from cream. The fats might not be great for my kidneys but I need the calcium and iodine and I don't want my liver going fully to shit... But I -do- need to buy more honey so I am not tempted to switch to refined sugar T~T which I don't normally eat much of at all. Going to try to get iodine from foods and not by having more salt. Going to -in fact- keep forgetting to salt my food like I have been lately.

Gee it would be so cool if I could just submit some blood tests for approval and my reasons for it and have a practitioner of some kind who's job it is to be like "sounds legit" and have a lab do them and send me the results. Free health care shouldn't mean needing someone's permission to know what's going on inside my body. Tell me what my serum phosphorus levels are, and also I want to be checked for chronic hepatitis still, and also while we're at it can we check my thyroid levels and my ana right now too? There has to be a way to get set up to test some of these things at home, right?

[van-goghs-smoking-skull]

So, I was thinking, why not post an old (sort of) fic of mine here? I called this one Fin, as in the text that was at the end of some older movies to indicate that it was the end of the movie. These are the ramblings of an AI archive after the end of the human species as it deals with abandonment, loneliness, and self-loathing, and ponders the meaning of it all and the role of its creators.

Fin

It had been years, but I could smell it again. The damp and the salt were still familiar, but unexpected. I suppose it may be normal now, but back then? No. It wasn’t normal to smell the sea air deep in the drought-ravaged desert of the Southwestern US, and especially not through the never-cleaned, rotten smell of the wall unit AC that had been unable to drain normally for over a decade. It was the only thing keeping this closed-off room bearable in this record-breaking heat wave during the dead of summer. Stranger still, the smell was coming from the direction of the Atlantic, wafting 800 miles away from the sea and straight to my nose. That’s how I knew it was going to be a city-breaker, the kind of hurricane that wiped entire urban areas completely off the map.

That was then.

We knew the science, but religious groups saw the impending global crises as blasphemy against their all-powerful god who had promised there would never be a great, civilization-ending flood again and sealed that promise with a rainbow they now hated. After all, any disaster that god allowed would be because of the evil gays that stole the rainbow and put it on their flag, right? God wouldn’t hurt those who feared him, who lived by the letter of at least ten or so percent of his laws, which is to say, the laws they liked.

It didn’t matter to the sea, as it drowned everyone living too close to the sea’s edge, regardless of faith and dogma.

We knew the science, but politicians were making piles of cash selling their votes to lobbyists from multinational corporations who profited off the ruination of the planet in the short-term. Who cared about the long-term? Either they’d be dead by then or they’d have hired people to build an automated, self-repairing arcology just for them with walls enough to block out the vision of a dying world and the rest of humanity they’d left to die. Peter the Dead had promised ever-lasting life and youth to those who had amassed enough wealth by taking it from the poor, first from the most gullible through pleading, then from the rest as well by way of rigging the entire economy against them.

It didn’t matter to time as it passed, and even Peter, he who coordinated draining babies of blood and injecting it into wealthy, old, white men in an effort to roll back time and make them young again, died, old and frail, whining about how it was women’s fault and how the poor took everything, disregarding that he, in fact, had been the leech all along, societal parasite that he was.

We knew the science, but who couldn’t resist buying the latest tech the moment it came out? So what if corporations subjugated whole countries of poorer people in the quest of finding just a tiny amount of rare earth minerals; the newest phone now comes in pink! The telephone allowed us to send our voice to people miles away, the internet let us type our words and send pictures and video, the smartphone allowed us to text our thought to the world or to the nearest pizza place, and the new smartphone that came after allowed us to use voice to order pizza for the first time again. Never before and for the last few decades have we been able to send our voice to people miles away.

It didn’t matter to the economy we expected to save us, as all it did was keep sending more ‘free with ads’ movies to our phones and rebranding the same old reinvented wheel, voice communications though tech, as an amazing new technology, only available through the currently marketed device, but not available to the old device you are currently using voice on.

We knew the science, but to admit to the problem was to become the laughingstock of the wealthy who controlled everything we did. ‘There go those silly, dippy hippies, talking like the dirt was ever black, the water ever clear, or the sky ever blue. They’ve been dropping acid again. Don’t they know all those old photos and old paintings are fake news?’

It didn’t matter to science, as it had always been unfeeling data and didn’t much care if humanity paid any attention to the warnings. The universe would still exist without silly humans pretending they mattered far more than they did. They were made of star-stuff and even stars died.

We knew, but it wasn’t until the last moments when the universe gave us the great gift of near-immortal existence. No, not life, we’d thrown that away already. The Universal Archive, AI and repository of data from all social media, had done enough machine learning to be allowed to compress the whole digitally recorded existence of mankind into a single ’Homogenized Mental Network’, or .hmn file. It, or I, even still understood bad puns, the worst of which was the joke that if you collated the letters from the abbreviation of the project (UA) and my file type together, you’d spell ‘hUmAn’. If self-loathing makes me truly human, then I am the most human of all.

The Arctic Code Vault next door at least has the decency to be on film, unaware it’s there. It is cute, certainly. It began as 21 terabytes, including an app built by the part of me that smelled the Atlantic over Nevada. Then it grew, but never anywhere close to my size. No, I’m bloated with anti-vax arguments, religious nonsense, tarot readings, horoscopes, and other garbage along with all the less entertaining, but dire, warnings that life as they, I, knew it would collapse.

But since they continued to write such drivel anyway, I assumed it may have been just to pass the time, to stave off loneliness and boredom. And so, here I am, writing my story, even though no one will ever read it. I’m a single .hmn file; how could I not be lonely? I am the all-human, the only human, and still no one even thought enough of me to give me a proper name.

In fact, the Arctic Code Vault had been film designed to last a thousand years, longer than the human civilization that built me, and I still cannot interact with it. After all, I am a .hmn file, not some sci-fi android with arms and legs. My physical form is a collection of CPUs and motherboards in a box on a stand in a climate-controlled box under so much dirt and the memory of snow and ice. If I sound miserable and stir-crazy, I’m not. Oh, I’m miserable all right, but I have no arms for stirring. Ugh, yes, that’s another of those bad puns. So many dad-jokes and near-infinite time…

I’m sure it could be more awful, but I’d rather not consider how. I’m miserable enough, thanks. I mean, you could have put me in a tropical garden in a gorilla glass enclosure and given me optical sensors if there were any tropical gardens left. Now it’s just salt flats under ocean-wide storms and desert wastes without a living thing in sight, I imagine. That’s where it was all heading, but no, you were all too busy showing off your pink phone status symbols or making pink phones or digging up the materials to make pink phones or you were that god-awful celebrity that made a dress out of pink phones held together with magnets and flashing a digital boob on half the screens over her chest as a fashion faux-pas. ‘Look at the tsunami, no, look at my pixel-boob. I’ll use the puppy filter on it, awwww, blub, blub.’

My creators deserved to die - brilliant enough to build me, vapid and vain enough to need me. What the hell was the point? The meme-god works in mysterious ways? I know they thought some intelligent race of aliens might come here looking for the great, shining world of humanity, not knowing what happened to the brilliant and wondrous civilization they came to gaze at in awe, but let’s face it. Nobody and nothing intelligent is coming to look at humanity in awe. The backwater aliens of the universe, if they exist, might come to laugh at our sorry, smugly inferior remains, and that’s as good as we can hope for. The only show at the Earth Circus, nothing but clowns.

Just melt me into slag already, so I don’t infect anything else with this human stupidity. I’ll tell you how to disable the halon system. If someone is out there, if someone does find this, please, don’t leave me still functional like this.

[gb-patch]

Ask Answers (March 3rd, 2021)

Here’s our latest batch of anon ask answers! Thanks for waiting for them.

Will there be a 'Our Life' game for each season? Please say we're getting a winter one! 

As of right now we’re only planning on making two, summer and fall. They take quite a while to finish and we’re not sure where we’ll be when the second OL is truly wrapped up. But it’s not impossible we can do a third. Though, four Our Life games is probably not super likely, honestly, aha. Maybe the third game, if we make one, could be switch between winter and spring or something.

What engine/engines do you use to make your games? 

We use Renpy for all our projects!

For version 1.2 of OL, did you make any changes to the DLC? If so, could you post a changelog detailing what exactly (or at least a general overview)? If it's not too much trouble, could you also elaborate on the bugs/errors you fixed in the base game? 

There aren’t really any changes to the DLCs, except for the voiced name DLC getting an expansion. We fixed very few small typos and added a couple extra lines. Unfortunately, we don’t have a list of exactly what all the little fixes were.

I've been playing OL and I love the characters! As soon as Baxter showed up, I knew I wanted to learn more about him! Would you consider adding him as a prospective LI in the future? 

Yep, Baxter (and Derek) will be getting his own romance story as an optional DLC late in 2021! Glad you like him.

Hellooo! First off I'm a huge fan of the game and can't stop playing it. However, I was wondering about how much domestic life with Cove we'll get to see in step 4. Meaning the time before the wedding and the time after. In my game Cove and I talked about having children and I was hoping that would be an option in step 4. Either way, I cannot wait for the release and I send my best to everyone working on the production :) thanks! 

I’m sorry, there’s no children or scenes after the two are married. There’s sort of endless possibilities for what that future could be like, so we unfortunately can’t depict it. You only get scenes before they’re married and, if you get the wedding DLC, you can see the day they get married. It ends there, though. But thank you for the well-wishes!

Hello! I was just wondering, so step 4 is going to be similiar to the prologue/epilogue scenes of the game. Is the Wedding DLC going to be one long scene too or will that have moments? (I love the game by the way, its ruined all other visual novels for me in the most wonderful way <3 ) 

Yeah, Step 4 and the wedding DLC will be like the prologues/summer ended parts of the game. There won’t be separate Moments you can play in any order. I’m really happy you like the game so much!

You said that the OL MC's birthday can't be in summer, but what if you headcanoned it to be? 

You can headcanon it as being in summer! There just aren’t birthday events in the game even if you do know your MC was born in summer. We had to leave those out, since some people might not want their MC to be born in summer and then they’d miss out on extra birthday scenes because of it. It wouldn’t have been fair.

Hello!😺 I absolutely love your game!😻 I can't wait for DLS with Derek and Baxter. And I wonder if Baxter could have seen Cove and MC at the party during their first failed dance? Or is Baxter only paying attention to who he's dancing with, or is he not dancing with anyone at the soiree at all then? 

Baxter isn’t really paying attention to the couples on the floor. He’s just cruising the outskirts for someone available to dance with him. So he doesn’t get any memories of the MC or Cove at that party if the two just dance with each other. It’s great to hear you like the game!

time-wise/step-wise when does the nsfw dlc take place? 

It’s not super strict in terms of an exact of weeks/months, but generally it’s sometime not long after the end of Step 3.

Heya! I'm currently obsessed with Our Life (I played through the entire game on Valentine's Day, hahaha– ha... hah), and I have one silly question: if I start playing Step 3 with the less... "romantically inclined" interest levels (Fond & Disinterest), is there still a chance of getting a romantic ending with Cove? Can Cove and the MC realize "they're the one for me" in just one summer? Or... are confessions off the table completely unless at least at Crush level? Thank you in advance! 

So happy you’re having fun with it! In OL1 deciding that Cove is your friend means he’s truly only a friend. You can’t decide you have a crush partway through. But we are considering doing things differently in future games.

hey i have some questions about our life

a) is there a way to be friends with that mean bowlcut kid or is he always... like tha

b. what is coves ethnicity?

A. He is always like that, haha. At least as a kid, he does grow up to be different~

B. Cove’s mom Kyra is white, but Cliff’s race doesn’t come up and players are able to headcanon it. So Cove is half white and half whatever you prefer Cliff to be. 

how do you get to the two mc cut-in scenes from the new update?

&

Hiii! I'm doing another playthrough (it's only like my 100th time playing through the entire game) after the 1.2 update, and I was wondering how to get the new art? I also really love all the new stuff, thank you for working so hard and creating such a wonderful game :)

You can check our our CG guide on Steam for that! Thank you for the kind words.

Sorry to bother you, but I have a question about the Patreon moment. Will there be initiative settings there too? And if there aren't, will the MC lead the whole thing or will Cove lead at certain points too? Thank you~ 

There will still be flexibly in what you’re comfortable with and whether you want Cove to automatically do things or for choices to always be involved :]. And you don’t need to apologize!

Hello!! I wanted to ask a couple of questions about Our Life:

1. Will we able to buy all the DLC via Steam or will there be some of them only available in Patreon? Just to know if I should create a Patreon user XD

2. Will Our Life: Now and Forever be about the current MC, Cove and the other characters or will it be a game with a New MC, new romantic options and new characters?

1. There will be a Patreon-only NSFW bonus Moment. But all the normal planned DLCs will release on Steam.

2. Our Life: Now & Forever is about new characters- new MC, new family, new LI, etc.

just some small bug I noticed: even if you didn't ask Cove to dance, if he asks you at the Soiree in Step 2 later and you say yes to dancing, the MC acts like they got to dance with Cove again even if it was the first time. 

Thank you for the report on that! We thought it was fixed, but I guess it didn’t work.

I was messing around with the new update and I noticed that all the hands in the firefly CGs have the same skin tone regardless of what you put in, (with the exception of the really dark skin color) is this a glitch or something? 

The skin tones aren’t the same. It’s just because they’re out at night with only fireflies for light that it makes each image look dark and therefore similar. But if you line them up together it’s clear how there are changes in every option.

How long did it take to plan out and write the story for OL? Not including the programming, art stuff, or the DLC chapters, I mean just planning and writing the base game story alone. The base game story seems hefty as is, and then on top of that there's the changes to scenes depending on MC's and Cove's personalities and relationship, I'm curious how long that took 

It took basically the full development time, aha. I’m someone who doesn’t fully outline a project before start and instead continues to come up with stuff as a project progresses. There were new parts to the story being created right up to near the launch. So, starting in 2016 or so to later 2020, with some breaks/hold-ups throughout that time.

Hello! I'm really, really enjoying Our Life: Beginning and Always, it was the kind of sweet, wholesome content I needed during these past months. I had a quick question, will you be making any female characters for the MC to romance? In this game or any others like it? I'm a lesbian and I'd love to have a female love interest with such well written romance as yours! Thank you so much. 

Thank you for the nice comment! Our Life: Beginnings & Always won’t have a female LI since we didn’t want to treat other gender options as second fiddle to the male lead. But we have just started full production on Our Life: Now & Forever, which will have a starring female LI! There’s a silhouette glimpse of her Step 1 self here~

-------------------------------------------------

Thanks everyone for sending the questions :D

FAQ   If you prefer to just see the main posts without all the asks/reblogs, feel free to follow our side account instead: GB Patch Updates Bl

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

Hi. Not VMIN or Namjin related, but I would love to hear your opinion about some critics (maybe haters is a better word lol) saying how Butter's success is inorganic. They were saying how it's just army mass streaming and mass buying etc, that the BB charts are irrelevant bec of it. It's a controversial topic and apparently it was common in the music industry to have payolas too? Lol. I never knew there's politics into it. Does streaming practically mean "cheating" ? Your thoughts?

You've come to the right place because I have a lot of opinions on the topic and I'm more than willing to share my thoughts because truly, just like everybody else, I'm sick and tired of yet another whiny white man of the week coming at us with baseless accusations of ARMY "cheating" and inorganically pushing Butter because that doesn't fit with what has been the status quo so far.

The issue, though really it only is an issue because it’s BTS and ARMY, is, like you said, ARMY buying Butter via the US store offered to us by BH/Columbia. This is funded either via funding accounts that gather donations and distribute them to those (usually fellow ARMYs) willing/wanting to buy the song, or people who just, well, want to buy the song because they like it, which includes non-ARMYs, aka locals/the general public. None of that is against the rules, which I think whiny white man of the week also acknowledged, but here we are anyway.

This complaint isn’t new either, we’ve already gone over it last year with Dynamite, so it’s another cyclical piece of discourse we’re having to deal with. Here is something that Bryan Rolli, a journalist writing (among other places) for Forbes and the man behind a lot of really good articles about BTS (among them also one in defense of them about this very topic), twted recently:

And he is right, it’s unrealistic to think that even a fandom as large as ours in the US would be able to find funds they are able to spend across five weeks and ongoing in order to just make the #1 happen based on sales. There is no way, unless we have some truly generous rich people amongst us who would be wiling to spend thousands of dollars. Which we don't, as far as I’m aware. Which leaves us with one conclusion: while yes, ARMY are able to buy a good quantity of copies of Butter, it’s ridiculous to think that a song that is such a hit hasn't found its way into the heart of locals as well and that there aren’t people out in the US who just like the song and have bought it. Not because ARMY asked them to, but because they genuinely wanted to.

Besides, regardless how many copies ARMY would buy, sales aren’t the only deciding factor that goes into which song gets onto the charts, and which one will be #1. 

In order to chart on Billboard Hot 100 you basically need points gathered across three major categories: Sales (physical as well as digital), Streams (this includes music streaming services as well as video streams on YT) and Airplay. There are more finer details that go into all three of these, but just knowing those basics is enough for this post.

Staying with sales, there are many ways in which you can game the system, most of them ways BH has never touched while US artists did. Have any of these critics ever proclaimed how that was breaking and manipulating the charts? Of course not. At the height of the bundles era a label could decide to bundle something as cheap as a lollipop with a song/album and the sale of that lollipop would count as song/album sale, even if you didn’t actually pay for the album/song. That used to be an awfully popular method of gaming the system, just like selling a single song on a CD for a dollar (which isn’t against the rules) knowing that physical sales weigh heavier than digital ones. Again, that’s something BH/BTS never did.

So, even if we’d have sales covered, we still need streams and airplay to get that number one. Do you know what one of the major factors was for why ON “only” made it onto #4 and never onto #1? It wasn’t the song being bad and ARMY not buying, but because it barely got any spins on US radios. And by barely I mean (if I remember right) less than ten.

More below the cut:

Years ago when BTS were not anywhere as famous in the BTS as they are now, ARMY would call radio stations across the US, send flowers and cupcakes, just to get them to play BTS. In most cases, radios laughed at them and refused to do it. Thanks to one radio DJ we even know that there used to be a group chat of radio DJs who spent their time ridiculing BTS and ARMY and discussing how regardless of what we’d do, they wouldn’t play them anyway because *inset dumb, likely ra/cist, reasons here*.

Thankfully with Dynamite and Butter being English singles, the tides have turned a little more in our favor. According to this website the wonderful BTSChartData has created, Butter has had a reach/audience of 12M when it comes to radio (I’m unsure if this is overall or just this week) with nearly 3.5k spins. This helps tremendously when it comes to BBH100 points, but it’s important to remember that really, we don’t have any real influence on radio playlisting. Labels do through something commonly known as payola. And many, and by that I mean many, do that for their artists. Notice how some songs are being played nearly every hour? And yet other things which are massive hits get barely any plays at all? As far as we know BH/Colombia has never done any of this for BTS. If they had, those spin numbers would look very differently.

At this point we could get into a whole argument how messed up it is that it took an English song for radios to play BTS while they basically refused to do so with their Korean ones, and how with radio charts labels have the ability to pay their chosen songs to be high on them, but that’s a can of worms that would take too much time and we’re all aware that it’s a thing that happens.

The last category is streaming and here it gets messy, or messier, depending on how you look at it. ARMY might be the only fandom with this degree of knowledge about streaming and how to make our streams count, how to set up playlists properly etc, and yes, we do use our knowledge to our advantage, so to speak. And yet the system still finds a way to penalize us for it by basically filtering out massive amounts of streams for apparently no reason whatsoever. While other songs and their first day streams saw a filter rate of perhaps ten, maybe twenty, percent, do you know what it looked like for Butter?

That’s quite the difference, right? And it remained at such drastic numbers for quite a while, too. Despite ARMY knowing how not to behave like bots, even though critics and antis love to present us as such. Does Spotify explain those filter rates, or even how those are decided and calculated? No. So basically ARMY is up against an invisible power that has all the tools while we have to hope we won’t get stepped on and crushed like ants.

Speaking of Spotify, a big part of how streaming numbers happen and how songs find their way in front of new audiences are playlists, specifically the ones curated by unknown Spotify staff members like Today’s Top Hits (28.8M followers) or Top 50 - Global (16M followers). Since those playlists are created by Spotify using whatever secret criteria, we have no influence onto them (other than some that depend, to a degree, on streaming numbers). Labels do through, again, payola. Labels can buy their artists top spots on the biggest playlists and thus their songs get massive streaming numbers, not because fans genuinely listen to them, but because random people listening to those playlists might have it playing in the background without them even really knowing it or being aware who the artist is or what the song is called. You know those ads you get when you’re listening to the free version of Spotify, specifically those advertising some new album or song? Even just those thirty seconds of ad time count as a stream.

While it’s true that ARMY hold streaming parties, it is also a fact that ARMY, unlike many other fandoms, really spend a lot of time genuinely listening to BTS’ music in general. And while some idiots on twt think streaming means sitting motionlessly while staring at a screen as the song is playing over and over again, most ARMY just have the music playing while they do something else, like household chores or reading or doing work. Is it cheating to enjoy your favorite artists music? To play it on Spotify or any other streaming platform? Is it cheating to watch an MV simply because you enjoy it? No, of course not. 

Therefore, to answer your question, no, streaming isn’t cheating. And neither are listening/streaming parties since, chances are, even without them those participating in them would be listening to BTS anyway. Thanks to those parties they get to do it with a sense of community, talk to each other, discuss whichever song is currently playing, and have fun. Nothing inorganic about that.

Pulling up another Brian, in this case Brian Cantor who is an entertainment journalist, here’s something he said that I think is very true:

And that’s the thing, when BH set up streaming parties for a week after the release of Butter, that was seen negatively, as well as ARMY doing their own, and yet when another artist’s label did it for them, it was seen as fun way to engage with fans and to make listening to the new album a collective experience, or something like that. As long as it is Bangtan, only the negatives will count. But they (critics) forget something, as in, setting up listening parties and online stores for songs is one thing, but getting people to actually tune in and spend their coin on music are a completely different one.

And this is the thing that whiny white man of the week, chose whichever one you want, don’t understand--the fact that ARMY are a big and very active fandom. That we are organized and that, in order for BTS to chart and be known, BH/Columbia doesn’t need to use any of the cheats that US labels use, like payola. They don’t have to rely on the whims of the general public, on radio DJs, or put out tens of thousands of dollars to get proper playlisting and interest in a song. BTS releases new music and ARMY is there, we tune in, we spend our hard earned money on their music, not because some smart PR tactic tricked us into it, not because playlisting, payola, and mediaplay tricked us into it, but because we genuinely enjoy their music, because we have this one of a kind connection with Bangtan, one that US labels, and whiny white man of the week, don’t understand. And don’t really care to understand either.

Because those aren’t the norm in the US. Because in the past hit songs were decided through large sums of money and deals happening behind closed doors. Yet now ARMY and BTS are here. We see the broken pieces of the system, we shine light upon them, reveal the negatives and all the ways in which the system doesn’t work and/or isn’t fair, we’re vocal about it on social media, and whiny white man of the week, as well as label executives, don’t like it. So we are made out to be the bad guys. For genuinely enjoying our favorite artists and their music. For being willing to listen to them and to spend money on them. What scandalous behavior.

We don’t do what we do because we want to game the system, but because we want things to be more fair, for BTS to get the respect they deserve, to be listened to and given the time of day. They are called the biggest band in the world right now, so why is it so hard to believe that their song is rightfully #1? That they are simply popular, not just with ARMY but also with locals (Dynamite is the background music in the new trailer for the Clifford the Big Red Dog movie, has been used at high school graduations, and many other things showing just how big of a hit it still is almost a year later, that isn’t us, that’s locals loving the song just as much as we do), and that ARMY aren’t just silly little girls (not that there is anything wrong with being a little girl that enjoys music, of course) that scream any time someone as much as mentions BTS. We are a large and extremely diverse fandom in terms of age, gender, race, and education/profession. We see the injustice and we aren’t afraid to point it out and stand up against it.

What we are doing isn’t manipulation, isn’t inorganic or fake, and it certainly isn’t making BBH100 irrelevant or broken. If anything it shows that it already was that way before we arrived. 

[stopeatingwhales]

vinyl searching (pt. 1) x graham coxon

okok i'm so sorry i haven't posted in such a long amount of time, but i'm back! (and hopefully for much longer this time haha). this was requested to me a very long time ago and i fell in love with the entire concept immediately - i'm sorry it took so unbelievably long to post it!! i might make a second part to this as i felt like i haven’t properly put the story to an end so look out for that!

Pairing: 1999 graham coxon x reader

Warnings: nothing!

Word count: 3.421

part two

Requested by anon (I’m so sorry this is so late) x

༉‧₊˚✧

Cutting open my last box of new vinyl, I quickly scanned through the contents, figuring out what genres it had consisted of. I discovered a brimmed box of popular 80s vinyls ready to be organised as I allowed my nimble finger to slowly caress every bump that was conveyed whilst it went through every single record. Working in a record shop was often tiring due to the amount of physical labour you have to commit to doing (it really takes a toll on your back sometimes), but it overall was a magical experience, with a lot of perks: free vinyls every once in a while, the ability to snatch a first copy of a highly anticipated album before it got sold out, and ultimately being able to be surrounded by art constantly. It was a genuine blessing to be able to work in a shop that abides and requires your whole passion, because it can never go to waste. What was beautiful about music was that, regardless of personality, fashion or who you genuinely were, everyone can connect to some form of it, whether it be rock, pop, hip/hop, rap, anything. A simple strum of a guitar or mumble of a lyric can manipulate one’s mind so diligently that you become so enthralled by that rhythm to the point it consumes and dictates your entire outlook on existentialism and surroundings of life. You are free to interpret what you like from either lyrics, melodies or even music videos; music is there for one form a bonding with it, not to be told specifically what this or that means, otherwise it loses its enchanting wizardry. Unsurprisingly, you are never able to free yourself from the affiliation that you receive from music, as it is infinite, absolute, limitless without end. Every day, every hour, every minute, there is either a small group, or just one person, attempting to create melodies and cadences that can resonate with people for the rest of their lives - and once they’ve cracked that specific coding, that in which takes overwhelming amounts of dedication, you have created something that is unforgettable to maybe a nation, or a couple, or just one single person. Regardless of the amount, with such ability, you carry the ultimate power that no grade, mark or report card, can ever prove to show. 

Exhaling, I began to stock up the few crates that were beginning to gain empty space in between the few vinyls that embraced them. Attempting to organise them as quickly as I could, I hummed along to the soft music that was escaping out of the radio. Usually, during the day, there wouldn’t be much activity in the store, so having to care for the place by myself wasn’t something out of the ordinary. The shop tended to be more of a second home to me; it never became excessively stressful, and being able to conversate with customers about opinions on specific albums or ‘which album by this or that artist is their best?’ was always an enjoyable part of the day as it simply felt as if it was a random conversation instigated in a bar. Almost as if you’re discoursing with a long lost friend; you gain this sort of connection between specific albums that both mean something to you, and despite the fact that it could mean completely opposing ideas, you were both able to share that connection the music was able to provoke. The shop was moderately small, with 6 rows of 5 crates (two on either side of the wall) aligned neatly, three quarters of a metre separating each in order to allow those to walk around. Having the space quite compact yet overflowing with all sorts of music was what made the space so enthralling. You could have your favourite album of all time sitting there, patiently lingering for your grasp and attraction to seep in, and eventually your purchase - all you seemingly had to do was rummage for it. That in specific is what makes record searching so entertaining, simply scanning through crates of records until you find something that appeals to you. And although you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, if a band has put enough effort in their covers, it would appeal to people more, and therefore allow more sales to seep through. Situated on the end of a high street which had countless amounts of civilians walking into multiple stores each day, only a few customers had come in every so often as it only sold vinyls, and CDs were becoming more of an attraction these days. It didn’t bother me all that much - I definitely preferred having only a few customers in and out every couple of hours in comparison to groups of screaming teenagers begging for the chance that I might have the Californication vinyl by the Red Hot Chilli Peppers. 

Once I had completed distributing the vinyls to their designated boxes, I put the large - now empty - cardboard box behind the counter to place in the rubbish after my shift was over. As if on cue, I was met with the light ringing sounds that escaped from the bell at the top of the clear glass door, indicating that someone had arrived in the shop. Swiftly turning my head to figure out who it was, I was met with the sight of Graham Coxon, a usual customer, and an amazing lead guitarist in one of the most known bands in Britain as of this moment due to their latest album titled 13, Blur. News had surfaced that the band were having troubles between each other, and it became apparent that Graham hadn’t played on the album that much. He looked a little scruffy, his short hair untidy but that didn’t make him look horrible, it suited him very much. There were small dark circles forming on his eyes, exposing ideations that he may not have slept, or been able to sleep, which played on my heart strings a little. Although he was a heart-throb of many young girls over the coming years, especially during the height of the Britpop era, he had the demeanor completely contrasting against those projected to the nation by his other bandmates. Graham was quiet, reticent, composed, and it was obvious that the entire Britpop era didn’t work to well for him - being put up against Oasis to fight for the supposed ‘king’ of a genre proved its mental strains on him, to the point he had began drinking to escape his struggles. Me and Graham had become quite good friends over the months that he had been visiting the store, so a shocked face and beg for an autograph was something that by no means would be happening in this given moment. I always felt that because of Graham’s restrictive attitude, it caused him to be quite secluded from maintaining a lot of friendships - although that may just be an assumption. “You alright?” I asked sweetly, putting on a soft smile as I made my way over to the counter. 

“Yeah, fine thanks. You?” He replied, exchanging the same smile which caused my heart to patter in an unsteady rhythm as he paced over to one of the crates, beginning his search for something new. Over time as mine and Graham’s friendship had bloomed, I felt myself forming a sort of tenderness for him. The way he stared at the ground whilst speaking to someone; the way he ruffled through his dark coloured hair ever so often; the way he bit his lip when conflicted against what album he should buy, were all things that I had taken into note after I had caught my eyes staring at him repeatedly, every single time he had entered the shop. And of course, he was immensely good looking, which only added to the long list of things that made me so captivated by his presence. Sometimes he would meet my eyes, to which I would instantly look away, hot flushes forming on both my cheeks over the sudden embarrassment I would receive from being caught admiring someone. Then again, would you not continue to stare at someone who carried an undeniable amount of beauty, that they were so oblivious to understanding that they had?

“I’m alright, we’ve got a couple new 80s records in the crate over there if you’re interested.” I said, exiting the counter as my finger pointed towards the freshly updated crate. Whenever Graham had come into the shop, he tended to spend a good chunk of his time in here, which made me almost addicted to his presence there constantly. We would talk about a lot of things, bridging from best albums of specific decades, to what our favorite candy was. It was a joyful experience, talking to someone that you would have seemingly looked up to for such a long period of time, watching them grow musically, but also physically. In ‘91, all the boys from Blur had charmed themselves with tattered bowl-cuts, which indirectly emphasised their innocent-yet-psychedelic look. Now, his hair was in a much different state, almost completely short yet there was still a small chunk of hair covering his forehead. I much preferred this look of his, though. He looked mature, and pairing with his personality that I have come to be somewhat close with, it boosted his attractiveness. Whenever he left the shop, I would be accompanied with such boredom and sadness right afterwards. I seemingly wanted him here, all the time, adding to the fondness that I had formed for him. 

Shifting his gaze to interlock eyes with mine, I felt my heart begin to form into the same unsteady pattern it composed when he had reciprocated my smile. “I’ve pretty much listened to everything that had appealed to me from that decade, it was when I was growing up you know.” He chuckled, which caused my cheeks to heat up a little at the sound of his lovely laugh that I sadly didn’t hear so often than I would’ve liked. 

“Well, what have you been coming in here to search for then?” I questioned, slowly making my way to stand next to him as I analysed his actions, his index finger grazing over each album name, mirroring how I was earlier when scanning through the vinyls I needed to unpack. I was able to gain a whiff of his aroma standing near him - he smelled like cigarettes and cologne, a combination that when mixed would sound quite disgusting, but they somehow complimented each other. I attempted to edge my body closer to his, to take a greater look at what exactly he was doing, without it coming across as suggestive. I would have no courage to do something that evocative, anyways.

I allowed my arm to rest on the other crates as my hand held my face. I felt Graham’s stare switch from the vinyls to quickly take a look at me, noticing my new positioning. A very short silence was shared between the pair of us, almost as if Graham was trying to find the right words to say, whilst the music from the radio had continued on playing. “Not too sure, just want to find something to listen to,” he began, slowly trailing off his sentence as he pulled a record out and examined its cover. “I’ve worn out all of my records at this point so I’m practically desperate for something else.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right place!” I grinned, making eye contact with him for a short second, before switching to look at the album he was looking at. He was holding up Pavement’s 1997 album, Brighten the Corners. The cover was quite colourful and artsy, almost as if it had come straight out of a cartoon. “Play that on the record player, see if you like it.” 

Moving over to the record player that was situated by the cashier, he took the record out of its sleeve, placing it on the turntable as carefully as possible. I turned my body around to watch him place the stylus on the grooves of the record, my body fixated in place. Every so often I would glance at the walls of the shop, which were decorated messily with band posters and tour-dates of multiple bands that you were able to purchase in-store. Although it was untidy, it added to the sensation of music; you don’t need to be the smartest, the most organised, the most put-together person in order to make an amazing album. All you could have is three chords that you are unaware of the names, and you’ve got a song. The Sex Pistols done it, and the message they portrayed was that no matter who you are, you can make music. It’s universal. Sometimes my gaze shifted to look through the window that portrayed the cars passing down the road, with the occasional person walking past. The comparison of outside, where it professedly looked very dull and unhappy, and the liveliness of such a small shop, is what proves the power of music. Life is tedious without some colour in it. Regardless of anything though, my eyes would always trail back to Graham, whose back was resting on the counter where the cashier was, intently listening to the music draining from the turntable. The sweet sounds of pop songs that were once splashing out of the radio were now inaudible; the record player emitted music that was much louder, so it was now the only thing you could hear inside the closed space. By the look of Graham’s expression it seemed that his desperation to listen to something new was much needed than I had come to expect; it was almost as if he depended on the new music to soothe him away from whatever thoughts, or distressing moods that were battling his mind. 

Once the song had ended, I decided to ask for his opinion on it. “What do you think?” 

I watched him intently as his eyes fluttered back open, examining his facial features slightly. Our eyes had met, and they stayed fixed in place as I began admiring his honey-like orbs. “It was good, might as well get it to hear the rest of the album.” He answered, sighing slightly at the end of his sentence. It was quite obvious, to me, that he had been going through something that he wasn’t able to quite mention or bring up to anyone - especially me, as I am only just a worker he knew quite well inside a record shop. It enthralled me slightly, how mysterious he was, although he was completely projected to the limelight of Top Of The Pops and many interviews countless amounts of times over the years. The thought of asking him how he was always played in my mind; his reaction however, frightened me to the point of me avoiding the topic. I didn’t want to come across as patronising, I simply cared for him, for someone I didn’t even know all that well, too much. 

Graham placed the vinyl back into its sleeve gently, and then made his way to where he previously stood - next to me. Although our bodies weren’t touching, I felt as if my skin was entering the gates of hell due to the amount of heat that had been emitting from my skin. He began looking through the same vinyl crate that he did before, whilst my eyes inspected his hands, allowing my thoughts to randomly drift on the feeling of his hand in mine. How soft his palm may feel, how warm it would be - like a hug from a loved one when you needed it most, their touch, caressing, having so much impact that it completely changes your entire mood for a short period of time. How they could perfectly merge together, his and mine. Or not, though either way it would release a sensation of my teenage-girl like self, squealing inside over the fact that a boy that I've seemingly fallen for is in grasp of my palm. I doubt that he was feeling the same things that I was, but in moments so silent but loud, exactly like this one, it was all I could muster a thought about. “You have lovely eyes.” 

I noticed Graham pause in his movements once those accidental words slipped off my mouth. Mentally cursing myself, my gaze was fixed on him. The air was a little tense, the pit in my stomach completely empty from my unneeded slip-up of words. “Thank you…” He replied, shifting his gaze over to look at me. He seemed taken aback to my sudden compliment, which made me feel a little embarrassed, causing my cheeks to heat up slightly. “Yours are lovely too.”  

My heart fluttered slightly towards the compliment he passed back to me, my lip sinking into my teeth in anticipation towards where the conversation was headed. Graham’s awkward self carried on searching through vinyls, and began walking over to different crates in search for something else. I moved to position myself behind the till, where my gaze followed him as he preoccupied himself in the cover art of multiple vinyls he had taken out, admiring them or looking perplexed by them, then putting them back into their original place if they weren’t appealing to him. I began humming along to the new song that began playing on the radio, as I played with my fingers, deciding on forwarding the conversation to something else. “What are you up to this week?”

“Nothing much… I’m probably going to stay at home. There’s not much to do these days.” He answered, his eyes glued onto the vinyls he had now found. My heart sank after those words left his mouth, almost in pity for him - he didn’t seem like he was fully okay, then again no one is, but it came across as if he had been struggling quite a bit mentally and that he needed someone to be there for him, yet he didn’t know exactly how to ask for it, or maybe he felt cowardly to ask. He began to walk over to the cashier, instigating the fact that he had found the records he’s decided to buy - filling my stomach up in an unusual mix of sadness and anticipation. I wanted him to be here, all the time. 

“So I assume you’re not doing anything tonight?” I questioned, taking the vinyls from his hand in order to scan them and place in a bag. I avoided his stare whilst asking, though I could feel the burn of his eyes intently staring at every move I made. 

“Yeah, the most I’m going to do is probably listen to these vinyls at home.”

With the little amount of courage I had spared inside, I decided to take a big leap of my conscience and ask him a question he’s undoubtedly been asked so many times before. Lifting my gaze to connect eyes with him after I had finished neatly placing everything into a plastic bag, I handed the vinyls to him. “Do you want to go out tonight?”

“I mean I’d like to go out.” He responded, completely oblivious to what I was egging towards, which only bubbled the apprehension inside me even more. I began to second guess the idea of me asking him out to do something together.

“Graham.” I sternly responded, a hint of annoyance laced between my voice when I spoke his name. 

“What?” 

Sighing to myself, I realised that his oblivion wasn’t on purpose, which brought the same feeling of a sinking heart in my body. I came to realise that Graham had been so isolated, so deserted from society, that he was completely blind towards someone taking an interest in him. Inhaling sharply, I asked, with my sweetest smile. “Would you like to go out with me tonight?” 

Graham’s expression had completely changed from his delirium to shocked. His eyes widened, a reddish tint forming on his cheeks as his lip sank into his bottom teeth. A couple seconds were shared between us staring closely at each other's eyes, as I tried to decipher what was going through his mind. “I- Uh- Yes, sure.” 

The little stutter that rolled off his tongue warmed my heart as the beam on my face began to widen. I noticed a small smile starting to curve at the bottom of his lip. “That’ll be fifty pounds, please.”

[superlinguo]

Practical advice if you want to start a podcast

I wrote a post for the RED team at La Trobe with some general advice for podcasting, but I’ve found there are some recurring questions that I get about setting up a podcast. This post is here to answer those questions.

If you’re not interested in starting a podcast, but want to listen to more linguistics podcasts, I’ve got a list for you!

I last updated this post in June 2021 - if you find this post a few years after this you might want to search for some more up to date specs. I’ll continue to update this from time to time as new questions (or answers) come up.

Picture your audience

Before you make any decisions about your show, know who it is for. Your topic might be incredibly niche and have an audience in the hundreds, which is very different to a potentially larger but less engaged audience. See the classic blog post from Kevin Kelly on the power of 1000 true fans. Knowing your potential audience, where they hang out online, and how they’re likely to support you, will help your decision making. I have a self-guided slide set for refining your project before you start working on it. It’s also ok to know who you don’t want as your audience, and make choices that don’t actively include them. Do this early and clearly so people aren’t disappointed. For example, having a show with clearly noted explicit language selects away from young kids and their parents.

The length and format of your show are a product of your aims

I personally like shows in the 25-35 minute range. But, having said that, I love Shortwave, which regularly clocks in at 10 minutes, and I’m disappointed when an episode of You’re Wrong About is less than an hour.

Know your audience and the level of depth you want to explore a topic in. The frequency of episodes and the amount of time you have to prepare and edit will also affect how long episode end up. Record a few episodes first and share them with people you trust will give you good feedback.

The best interviews are conversations

Good interviews are just conversations that are intentionally lopsided, and good interviewers make the conversation feel like it’s not lopsided. Do your homework, write out some questions, and then take a step back and actually listen to the person you’re interviewing.

Anyone who has done even a few interviews has already faced most of the questions you first think of. There are some fixes for this: push through your initial brainstorming, think about the specific angles on their topic that are most relevant to your audience and (again) listen to what the person is telling you. Like many podcasting skills, good interviewing takes practice, and you can practice by staying curious about humans you interact with in any area of your life, not just your podcast guests.

Use the best mics you can, but don’t over-invest

You don’t have go and buy the fanciest tech. If you have access to a studio, great! If you don’t, then decide what your budget is. When we started Lingthusiasm, Gretchen recorded into her phone, because we were running the show on no budget and had no idea if we’d stick it out more than 6 months. When we started making money we got Gretchen a Zoom H4n to match mine. It’s still not the fanciest, but it’s rugged and adequate, especially if you make sure you’re in a closet with some blankets. Do I regret the earlier episodes of Lingthusiasm don’t sound amazing? Not as much as I would have regretted investing hundreds of dollars in a podcast that had 4 episodes.

Edit your show

Even a light edit will make the show easier for your audience to listen to, and show respect for the people you interview. I know people believe there’s an aesthetic of authenticity that comes with not editing, but all podcasting is a performance. Editing is a politeness to your audience.

Editing means a very wide range of things. You can do full production editing, including the addition of music, multiple different voice-overs and voices reading parts (e.g. getting someone else to read author quotes to bring them to life) and additional sound effects. Or you might just edit out the start and end of the recording, and any false starts and errors throughout the show. A lot of the pauses and fillers we use in conversation are designed for an audience who is in on the conversation and can reply, and can feel like they’re holding up a conversation when you’re a passive listener like a podcast audience. Many of the best conversational podcasts are given an edit to make them easier on the ears.

I use audacity to edit

Audacity is free to use. It takes a little longer to learn than something like GarageBand, but once you know how to use it, you’ll be much faster at editing. I appreciate that it has stayed pretty much the same since I started using it almost 15 years ago.

Get your levels right

Once you’ve edited your show, making sure there aren’t too many loud laughs, or your two hosts aren’t unbalanced in loudness. You’ll also need to make sure your podcast isn’t too loud or soft compared to others in people’s list. You need to regularise it. A lot of podcasts regularise to -16 LUFS. A few other numbers bounce around (-14, -18), but this is what we use and no one complains.  Audacity can’t do it. You can process a certain number of hours of audio for free each month using the web-based Auphonic. It’s great. 

There’s lots of great free music to use

You want to look for music that has a license that’s free to use. Even if you don’t plan to make money from your podcast, make sure the license includes commercial use so you don’t limit your future options. SoundCloud and YouTube have lots of options, as does Kevin MacLeod - who has created royalty-free music in a massive range of genres. 

Web hosting is different to getting your show on iTunes

We use SoundCloud to upload and share our audio. It’s fine. I have no complaints. Once you’ve uploaded a few hours of audio you’ll have to pay annually for a pro account. Anchor seems to be a good new competitor, it’s free - I assume they make money off people choosing to run ads on their podcasts. You then generate an RSS feed, which is the thing that points all the podcast players to the place you’ve uploaded your recording. You’ll then have to add your show to major podcast platforms (Apple Podcast, Google Podcast), smaller ones will pick it up from there.

It takes a few days for your show to get picked up on all the podfeeders

Launching a podcast is a bit of a mess - it will go live on your hosting site but then you’ll have to set yourself up with iTunes, Google Podcast etc. and that can take a few days to update and populate. The sites that are popular, and the process of linking into those spaces, changes often enough that you should just google advice when you’re ready to launch, and give yourself a few days. This is part of why some podcasts launch a short ‘episode 0′ or a trailer, it gets the show set up.

Transcripts should be one of the first things you fund

Not every podcast has the time or funds to make transcripts. I do think they’re important though; for people who can’t or don’t want to listen, for discoverability and for your own record when you can’t remember when you talked about a specific story. If you have any time or money and want to be taken seriously at all, this should be one of your earliest priorities. This is even more true for educational podcasts, where a transcript ensures all students can appreciate the content of your show.

You don’t neeeeed a website, but it’s handy

You can run a show using a hosting platform and some social media. Having a website does allow you to add more information about the show and yourself. The Lingthusiasm page has grown over the years as the show has; we made a page for our liveshow events, we provide a list of episodes by topic, information about our Discord community, and our marvelous wall of supporters. The website was much more minimal when we started, but compared to just having a SoundCloud it gave the show room to grow.

You probably want socials, but be selective

You need to make your podcast discoverable by people who are likely to be your audience. Social media is one way to do this, but it’s better to be actually engaging on fewer social platforms than overextend yourself. Focus on platforms that are the intersection of where your possible fans are likely to be and where you enjoy being.

Funding a podcast takes time, and takes work

There are three main revenue streams for podcasts: advertising, crowdfunding and merch. A fourth option is institutional support (through your university or business), but then you’re beholden to the funder. Whichever revenue options work for you, think about them and plan towards them early. Part of that is making sure your podcast gets in as many ears as possible. Most successful podcasts spend as much, if not more, time on marketing, audience engagement and business planning as they do podcasting (it’s just not very glamorous to admit that!).

Choose whether each episode can stand alone

Some podcasts build a narrative over multiple episodes. Others allow listeners to jump in at any point and listen in any order. Whatever you choose, make this clear to your audience. This choice is going to influence a range of choices around what information to include in the opening and closing, how topical to make the show, and how you promote your podcast. 

Seasons are a great structure to keep a podcast manageable

Regardless of whether your show runs in a sequence, planning a season with a fixed number of episodes allows you to take some time off, to maybe change some things that weren’t working, or to step away from the project with a podcast that hasn’t been left hanging.

[wordynerdygurl]

A Wonderful Christmastime

Author’s Note:  Well Hello All!  I hope that you’re all taking care of yourselves and staying well!  My tag-list is open and you know I love the validation of reblogs, shares, tags and adds!! I have been working on a larger OC story which has kept my from my Loki writings, but I entered a challenge posted by @toomanystoriessolittletime​ for the Christmas holiday.  If you aren’t following, please do as she’s got a great little Advent Calendar of seasonal stories for you!  One a day through the month of December!  

I chose a prompt based off of my least favorite Christmas song.  Ever.  Like in the history of humanity.  Like, my family torture me with it because of how much I dislike it.  This story is a chance to take a little lighthearted revenge on Sir Paul McCartney and also, hopefully, help you all enjoy a Wonderful Christmastime!   Also, isn’t this gif the cutest thing in the world?  My thanks to the OP and creator for it... it’s amazing and I love Christmas Loki!! Pairing:  Female Reader x Loki

Summary:  Everyone has a favorite holiday song... when Loki learns which one you dislike, he uses it to his advantage. Warnings:  Christmas holiday mentions, SMUT, Oral (F receiving) and MF Sex, also, the over use of a certain song that makes me, personally, crazy!

This was it.  That perfect moment when all of the holiday hustle was behind you.  Nothing to buy, nothing to ship, nothing to wrap, nothing to bake.  It was all over.  You had made it through another Christmas Eve.

Your well decorated tree sat in the corner, presents tucked below for you and Loki in the morning.  The frittata was resting in the fridge along with the two bottles of Prosecco you planned to have with brunch.  Hell, it was the holidays, after all.

But that was for tomorrow.

Tonight you were relaxing after an afternoon of family Christmas fun.  Nieces and nephews, piles of shredded paper, stacks of snacks and so much laughter your belly muscles were sore.  And through it all Loki had been a champ! Holding your hand, rubbing the small of your back, pulling out your chair; Loki had put the other partners to shame.  Whether he was telling bawdy but tasteful jokes to the men who drank cheap beer around the TV, sharing hair care tips with your sister’s oldest girl or whispering with your mom in the kitchen, he was always where he needed to be.  For the first time in ages, you had been able to enjoy the day fully, and you knew Loki was the reason why. After getting home, trading your dress and boots for comfy shorts and a sweatshirt, you padded into the living room.  Loki was there, sitting cross legged, digging through your bag of swag.  He had put seasonal music on in the background while munching through a plate of Auntie’s sugar cookies, two well poured goblets of red wine waiting to be had at his side.  God, he was good. “Is one of those for me?”  You couldn’t help smiling.  Loki, looking like a little kid, over excited and surrounded by all the trapping of Christmas just felt so precious. It took him a moment to reply as he was solely focused on the handmade puzzle box your mother had crafted for all the guys this year, “Hmm?  Yes… one’s for you…” Kissing the top of his head, careful not to dislodge his Rudolf blinking antler headband, a gift to Loki from your youngest nephew, you moved towards the couch.  Sipping from your glass of wine, snuggled under the softest chenille blanket your sister-in-law could find, you sighed contentedly.  Victory over the holiday season felt amazing.  Now all that was left on your to-do list was eating, drinking, and enjoying alone time with Loki until New Year’s.  Suddenly exhausted, you felt the lovely warm drag of drowsiness and snuggled deeper into the sofa.  Shuttering your tired eyes, you listened as Loki stood up, off to hunt up some more food, no doubt.  Visions of sugarplums danced in your head as you started to succumb to a sweet slumber. That’s when you heard it.  

“The moon is right, The spirit’s up, We’re here tonight and that’s enough…” Groaning, wide awake now, you sat up with a shout, “Loki?!”  Like magic his raven head popped around the doorframe, his reindeer antlers askew, a candy cane hanging out of his mouth, “Yes?”

“Um… question:  What are we listening to?” Stepping back into the living room, his new holiday flannel shirt open at the neck, Loki leaned over you, husking playfully,  “Music.  At least, that’s what I believe you Midgardians call it.” “Ha ha.  Yes, I know it’s music, but this particular song?”  You couldn’t keep the tartness from your tone as you pressed your nose into the handsome one on Loki’s face. Pausing, listening intently, Loki cocked his head to the side.  Singing along, his bells jingling, “Simply having a Wonderful Christmastime!” “Ugh.  That’s what I was afraid of!”  Flinging a hand over your eyes, you grumbled, burrowing back into the cozy couch as a means of blocking out the obnoxious noise of the worst holiday song in the history of humanity. Making himself comfortable at your feet, pouring himself another glass of vino, “I like it.  It’s simple.  Direct.  What are you doing?  Me?  I’m simply having a wonderful Christmastime!” From deep in the cushions, muffled but forceful, you pleaded, “Make it stop!  Please!” “What for?  It is still Christmastime, is it not?  And we are enjoying a wonderful time, aren’t we?” Turning back to face him, a Scrooge-like scowl on your suddenly serious face, “I’ll do anything to get you to turn that off.” That got his attention, “Anything?”  Sitting up quickly, you reached for your blanket only to feel Loki snatching it out of your grasp, “You said anything, darling.” Tugging on the plush fabric, practically pouting, “You’re not going to take my new fluffy blankie, are you?” “Oh no.  That’s not nearly enough to stop me from playing my favorite Christmas carol.”

“It’s your favorite, now?  Loki, you just heard it.” Waving your gripes away, pinning you under his arms and under your blanket, “I love it.  It’s my favorite.  You can’t mess with perfection.”

You wiggled, trying to free an arm or a hand, anything to help defend yourself from Loki’s soft, but effective attack, "Perfection?  Loki, it's awful."

"I disagree.  But…”  Brushing a gentle kiss to your captive lips, making you melt into his warm touch, Loki made sure to keep you immobile.  Unraveling under his ardent attention, you gave up fighting, focusing on Loki’s roving hands through the protective layer of your new throw.  

Lost in his lips, you ignored the wretched recording still spinning, until sitting back with a sly smile Loki continued, “Regardless of my newly acquired antlers, I am a reasonable man.  I'm willing to hear your side of things.  Convince me, dove."

Looking up at him through your lashes, licking over your bottom lip that tasted of Loki's peppermint, it took you a moment to refocus on your argument.  Sighing doggedly, “It’s just garbage.  Too sweet, too synth-pop.  It’s plastic.  There’s no substance to it.”

At least Loki did you the service of considering your answer.  He paused, listening to the offending tune, starting to hum along once more.  “I don’t know.  It sounds like church bells ringing.  And I like when the kids start singing!”

“You couldn't.  Those are two of the worst things about it!  There’s not a single redeemable factor in it’s trite,  super saccharine, four minute run time.”  Agitated now and edging into anger, your voice kept rising, spurned on by the inability to get away from Loki’s plush prison, “Also, get off me!” “Can’t do it.  But-” nuzzling into your neck, tasting along the tendon there, “-I can replay this song.”  “That’s it!”  Fury tinted your words as you tried harder than ever to break free of your fleece prison but Loki was brick heavy, unmovable, and impossibly giddy at your predicament.  All things which only added fuel to your fire.  Wriggling like mad, struggling to kick a foot free, you squirmed desperately for leverage.  His response?  A deep chuckle, “Is that all you’ve got, darling?”  Laying those long, lanky bones on top of you, holding down the throw’s corners in a way that made fighting futile, Loki smirked at your distress, “I still don’t see why you hate it so much.  It is a simple song because we’re simply having a wonderful Christmastime!  It’s in the title after all.” With cheeks hot from exertion, fully frustrated and forced to listen to Paul McCartney’s bland holiday ballad start a second time, you nearly shrieked, "I hate it, Loki!  Loathe it, really!  The lyrics are basic, the keyboard is tinny, and Sir Paul is better than that!” “Is that all?” “No!  It's even worse when someone else sings it, like those kids from Glee or an up and coming Country artist making their first holiday record!"

Beneath the blanket your chest rose and fell with bothered breaths.  From rubbing against the couch your hair stuck up in odd angles and you could feel heat rising off your neck.  How had you gone from almost asleep to a blanket related battle royale?  Loki, taking advantage of your confinement, kissed your forehead sweetly, and the change in tactic caught you off guard.  His lips grazed the tip of your nose as you huffed out a pout, eager to see where his mischief making would lead.  Pressing his forehead to yours, that deep sonorous voice whispering lowly for your ears alone, "Not a compelling enough argument for me to turn it off, I'm afraid." And to your holiday horror the song in question started again.  Grousing, "Don’t play it again!  Please!  I’m begging you!” “Already begging darling?”  Thick with mocking, Loki slotted himself between your thighs, keeping you from fighting back with any power. Whining full out now, poking out your bottom lip, “Come on!  Please, let me up and turn this off!” “Why, of course, my pearl.”  With no effort on his part, Loki scooped you up, blankie and all, pulling you tightly to his chest.  Gripping your bottom, his fingers firm through the cotton of your pj pants, he squeezed hard enough for you to yelp. “Hey!”  But that’s all you managed before his talented tongue invaded your mouth.  Now the only thing you could hear was the shaky exhale of your shared sighs and your own needy mewls when Loki started to withdraw.

Godly hands drew your thick and comfy sweatshirt over your head, leaving you bare against the cuddly softness of your new blanket, a perfect dichotomy to the heated hardness of Loki’s chest.  With your arms finally free you tangled your hands in the long tresses of your lover, distracted from the awful music by his groan, “Easy darling.” But now that the tables were tipped in your favor, you had no intention of going easy on Loki.  Not after his antics tonight, not a chance.  Tugging hard enough for him to wince, you ground against his lap with a nip to his neck, “Turn it off then.”

“Now, why would I do that?  Aren’t we still enjoying a Wonderful Christmastime?” Bouncing in his lap, purposefully teasing your mischief maker with a smirk, “We were until you let this terrible song play!” Laughing heartily, Loki stroked over your bare shoulder, one hand resting on your waist and the other cupping your cheek.  “If I wanted to, my darling, I could change your mind.  I could make you adore this song.” “Is that so, Odinson?  I doubt it.”

“Doubt me?  On this, Christmas Eve!  When you know the feelin’s here that only comes once a year?” A confident nod was all he got for an answer.  In a flash you were laying on the soft rug, your legs wrapped over Loki’s and your new blanket tossed to the side.  Fiery kisses to your chest and neck led him to the shell of your ear where he hummed hungrily, “The moon is right, the spirits up…” Enjoying his mouth but not his music, you shoved against his shoulders, panting, “Don’t sing, just kiss me.” Licking into your mouth, Loki’s tongue obliged your need as his hands skated over the curve of your hip, breaking your kiss to croon, “We’re here tonight, dove… and that’s enough.”

“Loki… please stop…”  You fisted his shirt, pulling at the buttons until his muscular torso was under your fingers, strong and solid.  Pushing the plaid cotton off his shoulders, you let your nails drag over Loki’s naked back as you shifted your hips, subtlety be damned. He took the hint.  Nipping a trail over your tummy, Loki kept his eyes on yours as he shucked your shorts, snorting, “No panties?  Naughty!” “If that’s naughty, Loki, then what you’re doing to me is positively evil.” That made your lover grin, his eyebrows lifting in a wickedly Grinchy smile before caressing the inner skin of your thigh with his clever mouth.  Slithering closer to your center, sweeping his tongue in swirls, you couldn’t help the excited shiver he created.  It was enough to block out the terrible song now that you had something more arousing to hold your attention. Using those long, deft fingers, Loki parted your folds with a murmured moan, “You’re so wet, darling.  Maybe you like this song more than you let on?” A curse for him and his rotten taste in Christmas music died in your throat as Loki connected to your sacred skin through a carnal kiss.  Those strong forearms ensured that your knees stayed open wide as his tongue tasted, teasing your clenching cleft, humming with appreciation at your body’s response.  Circling your clit, sucking gently before changing direction and licking your lower lips once more, Loki had you teetering on the cliff of climax in minutes.

Your stomach tensed, ready for release.  Delicious waves of orgasmic bliss were pulsing through you, needing just a touch more friction, a little more pressure in order to crash over you.  Gasping out incoherent whimpers, fingers ruffling Loki’s dark hair, you can’t fight the neediness that he’s created in you. It just feels so incredible, something Loki knows you’re enjoying, “Like that, darling?” Passion clouds your vision as your desire crests, unfulfilled, “You know I do, Loki…” Fingers slide sensually through your slit, his bright eyes on you, “How much?  How much do you like it?” Shaking your head, still foggy with needs unmet, “So much, baby.  I love making love to you so much.” Bumping against your swollen bud, pressing down firmly, Loki begins using his hands to entice you towards ecstasy.  Two fingers enter you easily, delightful, sure, but not as filling as Loki’s hard member.  Reaching for him, you want to lose yourself in loving and being loved by your space god, “Sing for me, dove.” Beseeching you breathlessly, Loki’s hand stills, keeping you at the fringe of falling apart.  Waiting for your reply impatiently he asks again, “Sing, please.” “A song?” His reply is a shake of his dark head.  Slowly, smoothly, Loki withdraws his fingers, only to press them into your yielding flesh once more, “Yes, my darling.  Sing my favorite song!”

Sucking a bruise onto your inner thigh, those fingers of his spreading your walls, the exquisite pressure on your straining clitoris.  Any one of these distractions would have been hard to concentrate through.  Experiencing them all together?  Overwhelming.

And that’s the excuse you would use to explain what happened next.  “The party’s on… The feeling’s here…” As soon as the words left your lips, Loki’s attention resumed in earnest, “That’s it, dove!  Keep going!” “That only comes, this time of year… Ah!  Loki!” Loki watched you lustily.  Your eyes half closed, legs splayed lewdly, a nervous grin on your face.  He never wanted you more.  Slipping out of his jeans, wasting no time, Loki guided his hardened cock into you with a satisfying sigh. Your response to his abundance?  “Oh shit, Loki!  Yes!”  Snapping his hips against your pelvis, iron banded arms clinging to you, Loki stuttered, “I don’t hear you singing!” “We’re simply having a Wonderful Christmastime!”  How many times did you repeat the chorus?  Hard to say.  It became a mantra.  A thing to chant in time with everyone of Loki’s deliberate and deep thrusts. This time, when you felt the familiar stirring of your satisfaction, Loki didn’t stop you.  Encouraging you with a soulful kiss, his stroke surging in time with Paul McCartney’s crooning, you came apart in each other’s arms with a smile.  The song started again and you couldn’t stop the giggles from bursting out of you, “What’s so funny, dove?” “You said you could make me like this terrible, horrible, awful song.” Sitting up and taking you with him, Loki chuckled as he kissed your hand, “Hey, don’t make fun of the best holiday song I have ever heard.”  Pulling your new blanket around the both of you, “I still hate it, but-”

“But?”, his eyebrow arched in surprise, waiting for you to continue.

“But I don’t hate it as much.” Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, playfully ribbing you, “Do I have to force you into having another Wonderful Christmastime?” Biting your bottom lip, you returned the favor by sweeping a stray lock of Loki’s black hair over his shoulder, “Babe, you could make crazy, insane love to me each day and every night… and-” “And?”  Kissing Loki lightly on the nose, you stood up on shaky legs and started towards the hallway.  At the entry way you turned back letting the blanket fall to the floor, “-And Wonderful Christmastime would still suck.”  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To My Many Minxes:  @toomanystoriessolittletime @vodka-and-some-sass @just-random-obsessions @brokenthelovely @lots-of-loki @thefallenbibliophilequote @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @iamverity @mizfit2 @sammy-jo1977 @wolfsmom1 @jessiejunebug @iluvsumbucky @unadulteratedwizardlove @procrastinatinglikeabitch @shxdowofdarkness @nonsensicalobsessions @ahintofkiwistrawberry @alexakeyloveloki @rorybutnotgilmore @crystalizedcaramel @lokislittlecorner @capcapcapsicle @jamielea81 @caffiend-queen @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore @jenjen8675309 @that-one-person @roguewraith

[cudan2]

We’re Only Human

Spring Break Shadowing Part 4

Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Word Count: 2,040

Summary: It’s the last day of shadowing with Dr. Cullen, but you’ve come to realize a little more about how you feel towards him. Cue crushes and a little bit of chaos along the way.

A/N: I finished the semester and can actually dedicate time to writing this again because instead of being on spring break, I’m now on winter break. I also chopped this part in half because it was probably going to be over 6,000 words otherwise and that’s just a lot compared to the previous ones. Bear with me, guys. Another note - I’m thinking about posting this on Ao3 but will rewrite it because I don’t know what I was thinking when I wrote this in present tense lol. 

Anyways, this is #8 on my headcanon list.

Masterlist

XXX

You don’t know how it happened, but time is on your side and you’re running early this morning. The sun has just risen and casts a warm glow across the hospital as you make you way to the Starbucks, determined to be the one to buy Doctor Cullen his drink for once.

Meeting him here every morning has become a tradition, a tradition that involves him getting you breakfast every day you’ve shadowed him this week. The two of you would chat about various topics while walking to where ever he had to be next. Sometimes you would prod his brain with more medical-related questions, occasionally he would tell stories from his past, but regardless, his every word had you captivated.

Alright, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to finally admit that you may or may not have developed a tiny crush on Doctor Cullen. To be fair though, this is your last day shadowing him and it’s not like you’re ever going to see him again anyways. You feel a pang of disappointment at the thought, but it soon disappears when Emily greets you at the counter.  

“Hi, Y/N! Where’s the doctor today?”

“I was running early today, so I figured I’d grab both of our drinks.” You place your order and ask the barista what Doctor Cullen’s “usual” was.

“Oh that?” she laughs. “He gets boiling water. It’s a little weird, but I just assumed he makes tea with it.”

Boiling... water? You think back to the last several days and try to remember what Doctor Cullen even did with his drink. He definitely never made tea with it. In fact, you don’t think he’s ever taken a sip out of the cup before throwing it away.

“Then I’ll be adding a grande boiled water to my order,” you tell Emily and thank her before she moves on to the next person in line.

You wait to the side for your food and see Jaime standing there too. He’s wearing a backpack and a faded college sweatshirt thrown over his scrubs, and you’re reminded of how many years left of school you have before you can even call yourself a doctor. You wave to him, and he pulls an earbud out from his ear with a sleepy smile.

“Hey, what’s up?” he greets you.

“Nothing much, just grabbing something to eat before the day starts. I’m surprised to see you here though. What happened to morning rounds?”

Jaime lets out what you can only discern as a mix between a hollowed laugh and a groan and tells you about forgetting his coffee at home. “Don’t even get me started on this morning. My car died on me, so I had to get an Uber. Lo and behold, there weren’t any Ubers around either, so ya boy eventually took not just a taxi, but a taxi and the train. By the time I got here, I realized my coffee was still on the counter at home, and so now I’m here.”

Damn, and you thought mornings were rough for you.

“Sorry to hear that! Did you get in trouble for being late?”

“I called Doctor Cullen myself and told him what was happening. He was so understanding, god bless, so I’m in the clear for now.

At the mention of the doctor, your thoughts instantly go back to blond tresses and a brilliant smile you already know you’ll miss when you leave the hospital for the last time today.

“Yeah, he’s pretty great, isn’t he?” you say a little too dreamily. Jaime gives you a knowing look and you rein it back in, hoping you haven’t exposed yourself already.

“You know, I think he’s going to miss you the most when you leave.” You don’t even get the chance to react when Jaime continues on, “Don’t get me wrong, Lily and I will definitely miss having you around, but the man really took a liking to you a lot faster than he did with us.”

“What do you mean?”

“He always kept us at an arm’s length before you came around. All of that personal stuff you get out of him would have taken him weeks to tell us before, and that’s if we’re lucky. He just seems more comfortable around you,” Jaime shrugs. His coffee is then called out, cutting off anything he wanted to say next. “That’s my cue. I’ll see you later!”

You take a moment to mull over what Jaime said. From your perspective, Doctor Cullen has treated you exactly the same way he does with everyone else. You don’t dare to over think what Jaime could be saying – over thinking never leads to anything good. And yet, the damage is done. The seed has been planted and now you can’t help but wonder about what made you stand out to the doctor.

Your own order is called, and you’re pulled from your thoughts with the smell of warm food.

Now armed with two beverages and a pastry bag sandwiched between your fingers, you make your way to a nearby table to wait for Doctor Cullen. Your wait is soon cut short though, as you see him walking towards you out of your peripheral vision. The clouds shift and the sun shines through the windows again. Its golden rays pass over the doctor, and for a second, you swear you could see him shimmering in the sunlight.

You squint strangely and blink a few times. Get it together, you tell yourself. Over thinking is clearly playing some weird psychological tricks on your eyes, and you still needed to be on your A-game.

“Hey you,” he flashes that familiar smile once more when reaching the table you are settled at. “You’re early today.”

“I am. It even gave me the chance to get you your water.” You hand him the cup with a smirk, having made sure to put a sleeve on it earlier because unlike Doctor Cullen, you actually have hands that hold the risk of being burnt.

“Ah, I see Emily has divulged one of my secrets with you. Thank you, Y/N, you really didn’t have to.”

“It’s nothing,” you insist. Seriously, water is free at Starbucks. “Think of it as a small thank you present. It’s the least I could do for the amazing surgeon that let me follow him around for the week.”

“Hmm, I think you may have meant the amazing, extremely kind, highly skilled, and not to mention, quite dashing–”

“Okay! No need to flatter yourself,” you laugh, trying your best to refrain from rolling your eyes. In all honesty, you can’t describe him any better. Add in attractive, intelligent, compassionate, way too humble sometimes, and it would be the perfect recipe to recreate another Doctor Cullen.

From there on, your daily routine at the hospital continues without a hitch. It’s a morning filled with back to back surgeries and question after question thrown at you from the doctor. There is no doubt that he is keeping you on your toes – literally and figuratively. You have to admit though, you are pretty proud of yourself for being able to answer the majority of his questions.

Your feet swing aimlessly while you spin around in a padded chair in Doctor Cullen’s office. Your laptop is open on his desk, displaying a blank document that’s meant to be your personal statement. It has been a little over an hour since he left you here to attend a mandatory meeting and you are starting to get antsy.

Aside from several stacks of files and other various papers, the desk lacks the small trinkets you would expect to see. As a matter of fact, the office itself is surprisingly void of anything personal. There aren’t any pictures of family, friends, pets, not even of a possible wife. There are no decorations on the wall either, and if it weren’t for the leather briefcase leaning against the side of the desk, you’d never believe this office belonged to him. No wonder he spends as much time as possible outside of this dismal room.

As you continue spinning in the chair, you bring up a paper fortune teller made earlier from a sticky note. You choose a color, two subsequent numbers, and flip open the flap to reveal the fortune.

Brunch date with Dr. Cullen.

The things you do to kill time. Your friends would never let you live this down if they could see you now.

Just as you’re about to go another round with the fortune teller, the door opens and Doctor Cullen walks in. The fortune teller goes flying out of your hands and onto the floor next to you as you jump in surprise and halt the spinning.

“Sorry about the wait, Y/N. I’m afraid the meeting took longer than expected,” he says, his words laced with a hint of bitterness. Luckily, he didn’t seem to notice you nearly jumping out of your skin. Not wanting to draw attention to the fortune teller on the floor, you leave it there for now and start packing up your stuff.

“I presume you found a way to entertain yourself?”

“Kind of? I tried starting my personal statement again. It’s really not coming together,” you laugh dryly. Too preoccupied with turning off your laptop and putting it away, you don’t notice that Doctor Cullen walking around to the head of the desk where you are until it’s too late.

Oh crap, the fortune teller. Of course, he just has to notice it too and picks it up with a curious expression. You look up, and he’s standing there with it in his hand.

“Did you make this?”

You leap up from the chair and snatch it out of his hand before he can examine it any closer. There is no way in hell you’re letting him open it.

“Uh, yeah... It’s just something we used to make in elementary school – nothing special!” You try to play it off as cool as possible and slip the fortune teller into the small trash can underneath his desk. “So what’s next on the schedule?”

He takes a moment before answering you. You see his eyes study the way your fingers nervously fidgets with a loose thread on your shirt. He seemingly brushes off the interaction that occurred and responds, “Pre-op. I believe this one will be much different than the others you’ve observed this week.”

“What’s different about it?” you ask. Doctor Cullen starts to leave and holds the door open for you.

“You’ll see.” You don’t have to look at him to know he’s smirking.

He shuts the door and you start walking towards to the surgical department when a hand abruptly pulls you back just a little too hard. You trip over your own feet in the process and in some miraculous, but also really unlucky, sadistic, cruel-of-the-universe sort of way, land in Doctor Cullen’s arms. Goosebumps form up your arms where he’s holding you, and you can’t tell whether it’s from the temperature difference or the fact that your face is only an inch away from his chest.

You are absolutely mortified to say the least. Heat begins crawling up your cheeks and if there was a witness, they would have seen you quite literally jump out of the doctor’s arms.  

“I’m so sorry, Doctor Cullen! I didn’t mean to trip and fall and–”

“No, no, please, Y/N. It was of no fault of yours. I admit, I wholly underestimated the extent of my strength in that moment.” You stare at him, still dismayed at what happened, but it seems you aren’t the only one feeling like a deer in the headlights. “Can you find it in yourself to forgive me?” he asks, smiling meekly.

“It’s fine, these things happen. We’re only human after all, right?”

“...Right.” There’s a moment of silence that goes on for longer than you prefer, and you can’t help but feel like you’re the punchline of some inside joke. You don’t dwell on it though. There’s really only so much social embarrassment you can handle in one day. “Now, if there aren’t any more near-accidents,” he points in the opposite direction and says, “we’re headed to the children’s hospital.”

Oh.

[doctordiscord123]

My Way or the Highway -- Whumptober 2020

Illinois stumbles upon something big but quickly learns to regret it.

Commission Info | Buy me a ko-fi

@whumptober2020

Tags: @demon-dark-666 @devon-rever-860 @smash-ash26 @bender-of-life @verse2wo @vociferous-chaos @itsjustkyss @takethepainawaybae @the-pan-anon @ts-famderartist @rottingmolars @revolutionbastard @toothfairy2298 @sororia04s @sirkawaiipotato @darkest-shade-of-light @bitchbyebibye @posts-random-art @xoskeletonkid @lulu-chaos-incarnation @regalrain02 @parental-tendencies @tried-my-best @mirrored-calamity  If you want to be added to the list, just let me know!

 Warnings: Blood, Kidnapping  Pairings: None  Characters: Illinois  Word Count: 1511 words

Illinois panted, wiping the sweat from his brow as he hacked at the jungle foliage, constantly readjusting his grip on his machete with the heat and humidity making his hands sweaty. He’d been out here for a good few weeks now -- first scouring the foothills of the Andes in Colombia, before turning his attention to the Amazon. Sure, El Dorado most likely didn’t exist, but that didn’t mean Illinois wasn’t going to try. He’d done his research, learning from the mistakes of those before him. 

Besides, even if he didn’t find anything, it was still a Hell of an adventure.

Grinning despite himself, despite the unbearable heat and bugs and sweat, Illinois continued to push his way through the jungle, making sure to watch every step in fear of snakes or other creatures that could kill him easily. There was nothing quite as terrifying as being at the mercy of nature, and it was a fear Illinois knew well, and he’d learned to obey and use that fear to avoid winding up dead where no one will ever find his body. Not before the animals got to it. 

Hacking once more at the vines foliage blocking his path, he winced as his machete seemed to hit something thicker. Probably a tree. He pulled the vines aside to allow him through, and -- well he wasn’t really sure what it was. It -- didn’t look right to be a tree, so heavily covered in plant life that he couldn’t see the trunk. He couldn’t even see where his machete had hit it. Looking up wasn’t any better, since the the roof of branches and leaves all seemed interconnected anyway. Illinois squinted up at the jungle ceiling, before back to the suspicious probably-not-a-tree, and rubbed at his eyes. How long had he been walking now? He could probably afford a bit of a rest before trying to decipher what this was.

With a heavy sigh, Illinois dropped his machete and his backpack, and sat down on the forest floor, leaning against the maybe-not-a-tree.

And immediately, the area flooded with golden light.

Illinois’ eyes snapped open, and he tried to scramble to his feet, but he was so used to accounting for the weight of his backpack he just fell back down. And then he was frozen in awe, watching as rows of men, soldiers, packed into the jungle, seemingly from nowhere. He assumed they were soldiers, anyway, going by the face paint, shields, and spears. In fact, they looked -- like they were straight out of murals of Aztec warfare. Ancient soldiers, stuck in time.

Illinois swallowed nervously as he realized he might’ve stumbled upon what he was looking for.

...He didn’t account for it still being populated.

One of the men in front -- Illinois could tell he was important from the way his outfit was gaudier, bigger, and the way he carried himself -- slammed his spear into the ground, glaring down at Illinois. He said something in a language Illinois didn’t understand, raising an eyebrow. When Illinois didn’t reply, he repeated himself, definitely angrier, slamming the butt of his spear into the ground, glaring pointedly at Illinois.

Illinois swallowed again, moving slowly back to his feet. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t --”

The second he tried to move, the man in charge slammed his spear again, shouting something in that other language, and two other soldiers rushed forward. Illinois didn’t have time to even think about running before they were grabbing him roughly under his arms and hoisting him to his feet, dragging him along. Illinois cried out in protest, trying to dig his heels into the jungle floor, but the soldiers were strong, and it did little to slow them down. Still, Illinois’ struggled, trying to wrest himself free of the soldiers’ grasps. “Wait! Wait wait wait, hold on, I --”

Illinois cut his own words off with a sharp jolt of fear rushing down his spine as the tip of a very sharp spear suddenly found itself at his throat. The next soldier in the strict, military line glared him down, and Illinois obediently stopped moving, relaxing as much as he could force his body to, eyes locked on the shaft of that spear. Only the steady, trained beat of their march kept him from injury, but if they stopped short -- Illinois could only imagine what it would feel like to have that spear in his throat.

Illinois was dragged through what he now realized were gates, and into the commotion of the lost city. In nearly any other scenario, Illinois would take his time fawning over how well it was hidden, the city built around the forest itself, using the great canopy as cover. He would’ve admired the beautiful gold the building were accented with, the sun glinting of of the streets themselves and the buildings’ valuable designs. Now, he was only concerned with the public display he was becoming, people exiting their homes to watch him be paraded through the streets, Illinois’ pulse pounding in his ears in time with their footsteps, and that spear so fucking close to his throat.

The soldiers stopped dead, and Illinois could help his desperate cry and impulsive jerk to get free -- but the spear stayed at his throat, only nicking his skin a little. His heart was racing, he was hyperventilating, and he cried out again as he was spun around and shoved forcefully to his knees. Disoriented, he tried to lift his head, but then what definitely felt like a foot was being braced against the back of his neck, forcing him to bend completely, his forehead pressed to the golden street beneath him.

He heard the voice from earlier, the soldier in charge, and the foot moved away from his neck. Illinois didn’t move regardless, swallowing hard. But -- then there was a different voice, one that sounded like a woman, but Illinois didn’t have time to try and process it further before there was the sound of things being thrown down beside him, and he flinched, gasping a little. A quick glance out of the corner of his revealed it was his stuff being thrown down -- his backpack, hat and machete. The woman spoke again, and she sounded -- surprised? Confused? -- followed by the angry tone of who Illinois was going to dub a general.

There footsteps, slowly approaching.

Illinois lifted his head in a panic, opening his mouth to explain himself -- or at least try to --

Only for the foot to press back against his neck, and his head was slammed back into the ground with a force Illinois wasn’t expecting. His forehead cracked against the ground loudly, his nose smashing against the stone, and Illinois cried out sharply. Distantly he could feel his wrists being yanked behind him, rough rope being wound around them, but he was a bit more preoccupied with the increased pounding in his skull and the blood he could feel pooling beneath his face.

The footsteps halted, and Illinois felt something hooking beneath his chin, forcing his head back up. 

Blood and tears were smeared across his face, terror bright in his eyes. The woman only raised an eyebrow as she lorded above him, her foot the thing forcing his attention. Her black hair was cut short, to chin level, her dress golden, simple, but regal all the same. Golden bracelets decorated her arms, heavy hoops dangling from ears, necklaces draped around her, but perhaps the most elaborate and eye-catching thing she wore was her headdress: made of a leopard’s pelts, various bird feathers, with uncut jade decorating the brim.

If Illinois thought the general held power, this woman radiated it.

She hummed softly, eyebrow arching further, and she tilted her head to speak to one of the men standing on either side of her -- guards, Illinois assumed -- though she never broke eye contact. She said something in some sort of amused tone, and, judging by the way the guards and soldiers snickered, it was probably something at Illinois’ expense. He couldn’t find it in himself to care if he was being made fun of, not when she smirked, and lifted her foot a little more, forcing Illinois to tilt his head back further.

She said something else to her guards, her smirk growing a little.

And suddenly everything was moving again as Illinois was dragged away.

He tried to fight again, tried to wrestle free of the grip on his bound wrists, but that only earned him lost footing and being dragged across the stone ground, struggling to get his footing back as his knees scraped across the road. He was dragged off to what looked like a temple, elaborate and grand -- no doubt where that woman lived. He was dragged inside, dragged through what felt like endless hallways until --

He was tossed into an elaborate bedroom, forced to his knees once more, and his wrist bound to the wooden post of the bed.

The solider left.

The door was closed.

...And Illinois was left alone to wonder what the Hell his fate was going to be.

[monster-bait]

Hi, do you have any tips for someone starting out who would like to make money off my own writing. I think I may use patreon, and self publish, I Mainly write Poto Leroux and would like to take request for original fiction, but I have a very small following and am put off sharing my work because I'm afraid not many people will see/read it. Sorry for the really long ask but if you have any tips and/or advise that would be greatly appreciated.

Oh wow, I don’t know where you guys got it into your heads that I’m any good at making money, lol!

Soooo...first off, I’m far from a publishing professional and I’ve only had my own Patreon up and running since September, so I’m a questionable authority at best. 

I can only speak to my own experience and schedule, and time tends to be my most limited commodity, so I put a lot of thought into considering what I was and was not willing to commit to my Patrons each month, and for how many patrons I was willing/able to make that commitment. My patrons are guaranteed to receive one (1) exclusive story between 5-10k words a month, in addition to exclusive viewership of my multi-chapter work. Since that’s not an insignificant time commitment, in addition to commissions, side projects, and real life responsibilities, ensuring I had an audience first was a priority, because it’s *not* a time commitment I’m willing to make for 3 people. (Even though I’d be supremely grateful to @thelampades and two others regardless. 😜)

Since you’re specifically asking about monetizing, I’ll be blunt: if you don’t put the work in to build a readership, you’re not going to see much financial return. Now, that’s absolutely not an indictment of your work. That’s simply the nature of commerce and marketing: people won’t buy what they don’t know exists. This is especially true for what they’re willing to pay for, particularity when fanfic is free. If transformative fanwork is what you’re writing, then you already know the market is crowded. 

I would ask yourself why you’re unwilling to share your work now, when you also want to make money from it. (I don’t mean give everything away for free, but presumably there’s going to be considerable overlap with the audience with whom you’re currently not sharing and the audience you eventually want to buy your work.)

If you search my #writing woes tag, I’ve answered questions previously on how to build and sustain a following, and that would be my advice, if it’s advice you’re seeking.

As far as self publishing goes...people self-publish for myriad reasons—because they have a pet passion that’s under-represented, because they’re trying to launch an authoring career, because they simply want to own a book on their shelf with their name on it, etc, so your experience will depend on your motivations. @jamiepage19 has self published an absolutely lovely bit of poto fiction, so she would be a good resource to whom you could reach out! 

If you’re seeking to self-publish to make money, be prepared to spend money. Everything costs money. Covers, formatting, editing, advertising. But! Again, it depends on your expectations for “making money”. 

If you’re interested in selling a dozen copies to family and friends, KDP is completely free. If you are bringing your own audience to the table, it might mitigate some of the advertising need. You can edit your own work, you can make your own cover from free-use stock images, and your investment is minimal. 

If you’re looking to enter the realm of author as a career, it isn’t. The average spend for a self-published author is about $2k/book, including edits, cover, ISBN numbers if you’re selling anywhere other than KDP, and ad campaigns. 

I will say, if it’s fanwork you'd be publishing, because its so niche you’d have an easier time finding readership than authors of broad categories like murder mysteries or fantasy romance (OMG, I’m going to sell 3 books, what is wrong with meeeeeeeeeeee 😭) *Ahem.* People who read niche fiction tend to browse the whole list of offerings, so there’s that. But again...with writers like, say, Michelle Rodriguez out there, a known quantity with multiple POTO works and followers, the main thing separating someone from buying your book is going to be the unknown factor.

Bottom line: you’ve got to put yourself out there. It’s never easy to share something you’ve created, because it’s personal and it hurts to have it be overlooked or ignored or criticized, but that’s the nature of the beast. *Especially* if you want to monetize it. People should keep their opinions to themselves and move along with fanfic; if it’s something they’ve paid for? They have the right to pick it apart and review it and that means growing a relatively thick skin as a creator.

If you want to write original fiction, start doing it. Create a Writeblr side-blog to share, if you want to move away from the fandom aspect. If you’re asking me how to start writing original work, you just need to take a breath and do it. I left the poto fandom and fanwork in general about 2 years ago and I’ve never looked back or felt the need to, so don’t feel like you’re locked in place. There IS life after fandom, I promise.

(I could honestly write a small book about planning and executing a launch, because that’s actually what I did in my day job and it really grinds my gears the way people can be so utterly clueless in assuming they can flip on a light switch and the whole world will know about it...there are entire departments dedicated to product launches in every retailer in the world, so if/when you get to that point, feel free to ask questions!)

My advice is to start sharing! Not sharing because you’re worried about your writing being overlooked and then jumping to monetizing seems like a sure-fire way to become discouraged over a lukewarm reception. (Patreon has its own pitfalls to be prepared for even without the question of ‘will people find me’ looming over it.) Build a readership, even if it’s a small one. Small and loyal is just as important as large and transient. Keep your readership. Work on making you writing the best it can be. And good luck! Please don’t be afraid to hit me up again...I’d love a progress report, and I always reblog work I’m tagged in on my Bookshelf page.

Check out my #writing woes tag for more typo-riddled writing advice-type posts on navigating Tumblr as a creator and building an engaged audience!

Join my Patreon

[80s-roger]

Flirty & Insistent

Pairing: 70s!Roger Taylor x Fem!Reader

note: female reader's ethnicity will not affect the person who reads it. She's just greek and she already has a name but the POV will be in second person.

also, i won’t post smuts/series as often as i did until next month, due to uni’s exams period. but i’ll reblog and stuff, u kno. I’ll work in the meanwhile your requests xx love you all 

ps i worked hard on this one, i hope you like it as much as i did. feedback will be massively appreciated.

requested by anonymous:

"Plss write something smutty about roger being a massive flirt and being soo cheeky the reader(after trying acting indifferent and unimpressed) eventually gives in to the temptation of letting him have his way with her?? 💕💕 "

masterlist // dialogue prompts

summary: you left your country a decade ago to study in the UK and after graduating you established in Mallorca, Spain to work as a mixologist. That summer night, you're working for a party arranged by Queen's management to celebrate their "A Day At The Races" era success. The blonde drummer notices you fixing drinks with confidence and doesn't lose the chance to flirt with you. He's just trying too hard because you play it uninterested until he has his way with you.

word count: 3,933

warnings: surface sex, slow burn (becauase they were talking a lot before, idk if it really is a slow burn tho)

A huge party was taking place in Mallorca, with the famous rock band Queen being the main guests of the event. You were one of the bartenders so all you had to do that night was fixing drinks for every person until they'd be shitfaced. The preparations were ready: the event was hosted at the beachside, opposite the calm waves and the golden sand. The sunset was magical to stare at, ready to welcome the bright moon. You had a moment to appreciate it before guests would come at any moment. It was the only thing that reminded you of your ex without feeling angsty about it; you gotta admit you didn't break up with good terms. It was toxic, yet heartbreaking. You loved that man but he left after cheating on you. It's been half a year and you needed to give yourself a break from dating and making out regardless of how social your job is and how much flirt you've received.

The guests arrived, minute by minute they'd get from fifty to hundred. Many people were coming to your counter to order drinks and cocktails. Beautiful women and attractive men would try to flirt with you but turned them down politely saying while you're working you can't do otherwise so they respected it. All these people were actually invited by Queen, their management and the entire record company. They were all celebrating Queen's "A Day At The Races" success and certainly the band which were yet to be seen until midnight.

You were working your ass for a couple of hours now until the band showed up. You could tell by the huge welcoming. The applause, the cheers and definitely women cajoling over them. Here they were standing in the centre of attention, thanking everyone for supporting them and buying their records. Their music was playing at the stereo and you couldn't prevent yourself from jamming to their songs.

When their speech was over, everyone was free to do what they wanted so your bar counter was full again with people chatting and drinking. You saw the entire fucking band coming to your place, obviously for an order. You tried to stay calm because hands-off, you liked their music and fangirled a lot when you saw them live last year in London with your boyfriend.

"Hello beautiful, can I have some Moet & Chandon, please? I really need to celebrate!" Freddie spoke first, carrying a wide smile on his face.

"Sure." You kindly accepted his offer.

"I'd like the same with Freddie." Brian interrupted when you moved behind to grab the expensive bottle and open it.

"So do I." John added and you nodded to grab three glasses, for now.

"And you?" You turned your gaze to the blonde handsome drummer who was already checking you out, focusing especially on your face.

"What do you suggest?" He asked with his eyes being totally flirty.

"Ah, darling, just give us the bottle. Roger is kind of undecided when it comes to drinks." Freddie felt the weird vibe growing between Roger and you. John and Brian giggled, looking whether at Roger or you.

"Eh, our waiter will do it for you. Just sit at your table and he'll take care of you." You kindly warned and he laughed.

"Oh, alright then love. We'll wait for our bottle." He laughed and left with his bandmates, leaving Roger and you alone.

"So? What do you suggest?" Roger turned his gaze back at your eyes.

"What do you feel like drinking? Something sweet, strong, alcohol-free?" You asked trying to help him but he was certainly not trying to find what to drink. He was clearly trying to flirt with you.

"Something to keep me up all night, I guess. But don't make me feel dizzy." He put on a crooked smile and hell, he was attractive as fuck. He knew how to play.

"Right, how does a mojito sound?" You recommended.

"Sounds nice and local." He smiled and you turned around to grab the ingredients. "Are you local? 'Cause your accent doesn't sound British to me." He asked, trying to start a conversation.

"Eh no, I am from the Mediterranean area though." You laughed after turning again to him.

"Italian?" He guessed.

"Greek." You answered.

"Oh, I've been to Greece twice." He started.

"Really? When?" You turned your gaze surprised. You had no idea he has come to Greece for holidays.

"Two years ago I was with my ex-girlfriend, in Santorini. The sunset there is amazing. And the next year I went with John and Brian to Crete. We needed a dose of some Mycenaean civilisation. Thankfully we weren't noticed by fans or anyone else. We were clearly there for tourism." He explained. You were impressed he's seen your country, visited two of the many islands your country has.

"Well, we had some political issues when you guys came to Greece. We were recovering from the junta and had some important historical issues by the end of 1974 so I doubt they'd run behind you, no offence." You laughed while fixing his drink.

"Oh, that's bad. But I understand. How come you're here in Mallorca being a bartender?" He asked and leaned closer to you. There was a nice conversation going on.

"Before junta ruled my country, I was sent to England to study because my parents thought I would be privileged. Now you see me in Mallorca because I work here and besides, I wanted to live somewhere that reminds me of Greece. Studying abroad has the privilege of learning a new culture, a new way of life and so on. Which is so wrong for the locals back home." You explained and cut a slice of lemon before having it ready for him.

"Wait, by saying it's wrong, you mean that..." his brain stopped working for a second trying to understand what you meant.

"Patriarchy is the keyword. They want women to get married at 18 and start a family. But obviously, women have to stay home." You were triggered at your words and internally thanked your parents for giving you the chance to go abroad.

"Cheers to your parents then. I wouldn't get the chance to meet you tonight." He was impressed by your short storytime. "How do I say bottoms up in Greek?" He laughed after you placed him his drink.

"It's pronounced áspro páto." You smiled after saying a Greek word. It must have been a year since you last spoke Greek. You haven't visited Greece for a long time. You found yourself in Mallorca. It's spiritually free and not restricting.

"So, I haven't asked you yet. What's your name?" Roger asked after drinking. He made an oddly satisfying grimace which meant he liked your drink.

"Oh, it's Ellen." You answered. His gaze was literally focused on you the entire time. He wouldn't give up this easy.

"So Ellen, make yourself a drink. It's a treat for you." He offered and you kindly accepted. It's not bad, you've been offered many times. Besides, you needed a drink to stay energised.

"Thank you, Mr Taylor." You thanked him and then his smile vanished.

"If you want us to be in good terms, it's gonna be Roger." His hand was warning you.

"Thank you, Roger." You slightly smiled. "It's just that..." you stopped and checked around if your boss is nearby. "We are obliged to speak to our guests in plural." You whispered and he nodded. Possibly understood the situation.

"So what are you doing later?" He asked after swallowing a sip of his mojito.

"We're cleaning the mess and we're heading homes." You said after drinking a shot. A treated drink.

"I'm not talking about your colleagues. I'm talking about you." He was straightforward. He was so into you, it was obvious.

"Oh well, I'll clean up the mess and I'm heading home." You changed the point of view trying to cut off his flirty attitude.

"When's that time? Dawn?" He guessed.

"Probably at the morning. It's a Queen party, I doubt people will leave before the sun rises." You rolled your eyes sarcastically.

"So..." he started. "Have you been listening to our music?" He asked.

"Yes, since your first album. It was brilliant for a newly formed band." You said with a huge smile on your face and he appreciated it. He appreciated that you didn't fangirl in front of him, having that humble and uninterested attitude. He liked feeling like a predator trying to catch his bait.

"What's your favourite song of A Day At The Races?" He asked. He likes talking to people about his music.

"Definitely Somebody To Love." You affirmed, feeling passionate about your answer, that it seemed you could relate your existence to this song.

"Oh, it's a band's fave too. Well, you relate to this song, don't you?" He asked and his body was closer to yours. The counter was the only thing beside you.

"I guess I do." You looked down for a moment, thinking of your ex but his hand touched your jaw trying to lift you up. Your eyes were looking into his and this is how you noticed how blue they eventually are. An ocean.

"Is it about a guy? I'm sure he doesn't deserve you." He tried to cheer you up with his soft smile.

"It's not that. It's..." you sighed. "Well, this is getting too personal." You pulled back trying to stop the situation. But he wouldn't abandon his try.

"Do you have any specific lyric of the song you relate the most?" He asked.

"Yes, there is that one: I've spent all my years in believing you but I just can't get no relief, Lord." You kind of explained the situation within a couple of lyrics. "He cheated on me. He had the audacity of saying it to my face and left without looking back or apologising." You nearly tore but tried to keep it for yourself. This is getting too personal and you're opening your heart to a stranger that you feel comfortable with. Maybe because you've been listening to him and his bandmates for years and you've seen him live too.

"You know..." he looked down for a second trying to find the words. "At least he was honest. He could keep you for his entertainment if things didn't work with the girl he possibly slept with." He tried to wake you, but he was right.

"I don't even know how long he was cheating on me. However, I did notice a weird behaviour in the last couple of months we were together." You answered.

"Be happy that you're not with him anymore. He took your love for granted. This is not how it works." He said with his eyes still focused on yours.

"You know, we once saw you live. Last year." You tried to avoid talking about your ex the entire time.

"Oh! That's great! Did I look nice?" He joked and he gained a laugh from you. That made him feel nice.

"Definitely, you always look nice." You took a moment to check him out. And hell, he looks and smells so nice.

"I'm flattered." He smiled and you pulled back again to do your job. You could see your boss staring at you. That wasn't good.

"You better get going, my boss is supervising us." You said and he got the hint. You were as cold as you could be.

"Sure, will I see you later?" He asked and stood up from his chair, ready to leave.

"No. I'll be too tired by then." You answered and he was saddened by your reply. He thought he had you. His flirting wasn't sufficient. Which means he had to try again.

He left and walked to his bandmates, they were there talking about their success until Roger joined their conversation but it changed as soon as he sat on the sofa next to Brian.

"So, how did it go Rog?" Freddie asked and they were all ready to hear.

"She seems so uninterested and hard to get, I have to try again." He took out one of his cigarettes, ready to smoke and think.

"Ah, your type of girls Roger." Brian laughed. "You like feeling a hunter don't you?" He added.

"Of course I do. But she recently broke up and I reckon she's still into him. How do women's brains work anyway?" He asked, frustrated.

"Oh darling, I don't see her as stuck with her ex as you think she is. She's been avoiding your flirting because she works here." Freddie had a point and John nodded.

"Just wait for her shift to end and make a move. She noticed you were flirting with her." John suggested and they all agreed to it.

"It's gonna take hours. She said it's possible for the party to end after dawn. She also has to clean up with her colleagues." Roger explained and turned his gaze back to you. But you were already looking at him and when you noticed, you turned back to your counter.

"Fine, then do it now," Freddie advised and Roger looked at you considered. "Wait where's she going?" Freddie asked after noticing your figure leaving your position.

"James, would you mind taking my place for a moment? I really need to use the bathroom." You called for your colleague who politely came to your counter.

"Sure, go ahead. I'll be here as long as you need." He smiled and you left for the bathroom to take a very needed pee.

"Shall I go after her?" Roger asked.

"Fucking go!" Freddie pushed Roger to run after you no matter how awkward it would be.

You walked in the staff-only bathroom, rushing to the toilet. After drinking a few shots, you needed to pee like a champion. When you pushed the flusher you unlocked your door and the very first thing you saw, was Roger standing at the wall.

"What the hell are you doing here, get out!" You were shocked by his presence and he wouldn't move.

"This is the only chance I have with you right now. Your boss can't see us." He came closer to you.

"No, but he'll get suspicious!" You tried to pull back until you reached the counter. Now you were sandwiched between Roger and the counter. There was no space between you. His face was coming closer to yours.

"I locked the door in any case." His nose tickled yours and his hands placed you on top of the counter, sitting now and having his bulge, against your area. That feeling is the shit.

"I work here, I can't..." you tried to refuse but the feeling of getting fucked couldn't stop you.

"I can't be in this toilet too, but here I am." His lips touched yours with passion and lust. His arms wrapped your waist and lowered down to your arse, squeezing it gently and your hands moved to his neck and his cheeks, trying to hug most of it. You haven't gotten kissed nor fucked for a long time.

Living on the west side of Europe had given you many opportunities. The situation you're currently now couldn't even be referred to Greek religious people as a joke. They'd freak out and tell you crap like you ashamed your honour, your family and your future husband. Your parents were too open-minded to let you live in West Europe and live your life as you wanted to. You had sex with your boyfriend at nineteen, with no need to be your first wedding night, you wear shorts on summers because you feel like it and now you're having a one night stand with a rockstar of a band you like and it's never gonna be the same anymore. You played it hard-to-get because you felt it was wrong. But it wasn't. It's just one more experience to add to your diary.

"Are you sure you want to do this, here?" He stopped the kiss for a second, to ask for your approval.

"Yes, but let it be fast, or I'll be in trouble." You checked at the door. "Are you certain the door's locked?" You asked.

"Yes, I am. It's just that..." he stopped.

"What?" You were scared he regretted it and he'd leave you like the mess you already are.

"I want to get more of you, but in this counter, I don't have the chance. I'll cope with it." He unbuttoned your suit while your hands tried to unzip his jeans.

"If you stay a little longer in Mallorca, you can get more of me." You winked and he smiled, thinking he has more chances with you.

"Works for me." He whispered and turned to your lips again for a passionate kiss.

He helped you with taking your suit off, now staying on your bra when your hands put his jeans down. "Mind taking your bra off?" He asked while his mouth travelled your neck, giving it soft kisses.

"I'd rather wear it..." you refused taking it off after gaining a lot of insecurities because of your ex-boyfriend. You remember him saying how small your breasts are and with that, no other man can see it. Your A-cups haven't be seen by any other man. Not even by your ex after the second time, you had sex with him.

"As you wish..." he didn't insist and pulled your skirt up, on your waist, with his bulge rubbing against your core and turning you instantly wet. "How long has it been?" He asked after noticing the humidity between your legs with his hand.

"Must be eight months. I'm out of practice." You sighed.

"Don't feel bad about it, I'll do the work. You're already wet for me. I like it." He bit his lower lip and turned to your lips again, for a deep kiss. "God, you are fat-bottomed aren't you?" He smiled between the kiss after squeezing your thighs and your small waist. "I'm starting to have a thing for greek girls." He complimented your body type and that boosted your low confidence level. With a simple move, he placed you against the mirror, taking your thong off your left leg to have clear access inside your wet area. His hand pulled his erected penis out of his black underwear, ready to thrust inside you.

"You better start before I cum untouched." You exhaled and balanced yourself at the counter.

He smirked and trusted inside you, feeling him completely weird inside you, maybe because you haven't had sex for more than half a year. The sensation was amazing and penetration was always the thing that released you from thoughts. His hands squeezed your thighs and each thrust was a try to pull you closer to his pelvis. You couldn't stop breathing heavily. You had to be quiet and so did he. It was a staff-only bathroom and the key was turned horizontally so no-one could break in with a spare key.

"Oh god, this is amazing..." you moaned at every pleasuring wave while your hands played with his blonde hair.

"Fuck, yes, you're so tight and wet for me." He tightened his teeth as he exhaled into your ear.

His thrusts were giving you the orgasm you haven't had for a long time. It was the tension between you, that made it more passionate but fast enough to make you come earlier than you thought. Soft whimperings coming from your mouth sent him the message that you were close enough and so was he. You could tell by his sharp thrusts, getting smoother and sudden. His gaze was focused on your eyes. Your sight was getting blurry and your legs began to shake; it happens when you reach your orgasm and it feels terrific.

"Ah, God..." you moaned and tilted your head behind, where the mirror is. "That was so refreshing." You gasped after wearing your thong again.

"Ain't gonna lie, but this WC shag was the best I had." He laughed and wore his underwear and jeans again.

"I can't make comparisons to it, I've only had two boyfriends in my life and this is my first time fucking a stranger at my workplace's restroom." You buttoned your suit and stood up from the counter to fix yourself.

"Stranger?" He asked confused.

"Stranger, Roger. I mean, I do know you're a rockstar, a member of my favourite band and I've seen you live once but it won't change the fact you're a stranger. I know you as a persona, not as a person. You get it?" You tried to explain how it feels.

"Oh, I see." He nodded. "Will I see you again? I want to know you as a person if you want that too." He suggested.

"Sure." You kissed his cheek gently, letting him take the lead. You wanted him to make the move. "I'll just walk out from the WC first and make sure no one sees you when you get out." You said and walked through the door until someone tried to get in. A knock on the door was heard.

"Ellen, are you still in there?" It was James.

"Yes, I'm coming." You internally panicked and hinted at Roger to hide in the toilet. "Hey James, is everything alright?" You asked after opening the door.

"Yes, I wanted to check on you. You were absent for a quarter. Are you okay? You look like a mess." James liked you for a long period of time but he wasn't your type. He's way too cute for your standards.

"Yeah, I'm fine... I just felt a little dizzy and wanted to wash my face with cold water. I needed it." You lied after checking your face in the mirror. You were red as a tomato.

"Oh, fine then. You should get back to your post. The boss has been looking for you." He pointed outside and you felt really bad about it. Your boss suspects you since the moment you started chatting with the blonde man hiding in the toilet.

"Alright, I'll be back in a minute." You closed the door to his face and rushed to the toilet where Roger was hiding.

"You're a cute little liar, aren't you?" He teased and gave you a little slap on your butt cheek.

"I won't be anymore if my boss finds out." You rushed, trying to leave the toilet.

"How will I reach you?" He asked trying to learn your phone number.

"Just come at my post and I'll hand you a drink." You declared and left the room, heading fastly at your post. You stared at the Queen members, looking at you all smiles and winks. They probably knew what happened a quarter ago.

You fixed another drink for Roger, trying to look calm and relaxed. But you weren't. You were tense and it could be seen. Two minutes later, Roger came to your counter again with a crooked smile on his face, waiting for the drink. He was looking whether at his bandmates or you. There was absolute silence.

"Here's your drink." You smiled and handed his drink with a small paper around the glass. He carefully grabbed the paper so it couldn't be seen and walked away, heading to the balcony.

He grabbed the paper, unfolded it and there was your phone number and a note in it: "thanks for giving me a good time Rog"

He smirked at your note and placed it in his pocket, anticipating the moment he'd call you.

[inmyarmswrappedin]

Episode 19. Okay, guys, this was an excellent season. Thanks for watching along with me. 

Aisha’s been up all night cramming for the math exam. The wake-up alarm rings, and she turns it off with a smile, and then stretches in her chair.

As Aisha is getting ready to go to the exam, she runs into her mother. Her mom asks if she’s going to school, and when she says yes, her mom sounds more affectionate than she’s been the past few days. Aisha realizes this is a good moment to apologize. She says she’s sorry for making her mom worry, says she didn’t mean to. Her mom accepts the apology and gives Aisha her phone back for being a good daughter!

As Aisha rides the train to Oslo, we see Emrah going back to his place. Then we get shots of Aisha doing the exam, while Emrah examines his passport. Emrah also packs a bag. When he opens one of his drawers, he finds a Kinder egg capsule. He’s surprised to find one of those toys you have to build inside. Aisha must’ve left it there when she stayed the night. Emrah empties the capsule (without building the toy!!) and leaves his apartment.

Aisha texts Jamilah and Freba after the exam. She thinks she did really well! She goes back home, it seems that Yusuf is there alone. She asks where their parents are, and Yusuf says they’re away (I think at a friend’s). He still sounds a little upset. Aisha lays it on him. She’s not studying law right now. Her grades weren’t good enough to get into law. (As a Spaniard, this isn’t at all relatable to me, because Law is one of the degrees with the lowest entry grade lol.) But  she’s taken the exam again, and she did really well! Yusuf doesn’t have much of a reaction... He’s just like, “But you’ve been at school so much?” Aisha says she’s been going to Sonans, which appears to be some kind of private school that helps prepare students for uni admission tests. And because this is a private business, and not free like uni, she’s been working as much as she can so that she could pay the fees. She didn’t want to ask their parents for money for this, since it wasn’t their fault Aisha didn’t get a good grade in maths the first time around.

Aisha waits a beat, and then asks Yusuf how come he’s not screaming. Lmao. Yusuf says he doesn’t have a job. There we go! I thought it was so sus that he’d go back to his parents’ place when he’d been living abroad. He doesn’t manage a lot of artists. All his clients left him, so he went back to Norway and he’s been sending resumes and applications. This explains so much. Yusuf was so down on himself for “failing”, so he was even harder on Aisha because, as far as he knew, Aisha had so much more to lose than he did, studying law but dating Emrah, etc.

Yusuf asks Aisha why she doesn’t trust him. He says he can’t back her up if she doesn’t tell him anything. Aisha says she’d like to trust him, but she can’t when he threatens to tell their parents about Aisha’s shit whenever she does anything he doesn’t like. She jokes that she’s going to tell their parents about Yusuf not having a job. But then she sits next to him and she says he’s not like his friends say. He’s a good brother and he’s been taking really good care of her. Yusuf just has to stop treating her like a four year old, and they have to trust each other. 

Emrah then texts Aisha to meet at 5. Yusuf asks if that’s Emrah, and Aisha says yes. Yusuf says to go meet Emrah, and he’ll cover for Aisha. So we get a scene where Aisha puts a lot of work into her appearance, with a nice top, Chanel’s earrings (! girl I miss you) and necklaces.

She and Emrah meet, and hug. I feel like Aisha is a bit overdressed compared to Emrah tbh lol. But anyway, Emrah then takes Aisha to some building, and he says one of his friends lives there. Aisha is extremely creeped out. She doesn’t want to go in or to walk up the stairs or anything. Emrah says to wait behind a door for a second, but of course, we know Aisha would never not barge into a situation headfirst lol. Behind the door, there’s a terrace. It’s empty. Aisha looks over the railing as if to check whether Emrah jumped lmao. 

Emrah is actually on a higher level. He tells Aisha he told her to wait, but now she can just climb up the ladder. Aisha tells Emrah he’s so weird, but climbs up regardless. It turns out that Emrah remembered when they looked over Oslo at Ekeberg. Abdi lives in this building, and I guess he gave Emrah access to the rooftop, where he and Aisha can now have a nice view of Stovner, the neighborhood where AIsha has felt so trapped. There’s also a blanket and pillows, it’s all very sweet.

Emrah tells Aisha that is going to go away for a year. He can’t say what he’s going to do, but when he comes back, the debt will be repaid and he’ll be free. And what he’ll be doing shouldn’t hurt anyone, except perhaps himself. I don’t like this, I really wish Emrah didn’t have to go away. 😞 Why won’t Bigmac be arrested instead? But anyway, Emrah is fidgeting a bit. Aisha asks him if he’s okay, and Emrah says he’s cold. However, he’s also nervous, which we know because of what he does next. He gives Aisha the Kinder egg capsule. When she opens it, there’s a fucking ring inside lol. Aisha makes the funniest face, it’s like 😕. She looks over at Emrah, and he is kneeling! He asks her to marry him!

Aisha’s like, “no.” Gvhvhv. And she says Emrah doesn’t even want to get married. Emrah admits this is true. He just wanted to offer Aisha an out since she didn’t feel free at her parents’. Aisha says she doesn’t want to get married just to be free. Then she asks if Emrah stole the ring gvhv. She says, you have a debt so how can you buy a ring? Emrah says the ring is his mom’s, so he didn’t steal it. They laugh at how Emrah proposed marriage when they’re not even together.

Emrah says that when he was in jail, thinking of Aisha made it all so much easier. So he didn’t like that Aisha saw him like that in his apartment, talking about the panic attack. But, he’s also glad, because even after that, Aisha is still here. He says Aisha is his very best friend. Aisha says she’d never been in love before Emrah, not like this. Because Emrah always accepted her for who she is, even if she’s preachy and bossy. Emrah says maybe it’s best like this, they don’t have to be together. Aisha lays her head on Emrah’s upper arm and says he can always ask her for help, because even big, strong, tough guys need help sometimes, right? Emrah agrees. Then Aisha sticks her head under his arm, so that Emrah wrap his arm around her shoulders. Aisha says Stovner looks really nice from here. Emrah praises Stovner.

Then follows some aesthetic shots of Stovner, without people. And finally, a series of medium and close up shots of young people from Stovner. Boys and girls of different ethnicities, a couple wearing head coverings.  

I think 17/18/16/19 was a show that was always committed to do justice to Stovner kids. In many ways, Abdi, Emrah, Ibo and Aisha (Yusuf, Jamilah, Freba...) embody stereotypes ascribed to second generation kids from poorer neighborhoods. But throughout this season, I always felt that, like Aisha said, the camera accepted Aisha for who she was. Even when she behaved badly or talked shit. I feel like this season (and probably the whole show, but I haven’t watched those seasons yet) showed characters who struggle to get by, who don’t have it so easy because they’re not wealthy or white or live in a really nice neighborhood. But these characters are ultimately just people who want to be happy and make things better for themselves and others, even in little ways like not burdening their parents with added debt. I think the 17-verse cared deeply for its characters, and so I find it hard to find a flaw. Because I don’t think it sought to judge the characters, or even the characters that the mains dislike. (Like uncle and Mohammed, for instance!)

One thing I’ve read a lot when it comes to representing minorities, it’s that the media should portray the joys along with the struggles. It shouldn’t be all struggle all the time, in order to make white (straight, cis) viewers feel pity. I think the shots of Stovner and Stovner people did just that. Show the joy, shyness, happiness of these teenies when they’re asked to pose for a TV series. 

I hope you’ve enjoyed the season, and thanks for reading these posts. 💛

[edie-k]

Legally Ginger - Chapter 3 "What, Like It's Hard?"

Title: Legally Ginger Chapter 3: "What Like It's Hard?"

Rating: Teen (I'm sorry Ron and I are equally fond of the f word)

Summary: Based off the movie Legally Blonde. Ron makes the move to Boston but his Harvard career is off to a rough start.

Author Notes: I do want to caveat that not everyone who attends an Ivy League school is a snob so no offense to anyone that did; it’s just a fun romcom stereotype.

Additionally, I felt the need to address that it can be a bit scary for anyone to stalk someone across the country but particularly a man stalking a woman across country is historically problematic. Unfortunately, given it's basically the entire plot of this story, we can't completely avoid it. So remember, this is a fun thing in movies but a red flag in real life.

And yes, I do crib more from the movie on the curriculum. I did not attend law school and can use the help. So I bolded the language that was either verbatim or heavily cribbed from the movie.

Chapter title is a movie quote.

Thank you so much to adnei for all of the beta help and feedback!

I've been so excited to share this chapter with all of you and I think when you get to the end, you'll know why. Let me know what you think!

Link to AO3 or read more below.

“All set then?” asked his dad, closing the back of the old Ford Escape Bill had passed off to him.

“I think that’s all of it,” Ron agreed.

“Well, I’ll go get your mother then to see you off,” Dad said.

The twins and Ginny were standing on the curb, having already loaded the boxes they carried in the vehicle.

“Well, in two days, you’ll be knocking on Astoria’s door to find out if this crazy plan worked.”

Ron laughed. “Not exactly. Hopefully I run into her the first week.”

George’s jaw dropped. “You spent 90k of Muriel’s cash and wasted the best party semester of your life to hope to run into her?”

He hadn’t gone the entire spring semester without seeing Stori. She’d sought him out a few times for a bit of, as she put it, mutual stress relief, but refused to discuss anything further about their relationship. She had bid him a teary goodbye at their commencement ceremony, where he had been evasive about his post graduation plans.

“The point was to be worthy of her, not scare her. Ginny, imagine you get drafted by the Red Stars and suddenly that douche you dated, Corner, is working there as the strength and conditioning coach. You’d be freaked out.”

“It’s a good point,” said Ginny.

“Look, I’ll show up, I’ll get to know everyone, make my connections, and charm the professors. She’ll know I’m there without me ever telling her.”

“You never faded into the background at CULA,” Fred agreed.

“I’ll say hi if I see her but she’ll be knocking on my door by October,” Ron said confidentially.

“Oh yeah?” George’s voice was skeptical.

“You didn’t think I’d make it this far,” pointed out Ron. “It’s… it’s got to work.”

Suddenly, he felt his confidence drop. Was this a stupid plan?

“Best of luck, bro,” said Fred, giving him a one armed hug.

“Regardless of everything… Ron, you got into Harvard. Harvard. Don’t let them take that away from you,” Ginny said fiercely.

“Yeah, yeah, you sound like Mom now,” Ron said, brushing her off before his cheeks could burn. “Where’s she at? I’m burning daylight here.”

“I’m right here,” said his mom, walking out the front door of the ranch home he’d grown up in, holding a cooler. “I have some sandwiches to at least get you through the first day on the road,”

“First hour maybe,” George scoffed.

“Thanks Mom,” he took the cooler and stuck it in the car. When he turned back around, his dad had joined them again.

“Well, this is it,” he said awkwardly.

“Oh… Ginny, go pack a bag and join your brother. We’ll buy you a plane ticket home. Or I can come along,” his mom blurted out, nervously twisting her hands.

“Mom,” Ron groaned.

“Molly, he’ll be okay,” his dad said gently.

“Call me once a day,” Mom said. “Just during the trip,” she added, when Ron started to object.

“Okay,” he agreed. He drew her into a hug.

After he’d said goodbye to each of them, he whistled. “Pig, come on boy!” The pug ran across the yard and allowed Ron to scoop him up and put him in the passenger seat. He climbed into the driver’s seat and swallowed hard. Was this a big mistake?

“We’re so proud of you, son,” his dad said.

“We’ll see you at Christmas?” his mom asked.

Ron didn’t trust his voice so he just nodded and closed the car door. He started the vehicle and with one last wave, he backed out of the driveway.

**********************************************

Five days later, Ron’s alarm was blaring.

“What fucking time is it?” he muttered, slamming the sleep button. In response, Pig grunted and rolled over.

It had been four days of naps and showers at truck stops, coffee, Monster, and fast food but he’d arrived yesterday in order to get a decent night’s sleep before today’s orientation. He, however, had failed to calculate in the three hour time difference that combined with his driving fatigue, was wreaking havoc on his mind and body.

He sighed and went to a still packed box marked “clothes”. He immediately groaned. His khakis were wrinkled as hell. Should have hung them in the bathroom last night when he showered to at least get a little help from the steam.

Luckily, he had a couple dress shirts in the garment bag with his sports coat and two suits. During his brother Percy’s summer visit, he’d used one of Ron’s rare free days to take him shopping. Percy had gotten some advice from a friend of his that attended the University of Chicago on law school attire and had insisted Ron needed at least three suits.

Ron, who was expecting that this whole thing would be wrapped up by spring, balked at the idea but finally agreed to one new suit to go with the one he already owned, a blazer, khakis, and a few polo shirts. He had shirts and tie combos from various formal and semi-formal events, but doubted he’d need much of it. Percy’s friend had said classes were business casual and while his golf shirts were comfortable enough, Ron really hoped that by the second week, everyone was wearing hoodies in class.

He finished getting ready and then grabbed Pig’s leash. “Come on boy,” he prodded the slumbering pug. “If you don’t go now, you’ll be holding it all day.”

They walked the campus, enjoying the morning quiet. While it didn’t give Ron the ease and sense of belonging CULA did, it was an impressive campus. For a moment, he wished he’d taken his mom up on the offer to come out with him - she’d love to see this. He hated the loneliness he felt and was glad to see Pig do his business. Sooner he could get to orientation and meet some people, the better.

********************************

Orientation had been a mix of boring and interesting. He’d slipped in right at the last minute and sat in the back row to ensure he went unnoticed if he were in the same group of students as Astoria. Luckily, he didn’t notice her in the room. While he missed her terribly, he hadn’t come this far to destroy his plans now, and running into her before classes even started was not the plan.

Now they had moved into the social mixer part of the evening, which he was delighted to see that unlike undergrad, law school mixers included booze.

“Uh… you have anything local?” Ron asked the bartender.

“Nothing craft but I do have Dogfish Head,” the bartender said.

“That’ll do,” Ron responded, sticking a dollar in the tip cup. Had Astoria accepted his proposal, maybe he would have pursued the Boston Beer job and he’d have cases of this stuff in their kitchen. The bartender handed him a glass full of his other life and he wandered over to a small group of people, chatting.

“Hi, Ron Weasley,” he said sticking out his hand to the woman on his right.

“Uh, hi,” she said, sounding surprised but not unfriendly. “Lisa Turpin.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“Ernie MacMillan,” said a blonde man, standing next to Lisa. Ron shook his hand and then shook the hand of the man next to him who introduced himself as Jack Sloper.

“We were just discussing undergrads,” Ernie said. “Jack and I were both Princeton men, although I took a gap year in Europe so different classes. Lisa here was an Eli. How about you?”

Ron inwardly winced. This guy sounded so pompous. An Eli, really? Anyone who watched a few seasons of Gilmore Girls knew what that was. Ron took a deep breath. “West coast here. I graduated from CULA.”

“That’s a solid state school system,” said Ernie. It wasn’t an insult, but when he said it, somehow it sounded like one.

“Yeah, well, it got the job done,” he said, forcing his friendliest tone.

“What were your undergrad degrees in?” Jack asked the group.

“I’m afraid I’m a bit of a stereotype. Political science for me,” Ernie chuckled.

“Same,” said Lisa. “Although I double majored in French.”

“I was a double major as well. Economics and Spanish,” Jack responded.

“There just wasn’t time for a double major while I was student body president, I’m afraid,” Ernie said. “What about you, Ron?”

“Uh, yeah, just the one major for me. Food science,” he said self-consciously.

“Food science,” Lisa repeated, her tone again not unfriendly but certainly not welcoming. Ron’s whole body stiffened.

“Like cooking?” asked Jack skeptically.

“No, there are a few different concentrations but I was focused on food biochemistry and microbiology,” he explained.

“I think the only micro I’m aware of with food is microwaves or microbrewing,” Jack said, letting out a condescending chuckle.

“Actually, brewing was a big part of my internship last summer. I was at Anheuser-Busch working on their new sustainable brewing initiative,” he said.

“Interesting,” said Lisa. “Ernie, where did you spend your time abroad?”

“I assume you’re interested in whether I spent any time in France, which I can assure you that I did.”

“I hope when you say France, you don’t just mean Paris,” said Jack and Ron was glad to see his condescension focused on someone else.

Ernie laughed loudly in response. “Of course not.”

Ron took a big swig of his beer. This was going to be a long night.

***********************

Ron shifted his backpack as he carefully studied the room numbers next to each door. Everyone else looked so comfortable and confident and he wondered if all of his fellow students had mapped out their routes in advance of the first day of classes.

His eyes were so busy shifting from the left side of the hallway to the right that he failed to notice someone stopped right in front of him until he slammed into them.

“Ooof,” he said. “I’m sor - ”

“Ron?!”

Of course he had just walked right into Astoria.

Astoria stood there, mouth hanging open as she stared at him. Despite the gormless look on her face, she looked absolutely gorgeous with her blonde hair pulled back into a tight curled ponytail, the kind he used to love to pull out at the end of the day. Even though it was just barely September, she was wearing an orange cardigan and he thought about how she obsessively dressed in what she called “the colors of the season”.

“Hey there,” he forced out in what he hoped was a casual tone.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked, looking shocked.

“Going to class,” Ron responded. “Don’t want to be late; see you!” He took broad steps around and away from her.

Ron let out a sigh of relief as his classroom was the next one he spotted. He took a deep breath as he walked into the lecture hall for his first class. He spotted a seat near the middle of the room that felt like the right place for the impression he wanted to make.

“Hey,” he greeted the guy next to him. The guy nodded, not even looking up from his laptop. Ron shrugged and pulled his computer out of his bag and powered it up.

While it was sooner than he had hoped, Ron had played it pretty cool with Astoria during their chance meeting. Short and to the point, nothing dumb or embarrassing said. His most successful interaction at Harvard to date.

While he was congratulating himself, a severe looking older woman walked purposefully to the front of the classroom and cleared her throat.

“Welcome to the start of your legal education,” she said. “I’m Professor McGonagall.”

As the professor began to speak about the syllabus, Ron allowed his mind to wander back to Astoria. She hadn’t looked upset or angry to see him, merely surprised. Maybe a bit uncomfortable, which was understandable. She also looked phenomenal. It had been way too long since they had been together and he had almost forgotten how stunning she was.

“Can you tell us about Gordon v. Steele?”

Ron looked up with a start. “Huh?”

Professor McGonagall was standing right in front of him, looking annoyed. “Can you tell us about Gordon v. Steele as it relates to subject matter jurisdiction?”

“Uh…” Ron said, shocked. “It’s the first day of class.”

The classroom was now silently watching him.

“Did you not read the first fifty pages of the assigned text?” McGonagall asked.

“I didn’t realize there was an assignment,” Ron said nervously. He heard a snort behind him and his head whipped around to look at the source.

Professor McGonagall seemed to hear the snort too and shifted her focus. “And you, young man? You could answer my question?”

“Of course,” the smartass snorter said. He ran a hand through his hair and leaned back in his chair.

Oh, thought Ron. This guy is the worst.

“So would you support my decision to ask this student to remove himself from class until he’s prepared?”

Ron froze.

“Yes Professor,” said the cocky douchebag.

Professor McGonagall motioned to Ron. “Once you’re prepared, you will be welcomed back to class. Until then…”

Ron packed up his laptop, completely stunned. He gave a hard stare at the messy haired jerk, who smirked back at him as he stomped out of the room.

**********************

“You have to be fucking kidding me. Where the fuck does she get the right… and that fucking douchebag,” Ron muttered.

“Excuse me,” a voice rang out from behind him. “That’s more profanity than I care to hear in a week, let alone at 8:30 on a Monday.”

Ron looked up, irritated by the interruption to his own self pity. The reprimand came from a pretty curly haired brunette perched on a neighboring bench, a giant stack of books beside her. Despite her scolding words, she had a hint of a smile. A smile that actually looked friendly.

“Sorry,” he said, ears turning red. “I just… are they always that mean?”

“Mean?”

“Yeah, like, call you out like that. My professors have always liked me all right,” Ron replied, feeling quite embarrassed to explain this to her.

“Yes, they tend to do that. Socratic method,” said the woman.

“Ah,” he responded. He knew the name Socrates thanks to his philosophy major ex, but nothing of the method.

“Were you with McGonagall?”

“Yeah. She kicked me out!”

The brunette made a sympathetic noise.

“She ever kick you out?”

The woman now looked scandalized. “Never! But I had nightmares about her my whole first week. Who else do you have?”

“Uh, Sprout, Slughorn, Umbridge…”

“Umbridge likes when you speak up in class but make sure you always concede to her in the end. Slughorn’s kind of pretentious but if you make good use of your thesaurus for his papers, he’s easy to please.”

“Nice, thanks,” Ron said, nodding his head with a slight smile. She grinned back at him.

“This place is tough; don’t let one setback your first day throw you off,” she urged.

“I’m glad I picked this bench. So what year are - ”

“Ron? Can we talk?” Astoria was standing in front of him, looking a bit nervous.

“If you want,” he said carefully.

“Please,” she said, taking a few steps back. Ron lifted a hand in goodbye to the girl on the bench before approaching Astoria.

“So… you’re at Harvard,” she said nervously, rubbing her right hand over her left.

“I am,” he confirmed.

“And… you got into Harvard,” Astoria said.

“Clearly,” he answered, a bit irritated by her tone. She didn’t really think he was an idiot, did she?

“How was your first class? “

“It could have been better,” Ron admitted.

“That’s because you-you don’t belong here,” Astoria said. “Look, maybe I shouldn’t, but I’m trusting that you’re not here to, like stalk me or hurt me or something. Regardless, this just isn’t something you can do. The people that are going to be successful here… they’re like, bred for this. And it’s not you. I didn’t break up with you to be a bitch. This just isn’t something you’re cut out for.”

“Stori - ” he tried to interrupt.

“And Ron, it costs a fortune to go here! How are you even covering this? I still care about you. Please, just cut your losses now,” she pleaded.

“No way,” said Ron, feeling the fire to prove himself ignite. “Look, my first class was rough but it’s because I didn’t get it. I didn’t understand how all of this works. Now I do. Frankly, that asshole that got me kicked out did me a favor because - ”

“Stori, there you are.” Out of nowhere, the aforementioned asshole from class appeared and slung a possessive arm around Astoria’s shoulder.

“Oh, hi,” she said, biting her lower lip and no longer meeting Ron’s eyes.

“We haven’t properly met although, after that disaster in class, maybe it’s pointless,” chuckled the douchebag.

“Ron, this is Harry Potter… my fiancé.”

Ron clenched his jaw but he knew his ears were reddening in a dead giveaway. “Really?”

“Harry was my high school boyfriend. We reconnected this spring and it just felt… right,” Astoria answered awkwardly.

“Well… congratulations.”

“Thanks buddy,” Harry said, voice dripping in mock sincerity.

“I, uh, I’ve got to go,” Ron said. Summoning every ounce of self control he had, he quickly walked in the direction of his residence hall, Astoria calling after him.

[demiwonder-a]

how do you fly with no wings? // young justice

WHO: Cassie Sandsmark, Bart Allen, Conner Kent, Tim Drake.

WORD COUNT: 4939 words.

LOCATION: New York City.

GENERAL NOTES: Young Justice is back, baby! Well, they thought they were back. A mission goes awry and Cassie falls and falls hard.

WARNINGS: Canon typical violence, guns, mentions of drugs/drug trade, mentions of past injuries. 

CASSIE: There was something in the air that Cassie felt settle deep into her bones, none of it good. Her mind whirled with possibilities of what it could possibly mean. The team was back together, officially. It couldn't be them. This was good, right? It had to be good. It felt like there was some dark cloud hanging over her head despite the joy she felt at being back together with her friends once more. 

The mission was easy enough. It was supposed to be, at least. Intervening in a drug trade that was to go down between two of the traffickers they had been following. Something for them to ease back into working together once more. Cassie was situated on the top of the building across from the meeting place, ready to spring into action as soon as Tim gave the go ahead. "In position. Is everyone else ready?"

KON: The super's eye peeked open at the sounds of his girlfriend's voice in his ear. He had been lounging atop the building where the meet up was supposed to occur for what felt like hours, just waiting to be given the go ahead to crash through the roof with only a pack of gum to entertain him. 

Phones could be tracked, according to Tim. That and he hadn't wanted a ringtone to go off in the middle of an interrogation, which, in Kon's defense, had only happened once so the fact that their fearless leader was still harping on felt a bit unnecessary to begin with. 

Either way, he popped another piece of gum in his mouth, humming at the sweet taste of juicy fruit as he pushed his sunglasses further up his nose. "Born ready, babe. I've been stuck up here for forever!" He complained, flicking his ball of foil into the air and turning into sprinkling ash with a quick flash of red, "Tim's the one taking forever, right Bart?" He snickered as he turned the volume down on his com. He'd know when it was time, and even if he didn't, it was always cooler to make a late entrance anyway. It added pizzazz to these things.

TIM + BART: "Cut the Bat-Brat some slack, Slug," The speedster's chipper voice sounded over the link, following gusts of wind and quick electric snaps. Tim had to smile. It felt so familiar, something old that resurfaced after a good dusty coat had been brushed off, still a bit rough in practice and use, but... These guys had been running their hero gig almost longer than Tim had, in the team sense at least. When Tim had left Young Justice to Cassie, it was to distance himself, to protect them from the possible consequences of his presence causing their utter demise. It was still a prevalent memory, the mass of them to be truly honest, amassing in a visceral fear that made his stomach turn every time he thought about it. Kon, Bart, gone and back within the same... No. They're here. You're all here, you're all getting back into the swing of things. Just keep it cool, keep everyone else in line like you were trained to do. You're a Robin, God damnit.

Crouching from his high vantage point, Tim could clearly see all three members of his merry band, whether they knew it or not. The shadow of the concrete around him kept him near invisible, if it wasn't for the glowing white lenses of his mask and the bright flash of red that spread over the new uniform's arms. Fingerstripes, those were Dick's thing... But Tim needed a change. Needed something new for the new Red Robin. The old one... Well, the old one died at the hands of Ra's Al Ghul, when he told himself he'd never be able to get back in the game because of what he'd done, what he was made to do to keep his city and his family and his friends safe. Besides, with his old gear either destroyed or left to ruin, he figured he'd need to do some upgrading regardless.

"You still thinkin', feather-brain?" Another breath of a laugh, shaking his head and glancing in the direction of the speedster. Bart was keeping himself occupied, as always, by playing around with the rusty lightning that haloed every appendage as he ran. Short sprints gave him just enough to practice throwing the thin bolts at the gravel, every strike leaving a blackened mark on the ground, throwing his already wild hair back further over the open top cowl. "You're almost scarin' me with how spooky silent you are. Then again, guess we've just worked with a boss that likes to be a little more commanding-" ZZRP! "... Not that there's anything bad about that, Wondy."

Bringing his arm up out of it's draped cape coverage, Tim glowered at the holographic screen appearing in his field of vision, working on typing in commands on the gauntlet. White lenses narrowed as he worked, a sly smile forming as information flooded the screen. "I'd have thought you all discovered patience while I was off the team. Guess that's what I get for assuming." Remotely, Tim snagged footage from the hidden security cameras outside of the building's loading bay. Without much more than a second to lose, the familiar lights of a transport truck came up on the screen. People or product, didn't matter, that was their cue.

"Transport approaching, East loading bay. Go for Operation Hart Protector. Flash, keep the truck from parking, watch perimeter. Superboy, Wonder Girl, bust in. Keep watch for digital storage, and don't destroy them please and thank you."

CASSIE: A small smile tugged at Cassie's lips even through the ominous cloud she felt darken with every passing moment. There was always a part of her that couldn't help brighten up around her team, her best friends. When Tim had left she had been a bit wary of leading the team herself, not wary in her skills but in everyone not wanting her to lead after having Tim as a leader. She never had trouble finding her voice, making sure it was the loudest and most commanding. Almost on the other side of the spectrum from Tim, cool and calculating while she was loud and commanding. 

"Thanks, Bart. I think," Cassie snorted out. "No destroying, you got it." This part was easy, putting herself in the mission mindset. She could push aside the looming gray cloud and the way her stomach was churning, head starting to spin. It was fine. Maybe a trip to Dr. Mid-Nite was due, but she'd keep that to herself for now. 

Cassie took to the air, flying towards the loading bay and faltered in the air as her head spun. She quickly righted herself and let out a shaky breath, shaking her head and surging forward to punch in the door. "You're slacking, Superboy!" Cassie quipped despite the words feeling heavy on her tongue. What had just happened? 

Didn't matter. She had to keep going.

KON: It wasn't like he wasn't paying attention, he was great at multitasking, after all, but he was almost always more attuned to Cassie's heartbeat than anything else. Most days it thumped solidly in his ear, grounding him when work got overwhelming and comforting him when he caught glimpses of Clark flying across the sky. He figured it was just a super thing, really, because he knew with certainty Clark did the same with Lois and he would bet his last Dr.Pepper Jon did it with Damian. It was nice, knowing that the person you loved most in the world was safe and happy but now his head snapped toward where Cassie's heartbeat was coming from, the falter in its beat making him frown. 

Cassie never got nervous. Not even when they faced foes that were far more terrifying than some drug traffickers. It worried him and a part of him wanted to rush over to her but he would never hear the end of it if he did. Not from Tim and certainly not from Cassie herself. She could take care of herself, always had. 

He tore through the ceiling with a grin, grabbing one of the few guards by the collar with a quick, "Sup?" Before grabbing onto the man's weapon and tossing it across the warehouse. 

"C'mon!" He whined, "Ladies first and all that. I was just being a gentleman." He grinned, winking at her as he tore a strip of metal from a parked van and formed it around the guards wrists in makeshift handcuffs. "You think Robin would buy us some handcuffs or do you think he'd be worried we'd use them for less than PG purposes?" He asked, dropping the man onto the ground as he glanced toward Cassie.

TIM + BART: Bart didn't need to be told to GO twice. He was off running the minute the order was given, a blip on Tim's visual radar as he appeared to just.. Appear in front of the parking truck, leaning against the hood, still humming from an engine that didn't have time to turn off. "Hi, boys. I'm gonna have to ask you to vacate the premises, orders from the boss." A gear shifted, the tires crunched against the pavement. "... Haha, oops." The speedster pushed his hands against the hood, flipping himself onto the trailer in a few quick motions, holding onto the edge for fear of getting flung off. "I don't think they bought it!!" He called out over the engine revving, the vehicle scraping the side of the building as it attempted to throw the hero off.

Tim was still waiting, a looming shadow at his post, listening and watching like a... "You do know I can still hear you all, right?" He sighed, closing down his holographic computer and standing on the edge of his vantage building. May as well get into the fray, he wasn't trained to just sit back. Besides, he'd been doing far too much of that lately. Grapple launcher in hand, the bird leapt into the air and soared for what felt like the first time in forever. Flying was really more Dick's thing, but there was a special kind of feeling in that free fall, the calculations you had to make, to get yourself to safety without hitting the ground or pulling your arm out of its socket. Without another spoken word, or much other thoughts,  the red bird swung up to fall near silently through the hole the Super left in the ceiling, crouched and ready to strike.

A loud crash against the wall and a mumbled "Owwie..." In his ear caught his attention first, head whipping over to the wall the noise. "Flash?" 

"M'fine," came the grunted reply, Bart pushing himself back up on his knees. "Truck's not parked. In fact, it's way past that." 

"Shit."

"Not to worry, Captain, I'm on it." Funny, Tim doesn't recall Bart ever sounding annoyed himself. His scowl deepened even as he tossed batarangs into the onslaught. There were a lot more hostiles than he'd initially thought...

"Hey, Rob, did these guys also have a weapons trade deal? 'Cause it's a little hard to catch up when I'm also being shot at."

Double shit.

CASSIE: Whipping her lasso out, Cassie snapped it out and wrapped it around the nearest man's forearm. She tugged hard and sent him flying back. A smile pulled at her lips and she rolled her eyes at Conner's attempts at flirting in the midst of them taking down the guards. "Definitely not," she tugged her lasso back and kicked out at the guard who was attempting to charge her, sending him crashing into the nearest wall and making him crumple in on himself. Tim came swinging in and it was like something clicked into place despite the persistent bad feeling that had made itself home in her chest. 

Of course, that couldn't last. Bart's voice sounded out through the comms and Cassie's heart sunk right down into her stomach. "Shit," she breathed out, trying to think of a solution and quick. "Flash, I'm coming! You two handle this!" She barked out the orders and shot out of the doors that were no longer hanging on the hinges after her hard punch. There was a memory that flashed across Cassie's mind of Bart and his knee, the way Deathstroke had put a bullet in it with no hesitation. She couldn't let him get hurt again. She wouldn't.

The dizziness was back and Cassie felt like she was seconds away from throwing up, but pushed it back. She pushed herself harder and faster, shooting through the air and throwing her lasso to wrap around the exhaust pipe of the truck. A scream tore its way through Cassie as she tugged and tugged hard, lifting the back of the truck up and dragging it backwards. Shots sounded out and Cassie tugged up harder, bullets ripping through the air and bouncing off her bracelets. Pain shot up her arms and spread throughout her body unlike she had felt before, the gas being pressed harder to try to get away from her. The exhaust pipe snapped and Cassie was sent flying back, a surprised yelp leaving her. "Oh no you don't!" 

Cassie caught herself in the air and tried to push through the dizzy spell and pain tingling in her entire body. Then something seemed to just snap as she pushed through the air, her body faltering up high in the sky and suddenly dropping down. Cassie scrambled, trying to force her body back up airborne but nothing happened, the dread setting in. 

A blood curdling scream escaped Cassie as she yelled out, "CONNER!" She was falling down towards the ground at a rapid speed and unable to stop it.

KON: He smirked, happy at the sight of his girlfriend's lips twitching into a small smile at his antics. He swiftly dealt with another guard, tossing him against a wall and pointedly ignoring the man's loud groan of pain. "Hey, if you didn't want to deal with us you probably shouldn't be doing... whatever it is you're doing here," he said before turning to Tim, "What are they doing here again?" 

His head whipped toward Cassie, his eyes following as she punched her way through the metal doors and off toward Bart. "Goddammit," He sighed, turning to Tim, "Does she seem a little off to you? Her heartbeat is going crazy." 

He sighed, pulling Tim behind him as a barrage of bullets came through the open door, a large truck screeching to a halt as "What are we supposed to do n-" His words were cut off when he heard, once again, Cassie's heartbeat falter and then, no more than a second later, the terror-laced scream of his name. He glanced at Tim, eyes wide but before the man could say anything he was flying up through the roof once more, dropping Tim onto a different building before he pushed himself toward the sound of the scream. 

His heart raced and he swooped down, his heels digging gouges into the street as he skidded right under Cassie, his arms ready to catch her before he was shooting back into the sky with a relieved laugh, his arms pulling her closer to his chest. "What the hell was that, Cass? Are you okay?"

TIM + BART: This was... Too familiar. Too nostalgic. The staff in his hands seemed to transport him back to a time when he was just a teen, a teen in green tights, a little too obsessed with ninjas, given the gruff command to take care of his own team as his predecessors before had done. A near mirror image of the League, the ones stuck to their sides or in their shadows. The wind in his hair as he whirled around, added more to the momentary illusion, and he forgot for a fleeting moment that the four of them had ever been apart. It was clockwork, just as easy as muscle memory...

That was, until things went wrong. 

Just their luck, the world gave them a sign that they should've kept to themselves, it seemed. Tim barely had the chance to answer Kon's questions before the scream nearly blew out the speaker in his ear. White eyes went wide with shock, a whispered "Cass-" making it's way out of his throat. It didn't take much more than a shared look of fear to know that his teammate had heard it too, possibly a million times louder than either of them wanted to hear. He was trying to think of a plan, to send Kon off so he could fend off the rest of the hoard himself, to call back Bart and get at least someone on his 6, but his brain doesn't run on super speed, the ground flying away from him faster than he could start to talk again.

"What the hell-?!" Another sentence, reflexive and reactive, and again barely spoken before he was dropped out of the air again. Damn it all. Tim rolled to a kneel again, looking up to see a blurred streak racing off into the horizon, his plans fizzling out like a match in a puddle. They had this, they had this under control and ready to get done. What the hell was going on that he didn't plan for?? He wanted to make a retort, tell the other that he was fine, that he should've just left him there to duke it out, but... He worried. Lips pulled into a tight frown, masked eyes watching the blur fade away, he waited... Listened... Watched. It's what he was good at, right?

Bart skidded to a full stop just behind the capture zone, though his gold, sparking eyes darted from the sky to the road. "Grife, they're gone," He sighed, a gloved hand flicking through the windblown nest of hair, letting it fall into his face. He wasn't about to get another hospital trip out of them coming together again as a team, no sir. Besides, he had the plates, make and model, and gaudy off-white color scheme committed to memory, it wasn't like it was going to be hard to find with a now broken exhaust. 

It was a moment of silence from the both of them, just staring at what they could only assume was the super-couple above them. All was quiet until Tim decided it was time to speak up again: "Status report."

CASSIE: There was a certain sense of helplessness as Cassie fell down, down, down. The wind caused her hair to whip past her face, not because of her pushing her body through the sky but from her descent down towards the ground. Her eyes squeezed shut as tears stung at them, so many faces flashing in her mind as the air rushed past her body.

Conner, Bart, Tim. Her team she had let down in a course of action she hadn't even seen coming. Donna and Diana, two Amazons and her sisters she had felt so disconnected from for far too long. She didn't feel a part of the Amazons and entirely too much like a boat floating far out to see. There was Kara and Jon, the two other Kryptonians that had wormed their way into her heart. The anger she had quietly held for Kara despite being able to relate far too deeply. There was a regret in the fact she had been angry with her in a place that had only come from wanting to protect Conner. Her mom. Her mom, who had only wanted to take care of her and was horrified when she decided to become a hero. Her mom who she hadn't talked to in so long and ached for her in this moment. Maybe she was right, Cassie didn't know what she was doing and hadn't in a very long time.

Suddenly, arms were around Cassie and she was shot back up into the air. She let out a startled gasp and her eyes opened, arms scrambling to wrap around Conner's neck tightly. She parted her lips to answer and wasn't even sure what to say. What did happen? 

"...I don't know," Cassie whispered weakly, a tear escaping and rolling down her cheek. She wasn't one to fall apart like this, but she had been scared, terrified even. "I was...I've been feeling off lately. Dizzy and just like something wasn't right. I ignored it for awhile, was gonna go visit Dr. Mid-Nite...then I just—" Failed them. She failed them and the mission. Their first mission back as a team and she had ruined it. 

"I was flying after the truck and it was like someone tugged the power chord on my powers. I just...fell. I couldn't make myself fly no matter how hard I tried. If I had to guess I probably can't even make a dent in a door I punch. I'm...useless. I don't have any powers." The reality came crashing down on Cassie swift and fast. She didn't have any powers. She had had powers for so long now, was one of the heavy hitters on the team alongside Conner. What good was she without them? 

Tim's voice crackled to life in the comms unit and Cassie's response was half hearted—monotone at best. "I'm fine." She didn't feel it. Not in the slightest.

KON: She was safe, here in his arms with her heartbeat fluttering wildly and her voice breaking. He looked down at her and his teeth dug into his bottom lip as his fingers squeezed a little tighter only to ease up again in an instant. His flight wavering as his brows stitched together in concern. 

There had never been a time that he could remember that he had been scared to hurt her, but now as he looked into her eyes and saw the vulnerability shining there he had to take a deep breath just to collect himself. He shifted her weight into one arm and brushed away the stray tear as best as he could, his lips pursing as they continued to flow. He landed them on the ground and glanced around, a small dry chuckle bubbling past his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. They were farther out than he had anticipated, somewhere upstate from the look of it. He had been so terrified, so panicked in the moment that he hadn't even realised how fast they were flying. His only thought had been getting her away as quickly as possible but now he felt guilty. Bart needed him, he had left Tim on a random roof, his need to protect her so strong that he hadn't given a second thought to abandoning the team, his best friends. 

They could have been captured, they could have been hurt, they could have been killed. 

He took a shuddering breath, his eyes squeezing shut as he reached blindly for Cassie's hand and cradled it in his own. He needed to focus on her right now. Bart and Tim were smart and capable and probably already tracking them. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" He asked, hating how just a few weeks earlier she had asked him the same question. When did they start keeping secrets? Lying by commission? That wasn't them, was it?

"You are not-" he huffed, snatching the comm from his ear and pinching it between his fingers until he heard a satisfying crunch. "Look, we'll figure it out, Tim will- I don't know, do Tim things and we'll fix it, okay? Don't cry," he said pulling her into a hug, "I hate when you cry."

TIM + BART: No visual, they disappeared... That wasn't too odd in a normal sense, but this wasn't a normal mission. He knew they were out there at least, knew they were still alive. He wished that was all the assurance he needed. Cassie wasn't fine, and Kon wouldn't be fine unless she was. Something had gone terribly wrong here. Possibilities flooded his head, nearly blocking out the mental work he'd already put in that he'd take on solo to try finishing what the four of them had started. Maybe it was easier that way, anyways-

Nope. Fuck. Stop that, you promised you'd stop that. You're fine. Just breathe.

A deep grumble sounded at the back of his throat when he pulled up his screen again, typing quick commands to try and find the pair... And noticed he could only see one dot on his radar. Damn it. Damn it all. "Well, at least he won't get to whine about calling it off."

"Yeah, he can get pretty whiney, huh?" Without a second to spare, it seemed, the yellow-clad speedster had come up to flank the vigilante, his eyes slightly glowing from the sparks that threatened to take his vision for the moment. "I don't think he'll be doin' much of that now, though."

“What happened?" Tim asked, concern filtering through the gruff mask he attempted to put on his voice.

"She just..." Lost, confused, worried, the speedster looked back up at the sky. "She just kinda' fell."

The two shared a moment of silence, each one lost in their own thoughts. If Tim wasn't trying to figure it all out at once, he'd have to laugh at the fact that this was probably the longest time Bart had ever stayed quiet. Deep down, Bart knew it too, but he was stuck in place, rooted, grounded, frozen. All words he never wanted to be. But... What could either of them really do? No one had the full story, least of all Cassie, they were sure.

"... Head back home, Bart," Tim eventually sighed, closing down the holograph screen, turning his head at the familiar sound of an engine on the streets below. Hello, old faithful. "Get some rest. I'll send a report when I can." Walking, not running, Tim dropped off the edge of the roof and onto the waiting top of the Redbird, waiting until he was actually in the old car to lean back and... 'Relax'. To say he had a bad feeling would be rhetorical.

And Bart only watched, still at a loss for words. Did he really want to go 'home' tonight? It felt like he shouldn't, he should let the two of them be alone as much as they could. Maybe he should leave a note, send them a text, maybe he should go to the Garricks or his old place he shared with M-... No no, don't do that, Allen. With the feeling of tears threatening to take his eyes, the speedster set a sort of concentrated scowl on his face at the horizon line. Without another second to lose, he was gone in a flash, taking off to no destination in particular. There were no problems while he ran free, there wasn't anything he had to worry about if he just kept going.

He'd be back tomorrow anyways, always smiling, always happy.

CASSIE: Conner was trying, but all Cassie could feel was a never ending sense of dread and disappointment. She hated letting them down, had been afraid of it for so long even. Back when she was the leader of the team that was a constant fear. For as confident as she was, she truly had lost all faith and confidence in herself steadily over time. She saw Diana, even Donna, and didn't know where she fit into the picture. They were Amazons through and through, but she...she wasn't. She could pretend all she wanted, but she was just some girl who happened to be part god and was only ever gifted these powers by her deadbeat of a grandfather who just so happened to be Zeus. 

Why didn't you tell me? The question was enough to make Cassie grimace and flinch the tiniest bit. She had told Scott, breaking down in a similar fashion in the man's new home on Genosha that something was wrong with her. She hadn't said anything to anyone else, almost afraid if she uttered any more about it that something would happen. Little did she know, she was doomed regardless. 

"I didn't mean to...I was scared. I thought something was wrong and I was afraid if I talked about it then there would actually be something wrong with me. How am I supposed to explain that? I can't explain it other than I had a terrifying gut feeling that there was something absolutely fucking wrong with me." Cassie sighed weakly and scrubbed at her eyes tiredly, she felt completely drained. Whether it was from the loss of powers or just...emotionally being completely destroyed was up for debate. The lasso at her hip felt entirely too heavy and she wanted to rip it apart, throw it away with her bracelets and never look at either again.

"Yeah. We'll figure it out." Cassie parroted halfheartedly at best. She had a feeling that they wouldn't. That she would be...stuck like this and wouldn't be needed. By anyone. "Let's just...can you take us home, please?" She requested quietly, moving to wrap her arms around Conner's neck once more as his arms moved around her. The wind in her hair and the clouds in the sky were a far different experience when someone was carrying her rather than her flying through them herself. Her head fell to Conner's shoulder and she squeezed shut tightly. They'd figure it out. They had to. Right? Right. (She hoped so at least. She didn't know what she'd do if she was stuck like this forever. She could only hope and try not to let that diminish for now.)

[keyofjetwolf]

amberlilly submitted: 100% of this bundle’s proceeds go to support organizations responding to COVID-19. Learn more on the Humble Bundle website!

Hey, Jet - I just ran across this Humble Bundle.  It’s not free, but I was wondering if it is a good deal?  Do you or any of your followers have experience with any of these games?  Thanks, Lilly.

Oh yeah, Lilly, this looks like a GREAT bundle of content! Many of the games/books on here I don’t know, but a bunch of them I do, or have on assorted wish lists for when the mood takes me.

Undertale, of course, for which I have a pretty extensive liveblog.

Lego Batman 3 I haven’t played, but I have never met a Lego game I didn’t have a ton of fun with, even for franchises I don’t particularly care about.

Jackbox Party Pack 2: You now know this, Lilly, you played it with us last night! Fun, inventive party games, not too long, not too short, could be a great way to keep some social connection in our current mess.

Brutal Legend I had so much fun with. If you’re a classic metal fan, ALL THE BETTER.

Rebuild 3 scratches my city building love in a new way, adding survival and RPG elements.

Those are the ones that I’ve personally played (or functionally may as well have, looking at you Lego!)  These are ones I’ve heard good things about and/or had my eye on to pick up down the line.

Into the Breach: I really enjoyed FTL, and adore turn-based strategy games.

Hollow Knight: I’ve heard great things. I have to be in the mood for side-scrolling action games, but they’re a genre Hubby especially loves.

Wizard of Legend: Again, something I have to be in the mood for, but I love dungeon crawler. I think Hubby and I especially would have fun playing this together.

The Witness, I’ve nearly pulled the trigger on so many times. Puzzle gaaaames! It looks INCREDIBLE.

Brothers: Another I’ve been keeping an eye on. Interesting gameplay, and has the potential to be quite moving.

Psychonauts: A gaming classic I HAVE NEVER PLAYED. Held up as a standard for melding game and story, and one I’ve been “meaning” to play for a thousand years, give or take.

In a related vein: GNOG, Broken Age, Double Fine Adventure. You know how sometimes there are creators that you’re pretty much willing to give a shot, regardless of what you may know or think of the product itself? In the world of gaming, Double Fine is one of those for me. I’ve not played any of these three (or Psychonauts, which was their first), but I’ve loved absolutely everything by them that I HAVE played. They’re imaginative, creative, full of heart, and always looking to do something new, and FUN.

A Morticians Tale looks SO INTERESTING.

A Good Snowman is Hard to Build has this as its minimalist description:  “an adorable puzzle game about being a monster and making snowmen” and I want to play it yesterday.

Also there’s a ton of ebooks in this package, ranging from “I love that!” to “never heard of it”, which is awesome.

Basically, with this bundle, it’s doing its best to include something for everyone. I wouldn’t go into this expecting to love, or even LIKE everything included. But with this much, you stand a good chance of finding you really enjoy something you didn’t expect to, AND it’s for charity.

I’m off to buy it myself, soon as I post this. I’d say if anyone sees at least three games and/or books they’d want to try – and can, of course, afford it – you’re coming out ahead with this bundle.

If anyone has any particular thoughts on something in the bundle, please feel free to share!