#i played a million years ago but had to google the position names because i could only remember the numbers

[hazellvsq]

percy canonically played basketball too but i cannot fucking place him. not a point guard and not a center otherwise i feel like he could be anything…therefore he is the power forward or perhaps the small forward. versatile, dependable, that girl. not too tall and not too short

[iwishicanbeagoodpianist]

the Wifilcon and the Winter Router

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OC/Reader Summary: When Bucky learns that his neighbor has been stealing his wifi for months. Warnings: None A/N: I'm not a fanfic writer at all, this, like all my stories, are adaptations to fanfics. My original stories are not written in english, so this is also a translation. please do not repost my work

For an instant, Bucky thought that the knocking he was hearing was coming directly from his head, I mean, it wouldn't be the first time his mind played tricks on him, but he realized that the sound was actually coming, unluckily for him, from his apartment door. Oh no no no no no no no, I just got back from putting up with Sam for almost 6 full weeks, I don't need interaction with more people for now.

Bucky thought for a minute to ignore the sound, to wait for the person to give up and leave, anyway he didn't spend many days on this apartment, almost no one had seen him leave or enter the building and he had no contact with the neighbors, only with the lady on the 7th floor who once lost one of her cats, which ended up in Bucky's apartment, accidentally. Not that I found the cat in the alley and actually brought him to my apartment, it doesn't mean that I stole the cat, he was in the street by himself, I rescued him.

When the banging on the door stopped and Bucky thought he could breathe calmly again, a voice between altered and annoyed was heard all the way to the living room where he was sitting trying to overcome his third panic attack and fourth existential crisis of the day .

-"I know you're in there! I saw you coming in a few hours ago! I've been waiting for days for you to come back!"-

More out of instinct than anything else, Bucky pulled out the knife hidden in his right boot as he slowly backed away from the door. Do I really have a spy as a neighbor? Should I call Sam? Is he in danger too? Never mind now, you need an escape route Bucky, concentrate, third floor, window to the alley, 2 minutes max, the bike is parked far away, I'll have to run, but to where, rendezvous point, safe place, think....

- "for God's sake, open the door, I need you to pay for your fucking internet plan, I'm in the last season of my series and I need to know if Carolina died or not!"-

- "The internet?"- Between the andrenaline from escaping and the shock of not understanding what was happening Bucky spoke louder than an assassin, with over 60 years of experience, should have spoken. Oh, shoot.

-"Yes! Your wifi, I need it to finish watching my series"-

Whispering "wifi" to himself, Bucky tries to remember where he has heard that word before, this is what I get for never listening to Sam when he talks to me. But before he can continue his mental analysis of all the conversations with Sam about such stupid things as his favorite American Football team, the New Orleans Saints, that I remember, to how Antonio could possibly leave María on the last episode of the 6 o'clock telenovela of which Sam is a fan, his apparent "neighbor" spoke up again:

-"Jesus Christ, can you open the door? So we can resolve this like adults"-

Bucky resigned to the fact that he has given his position to the "enemy", walks to the door and opens it waiting for his death. Well at least if I die I won't have to listen to Sam again talking about Antonio and María. But on the other side of the door, there was a woman, who in her pajamas, very unthreatening but cute, was watching him as if he were a ghost but still with defiance in her eyes, in one breath she introduced herself and continued her speech about her complaint to Bucky:

-"As I was saying, I need you to pay for your internet"-

-"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I understand what you mean"- mumbled Bucky.

- "Good Lord"- To Bucky's surprise his neighbor, pushes him and enters his home, well not so much a home home, more like the headquarters of his secret club, of which he is the president, vice president and only member, the point is that it is his place, where he can (and wants to be alone), as she lives here. This must be a dream, maybe I hit my head too hard in the last mission and I am unconscious in the hospital.

Crossing the room, Bucky's unwanted visitor looks around searching for something while whispering the words "I see you are quite minimalist, but maybe this is too much, someone urgently needs to look for some inspiration on Pinterest". She stops abruptly in front of the shelf where, in theory, a TV should go, while shouting: "EUREKA", she bends down and picks up a white device which has two antennas and like a million little blinking lights, damn, that looks like something out of a spaceship, I'm being watched by aliens? I'm being spied on by Kree?

-"This is your router, this is where the internet signal comes from, which I need you to pay for so I can finish watching my series"-.

Bucky, still in shock for the third time in less than 15 minutes, as he processes the idea that perhaps Thanos' unknowing twin is spying on him for a second invasion of earth and revenge for his brother's death. He can only nod to his now more relaxed and happy neighbor.

-"Perfect, thanks! I need to check the food I left in the oven, I'll talk to you later"- and as quickly as she came she left through the same door, leaving Bucky with more doubts than answers, peeking down the hallway, he realizes that she is the neighbor who lives next door, to his right. When Bucky comes out of his initial stupor, still not fully understanding what is going on, he decides to take his cell phone out of his pocket and call his own personal Google to solve his doubts about this century: Sam Wilson.

-"Hey Buck! What's up?"-how does he always manage to sound so happy? focus Buck.

-"What the hell is a router and why do I have one in my house?"- somehow Bucky manages to formulate, although maybe his voice cracked a little on the last words.

-"That thing's been there for at least two months and you didn't even notice it? Have you even paid the bill?"-

-"You put this in here? Without telling me????"- maybe Sam is also a Kree? Who can I trust now? It's all a trap?

Listening to Bucky's accelerated breathing, Sam tries to explain to him slowly, that in this century life without internet is not life, but obviously as Bucky does not even know how to set the alarm on his own cell phone, he was in charge of buying the router and creating the contract with the company so that, the 106 year old man could have his personal network at home. He had given it the name but he had not given it a password so that Bucky himself could set it up later. "I am an excellent friend, I mean co-worker, if I may say so"

-"Sorry man, after all that happened, we got called for a mission and I forgot to tell you, do you have your laptop over there? I'll help you set up a password, so your neighbors won't steal your internet anymore"- and with that comment everything started to make sense in Bucky's slightly screwed up but functional mind about the events with his seemingly non-spy and harmless neighbor.

Meanwhile Bucky was trying to remember his own password to unlock the laptop in front of him, also courtesy of Sam. "Bucky, when you learn about online banking and that you can pay your rent, electricity, phone and everything with a click of your computer, you will thank me". It should be noted that Bucky hasn't used that laptop once, like a good 100 year old grandpa he goes to the bank to make his deposits and pay his debts, which obviously consisted only of electricity, water, gas and phone because the man had no idea that there was a device in his house that spit out internet, apparently only his next door neighbor knew this. Buck tells Sam how he thought his router was an alien device and how he thought his neighbor was a KGB agent coming to kill him. "Relax Buck we all have undesirable neighbors that steal our internet signal sometimes", well undesirable is not the word I would use to describe her but ok.

When Sam finally explains to him how to connect his computer to the internet, Bucky can finally see the name that his wonderful co-worker, not friend, because he could never be friends with someone so stupid as to think that the name "THE WIFILCON AND THE WINTER ROUTER" was a good name.

- "my god Sam, you're such an asshole!"-

-"HEY! That's a great name!"- Sam responds with as much indignation as possible, he's the best at naming everything from dogs to wifis.

- "I can't believe you're Captain America, I can't believe we're even friends"- Bucky really can't understand his luck to have friends, well, co-workers whatever.

- "Well excuse me but we're co-workers..."-

- "Well, take this call as my formal resignation, bye"-

-"Wait a minute Buck..."- Bucky ended the call, to finish -his self-imposed- punishment of listening to Sam Wilson talk for over an hour. At least I asked him how to use the bank's website to pay for the internet. Suddenly, without warning and without explanation, the memory of his neighbor is lodged in his head, her hair in a ponytail, her reading glasses, pink shorts, her sweater from some university of which he can't even remember the name because he was watching out for other things... that she wouldn't kill me obviously, he was watching out that she wouldn't pull a knife out of her back and kill me right there. The message on his laptop indicating that he can now set a new name and password to his wifi distracts him enough to stop thinking about his sweet and cute non-spy neighbor and how she would look with her hair down and her glasses off.

Still with the sweet feeling in his chest and the desire to see her again he writes as the new name of the wifi, while laughing:

"If you want free internet, you owe me at least one free dinner"

After paying the internet debt and closing the laptop, Bucky gets up hoping to find something edible in the kitchen, while leaning over to look inside his fridge and analyzing how bad it would be to eat a fried egg with pasta and sriracha, he hears again a knock on the door, but this time it does not cause Bucky the anguish and anxiety that caused him the first time, but quite the opposite.

-"Open the door Winter Router! I prepared chicken pot pie for dinner"-.

[placegrenette]

Some (Unreliable) Thoughts After Watching Dudes Go Car Shopping

Specifically Ace and Bala, documenting the whole process via Instagram Stories. The lovely Sara has not archived these for @ninetyonekz yet, because she’s been busy doing heroic work archiving ZaQ’s affection for his stepcats and also That One Recent Photoshoot With a Giant Paper Boat, so you will either have to head over to Instagram yourself for the evidence or trust me.

I did take a quick screenshot, though:

Y’all know I get happy when I have actual prices to play with. 13 million KZT = €27,123 or US$27,461. It looks like the extra package bumps it up to 15.5 million KZT, or $32,745. Obviously prices are going to vary wildly and I don’t know enough context to know what kind of dealership culture reigns in Kazakhstan, whether the 13 million is a set price or a starting point for negotiations. But I did a quick glance around Autotrader and the prices I see for a new K5 (which is apparently the rebranded name of the Optima) range from $26,340 or a little bit over $37,000. And that’s where I am in Georgia; bump that price up a bit for higher costs of living, say in New York or California.

Why does this matter? Well, it doesn’t, I’m an obsessive nerd, but:

(Source, from Our World in Data, natch.)

So the chart above is aggregate median data, and yes it obscures all sorts of inequalities, in both countries. But to indulge in some very crude economic analysis, the median Kazakhstani has about a quarter to a fifth of income to play with as the median American, and yet a Kia K5 in Almaty does not cost a quarter of what it would in Atlanta. It thereby follows that a Kia K5 occupies a different position relative to median Kazakhstani consumption than it does relative to median American consumption.

Two different directions I want to go in, thinking about this, and both of them have to do with Ace not being a median Kazakhstani consumer. (I’m 98% certain it’s Ace’s car-to-be, even with Bala in tow; the fan account weloveninetyone occasionally reblogs the guys’ Stories and adds captions I can put into Google Translate, God bless that person, and my understanding from those translated captions is that Ace sold the Mitsubishi stick-shift earlier this year and then a few days ago told Eaglez he was going car shopping and they would get to hear all about it. And this has nothing to do with the rest of the analysis but I have very few friends who would be willing to go out and car-shop with me for two days, and not just because I am a cranky and ruthless negotiator, two of my last three purchases have had the dealer sighing in despair at one point or another. Either Bala is a closer friend to Ace than I had previously assumed, or more of a mensch, or both.)

So Direction #1: their audience is still largely Kazakhstani. As happy as they are to hear from international fans, as much as they still likely want to expand their reach, the vast, vast majority of the people tuning into these Stories are Kazakhstani (and I’m also 98% sure Ace is speaking Kazakh, not Russian, in his intros). Which means that most of the audience is in the context of not having 13 million tenge to throw at a car any time soon. If you follow the particular economics of Ninety One’s interactions with fans, you’ll see that those prices are more adjusted for Kazakhstan’s relative smaller median incomes: I believe a ticket for the most recent concert cost 7,000 tenge, or about $14, which is about a quarter of what I paid for the last Korean idol pop concert I went to (Oh My Girl, at the beginning of 2019). The weloveninetyone account posted a list of everything fans collectively bought Ace as a birthday present, at the end of August, complete with prices, and it added up to about $200 total, which would be considered a poor showing from a Western pop fandom. But if there’s a certain mutual empathy between Ninety One and its fans, having Ace and Bala wander around shiny dealerships breaks the illusion a bit, doesn’t it? Even if they are saying, “You’re sharing this experience with us,” there may be only so much the fans can participate in being wealthy enough to contemplate a 13-million-tenge car.

I wrote about this some in the Ninety One Series: the idols / money / fans relationship is always going to be fraught. On the one hand, fans want idols to feel rewarded for what they do, and earn a living (which is why you will sometimes see people saying variations on “yeah get that sweet CF money bb” on Kpop subreddits). On the other hand, not too rewarded. Not wealthy enough to envy; not wealthy enough that wealth threatens to become a goal in itself. (This is a side point, but I wonder if J. K. Rowling’s insensitive remarks about trans women would sting less if she hadn’t made as much money off Harry Potter as she has.) Ninety One has been admirably forthright about what they’re making and how: ZaQ told Elle that annual revenue (note: not profit) is 7 billion tenge, or about $16 million. If you’re going to be the boy band that conquers the world, or at least your own home country, you ought to be able to make some damn cash in the process; if you don’t someone else will, as the cautionary tales of the Bay City Rollers or Menudo or Lou Pearlman’s groups would suggest. But usually, at least in Western fandoms, there’s a segment of consumers who will find the cash-making alienating, not heartening. I don’t know if that’s actually true for Kazakhstani Eaglez; I may be making wrong assumptions, in my ignorance.

But meanwhile (this is Direction #2) there’s another separate segment of music and music fandom in which talking about wealth and conspicuous consumption is part of the art: all those references to ice on the wrists, or “I can put you in first class,” or brand name-drops. (I put “Kia” into Genius lyrics search and got Childish Gambino: “Furniture custom, you shop at IKEA / Show Maserati, you whippin’ a Kia.”) And the members of Ninety One, who grew up on American hip-hop, know this as well as anyone; and that goes double for the guy who keeps wearing Air Jordan caps and big-logo purses. They’re taking at least some of their cues from American popular culture, but American popular culture is taking place in a completely different economic context--not to mention historical context, and I really don’t know how much Ninety One knows, for all their thoughtfulness, of how conspicuous consumption has sometimes been an expression of Black pride, and also a not-terrible financial strategy when more traditional wealth-building measures (bank accounts, house buying) were closed off. In a way, showing off their wealth is part of their job, but that’s only because of a set of historical developments that doesn’t quite apply to them.

(Unless they’re responding to an entirely different set of historical developments that does apply to them, which is my way of saying that conspicuous consumption in the post-Soviet countries has a whole different history, and I have no idea what approach, say, Skriptonit or Oxxxymiron or even Morgenshtern take towards brand-slinging. Russian-language hip-hop in general is a huge blind spot for me; I tend to assume it borrows a lot from American hip-hop, but I haven’t actually tested that assumption.)

We all communicate through brands now, and Ninety One seems to be sitting at this weird intersection of dialects, in which they test-drive a Hyundai Sonata and that might generate awe or pride or envy at home, and meanwhile on the other side of the world I’m saying to myself, “Aww! My mom had a Sonata.” And now I’m feeling cranky at myself for perpetuating this, trying to read sociological import into car shopping, when car brands are not reliable signals, and definitely should not be anything to bond over! As if I see a familiar brand and try to derive some parasocial affection from it, because I keep demanding some kind of parasocial affection from these particular dudes, even though they’re living in an unfamiliar part of the world and have the right to speak languages I don’t understand. But as much as anyone I have to step back and say I’m spinning stories to myself, for myself, and don’t know as much as I think I do. Who are they? What makes them happy? Are they doing good? Would we be friends? Trying to learn but spinning on and on in circles.

[sweetsubharry]

hi! can you give me your hottest, dirtiest, filthiest bottom harry fics?

Hiya!! Yes I can! ^-^

Now there are 41 different fics under this list, so it’s quite long! Obviously what people find dirty/filthy can be a large range, so if you ever want to narrow it down just send another message like ‘no plot’ for example :) and then I can make it more suited to your taste if this one isn’t! I hope you enjoy this though love ❤

In case no one gets to the bottom of the page I’ll say it again here too! Please make sure to stay safe and read the tags!! ❤ ❤

you're my favorite ride by louislovesharry

no summary 

At Least As Deep As the Pacific Ocean (I wanna be yours) by babylouis

Louis can’t help but stop and watch him for a moment, how beautiful he looks, sprawled out on the bed, his cock red and hard against his tummy, collar snug against his neck and the bow still placed neatly in his curls to keep them back from Harry’s face.

His boy may be the most beautiful creature on the planet.

Especially tied up like this, body begging to be fucked. Begging to be destoryed.

or

Louis likes to push boundaries, and Harry takes what he gets. Lots of subspace Harry and fonding Louis ensues.

redder than the devil by mercutionotromeo

It's half past 9, and all Harry wants is for Louis to touch him. Preferably after a good spanking.

If you combine a lazy Saturday afternoon with a distracting, pouty Harry, you'll end up with Louis spanking his baby over his knee in the middle of a paused FIFA match.

Pretty please, take care of me ? by kurtcobain

Louis is stressed. Harry wants to help.

Step into the Light by Smolbeanandhisqween

Harry is on the set of his new music video "Lights Up". His husband, Louis, is watching him film the video. He gets jealous of all of the people touching Harry and teaches him a lesson.

Destroy Me, King by stylinsexualxo

After SNL, jealous Louis has a little surprise for Harry when he arrives home.

Can We Pretend (honestly reality bores me) by SadaVeniren

He felt Louis chuckle. “Dreaming of being my supportive, no-name boyfriend again?”

“Always,” Harry whispered. It was true. After all this time together there was no point in hiding any of his fantasies from Louis, no matter how innocent they were. So Louis was well aware of Harry’s desire to be anonymous sometimes - the “no-name” as Louis called him - loyal, a constant presence at Louis’ side.

aka Harry comes and supports Louis at his Scala concert

Let Me Be Good For You by onlyhuman for haroldtbh

His distress over the bun is nothing compared to the thrill Louis feels shoot up his spine at the outfit Harry’s donned. He’s changed into leather jeans that cling to his legs, hugging his thighs snugly. On top of it, a floaty, black sheer shirt is contouring his frame, doing absolutely nothing to hide his puffy nipples or the endless array of tattoos scattered across his torso. It’s Louis’ favourite outfit in the entire world.

Or, Niall's only birthday wish is to go clubbing with his boys in Vegas. Harry ruins it all by wearing that god forsaken black sheer shirt.

You Like Playing Games by orphan_account

Louis knows Harry likes to flirt and tease. Louis knows that he doesn’t particularly like when Harry flirts and teases. Louis knows that Harry knows that Louis doesn’t particularly like it.

But what Louis doesn’t quite know is why, despite that, Harry’s decided to grind against 5 Seconds of Summer’s Luke Hemmings during “Teenage Dirtbag” in the last show in Melbourne.

Basically pure smut.

Do Not Disturb (kiss me beneath the milky twilight) by SadaVeniren

“I was talking with Nick a couple months back and he was saying how our sex life seemed boring and we’d need to keep doing new and interesting things to keep it exciting or else we’d become boring and heterosexual and I defended us of course but then work picked up and we started living off of studio handjobs and missionary position sex in the dark and so I panicked. I googled BDSM and after looking into it I really want to try some of it because I think we’d enjoy it but we just don’t have the time.”

aka Harry doesn't want to become a boring old married couple a year into their relationship and tries to spice up their sex life.

Forgetting Frisco by iwillpaintasongforlou

Harry probably knew when he decided to wear that goddamn sheer shirt onstage in Toronto that it was going to drive Louis absolutely insane with want. He probably didn't know that Louis was going to proceed to fuck him so good he had flashbacks for years to come just like Frisco, but then again, you won't hear him complaining.

(Basically 6k of Louis worshipping Harry's body and doing it all in front of a mirror so Harry can worship, too.)

Mon Petit by coffinofachimera

Harry wears the 'Mon Petit' sweater while Louis records them on their private 

falling for you, i can't keep away by hegotthedagger plane

Harry wants Louis really bad and Louis might want him just as much.

Always In My Heart by sweaterpawstyles

The tweet itself was not startling at all. Harry saw people retweet it nearly every day for years now. It always made him smile to see how many people had retweeting Louis showing his love for Harry on that day.

What was startling was underneath where the fan had retweeted it, Harry saw the small number 1M written on it.

Harry froze, completely unable to move anything in his body. He knew Louis had the second most retweeted tweet of all time, but it reached a million retweets. One million people believed in Louis' love for Harry. Or AIMH hits 1 million & facetime sex ensues

You and Me by louisgrindsonharry

Harry and Louis have dabbled in the idea of BDSM but Harry finally wants to take it farther and Louis has to figure out how to take care of his boy.

they shake, you conquer (and I'm left to their devices) by butidontreallycare

smut. a little love for Harry's thighs, but mostly just smut. I am not ashamed

Daddy Came Home by RuinedBy5Guys

“You got yourself off.” He says quietly, his eyes locked on Harry’s. Harry’s face flushes and he tries to cover it, shoving himself towards Louis. He drops to his knees, leaning close between his husbands spread thighs. He puts his hands on his dress pants, carefully feeling the material at his knees.

“How did you know?” He asks quietly. Louis drops his face, grabbing over Harry’s hands with his own. Harry lowers his gaze, staring at the carpet underneath him.

“You were asleep. You always get tired after an orgasm. Not to mention how flushed you are.” He says quietly, raking his eyes over Harry’s body. Harry glances up at him, his actions becoming more clear to him now that Louis was home.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, dropping his eyes again.

“What was that?” Louis snaps, reaching to bring Harry’s face up again. Harry gulps, shuffling closer on his knees, the joints aching already.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.” Harry says, his green eyes locked on Louis’ blue ones. Louis smiles slightly, stroking his fingers over his husbands cheeks softly.

“Just gonna have to spank you now, aren’t I?”

OR... Harry teases and Daddy punishes him in the best ways possible

take me into your loving arms by blankiehxrry

twas the night of the brit awards

I Wanna Do What Bunnies Do With You by MoreThanTonight

“Lou.. Not here?” Harry pulled off with a gasp. “There are people in the next room. What if they hear us?“

“Then I guess you’ll just have to be quiet, won’t you, love?” Louis winked.

It's Harry's birthday and Louis wants to make it a birthday he won't forget. Louis is an art student, Harry is his boyfriend and muse.

if they find out, will it all go wrong? by blankiehxrry

madison square garden shenanigans

Happy Birthday by sleepingalone

“You wanna use that right now?” he asked incredulously, wondering how horny Louis must be. They had just fucked a few hours ago, before falling asleep. Surely he didn’t want to use it already.

“You said we had to wait till my birthday, and it’s my birthday,” Louis said cheekily, throwing Harry a small grin. Harry groaned into the pillow, burying his head in it.

“But I’m tired, Lou. I need my beauty rest.”

“I already undid the packaging,” Louis whined. “Please, can we just do it real quick? It would really make my day. My birthday,” he added. “You can go to sleep afterwards, Sleeping Beauty.”

or

Louis just really wants to use his new vibrating butt plug on Harry and turn him into a broken mess.

I Knew Right From the Beginning That You Would End Up Winning by aalexandravictoriaa

"I remember the first day I met you," Louis says, using his thumbs to make Harry open up to him even more. "I remember wanting to take you right there on the fucking street. I wanted to bend you over and bury myself in you over and over again. I couldn't then, but I'm going to now, baby. First with my tongue, then with my cock."

OR

Harry is Louis' favorite camboy and Louis becomes his Daddy.

In Motion by FictitiousFanatisch (orphan_account)

They'd only talked about it once a few weeks ago. Harry always liked it when Louis was in control and he said there was something about being denied constantly that made him even more turned on.

or

It's a lazy day and Harry wants Louis to edge him. (That's literally it.)

I'm Gonna Love You (Until You Hate me) by sweaterpawstyles

As if reading his mind, Louis glanced over his glasses at Harry, presumably because Harry didn't reply to his statement earlier.

"I decided to get my glasses out again," he chuckled, winking at Harry. "Do you like them?"

Harry felt his face heat up. No, he didn't just like them. He fucking loved them and wanted to ride Louis and call him daddy while he wore them. But he didn't want to just tell Louis this.

Or

Louis wears glasses and Harry doesn't like to be teased

I have often prayed for an angel by orphan_account

“Daddy,” he whines, voice already growing high in pitch. “Can I? Please?” “Of course angel,” Louis whispers fondly, hand tangling in Harry’s hair as he brushes it back. He loves Harry’s long strands, maybe even more than Harry does himself. “You look so beautiful on your knees like that, so eager to suck my cock.” “Mhm,” Harry hums, already licking at Louis’ slit. He begins to suckle softly at the head, peering up at Louis with wide eyes. The angel wings stretch on either side of him, and it’s so obscene, how filthy the act they’re doing is in contrast to the white feathers adorning Harry’s back. “Love your cock Daddy.” Or, the one in which Louis fucks Harry in the VS wings after he wears them onstage.

down and dirty, you're loving me so loud by orphan_account

Harry's finally twenty and there's a few things he wants.

feels so good getting what i want. by stylescantstop

Harry is a slutty yoga teacher with his sights set on Louis and Louis wants to pull that long hair of his while he fucks him really hard from behind.

Empyrean, You Fool by becauseitrhymes

Louis only realized it was actually happening once the reality of getting to carry boxes to his new flat settled in. He’d moved out of his parent’s just two days prior, with a stomach full of butterflies and no knowledge of how to do anything remotely adult, like, at all.

He’s only twenty-three years old, too, and he thinks he’s done pretty well for such a young age, considering he’s bought a flat with his money and had driven his car to get there and hadn’t cried (much) when leaving his parents. All in all, Louis thinks it’s pretty cool.

And then he’s sitting on his couch watching football in his lounge in his flat and hell yeah, it’s pretty cool.

AU where Louis moves next door to Harry, Louis falls in love with Harry, sex ensues.

Love Me Like You Do by sweaterpawstyles

Of all of the things Louis had imagined, never did he expect to become a chief editor for a magazine and to date the world-famous model Harry Styles. But he certainly never imagined one day that he would be anxiously awaiting a phone call from the top floor of an office building to tell the Harry Styles to get himself dolled up and ready to wait for his Daddy to come home before he got fucked into the mattress.

Or

Harry is a famous model and Louis is a quiet writer who may or may not be his Dom

A Hard Day's Work by louisruinedlife (orphan_account)

A bad day at work for Harry usually means turning in early. A bad day at work for Louis leads to something else entirely.

*Can be read as a stand alone.

the big idea by orphan_account

University students Harry and Zayn are filming a prank for YouTube that requires Harry to walk around campus asking random men if he could suck their dick. One of the guys, Louis, who agrees to such offer is too attractive for Harry to pass down.

He doesn't think its much of a prank anymore after that.

throw me in the deep end, watch me drown by orphan_account

“That's why you were late, eh?” he teases as Harry frantically tries to hide the dildos and the collar in the drawer. “Having too much fun to think about good ole Louis?”

“You were having fun too,” Harry replies weakly. Louis honestly has never seen a person be in such a shade of red.

“Yeah, but my fun didn't involve colourful dildos and nipple clamps.”

or the one where louis really needs to pass his a-levels and harry is his tutor who doesn’t really own a dog.

Give It To Me (I'm Worth It) by sweaterpawstyles

"Who the hell puts lube packets in their sock?"

"A boy who wanted to get fucked in the locker room by his daddy," Harry said innocently. "I have my good intentions, Lou."

or

Louis can't resist Harry in the red shorts that he wore during the James Corden skit. Featuring locker room sex.

don't let nobody touch it (unless that somebody's me) by stylescantstop

written for this prompt:

"louis knows Harry gets handsy when he's drunk, but that doesn't stop him from showing harry who he belongs to."

or the one where harry dances with other men and a jealous louis reminds him he's the only one who can make him come completely apart.

causing trouble up in hotel rooms (baby, I'm perfect) by felixandtae

A fan threw a Green Bay Packers crop top on stage and Harry kept it. We all know what happened after that.

sweet like cinnamon by brainwaves for SuburbanWarrior

It all started with bumping into Louis at Gemma’s mate’s wedding. Well, maybe it really started with Harry making heart eyes at the boy in jersey number 17 all those years ago. Now all he can think about is getting into Louis’ pants and maybe staying there for a really, really long time.

Or the one where Harry calls Louis daddy and it all spirals out of control from there.

Fulfilling Your Needs by unmeshed

“You want to be messy, baby? Filled with Daddy’s come? So much that you can barely hold it all in?"

Harry nods softly and Louis leans in to kiss him on the lips with a smile. “Want Daddy to plug you up after? Keep it inside of you all day?"

“Lou,” Harry whines, softly rubbing himself against his boyfriend, biting down on Louis’ bottom lip before he deepens the kiss, sneaking his tongue inside.

Louis’ll be damned if he can’t make Harry’s dreams come true.

or

Louis buys Harry an ejaculating dildo because Harry wants to feel full.

Like a Kitten by peaceloveandlarry

"Erm, I, uh, well, I think... I think you're really pretty, and I, um, I want to fuck you- I mean! Oh god. I- I want to go out? Yea! I want to go out."

Or Harry likes to wear kitten ears, and Louis happens to think Harry looks nice with them.

into another serotonin overflow by mercutionotromeo

Harry's the yearbook photographer who's been assigned to take pictures of Louis, the new captain of the football team. Harry's got a massive, obvious crush on Louis and somehow, Louis feels the same way.

Sweet first time sex wherein Harry's adorably awkward, Louis is achingly cool, and Harry rides Louis wearing his jersey.

need a little sweetness in my life by mercutionotromeo

Harry's always liked feeling desperate and small when Louis touches him, but when he sucks Harry off...it’s fucking otherworldly. Desperate’s not really the word at that point - it’s helpless. Like… like the fucking world could stop spinning and Harry wouldn’t be able to do anything about it until Louis finished him off with his lips and his tongue.

Or, Harry and Louis go to university together. Harry really likes it when Louis sucks him off, and Louis really likes it when Harry calls him Daddy.

(Sequel to "into another serotonin overflow")

Cheeky Princess by Noelle1224

Harry and panties. What more is there to explain?

I'm Tired Of Using Technology, I Need You Right In Front Of Me by Phillipa19

Louis goes away on yet another business trip, but when he stops calling Harry to check in, Harry decides to take matters into his own hands.

OR- Louis is Harry's sugardaddy who has gone away on business and Harry feels neglected. Louis is possessive and gets a camera installed in their bedroom so he can check up on Harry, so Harry decides to use the camera to his advantage.

Got A Lot You Wanna Show Off Baby by Phillipa19

Louis had been in meetings all day, he should have known that Harry wouldn't be ignored for much longer.

-OR-

Louis is Harry's sugardaddy and his younger boyfriend is definitely not happy being ignored whilst Louis holds meetings in his home office. There may also be Harry in lacy knickers involved.

As always please make sure to stay safe and read the tags!! ❤ ❤

[demonbanisher]

My second entry for @goodboylupin’s Candy Hearts fest! Thanks to the amazing @kattlupin for being such a wonderful beta! 

This started out as a short little story and quickly devolved into a 6000 word fic but I had so much writing it!

DM Me

Remus sits, lounging on the couch in a bit of a Superbowl daze. He doesn’t like football. In fact, his understanding of it is limited to the flag football unit in gym class years ago, but he is always happy for any excuse for drinks, good food and even better company. In fact, he doesn’t even really know who’s playing, all he knows is that one of the team’s has a racially insensitive name and he has taken to calling the other team ‘the blue ones.’

It’s coming up to the end of the second quarter and the racially insensitive team is in the lead by a landslide. The game is interrupted by what seems to be yet another commercial break. Remus smiles as he listens to Lily and Frank bicker over the latest play and tugs his phone out of his pocket to scroll through Twitter. There are lots of people discussing the game and others who are just waiting for the halftime show to come on. Among these Remus finds a tweet from one of his favourite musicians:

Washington has this in the bag 💪🏼 💪🏼 Might as well give it up now Patriots 🤷♂️

Remus snorts, appreciating the overzealous confidence that could only come from someone with the ability to play on stage in front of millions of people and somehow make you feel like he was playing just for you. He quickly types up a reply and hits send without thinking much about it.

Confident much @padfoot09? When the Patriots win, you better go on a date with me.

He tosses his phone to the side and is surprised to hear it buzz a moment later. He reads the notification off his lock screen.

Game on @moonymoon

Keep Reading on AO3

Or below the cut 

Remus smiles, basking in the specific drug of being recognized by someone famous online. He knows Sirius Black is likely just a regular person like anyone else. But to Remus he’s an amazing musician and an even better lyricist, and to the rest of the world he’s the most eligible bachelor and biggest heartthrob. Remus can’t help but feel a little special to be recognized by him even if it is just for some stupid joke.

Remus cracks open another cider and settles in for the rest of the game. Although, he is starting to learn his friend’s reactions are the best part. It’s entertaining to watch them yell at the screen as if the players can actually hear them or like they know any better than the decisions that the coaches are making.

The rest of the game passes by in a bit of blur. The halftime show went off without a hitch, although Remus guessed some of the underlying political messaging would be all over the news for the next few days because damn it if someone in a position of privilege uses their voice to speak out about human rights concerns. As for the rest of the game, Remus was delightfully surprised to watch the blue ones make a wonderful comeback to beat the racially insensitive team. It made for an interesting game at least. No one really knew who was going to win until those last few seconds on the clock counted down.

As the team runs the field to celebrate and Frank and Lily break out into another argument of who the better team is, Remus slips off to the bathroom. Shaking his head at his friend's antics as he smiles quietly to himself. When he comes back, everyone’s sitting in their positions on the couch. Remus guesses that Alice has managed to reel Frank back in but Lily still looks like she’s ready for another round.

“Your phone’s been going off the whole time you’ve been gone Mr. Popular,” Lily tells him, not taking her eyes off the screen.

Remus goes to pick up his phone, confused, and a little worried as to who might be messaging him, only to find out that his Twitter had practically exploded.

“Oh my god,” he murmurs as he opens the app.

“What?” Lily asks.

Remus shakes his head and holds it out to her so she can read the message herself. It’s from Sirius Black:

@moonymoons DM me 😉

“Oh my god,” Lily repeats.

“What?” Frank asks, all previous rivalry forgotten in the desire to not be left out from something.

“Remus’ got a date with Sirius Black.”

“The singer?” Alice asks wide eyed. “How??”

Remus nods his head slowly in disbelief.

“Bet him on Twitter that the Patriots would win. Here,” Lily says, thrusting Remus’ phone back into his hands. “You have to message him!”

“Alright,” Remus says. “But he probably won’t follow through with it anyways. Besides, he doesn’t live near here and it was a stupid bet.”

Remus opens up his messages and tries to think of something witty to say before finally landing on:

- Told you they’d win

He watches the three dots appear that tell him that Sirius is typing. When the message finally comes in he has to blink twice to make sure he isn’t imagining it.

- So? Where do you want to go on our date?

“Holy shit,” Remus says. “He wants to go through with it.”

Lily, Frank, and Alice quickly crowd around him so that they can read over his shoulder.

“What are you going to tell him?” Alice asks.

“I don’t know!” Remus exclaims. “What do you tell a Grammy award winning multi-millionaire when he asks you where you want to go on your date?”

“Here,” Lily says, snatching the phone from him. They all watch nervously as her fingers fly over the keyboard before she hands it back to Remus. Frank and Alice lean in quickly in order to read over his shoulder.

“What are your thoughts on pancakes?” Remus reads aloud. “Really Lils?! That was the best you could come up with?”

“Shh,” she says as she swats him in the arm, “he’s typing.”

They all watch the screen in silent anticipation until a soft whoop announces the arrival of another message.

- Love them. Where did you have in mind?

“Is now a good time to tell him I don’t live in LA?”

“Probably,” Lily says.

Remus casts a despairing look at Frank and Alice who simply shrug at him sympathetically.

- There’s a diner near here that’s my favourite. But I don’t live anywhere near LA

Remus debates about adding ‘and I don’t have the money to get there either’ but decides against it.

- Where are you?

Remus sends back the name of his small town and braces himself for Sirius to tell him that it’s too much, and this was all over.

- Just googled it. I’ll be in New York in a few weeks for a concert. Maybe I can get you tickets and then we can do pancakes in the morning?

“How far away is New York?” Remus asks Alice, knowing she’d made a trip out there last fall to see a new musical she was excited about.

“I think it took us sixteen hours, but we did get stuck in traffic.”

“Is Sirius Black really going to drive sixteen hours with me to have pancakes for breakfast?”

“Sounds like it, mate,” Frank says and he looks just as astonished as Remus feels. His phone buzzes with another message from Sirius:

- You in?

Remus looks at his friends hoping they know what the right answer is to the question. In some way, he hopes one of them will remember some pressing engagement he has to attend so he can get out of this crazy idea. But they all just look at him with hopeful glances and shrugs. He sighs and turns back to his phone.

- I’m in. Send me the date and time.

Two weeks later, Remus finds himself pacing the entryway of his hotel room waiting for the car that Sirius was sending for him. A car. A private car. He has pinched himself too many times trying to prove that this was real. He checks his phone for the millionth time, not sure what he’s expecting as Sirius is probably deep in pre-concert preparations.

He glances down at his outfit that Frank, Alice, and Lily had helped him pick out. He plays with the threads on the tight black skinny jeans, as he looks over the worn Ramones crop top that Alice had lent him, topped off with his button covered jean jacket that Lily had convinced him was cool and not old looking at all. They’d painted his nails black and silver and given him some pretty killer eyeliner, which had somehow managed to survive the crazy combination of transportation he’d opted for over the sixteen hour drive. First the car ride to the airport, then the short flight in a too small plane, and finally the subway trip to the very fancy hotel Sirius had insisted he pay for, and not a smudge in sight. Still, he’s nervous. He’s sure that Sirius will see him and call this whole thing off.

Everything about the last two weeks has felt surreal. Sirius and him have been messaging back and forth on Twitter to sort out the details until one morning Sirius had asked for his phone number, saying it would be easier to communicate that way, and he felt he could trust Remus to not give it out to people. Lily had practically had to give him the heimlich maneuver to stop him from choking on his frosted flakes.

Honestly, Remus was more than happy to get off Twitter. He’d been bombarded by superfans after the news went public that Sirius was taking him on a date. Some people wanted to let him know how lucky he was. Others were a bit more aggressive in their opinions on Remus going on a date with who they considered to be their man.

More than anything, Remus was surprised to discover how much they had in common. How quickly their conversations had gravitated from necessary details to their favourite morning cartoons and sweatpant brands. Remus has always felt that Sirius Black has a window to his soul. He just hadn’t realized how big that window truly was.

His phone buzzes in his hand and he answers the unknown number to discover that Sirius’ driver is waiting outside. After triple checking his pockets and locking the door, Remus makes his way downstairs and into the waiting black car. The seats are leather and a bottle of champagne sits on ice in front of him. There’s a note tied to it that says ‘See you soon, Moony’ and Remus would be lying if he didn’t admit that it sends his heart aflutter. He tries to reel himself in and remind himself that this will be one incredible, amazing night but it isn’t going to be some grand rom-com where they ended up together forever.

“Everything to your liking, Mr. Lupin?” The driver asks.

“Yes, excellent, thank you,” Remus says, blushing at the formality. He’s just some poor kid who had worked his ass off to get through college. He never thought he’d get to experience this level of decadence.

When they arrive at the venue, Remus finds himself ushered into the backstage door and passed off into the hands of a very exhausted looking manager who introduces herself as Marlene. She sets him up with a backstage pass, tells him where he can and can’t go, and leaves him in a room full of more food and drinks that Remus would probably buy in two months worth of groceries, with the instruction that someone would come and find him before the concert begins.

Remus munches on some chocolate covered strawberries and cracks a can of alcoholic cider open as he tries to settle his nerves in preparation for the concert. It feels like he’s in that room for hours. He sends messages to their friend group chat, updating them on what’s going on, and laughing when Lily warns him to watch out for Sirius trying to lure him into any cults. Apparently, that’s the wild theory the tabloids have come up with this week.

He also receives a picture from Sirius. He’s wearing a black button down, which is completely undone to reveal his tattoos, and he has heavy eyeliner on and is sticking his tongue out with his hand in a punk rock sign. He’s captioned it, ‘See you soon!’ Remus is pretty sure he’s died and gone to heaven.

Eventually, another stagehand comes to grab him and take him up to the side of the stage so he can watch the show. Remus chats with some of the other people loitering around but falls silent when the lights finally dim. The crowd roars as a signal spotlight comes on and then into the light strides Sirius and his guitar.

He’s breathtaking, standing in the centre of the stage like it’s where he belongs and from the first strum of his guitar, he has the audience eating out of the palm of his hand. Remus dances and screams the lyrics to every song. He tries not to faint when in the midst of one of his numbers, Sirius turns and gives him a little wink.

Remus has always loved live music. He’s seen countless underground shows and up and comers in bars whenever he could. But he’s never been to a concert like this before. He’d wanted to but by the time you added up the cost of the ticket, travel, food, and accommodations, it was more than he could bear. But being here now, he realizes this is a whole different beast. A part of him misses the quiet intimacy of those smaller shows, but he can’t help feeling the powerful pull of the electricity that runs through the crowd. There’s something so haunting and surreal in the way that Sirius can stop singing at any point and the audience can carry on from where he left off without missing a beat. It’s beautiful to feel connected to a group of familiar strangers. To know that everyone in this theatre had been touched by the beauty of Sirius’ music somehow, that they felt that same powerful pull that Remus had when he’d heard his voice over the radio for the first time, that they had known that somehow this had been created just for them. They are here as a collective but there’s something so personal about their own experiences.

“How are you all doing out there?” Sirius asks and the crowd roars in response.

“Excellent, excellent. I think we’re going to slow it down a bit for this next one,” Sirius says. And Remus closes his eyes as he hears Sirius’ guitarist pluck out the opening notes to his favourite ballad. When he opens them again, Sirius is standing right in front of him. He beams at him as he mouths a silent “hi” before grabbing his hand. He tilts his head to ask if this is okay as he hands his guitar off to a roadie. Remus nods and finds himself being dragged out onto the stage with him. He lets go of Remus centre stage and turns to face him, there’s so little room between them that Remus could lick the microphone in Sirius’ hand if he wanted to.

You’ve been howling in your sleep Werewolf dreams coming over me I’ve been counting sheep Think I need a hundred more to set me free

Sirius reaches a hand out to place it on Remus’ waist as he croons in his beautiful lilting voice. His grey eyes search Remus’ for an answer and he nods allowing Sirius to rest his strong hand on his hip.

Muddy footprints in the dark Darling, I swear you’ve collared my heart I’ve got butterflies But can you see the darkness in my eyes?

Sirius leans his forehead against Remus’ as the guitar builds up to the chorus. The crowd is losing their mind but Remus can’t hear them. His world has narrowed down to this one point of touch. To the feeling of Sirius’ warm skin pressed against his. The moment seems to last forever before he’s pulling away to sing again.

It’s a full moon baby Demons crawling over me But then I see your star lit eyes Darling, I swear you were sent to set me free Set me free

Remus loses himself in the rest of the song. Even though he knew he could sing the words from heart with headphones on blasting the Sesame Street theme. But he slips away from all of that in the feel of the sensuous way that Sirius is moving against him, in his warm breath against his cheek, in the way his eyes never seem to leave Remus’ body if even for a moment.

But as always, the song must come to an end and the final roar of the crowd breaks the spell and Remus finds himself blushing madly with the realization that tens of thousands of people were witness to this private moment between the two of them. Sirius smiles at him and gives his hand another squeeze before Remus is flanked again by roadies. One handing Sirius’ his guitar tuned for the next song. The other coming to guide him backstage again.

Remus spends the rest of the concert love drunk. His eyes don’t leave Sirius for a single moment.

When it’s over, Remus is led back to the same room he was in before. He’s not quite sure what he’s supposed to do next and he’s about to try and find his way back to the hotel when there’s a knock on the door and Sirius Black himself is standing there.

Away from the darkness of the stage and in the harsh fluorescent light, Remus can fully take him in. The dark black hair that is slicked back with sweat. The taunt muscles of his chest that are covered in black ink of various runes and images. The black flowy pants that Remus swears sit a little too low on his hips.

“Hi,” he says with a smile.

“Hi,” Remus says trying to gain his composure and hoping that Sirius doesn’t notice him staring.

“Hope you didn’t mind me dragging you on stage. I did promise you a date after all,” he walks by Remus to the table of food and pops a grape in his mouth, curling his lips around it in a way that should be illegal.

“No, of course not,” Remus says, mentally bashing himself for sounding like an idiot. “Moonlight is my favourite song. I mean of yours… well that’s a lie. It’s my favourite song in general. I think Spotify said I listened to it over four hundred times last year. Oh my god, I need to shut up,” Remus buries his head in his hand as Sirius laughs and of course, the sound is as beautiful as his singing voice.

“I’m flattered,” Sirius says. He considers Remus for a moment and opens his mouth to say something else before he’s interrupted by someone yelling his name from the hallway. “Shit, my manager,” he says. He drops the rest of the grape vine back on the plate and starts to head to the door. “Still good for pancakes tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah, but you do know how long of a drive it is right? Might be night before we get there.”

“Who said anything about driving?”

And with those cryptic words and one last smile, he slips out of the door and away into the night.

Remus goes for a simpler outfit the next morning. Jeans and one of his better sweaters. A loose knit maroon one that is one of the last sweaters he has where the neck isn’t stretched. He packs up his things from the hotel and waits for the knock on his door.

When he answers, he’s surprised to see how different Sirius looks. Last night’s makeup is all washed off, and his hair is tied back in a messy bun. Instead of a bold stylish outfit he’s usually known for he wears loose jeans, an old t-shirt, and a leather jacket. A pair of aviator sunglasses sit perched atop his head.

“Ready?” He says with a smile.

“Of course,” Remus says and goes to grab his bags until Sirius tells him someone else can get them for him. It’s odd to him, this life of being able to count on other people for things. It also feels wrong in some way to have them do what he could so easily handle on his own but he decides to let it go for once.

He and Sirius weave their way through the lobby, his security detail staying close at hand until they are safely in the black car from the night before. Sirius seems to heave a sigh of relief as the door is closed and the jeers of fans are locked out from outside.

“What time do you think we’ll be there?” Remus asks.

“Maybe 11?” Sirius says. “Why?”

“No reason,” Remus tells him but pulls out his phone to send a quick message.

They stay relatively quiet for the rest of the car ride until they arrive at another tall, dark, building. Remus is confused. He had figured that if they weren’t driving they’d be heading back through the small convoluted method he’d taken to get here. Sirius leads him to the elevator and Remus feels a quick flash of fear as he wonders if Lily’s cult theory is true. But then the door bings and Sirius guides him out of the elevator and onto the roof where a black helicopter sits waiting for them.

“You’re shitting me,” Remus says and gets to hear Sirius’ wonderful laugh again.

“Nope, you don’t have a fear of flying do you?”

Remus shakes his head.

“Good,” Sirius says and surprises him by climbing into the pilot’s seat.

“You fly?”

“Not as well as I sing.”

Remus’ face pales and Sirius is quick to assure him he’s just kidding.

He pulls down his sunglasses and settles a headset over his ears before reaching over to help Remus put his on. Sirius’ hands brush gently against Remus’ cheek and he finds himself blushing for the umpteenth time.

Flying in a helicopter is so much different from being in a plane. It’s loud for one thing, but Remus quickly gets used to using the headsets to communicate with Sirius. Being in a helicopter also means they are that much closer to the ground and Remus watches as they get closer and closer to his hometown. From up here, the farmer’s fields separating the suburban sprawl looks almost beautiful. It makes him hate the tiny village that has kept him trapped a little less.

Sirius has to bring the helicopter down about an hour out of the village, since that’s the nearest available helipad. From there it's back into another car and then to the restaurant.

Before they get out at the diner, Remus catches Sirius steeling himself again, he feels grateful that he thought to send the text message ahead of time as they climb out of the car and up to the front doors.

Sirius goes to open the door for him but Remus shakes his head, stepping ahead of him to knock gently. Sirius looks at him confused but Remus doesn't say anything until Dorcas is opening the door for them.

“Hey Dor,” Remus says smiling as she steps aside to let them in. “Thanks again for doing this I promise I’ll pay you back.”

She waves her hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it.”

Sirius seems surprised that she doesn’t seem to stare or look at him in that awe inspired way people stare at celebrities. Dorcas slips back into the kitchen and Remus guides him over to his favourite booth with a view of the river. He feels slightly self-conscious of the worn floors and duct tape vinyl but has an odd feeling this will be a welcome change for Sirius.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Remus says as he sits down across from him and gestures absent-mindedly at the obvious absence of other guests. “I thought it might be nice for you to not be interrupted by fans for a change.”

He watches as Sirius’ face lights up with understanding. “Thanks, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I honestly don’t know how you’d stand it. All that attention all the time.”

Sirius smiles at him softly, “I don’t know. You did pretty good with it last night.”

Remus blushes and looks back down at the table.

“But, yeah, it can be exhausting sometimes. People don’t look at you like you’re a human being you know? They treat you like some kind of God or something.”

Remus feels a small tinge of guilt, remembering how awe-struck he’d been when he’d been messaging Sirius on Superbowl Sunday.

“So,” Remus says, changing the subject, “you don’t have any allergies do you?”

Sirius shakes his head.

“Good. I’ve asked Dorcas to bring us some banana pancakes, plus waffles and her famous fried chicken. I know we agreed on pancakes but it would be sinful for you to come all the way out here and not get to try it.”

Sirius smiles, “Sounds delicious.”

“Believe me it is.”

Dorcas kicks open the door to the kitchen. “Y’all want something to drink?”

Remus looks at Sirius, “Root beer float?” He nods. “Two,” he tells Dorcas who nods and then slips back into the kitchen.

“So Patriots fan?” Sirius asks as Dorcas sets the floats down in front of them.

“Actually, I don’t know anything about football. I just thought you were being cocky,” he teases as he takes a sip from his straw. “What about you? Washington? Can’t say I’m a fan of the name.”

Sirius flinches, “Yeah, I feel bad for supporting the team. I mean it’s kinda sad that we still have sports teams with that name in our day and age. I just try and call them Washington. I know it doesn’t fix everything but…”

“You do what you can?”

Sirius nods. “No point in having a platform if you don’t use it.”

Remus smiles, thinking of the pictures online of Sirius holding up various pride flags that fans have handed him on stage. He’s gotten himself in hot water more than once for calling out other artists and stars for inappropriate, racist, ableist, and sexist behaviour. If Remus was honest, it only made him like his music more.

“What about you?” Sirius says, “Tell me all about the infamous Remus Lupin.”

“Not much to tell.”

“Where do you work?”

“I’m a curriculum developer for a school board.”

“I like it,” Sirius says, curling his lips around the straw the same way he did with the grape last night. “Taking the system down from the inside.”

“Trying. Nothing like having a stage of millions at your disposal.”

Sirius' smile falters and Remus immediately regrets saying it. “Doesn’t matter much when you don’t know if half of them are listening to what you’re saying or just staring at your body.”

“Well, if it helps at least one fan is,” Remus says, trying to regain control of the conversation.

Sirius smiles but Remus can tell it’s half-hearted. He’s rescued by Dorcas arriving with steaming plates of food that she puts down on the table in front of them.

“Oh my god,” Sirius says. “My trainer is gonna hate me for this.”

Remus laughs but thinks about how difficult it must be to have every element of your life prescribed and controlled. To be put under a harsh spotlight and scrutinized every second of every day.

Remus pours syrup on the pancakes and Sirius is quick to cut into the stack and stuff an ungodly amount of food into his mouth at once. Sirius lets out a moan that would have made Remus self-conscious if there had been anyone else around.

“Not gonna lie. I thought pancakes were a creative but weird date idea but honestly these are worth it.”

“Guess you’ll have to make bets with strangers on Twitter more often.”

“That means I’d have to go on dates with other people instead of you,” Sirius teases reaching for a piece of a chicken.

And Remus hates how he can do that to him. How with a few words he can have him melting into a puddle. He tries to act normal as he layers chicken and waffle together before taking a bite.

“Very funny,” Remus says.

“Why do you do that?” Sirius asks.

“Do what?”

“Make yourself smaller when other people come in the room. You did it last night too in the dressing room and this morning on our way out to the car.”

“I don’t know, I guess I just think I’m not worth drawing attention to. Might as well leave the spotlight for someone else.”

“But you didn’t do it on stage yesterday,” Sirius says as he pops another piece of chicken in his mouth, pausing to lick the grease off his fingers. Honestly, Remus swears he could make picking up dog poop look sexy.

“Your music makes me feel like I’m worth something,” Remus says without thinking. “Sorry, that’s weird.”

“No,” Sirius says, laying a hand on top of Remus’. “It’s not. I like that you’re honest with me. Some people I don’t know if they really listen to what I’m saying. But you, last night, I could tell you were really hearing me. That you were there with me in the moment. You play the same songs a million times you start to forget what that feels like.”

“Well,” Remus says realizing that this may be the only chance he gets to tell Sirius how much his music has meant to him, “it makes me feel invincible. It makes me believe that there’s beautiful things in pain. That I’m not alone in this world. That even through darkness I can find love. That even through darkness I can find myself again.”

Sirius stares at him, the same way he was looking at him in the dressing room last night before they got interrupted.

“What?” Remus asks, worried he has food on his face.

“Nothing,” Sirius says. “It’s just you show your face to the world. You might try to hide it but last night I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I was really seeing who you were and you were seeing me too.”

Remus' jaw hangs slightly ajar. He doesn’t quite know what to say to such a monumental statement, to such a declaration.

The double doors to the kitchen open and Dorcas walks out to see if they need anything. Remus can’t decide if he’s happy or mad for her interruption. Sirius tells her how amazing the food is and she beams in response before slipping away again. Remus doesn’t say anything but he knows the diner is struggling. An endorsement from Sirius would put her back on the map. Hell, it might put this whole town back on the map.

Sirius is quiet for a moment after Dorcas’ disappears. He seems embarrassed about what he said earlier.

“Mind if we take a picture for Instagram? My PR agent thinks this will be good press.”

“Of course not,” Remus says, trying not to feel deflated at the change in conversation. But when Sirius pulls out his phone to take a picture of the two of them, he doesn’t take his hand off Remus’. In fact, he keeps it there for the rest of the meal.

They spend the rest of their time talking about their lives. Remus learns Sirius started playing music as an escape from his family who he doesn’t have the best relationship with. He tries hard to keep it all from going public to protect his little brother who still lives at home. Sirius learns that Remus was attacked by a rabid dog as a kid and kept doing his schoolwork in his bed at home because he couldn’t bear to fall a grade behind the other kids, despite the fact that most of them didn’t like him much.

They talk about everything. Remus talks about his friends and Sirius talks about life on the road. They share embarrassing childhood memories and awful drunken mistakes. They laugh and smile with each other and before either of them knows it the food is gone and it's getting much too late. Remus promised Dorcas she’d have the restaurant back for the dinner rush and Sirius has to be getting back to New York for a late-night talk show he’s supposed to be on.

Sirius gives Dorcas a hug and promises to plug her restaurant every chance he gets as long as she guarantees there will always be a table for him whenever he’s in town. He leaves her a very generous tip as a thank you for shutting the restaurant down for him. Remus’ could swear he sees Dorcas whisper something to Sirius that makes him smile but he can’t say for sure. She gives Remus a hug too and he reminds her to drop by for game night this weekend.

They step back outside into the warm glow of the late afternoon and both of them pause on the front steps, unsure of what to say or where to go from here.

They both go to speak at once and then pull back blushing as they both try and tell the other to go first. After some laughter, Remus finally convinces Sirius to go ahead.

“Thank you for seeing me,” Sirius says. “I haven’t felt this way in a really long time. It feels good to just be a person again for a little while.”

“And thank you for giving me my thirty seconds of fame,” Remus says. “For showing me that I deserve to be in the spotlight sometimes.”

Sirius blushes as he looks down at his feet and Remus’ stomach backflips with the idea that he can make him feel this nervous.

“Can I kiss you?” Sirius asks and suddenly his nerves become contagious.

Remus nods and Sirius steps forward to meet him. He places his hand on his hip just as he did last night, and he leans in slowly. The kiss is soft and sweet and full of meaning. If Remus were a songwriter, he could write a million ballads about this moment. About the way that it feels like Sirius was trying to translate everything he ever wanted to tell Remus’ into the movement of his lips.

When they part they’re both a little flushed and smiling, Sirius slips his aviators on as two black cars pull up. One to take Sirius back to his helicopter. The other to take Remus home, back to his ordinary life.

“Goodbye, Remus,” Sirius says as he heads to the first car.

“Bye, Sirius,” Remus tells him and he stands and watches until all that’s left of Sirius is a cloud of dust.

At home, Remus collapses on the couch. He tries to pick up a new policy he needs to read over for work but his mind can’t focus. All he can see is Sirius’ gentle smile. All he can feel is Sirius’ lips on his. All he can hear is the sound of Sirius’ voice as they stood chest to chest.

His phone buzzes beside him and Remus’ is sure it’s Lily looking for more details. He’s had to disable pretty much all his social media apps. That smiling picture of the two of them in the diner has gone viral and Remus is a little too interested to see what crazy stories the tabloids come up with about the identity of Sirius’ mystery date.

When he picks up his phone, however, he’s surprised to see it’s a message from Sirius. He’s in a hotel room somewhere and Remus’ luggage is in the background.

- Someone forgot to get this to the car that took you home. Guess we’ll have to see each other again.

Remus smiles as he types up his response.

- It’s a date

He watches nervously, waiting for Sirius’ reply hoping beyond hope that it wasn’t a simple mix up and Sirius truly does want to see him again. He doesn’t have to wait long before his phone is buzzing again in his hand.

- I can’t wait

That night Remus watches Sirius’ interview on tv, smiling as he alludes questions about his new mystery man with ease and grace. Afterwards, he goes to brush his teeth and get ready for bed when his phone buzzes again.

- Syrupy kisses in dusk’s early light I can’t shake the feeling I’ve known you all my life Dear god, please don’t let this feeling pass me by

He falls asleep that night smiling like an idiot with Moonlight playing on loop in the background.

[transientwordsmith]

Macbeth-Theatre Kid AU

This is my Macbeth fanfic. It is an American High School Theatrea Kid AU. Characters: Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Banquo, Malcolm, Macduff, Lady Macduff, Siward, Seyton. Word Count: ~4500

Macbeth walked into the first day of school with a sense of pride. His junior year. Almost the oldest in the school. His last year he didn’t have to worry about college. He was going to have such a good time this year.

But of course not without his best friend Banquo. Macbeth spotted him next to a vending machine.

“Banquo!” Macbeth called. “Banquo! Over here!” Macbeth ran over and clapped Banquo on the shoulder. “Good to see you,” he said.

“Macbeth it’s only been two weeks since I last saw you,” Banquo said.

“I know, but I miss you.” Macbeth hugged Banquo. Banquo chuckled.

“Always so dramatic…” he mused. Macbeth let go of Banquo.

“How else would I get the lead in the school play?” he asked. Banquo gave him a knowing smile and the two of them started inside.

The duo walked down the hall asking about the other’s summer, even though they knew full well that they had spent the better part of it together. Suddenly, a door to Macbeth’s right opened and a pretty blonde girl exited the room.

“Lady!” He greeted the girl. “Walk with us.”

And she did. Lady was Macbeth’s sister. She was somehow always surprised when he acted like they hadn’t seen each other in a million years, even if they had only seen each other last a few hours ago.

“Hello, you two,” Lady greeted Banquo and Macbeth rather impatiently. “Where are you going?”

“To see what show we’re putting on, duh!” Macbeth exclaimed as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Banquo rolled his eyes.

“You know auditions aren’t even until the end of September…” he said.

There was a large bulletin board at the end of the hall. It was covered in posters, both new and old. The actual cork had so many holes one might mistake it for a sponge. But lo and behold, right in front was a rather large poster for the show “Guys and Dolls”. The poster read:

Guys and Dolls Auditions

September 28, 29, and 30

Make an appointment today!

sweird@dunsinane.edu

“Oh my god!” Macbeth yelled. “I love ‘Guys and Dolls’!”

“I know, me too,” Banquo said, not matching Macbeth’s enthusiasm. Lady side-eyed them both.

“If you like it so much, audition,” she said. Macbeth wouldn’t stop staring at the poster.

“I know I’m going to get Nathan Detroit! I just know it,” he said with confidence. Banquo nodded with a smile.

“Ms. Weird practically told you that you were going to get the part last June,” Banquo remembered. The three of them stared at the poster for just a bit longer before remembering that they had other classes, too.

…

The first day of school. As a junior, no less. Macduff had to admit, he was a bit excited. For school in general, but also for the school play. Last June, Ms. Weird, his best friend and stage manager, Malcolm and he had picked “Guys and Dolls” to perform this year.

What he wasn’t so excited about, however, was Macbeth. Macbeth was one of the most arrogant people Macduff had ever met. Macbeth thought the whole world should revolve around him and that everything should tailor to him. Sorry, kiddo, but the world just doesn’t work that way, Macduff thought.

Macduff walked into the Dunsinane Academy courtyard and caught Malcolm’s eye. Malcolm walked over to him.

“How was your summer?” Malcolm asked.

“Great, and yours?” Macduff deflected. His summer was horribly boring, to say the least.

“Oh, it was amazing. I went to this sleepaway camp that was a lot of fun. They have a Christmas program too for families. I think I’ll go.” Malcolm said.

“Don’t go for too long,” Macduff warned. “I don’t want to be alone with Macbeth while you’re gone.”

Malcolm’s happy demeanor quickly changed after Macbeth was brought up.

“Oh, right. I forgot how much you don’t like him,” he said.

It was truly a wonder how Malcolm could forget after Macduff had nearly been suspended last year for getting in a fistfight with Macbeth.

“It’s alright,” Macduff said. “I’ll be okay. Let’s get to class before we’re late.”

…

Late August turned into Early September turned into almost October. Leaves were falling off trees and some ambitious people began putting out Halloween decorations. Macbeth’s family was one of those families. They had lots of big, gaudy decorations. But there was something more important than the rapid arrival of Halloween: auditions.

Macbeth wanted to get his audition over with quickly so he could be cast, so he made his appointment for the 28th of September. Banquo’s wasn’t until the 29th.

He had prepared “Wait for it” from Hamilton as his audition piece. Ms. Weird had thrown a fit last time someone tried to audition with a pop song.

At Dunsinane, they were lucky enough to have a small black box theatre in which rehearsals and auditions could be held. Macbeth opened the door at exactly 3:24.

“Macbeth? Is that you?” Ms. Weird called from out of sight.

“‘Tis I!” Macbeth said in a loud voice. “The great Macbeth!” He ventured farther into the room and found Ms. Weird sitting behind a desk with her back to the door.

“Are you ready to begin?” She asked. “You have your song and scenes?”

Macbeth nodded. The audition commenced.

“So? How’d it go?” came Banquo’s voice over the phone.

“I think it went very well,” Macbeth said. “Ms. Weird practically told me I’d get the lead.”

“What did she say?”

“She said ‘Very well done, Macbeth. I should think that you will get a sizable role this year!’”

“That’s great!”

“I know!”

…

Macduff walked into Ms. Weird’s black box theatre. It was arguably one of his favorite rooms in the whole school.

“Hey, Ms. Weird,” Macduff greeted.

“Macduff! Wonderful timing. Malcolm and I were just going to get started on casting.” Ms. Weird indicated to her left, where Malcolm was sitting with a computer in his lap.

“Hold on, hold on,” Malcolm requested. “A few more minutes, please. I am no tech genius over here.”

“They’ve been recorded? I’ve always wanted permanent documentation of complete showoffs!” Macduff said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Once Malcolm had finally figured out how to work the video program, the three of them huddled around the laptop to watch the videos.

There was one that stood out to Macduff: A senior called Duncan Inverness. Macduff told Malcolm so, and Malcolm agreed.

“Ms. Weird? What do you think about Duncan?” Malcolm asked. Ms. Weird took a moment to consider him before giving her answer.

“He seems great! He’s a senior, right?” she asked. Macduff and Malcolm nodded in agreement. “Good. We can cast him as Nathan Detroit.”

…

The cast list went up on the morning of October 2nd. And that was the day Macbeth’s life was ruined.

GUYS AND DOLLS CAST LIST:

Nathan Detroit - Duncan Inverness

Miss Adelaide - Seyton

Sarah Brown - Lucy Duff

Sky Masterson - Donalbain Inverness

Nicely-Nicely Johnson - Macbeth

Macbeth didn’t read any further than that. He was utterly devastated. He wanted to scream and shout and break some things. How is this possible? Macbeth wondered. Ms. Weird practically told me I was going to get a lead! Nicely-Nicely Johnson? What kind of a role is that?

“Hey! I got Harry the Horse!” Banquo’s voice ripped Macbeth out of his thoughts. “And you got Nicely-Nicely Johnson! Awesome! I love his part in “Sit Down, You’re Rocking the Boat.” Macbeth stumbled past him, down the hall.

“I need to find Lady,” he mumbled, dazed.

Lady was outside, under a tree, completely oblivious to Macbeth’s devastation.

“Lady!” Macbeth called. “Lady!”

“What do you want,” Lady said, exasperated. She marked her book with her thumb and looked up and him expectantly.

“Lady, I got Nicely-Nicely Johnson,” Macbeth explained. Lady did not see what was wrong.

“That’s great!” She said. “Doesn’t he have a solo song?”

“That’s not the point!” Macbeth lamented. He collapsed on the ground next to Lady and buried his face in his hands.

“Dear God,” Lady swore. “If you want that lead, why don’t you do something about it. I mean, you said you’d do anything just last night, didn’t you?”

Macbeth looked up at her.

“I did say that, yes,” Macbeth agreed. Lady looked at him with a sly look. Macbeth returned it with a blank one. It was a few moments before he realized what she was implying. Then a crafty smile took over his features.

That night Macbeth sped through his homework even faster than usual. Then, he opened his computer and began to type furiously. Google, Facebook, Dunsinane Academy website, the city newspaper, anywhere Macbeth thought he could find dirt on Duncan. He was going to get that role no matter what it took.

…

Macduff saw Duncan walking in the opposite direction from him. He seemed to be going somewhere in a hurry.

“Hi, Duncan,” Macduff greeted. Duncan threw him a dirty look and sped past him. Macduff was confused--he got the lead part! What did he have to be upset at him about?

Macduff opened the door and stepped inside. There he saw Macbeth, with a smug look on his face. His friend Banquo stood next to him with a pained smile on his face.

“I’m so happy for you,” Banquo said, sounding insincere.

Macduff turned to see what the two boys were looking at. There he saw Ms. Weird erasing Duncan’s name on the whiteboard as Nathan Detroit, and rewriting Macbeth’s name.

No.

No.

No.

This cannot be happening.

Macduff tried to play it cool, and not freak out. He wanted to keep his position as set designer, after all.

“What’s going on?” he asked, even though he knew full well what was going on.

“Macbeth found some rather...unsavory information regarding Duncan,” Ms. Weird explained. “As a reward, I agreed to recast him. He was going to be our second choice, after all.”

Macduff had forgotten about that. He had only agreed to let Macbeth be the secret understudy because they had no one else who had enough talent to do it. Something felt wrong about this though…

“What did Duncan do that we had to cut him?” Macduff asked.

Macbeth looked even smugger than before (if that was even possible).

“I heard that he cheated on his Physics final last year. And, I figured that Ms. Weird would want to know,” he said. He pointed to a handwritten sign on the door that read “We support academic integrity in this classroom”. 

Macduff recalled when this sign was put up. It had been because a few actors had been cheating on their tests. The administration had asked Ms. Weird to cut them from the show. It hadn’t hurt the production much since those actors were in the ensemble, but since then academic integrity had been a very serious topic in Ms. Weird’s classroom.

“Duncan’s not the type…” Macduff mused.

“No, but he did,” Ms. Weird said seriously.

Macduff shook his head and sighed. He was sorry to see Duncan go. He looked up at Macbeth, to see if he showed any sign of remorse at all, but he was still smiling brightly, oblivious to the fact that he probably cost Duncan his theatrical future.

…

Despite his smug demeanor, Macbeth was terrified. Duncan had not actually cheated on his physics final last year. What really happened was that he took a practice test with notes. The test was not meant to be open book, so his teacher let it slide with a few docked points. All Macbeth had to do was fudge a few details and bing bang boom, Duncan was cut and Macbeth was now the lead.

Macduff seemed less than thrilled about this, but Macbeth wasn’t miffed. He knew that Macduff didn’t like him much anyway. 

Malcolm came in behind Macduff and pushed past him.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” Macduff asked him.

“I just saw Duncan throwing rocks and screaming outside,” Malcolm said. “What’s that all about?” Macduff thew Macbeth a cool look.

“I’ll let Macbeth explain,” he said.

Macbeth was getting sick of explaining this more than once. He wasn’t prepared to have to tell everyone who came in the door.

“Duncan violated the academic integrity rule so he was cut,” Macbeth said simply. Banquo nodded behind him.

Malcolm threw up his hands.

“Are you serious?” he shouted. “This can’t be true.” Malcolm stabbed an accusatory finger at Macbeth. He left in a huff, muttering to himself. Macduff put his bag down and ran after him.

“So, when’s the first rehearsal?” Macbeth asked.

…

Macduff sped down the hall after Malcolm.

“Malcolm! Hold on!” Macduff shouted. Malcolm kept speed walking until he found the room he was looking for. He threw the door open and slammed it behind him. Macduff followed him inside.

“Malcolm?” Macduff asked the room. The two of them were alone. All of the desks were stacked at the back of the classroom, the walls were barren, and the lights were off. The classroom appeared to be unused, but even so, it was open.

Macduff caught sight of Malcolm as he was throwing a script at the wall. He threw it with force and papers exploded everywhere. Malcolm covered his face with his hands.

“It was supposed to go well this year,” He all but sobbed.

“Hey,” Macduff said consolingly, setting aside his own anger for a moment. “It’ll be just fine, okay? We can fix it. We’ll figure it out.”

The two of them sat on the floor for a few minutes, not saying a word, before picking up the script, which was quite a few pages, and heading to the woodshop to begin working on the set.

…

Macduff and Malcolm didn’t come back that day. Banquo and Macbeth sat together while Macbeth highlighted all of his new lines. Banquo, who had been in the ensemble before, took on Macbeth’s previous role as Nicely-Nicely Johnson.

“I love his song,” Banquo had said.

“I know, Banquo,” Macbeth said.

When the final bell rang at the end of the day, Macbeth was anxious to find Lady. He had to confide his troubles in her.

“Lady,” he said. “Are you sure this was the right thing to do? I mean, Malcolm and Macduff are really upset. They’re probably going to bust me!”

“It’ll be fine, Macbeth. You’re going to seem suspicious. You got this far, just stay on the down-low.” Lady told him. Macbeth took a breath of confidence and stool taller than he had before. He put on a smile and escorted Lady out of the school.

Later that evening, Banquo called. This wasn’t uncommon, so Macbeth had no qualms about answering.

“Macbeth?” Banquo asked.

“What’s going on?” Macbeth replied.

“Macbeth, I feel like something fishy is going on,” Banquo confessed.

“Like what?” Macbeth was getting nervous.

“Like, in the show.”

“You mean how Nathan and Adelaide never get married? I know, it’s so weird.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean, then?”

“I mean...I don’t mean to say that you’re a liar or something...but Macduff was right, I think. Duncan isn’t the type to do something like that. It feels wrong to have ruined him like that. You know?”

Macbeth felt like the floor had been ripped out from under him.

“No, I don’t know. I’ll see you tomorrow, Banquo,” he said coldly.

“Macbeth, wait-”

Macbeth ended the call.

…

That day after school Macduff went home with Malcolm. They had started planning out the set for the show that afternoon but could hardly focus, so they put it off until later.

Later is here.

Macduff scribbled an idea down in his notebook.

“I was thinking we could do something like this,” he showed Malcolm. “It could either be a drawing on plywood or a drop or something but I don’t think we should have any other drops.” Malcolm nodded.

“That looks cool. You can draw it on or something and then we can get some ensemble people to paint it. For techie points.” Malcolm said.

“Yeah,” Macduff agreed.

The design was a cartoonish New York skyline. Windows were yellow, the sky was navy with white stars, and each building had a long spire.

“Okay, what else?” Malcolm asked. Macduff consulted his notebook.

“Shop facades, The mission, something for Havana, a platform for the Hot Box, and so, so many other things.” Macduff said, burying his face in Malcolm’s bed.

“We can draw up some plans and delegate this stuff to the newbies. Ms. Weird will show them how to do it.” Malcolm told Macduff.

“Are you sure?” Macduff asked.

“Yes,” Malcolm said with determination. “Because while they’re doing that, we are going to sabotage Macbeth.”

…

Macbeth was enjoying his time at the top. He truly was. But it was not without this horrible guilt following him wherever he went. He was avoiding Banquo today--partially because Banquo was also avoiding him. But also…

There were a few people in Ms. Weird’s room when Macbeth got there. It was lunch hour, after all.

“Ms. Weird?” Macbeth asked with trepidation.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Ms. Weird acknowledged him. Macbeth could hardly bring himself to say the words. But he needed this assurance.

“I caught Banquo cheating on an important project last night.”

Ms. Weird looked down at the table and sighed before looking back up at Macbeth.

“Thank you for telling me, dear,” she said. She turned around and began editing the cast list on the whiteboard again.

“Macduff and Malcolm are going to have my head on a plate…” Macbeth could hear her muttering. Me too, Macbeth thought. He left quickly to find Lady. He figured she could give him some respite before he had to face Banquo.

But when has Macbeth ever been that lucky? As he was leaving, Banquo came through the front doors of the school building.

“Hey,” Macbeth tried. Banquo sped past him into Ms. Weird’s room. It was only a few moments before he came storming back out again. Banquo slammed his shoulder against Macbeth’s on his way back outside. Macbeth was alone in the hallway.

Macbeth found Lady sitting alone in a secluded corner of the school yard. When he sat down next to her, she startled.

“Are you okay?” Macbeth asked her.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine,” Lady said very unconvincinly.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing, nothing. I just don’t want to see certain people right now.”

“Oh, should I leave?”

“No.” Lady put her hand on Macbeth’s thigh. “You can stay.”

They sat in silence for a moment.

“Banquo got cut today,” Macbeth said.

“What? Why?” Lady demanded.

“Oh, it doesn’t matter.” Macbeth regretted telling her anything.

“I swear to god, Macbeth, if this was your fault I’ll kill you. Duncan, already hates me because I’m your sister. Why don’t you keep adding people to his army, huh?” Lady berated him. Macbeth was at a loss. There was no way he could come out of this on top unless he let Lady take the fall. Which,

“You seem to be handling it pretty well,” Macbeth observed.

Lady slapped him in the face.

“I changed my mind. Go away.” 

Macbeth obeyed and left quickly. As he approached the school doors he saw Banquo leaving out of the corner of his eye. Macbeth decided to go back to Ms. Weird’s room.

Ms. Weird wasn’t there when Macbeth arrived. He decided to sit on the long table at the front of the room.

Macbeth noticed a magic 8 ball sitting near the white board. He decided to ask a few questions.

“Will I become rich and famous?” he asked.

Don’t count on it.

“Okay…” Macbeth was a bit disappointed. He decided to ask some more questions.

“Will Guys and Dolls be the best Dunsinane production yet?”

As I see it, yes.

“Sweet!” Then he remembered Macduff and Malcolm.

“What about Malcolm and Macduff?” He asked.

Concentrate and ask again.

Right, Macbeth thought. I can’t be vague.

“Will Malcolm and Macduff hinder my greatness?”

Better not tell you now.

“Fine, be like that.” Macbeth said and set the 8 ball down.

Suddenly, the door opened, and a girl walked in. Macbeth recognized her as Maduff’s younger sister.

“Is Ms. Weird here?” she asked Macbeth.

“No, sweetheart, she isn’t,” Macbeth said, an idea forming. He had a bad feeling about Macduff and Malcolm, and he knew exactly what to do about it.

…

Malcolm and Macduff sat down next to each other in their next class, their fingers intertwined. They both gave each other a look of knowing: this was their last respite before rehearsal today. It was not the first, but they were nowhere near their last. Malcolm and Macduff were not excited, to say the least.

After class, Macduff and Malcolm split up, albeit begrudgingly. Malcolm had to supervise the rehearsal and answer any stupid questions the actors undoubtably had, while Macduff was taking Siward and a few other freshmen to the woodshop to work on the set. One of those freshmen was supposed to be his sister, but she was not here.

“Has anyone seen my sister today?” Macduff asked the group. He was sure he saw her going to first period this morning but it couldn’t hurt to ask.

They all shook their heads no. Let me ask Malcolm if she’s in Ms. Weird’s room, Macduff thought. He took out his phone.

Macduff: hey is my sister near you

Malcolm: no why

Macduff: i cant find her

Malcolm: so why don't you text her

What a great idea. Why hadn’t Macduff thought of it before? Macduff opted to give her a call. It rang a few times before she picked up.

“Hello?” came a shaky voice.

“Hey,” Macduff greeted. “Where are you?” All Macduff could hear was the sound of ragged breathing for a few moments.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll see you when I get home. Oh, and by the way, don’t try to get me back while that group of jerk-wads are still there,” Macduff’s sister said through quiet sobs.

“What jerk-wads?” Macduff asked nobody, since the call had ended. Macduff knew everyone on the cast, and they were all so friendly and kind, except…

“I need to go,” Macduff told the freshmen. “You all can go home.”

…

Macbeth was running lines with Seyton when Macduff burst in. He had a determined glint in his eye. Malcolm walked up to him and they started chatting animatedly. Macbeth was having trouble focusing on the scene.

Macduff and Malcolm both looked back at Macbeth before leaving the room, leaving Macbeth with a sinking feeling.

Once he was sure Macduff and Malcolm wouldn’t come back, Macbeth grabbed the 8 ball again and shook it.

“Are Macduff and Malcolm plotting against me?” Macbeth asked it.

Outlook not so good.

This put Macbeth somewhat at ease. The rehearsal continued as usual. Afterward, Macbeth went home with no qualms about Malcolm and Macduff.

…

His first mistake, arguably. Macduff had seen Macbeth shaking the 8 ball through the little window in the door.

“What are you looking at?” Malcolm had asked.

“Macbeth is consulting an 8 ball,” Macduff had said, chuckling.

He and Malcolm came up with a plan to get Macbeth expelled from the theatre program: confront him. It was so simple they almost didn’t consider it.

“Really? Who’s gonna believe us? Who’s gonna prove him wrong?” Macduff had asked.

“Duncan, and Banquo. And your sister,” Malcolm had reassured him.

“And after this ordeal is all over?”

“We’ll restore people’s old roles. And continue as normal.”

They set the date for Friday. That meant they had Wednesday and Thursday to talk to Banquo and Duncan and to formulate some backup plans. They would not leave for Christmas break before this was set right.

…

Macbeth walked into school on Friday morning nervous. He had felt confident on Wednesday afternoon and on Thursday, but walking into school was giving him second thoughts. He saw Duncan and some of his friends hanging out together, side-eying Macbeth. Banquo eyed Macbeth from afar and Macduff’s sister had a strange glint in her eye.

On Thursday evening, Lady came down with a fever. Their parents wouldn’t let her come to school. Macbeth was alone and paranoid.

Macbeth walked from class to class trying to be as big and intimidating as possible, to hide his fear. He would not let these people, who were arguably lesser than him, know that he wanted to become as small and invisible as possible.

Dread could not even begin to describe what Macbeth felt when he approached Ms. Weird’s room that afternoon. He pushed open the door with immense trepidation. Seyton and Siward were chatting in the corner, but there was no one else there.

Macbeth snuck behind Ms. Weird’s desk and grabbed the magic 8 ball one last time.

“Will I perform in the show this winter?” Macbeth asked. A direct question has to work, he thought.

The 8 ball landed on the tip between two responses. Macbeth shook it again.

Ask again later.

At that moment, Malcolm pushed the door open, followed by Macduff, his sister, Banquo, Duncan, Ms. Weird, and Mr. Birnham, the principal.

“Hello, Macbeth. Nice to see you,” Macduff greeted Macbeth with a cool tone. Macbeth gave a small wave.

“Macbeth,” Mr. Birnham said. “Have a seat. Please.”

Macbeth sat and Macbeth listened. He listened as Mr. Birnham recounted what had happened in the last two weeks. Macbeth’s peers nodded along with Mr. Birnham and gave each other premature celebratory smiles.

“Now, you understand that you will not be able to participate in the Dunsinane Theatre Program anymore, yes?” Mr. Birnham asked.

“What?” Macbeth exclaimed. “That’s ridiculous!”

“This is what you get for stepping on your friends,” Banquo said.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Macduff gave Banquo a high five.

Macbeth stood and walked toward the door. He took one last look at Ms. Weird’s classroom--which he would never see again--before leaving to go home. Macbeth just barely saw Ms. Weird editing the cast list on the whiteboard out of the corner of his eye.

…

The door closed quietly. The people in the room just stared at it for a moment. Then, Malcolm enveloped Macduff in a bone-crushing hug.

“Finally, we can get on with the show!” he exclaimed.

Someone started playing Green Day’s “Good Riddance”, and someone else put a box of cookies on Ms. Weird’s desk. The celebration was well under way.

It was a few days before Christmas vacation was supposed to begin. Dunsinane’s production of Guys and Dolls was about to close.

Malcolm stood in the wings. Macduff was in the booth. The actors were ready for the show to begin.

“Cue 1, stand by…” Malcolm said.

“Standing by…”Macduff responded.

The lights in the house went down.

“Cue 1, go.”

Macduff pressed the play button in the program. The music started.

“I’ve got the horse right here! His name is Paul Revere…” The actor began. This was going to be the best Dunsinane Production in a while.

[addictedtoeddie]

The full Esquire Spain interview translated from Spanish:  

Eddie Redmayne trial: guilty of being the most talented (and stylish) actor of his generation

The Oscar winner talks about what it means to premiere a film with Aaron Sorkin (The Chicago 7th Trial on Netflix) and filming the new part of the most famous saga of all time under the watchful eye of its author, J.K. Rowling.

By Alba Díaz (text) / JUANKR (photos and video) / Álvaro de Juan (styling) 10/23/2020  

At the Kettle’s Yard Gallery in Cambridge, stands alone and leaning on a piano Prometheus, a marble head made by Constantin Brâncusi, and the only piece of art that Eddie Redmayne (London, 1982) would save from possible massive destruction. He tells me about it as he leaves the filming set of the third installment of Fantastic Beasts in the early days of an autumn that, we suspect, we will never forget. It begins to get dark as the actor nods seriously: "I promise to do my best in this interview."

Eddie Redmayne made himself in the theater despite some voices warning him that he could not survive in it. "Many people were in charge to tell me that it would never work, that only extraordinary cases make it and that I would not be able to live from this professionally." Even his father came home one day with a list of statistics on unemployed young actors. Redmayne, who is extremely modest, polite and funny, adds: “But I enjoyed theater so much that I got to the point of thinking that if I could only do one play a year for the rest of my life… I would do it. And that would fill me completely.

Spoiler: since then until today he has participated in many more. He set his first foot in the industry when he debuted at the Shakespeare’s Globe Theater and won over critics and audiences. He then landed his first major role in My Week with Marilyn opposite Michelle Williams. And then came one of the roles of his life, the character he wanted to become an actor for, Marius. With him he sang, led a revolution and broke Cosette's heart in Les Miserables. “I found out about the Les Misérables auditions when I was shooting a movie in Illinois. Dressed like a cowboy. I picked up the iPhone and videotaped myself singing the Marius song. I always wanted to be him ”.

Now Redmayne is an Oscar winner - thanks to his portrayal of Stephen Hawking in The Theory of Everything - and the protagonist of one of the most important sagas in history, Fantastic Beasts. He plays the magizoologist Newt Scamander in it. When I ask him what it means to him to be the protagonist of a magical world that is so important to millions of people, Eddie sighs and takes a few seconds to answer. “I have always loved the Harry Potter universe. Some people like The Lord of the Rings or Star Wars ... But, for me, the idea that there is a magical world that happens right in front of you, that happens without going any further on the streets of London, that. .. That exploded my imagination in another way.

During the quarantine, J. K. Rowling, who has been in charge of the script of the film, sparked a controversy through a series of tweets about transgender women. Redmayne assures that he does not agree with these statements but that it does not approve of the attacks of some people through social networks. The actor was one of the first to position himself against Rowling alongside Daniel Radcliffe, Emma Watson and other protagonists of her films. "Trans women are women, trans men are men, and non-binary identities are valid."

After having spent a while talking, Redmayne confesses to me that he has never been a big dreamer not to maintain certain aspirations that ended up disappointing him. So he has always kept a handful of dreams to himself. One of them was fulfilled just a few weeks ago with the premiere of The Trial of the Chicago 7, a film written and directed by Aaron Sorkin that can already be seen on Netflix and in some - few - cinemas. “I was on vacation with my wife in Morocco and the script arrived. I think I called my agent before I even read it and said yes, I would. She probably thought the obvious, that I'm stupid. After that, of course I read the script, which is about a specific moment in history that I knew very little about. I found it exciting and a very relevant drama in today's times. "

And it is that having a script by Aaron Sorkin in your hands is no small thing. Eddie Redmayne has been a fan of his work ever since he saw The West Wing of the White House. “His scripts have delicious language and dialogue. As an actor, it's fun to play characters that are much smarter than you are in real life. That virtuosity is hard to come by. I really hope that audiences enjoy this movie and feel that there is always hope. " He remembers that since he released The Theory of Everything he has recorded, to a large extent, English period dramas, “and although the new Aaron Sorkin is not strictly contemporary,” says Redmayne, “to be able to wear jeans and shirts and sweaters instead of so much tweed is great ”.

Besides acting, art was the only thing the actor was interested in, so he ended up studying Art History at Cambridge University. “My parents are quite traditional and when I told them I wanted to act they gave me free rein but on the condition that I study a career. And I'm very grateful for that because ... Look, beyond that, when I play a real character I usually go to the National Portrait Gallery in London quite often. There I lock myself up. Now, for Sorkin's film, I went through a lot of photographs and videotapes. Art helps me to be more creative, to get into paper ”. If he were not an actor, he would be, he says decidedly, a historian or perhaps a curator. "Although I think he would be a very bad art curator."

Against all logic, Eddie Redmayne is color blind. But there is a color that you can distinguish anywhere and on any surface: klein blue. He wrote his thesis on the French artist Yves Klein and the only shade of blue he used in his works. He wrote up to 30,000 words talking about that color with which he became obsessed. ��It is surprising that a color can be so emotional. One can only hope to achieve that intensity in acting. "

Like his taste for art, which encompasses the refined and compact, Redmayne seems to be in the same balance when it comes to the roles he chooses. When I ask him what aspects a character he wants to play should have, he takes a few seconds again before answering: “I wish I had a more ingenious answer but I will tell you that I know when my belly hurts. It's that feeling that I trust. In my mind I transport him to imagine myself playing that character. When I read a script I have to really enjoy it. You never fully regret those instincts. It's like when you connect with something emotionally. "

So we come to the conclusion that all his characters have some traits in common. "You know what? I never look back, and this is something personal, but I do believe that there is a parallel between Marius in Les Misérables trying to be a revolutionary, someone who is quite prone to being distracted by love but at the same time is willing to die for his cause, and Tom Hayden from The Chicago Trial of the 7 who was a man who had integrity and was passionate and fought for the things he believed in. So I suppose there may also be similarities between a young Stephen Hawking and Newt Scamander. There are traits in common in all of them that I don't really know where they come from ”.

When we talk about the year we are living in, in which it is increasingly difficult to find hope, we both let out a nervous laugh. "There must be," Redmayne says. “There is something very nice that Tom Hayden, the character I play in Sorkin's film, said to his former wife, actress Jane Fonda, just the day before she passed away. He told her that watching people die for their beliefs changed his life forever. In that sense, I also think about what Kennedy Jr. wrote about how democracy is messy, tough and never easy ... As is believing in something to fight for. I look at history and how they were willing to live their lives with that integrity to change the world and I realize that somehow that spirit still remains with us. " We fell silent thinking about it. "There must be hope."

I tell him about my love for Nick Cave's blog, The Red Hand, and one of the posts that I have liked the most in recent weeks. In it, the singer affirms that his response to a crisis has always been to create, an impulse that has saved him many times. For Redmayne there are two activities that can silence noise: drawing and playing the piano. “When you play the piano your concentration is so consumed by trying to hit that note that you can't think of anything else. Similarly, when you draw something, the focus is between the paper and what you are trying to recreate ... There I try to calm my mind.

Before saying goodbye, I drop a question that I thought I knew the answer to, but failed. What work of art would you save from mass destruction? "How difficult! I could name my favorite artists but still couldn't choose a work. Only one piece? Let me think. I am very obsessed with Yves Klein, but I would stick with a work by Brancusi. There is a sculpture of him, a small head called Prometheus, in Cambridge's Kettle’s Yard, on a dark mahogany piano. The truth is that I find it very ... beautiful ”.

Before leaving, he confesses to me - with a childish and slow voice - that he would like to direct something one day. We said goodbye, saying that we will talk about his next project. Next, the first thing I do is open the Google search engine. "P-r-o-m-e-t-h-e-u-s". Although Eddie Redmayne has trouble distinguishing violet from blue, he doesn't have them when choosing a good piece. He's right, that work deserves to be saved.

* This article appears in the November 2020 issue of Esquire magazine

Source: esquire.com/es/actualidad/cine/a34434114/eddie-redmayne-juicio-7-chicago-netflix-entrevista/

[knowthefact]

HOW TO BUILD FOLLOWERS ON INSTAGRAM? INSTAGRAM MONEY MAKING

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The following is a message for every entrepreneur who wants to build a massive following on Instagram and become financially independent with Instagram business, but can't seem to get started.

From: Gurdit Singh

4 years ago while searching:

'how to make money online?'

I figured out all those people who live life on their own terms, travel the world and who make money online doing what they love…

Have ONE THING in common!

YES there's just ONE THING

that can help you to make money online. Even if you're new to online business.

But before we get into that, let me introduce myself.

Hi, my name is Gurdit Singh. I'm a six figure Instagram business owner, founder of @success.portal, @mental.aspect, @psych.opinion, @mind.perspective, several other pages and have built a network of over

2.5 million followers on Instagram.

Isn't that cool?

All this was possible ever since I learned that

ONE THING.

But It wasn't always like that…

4 years ago, I was a broke college cricketer, and my cricket wouldn't let me get a full-time job. So my father was working two jobs to support us.

My financial situation was nowhere near where I wanted it to be and my family was in a lot of debt that we were paying off…

I wanted to make money to support my family and my cricket journey.

But what I really wanted was to figure out a way my father could retire from his job. He wanted to do the things he's passionate about, and I wanted to give that gift to him soon.

But instead he was working two jobs while I was going to college, playing cricket, and living out my dreams. I felt like a failure as a son.

I went to college but I hated the system.

I knew that the society's advice: "go to school, get a job, work hard, get out of debt and save money" is BS and no one ever got rich by following this advice.

I didn't want to work a job for 40 years to stay just above broke and settle for mediocrity, just because everyone else does.

I wanted to escape the rat race and be financially free!

At about that time

I saw some entrepreneurs on Instagram selling products, services and advertisements and it seemed like they were doing really well.

They were travelling the world, working on the beaches with their laptops and

making money doing what they love.

I realized that I wanted to live exactly like this and support my family so they could get the life they deserve.

The problem was that I had NO MONEY and NO IDEA of where to start or what to do in order to make my dreams come true…One day something happened that changed my life forever.

It was my summer vacation, my final year in college was about to start and I was sitting at home thinking about what would happen if I couldn't find a way to make money to support my family and my cricket journey.

I realized that I would be forced to do a 9-5 job and I would no longer be able to get time to pursue my cricket dream if I spent the whole day in a cubicle working for someone else's dreams.

This was my biggest fear!

To wake up…Eat breakfast…Drive to work through traffic…Work hard for someone else's dream…Drive back home in more traffic…Count the days till Friday…Repeat for 40 years…

I wanted to escape the system and NOT be a slave to it.

I knew that I had to find a way how I can break out of the system and how I can make money doing something I love.

That's when I decided I HAD to make a change.

So I analyzed those Instagram entrepreneurs who I saw earlier and what I figured out was that all these people have

ONE THING in common.

The ONE THING they all have in common is that…

They All Have a Following.

That’s when I realized that the secret to making money online is becoming an Instapreneur because Instagram is the hottest social media platform with over 1 billion active users.

An Instapreneur is kinda like an entrepreneur with a following on Instagram who sells products, services and advertisements on Instagram and positively impacts lives of their followers. I got so excited by the secret I had discovered that I created my own Instagram theme page

@success.portal

A theme page is kinda like an Instagram page where the content is about a specific topic and not about the person.

But I was struggling to grow my page, I watched YouTube videos and read all the free knowledge I could get from Google and books.

But that didn't work at all. I spent so much TIME and ENERGY working on my Instagram account, but I didn't really get any results.

But I did not give up hope, it was very frustrating but I kept trying and learning.

I worked endless hours and tested many strategies.

After months of hard work and a lot of trial and error,

I finally figured out the secret formula to succeed on Instagram.

I built a network of over 2.5 million followers with my proven strategies.

My Instagram business went on to make $13,992 in just 1 day.

And one of my pages @mental.aspect grew to 900k in just 3 years after starting.

As exciting as that is, I've also shared my proven strategies with hundreds of other Instapreneurs.

I've watched as komal has taken her account @classywomenn to inspire over a million women on Instagram.

I've seen several Instapreneurs make their first 5 figures a few months after starting Instagram business.

After I became an Instapreneur…

I became a 6 figure owner in my 20s

I retired my father. Took care of my family. I know what it's like to be financially free and inspire millions of followers at a time and network with some amazing people.

I also know what the definition, for me at least, of true success

… And that's the ability to help others change their lives and spend time with my family... and to be the son I want to be.

But what was even cooler than that was my father was able to retire from his job is that he was able to do the things he's passionate about…

And my dream of playing cricket at the highest level is still alive because my automated Instagram business allows me to get lots of free time to play cricket and I don't have to waste my whole day working a 9-5 job in a cubicle for someone else's dreams.

On top of that, I've watched as hundreds of Instapreneurs have been able to change their lives with Instagram business and positively impact others lives too.

But before I got here, there was one big problem, which nearly held me back…

Thinking back to those days when I was failing and not getting any results…

I realized it wasn't my fault!

It's because of all the free information and the wrong strategies everybody was teaching.

No wonder I was struggling!

For months they had been giving me information that didn't work.

And when I figured out the right strategies, I was finally able to succeed and get the results I deserved.

The real problem is the people who were spreading wrong information on the Internet.

They were the ones keeping me from succeeding on Instagram.

Once I realized this, that's when I started to grow my page

really FAST!

I didn't realize when I started that Instagram not only changed my life…

…But I also had the chance to help many other people to build a profitable business on Instagram and change their lives too.

And That's WHY I Created The INSTAPRENEUR SECRETS

The Instapreneur Secrets is an ebook that teaches you exactly how you can build a massive following on Instagram and make money with Instagram business for doing what you love.

You'll learn my proven system I used to build over 2.5 million followers on Instagram.

This took me 10 months to create, 4 years of experience and it cost me a lot of my free time, but it was totally worth it.

The Instapreneur Secrets makes building your own Instagram business so much easier!

You can start executing those strategies instantly which I developed with over 4 years of research and experience.

In it you'll learn all my secrets.

You'll get the secret strategies that are proven to work and I'll show you step-by-step how everything works.

Click Here to Get The Instapreneur Secrets NOW!

But, before you get started, let me ask you some questions…

Do you want to live the life of your dreams?

Do you want to travel the world?

Do you want to be financially free?

What would you buy if you don't have to look for the price tag?

Just imagine what your life would look like.

When You Order Instapreneur Secrets Today...

Here Are A Few Of The Things You'll Learn...Inside of Instapreneur Secrets I will be sharing with you

27 Secrets to help you build a following and make money on Instagram.

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Section #1:

Optimization Secrets

Secret #1: How To Find Your Profitable Niche And Create Your Own “Blue Ocean” In A “Red Market”.

Secret #2: My Secret Method To Easily Find Amazing Instagram Username Ideas And Why Choosing The Right Instagram Username Is One Of The Most Important Decisions You Need To Make In Order To Be Successful On Instagram.

Secret #3: The Instagram Search Engine Optimization Hack So That You Can Get More Followers Every Day And How You Can Use It To Help Your Potential Clients Find You.

​Secret #4: How To Leave A Great First Impression And Turn Your New Profile Visitors Into Followers… And How You Can Stand Out From The Crowd.

​Secret #5: How To Write The Perfect Bio For Your Instagram Account And How You Can Use Your Instagram Bio To Get More Followers And Make More Money.

​Secret #6: How To Decide The Right Type Of Instagram Account For Your Instagram Business… And How To Use Your Instagram Insights To Improve Your Accounts Engagement And Grow Your Account Into A Big Account.

​Secret #7: The 4 Step Formula To Brand Your Instagram Account So That You Can Build A Community, Stand Out From The Competition And Turn Your Followers Into Raving Fans… And Discover The Most Powerful Branding Tool That Will Help You In Making Money From Your Instagram Page.

​Secret #8: How You Can Hit The Explore Page And Understand How The Instagram Algorithm Works (this is the key to building a huge following on Instagram).

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Section #2:

Content Secrets

Secret #10: The Top 2 content strategies To Grow On Instagram… And Discover The Best Content Strategy For Your Instagram Account.

​Secret #11: How to Ethically Steal More Than $100,000 Worth of Growth Hacks from Your Competitors for FREE… And How You Can Use My Secret Formula To Gain Thousands Of Followers From Just 1 Single Post.

Secret #12: How To Create Content Like The Top 1% Of Influencers So You Can Get Thousands Of Likes, Comments, Story Views And Followers Which Means You Can Make Money Doing What You Love.

​Secret #13: How To Write Compelling Captions So That You Can Build Strong Relationships With Your Audience, Improve Your Engagement And Gain More Followers.

​Secret #14: How To Find The Right Hashtags So You Can Get More Reach, Followers And Engagement On Your Posts.

Section #3:

Growth Secrets

Secret #15: The "EN" Strategy That Will Make Sure Your Posts Go Viral On The Explore Page And Rank On The Top Posts Of The Hashtags You Use.

Secret #16: Discover When And How Often You Should Post To Get More Engagement And Grow Your Page Fast.

Secret #17: The 5 Different Types Of "S4S" And Why It Is One Of The Most Effective And Fastest Ways To Grow Followers On Instagram.

​Secret #18: How You Can Use The "PS" Method To Grow 1000+ Followers Per Day… And Discover Why This Is The Easiest And Fastest Way To Grow Your Brand On Instagram.

Section #4:

Monetization Secrets

Secret #19: How To Sell Your Stuff On Instagram And How You Can Use The "SF" Method To Take Your Instagram Business To The Next Level (This method also works even if you don't have your own product)

Secret #20: The Easiest Way To Reach Financial Independence Through Instagram Business Without Having Your Own Product, Without Having To Show Your Face And Without Any Previous Experience.

Secret #21: How To Make 4-5 Figures Per Month Selling Shoutouts… And How You Can Easily Find Clients For Shoutouts (This works even if you don't have a lot of own followers)

​Secret #22: How You Can Make A Full Time Career Using The "OC" Formula To Reach Financial Independence Through Instagram Business.

​Secret #23: Use the "FA" Method To Build A Profitable Instagram Theme Pages Business (You can start making money with this method in as little as a week)

​Secret #24: My 4 Step Formula To Boost Your Instagram Business And Make More Money… And Discover Why The "EM" Method Could Be Your Most Powerful Method When It Comes To Making Money Online.

​Secret #25: How To Build A Profitable Instagram Agency Business And Find Clients For It… And Why The Instapreneur Secrets eBook Is The Foundation For Your Success With Instagram Agency Business.

​Secret #26: The 5 Easiest Ways You Can Use To Make An Extra Income With Instagram (You can start implementing these methods even today without having any followers)

​Secret #27: The Truth About Making Money With Instagram… And How You Can Use The "SOP" Method To Make Tens Of Thousands Of Dollars Per Month With Instagram.

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Oh, and in case you're wondering why I'm doing this... Well, there are actually a few reasons...

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​​Because (unlike other "guru's") I don't make all of my money teaching others how to make money (I actually run Instagram pages having over 2.5 million total followers and I make money from my pages through many different ways)... so because of that, it doesn't hurt me to share with you my best stuff.

​​I get another one of my products / services in your hands, and when you see how awesome it is, it should get you excited to buy other stuff from me in the future.

​​I'm kinda a show off... I'm not going to lie. I'm sick of people spreading wrong information on the Internet. I think 99% of what is said online is complete BS... so I thought it would be a breath of fresh air to publish the TRUTH, show the actual strategies that work and what I do, and well... honestly, I just want you to think I'm cool. :)

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Thanks for taking the time to read this letter and I hope you enjoy the eBook! Thanks,Gurdit Singh P.S. In case you're one of those people (like me) who just skips to the end of the letter, here's the deal: After building over 2.5 million followers, I'm revealing my secrets so that you can build a massive following on Instagram and reach financial independence through Instagram business! You’ll get access to the Instapreneur Secrets for just $7. It's one of the highest level, yet most afforadable eBooks in the world. In the Instapreneur Secrets you'll NOT just step-by-step learn how you can build a following and make money on Instagram, BUT you'll also learn how you can build a real business on Instagram and make a living from it as an Instapreneur. The best thing about all of this is that you don't need any previous experience and that you don't need to show your face (if you don't want to) AND that you don't need to create your own product (if you don't want to). In the Instapreneur Secrets I'll reveal my proven system I used to build a following of over 2.5 million followers and I'll show you everything step-by-step and explain how you can build a massive following and use Instagram to become financially independent. You're reading this today for a reason, something in your life isn't perfect and you desire more. So you know where you are, and you probably know where you want to go. The only thing left is how are you going to get there? Today, you have the chance to learn from someone who is already there and knows how to get you there. You'll have me as a Mentor and I'll give you all my Knowledge so that you can become a successful Instapreneur too. If for whatever reason, you don't feel like this eBook is the best training of its kind, email me and I will send you a full $7 refund, no questions asked. So, Click the button below to order Instapreneur Secrets now. You won't regret it.

Order Instapreneur Secrets Now! I'm ready to get started!

FAQ / Frequently Asked Questions:

Do I already need followers or previous experience to get started?

No, you can start with 0 followers and without any previous experience. I am going to show you step-by-step how to build and monetize a following from nothing.

I'm 14 years old. Does that matter?

Instagram is one of the easiest business models to start, so your age shouldn't be a problem. Anyways age is just a number and if you put in the effort and implement my proven system then you'll be successful.

I'm not from the US. Can I be successful?

Thanks to the internet & social media, It doesn't matter where you are located anymore. Even I'm not from the US and nearly 70% of my students are not living in the US.

Do I have to show my face on Instagram?

No, It's not necessary to show your face. You can create a theme page and be successful without showing your face.

How will I get access?

Once you join the Instapreneur Secrets, you will get an email with a link to download your eBook. This will only take a few seconds.

How can I contact you if I have specific questions?

You can Direct Message me on Instagram: @instapreneurgurdit or send me an E-mail to support@instapreneursecrets.com

SECURE ORDER

*The post has affiliate links which make me a bit of money.

[espinosaurusrexex]

Chinese

In which Y/N and Jeff are struggeling with the feelings they have for eachother

warnings: cussing, a bit angsty

a/n: For the anon who requested an imagine from my Drabble list. I may have gotten a bit carried away at the beginning, but I ended up liking it. Also, I know I’m writing a lot of pre relaionship concepts, but I’m just a sucker for them. Nonetheless, you are very welcome to request something apart from my drabble list. Please let me know what you think! And most importatnty: Enjoy!

p.s. I wish you all a happy new year! Thank you for all the love and support :)

9. Oh come on, just kiss me already!

13. Fuck her. Fuck everything!

word count: 2.4k

It was no secret that Jeffrey Wittek had a rough break up with his ex girlfriend. And seeing that she was becoming more and more successful by the second was just another slap in that beautiful face of his. Of course, Jeff had gained a fair amount of fame himself during their relationship and even afterwards. After all, their break up had its purpose in them having more time to focus on their careers. And while that part worked pretty well for either of them, Jeff still found himself drowning in sorrow every now and then. 

It had been a year since it happened and Jeff had recovered quite well ever since. He occupied his time with his friends, managing his own Youtube account and his Dog Nerf. In his friends‘ vlogs he was often portrayed as this wannabe playboy, who took a girl home almost every night they went out. But being honest, Jeff hadn't even thought about girls up until a month ago. That was when he met Y/N. They didn’t know each other. It was simply a misunderstanding in which Jeff had accidentally taken a different costumer’s food from the china restaurant down the street. Unaware that the other customer was in fact a beautiful woman, who was desperately trying to explain to the waiter that her food had never reached her. When Jeff had noticed the mistake that had been made, he went back to the restaurant. Surprised by the girl still discussing with the waiter, he slowly approached her and tapped on her shoulder. It was a moment that couldn't have been described any different than a movie slow-mo scene in which the boy meets the girl for the first time and they fall head over heels for each other right this second. It was kind of like that, except for the fall in love part… at least on her end. Jeff was smitten the second he had laid eyes on the girl in front of him, forgetting the reason that he came here for in the first place. Y/N on the other hand was angry. Apologizing to the waiter right away and proceeding to shoot an angry glare at the man in front of her. She had been way too furious to notice his overly attractive features. Her mind being occupied with the thought of her missing her favorite TV show with her friends, which she only got to see once a week. That was, if the occasion allowed it that she and her girl-friends had time after a stressful week of work and school and everything else that was going on in her busy life. 

After Jeff had apologized to her at least a million times and offered to pay for her and her friends’ meals, Y/N had finally taken mercy on him. She wasn't a bad person. He had only caught her at the end of a very stressful week of mad customers and exams for which Y/N had studied for, what felt like, months on end. So that her sudden outburst was simply an eruption of emotions she's had bottled up over the past weeks, because who had time for mental breakdowns anymore?

Later that night, Jeff had found himself in his bed, thinking about the mysterious woman. He had been sure that she would be even more beautiful if her face wasn't covered by a deep frown and exhaustion, which seemed to only make her more intriguing to him. It was too bad, he did not get her number or even her name. Which was the reason why he, from then on, visited that China restaurant every friday night. And to his surprise, Jeff’s plan had worked. The first three weeks he watched her getting her order, sometimes with her friends and sometimes alone. It got to the point at which Jeff had questioned, if what he was doing, counted as stalking -which, to be honest, it probably was- but he wouldn't let that thought ruin the joy it brought him to look forward to every friday, just to see the beautiful girl again. On one day, though, about four weeks in, she didn't show. Jeff had fallen into a deep sadness that night and didn't even talk to his friends for the next day. He couldn't believe that a stranger could have so much impact on him and decided to change something about his attitude towards the woman. Thus, the next friday he went to the restaurant, he talked to her. And soon he concluded that this had been one of the best decisions he had ever made. He actually got her number and name.

They became friends and soon spent plenty of time together. Y/N got to meet his friends and he got to meet hers. Y/N felt herself falling deeper and deeper for Jeff every day they spend together and she didn't mind. Her last relationship had been a couple years ago and while she didn't really feel deserving of a new boyfriend for a while, she felt the need for Jeff becoming more present by the second. 

They were seated on his sofa, watching a strange show about robots and eating chinese food. But Y/N couldn't care less. She was way too occupied with the thrill of stealing glances at Jeff without him noticing. His arm was positioned on the back rest of his couch, right behind her. The thought of his arm actually resting on her shoulders sent shivers down her spine. She was longing for his touch and attention. But the thing was that she knew, she would never get it from him. A couple months after them hanging out for the first time, Jeff had told Y/N about his ex girlfriend. Y/N, of course, had googled her the second she got home and was blown away by the beauty displayed on the screen. That  was one of the reasons why Jeff seemed so unapproachable for her. The other reason was that Jeff, even after a year of single life, was still startled every time he saw a billboard with her face on it or even the mention of her name. It was sad for Y/N to watch him build up his walls every time something about relationships came up in a conversation. She wanted to comfort him, show him that she could help him in more ways than a friend could, but he would never let her.

‘’You know, if you take a picture it'll last longer and you wouldn't have to creep me out by staring at me for so long.’’ Jeff chuckled and turned his head towards her.

What Y/N didn't know was that Jeff actually wanted to show more affection towards her. Sometimes, he would lay awake at night, thinking about how her lips would feel on his, not to mention her body. But deep down, something was holding him back from starting from scratch. Maybe it was the deep emptiness he had felt right after his last break up and the fear of that happening again. He couldn't come up with any other explanation for his caution. Especially , since he had never experienced something so intense as he did with Y/N ever before. It wasn't just her beauty that had pulled him in from the first time he had laid eyes on her. It was the sassiness with which she had turned that waiter into a wuss and the glare she had shot him right after Jeff had turned her attention to him. It was the way she stood there so confidently and the dedication she talked with, even though the sleep deprivation was very evident on her face. But for some reason, Jeff had never dared to make another move after getting her number. And it was probably going to stay that way for a long time. 

‘’I would, but your huge ego would block the camera.’’ Y/N shot back boldly. But soon after, she fell into admiration for this man in front of her again. She studied his features: his chiseled chin, the light beard that covered it, his eyes that were so focused on the TV and his mouth. God, his mouth, which Y/N could only assume would be able to do to her. She couldn't even dare thinking about in this moment. His lips were agape and his tongue would lick nover them every few seconds. Y/N couldn't tear her gaze from them. She wanted them so badly on hers.

‘’How come we’ve never kissed, Jeff?’’ Y/N was serious. She couldn't figure out, why this man didn't show any affection towards her for the life of hers and it was killing her slowly. Sure, she knew about his previous relationship but that could have never been the only reason for him to be so secluded for over a year now.

Jeff was startled and didn't dare moving an inch. He was back in reality when he noticed her hand on his shoulder. Hesitantly turning his head towards her, he debated whether he should tell her about the battle he was fighting in his head or not.

‘’What?’’

Jeff scolded himself for this stupid answer. -What, really?- They both knew she had spoken clearly and understandable, but that did not eliminate the confusion from Jeff’s mind. 

‘’I mean, your clearly like me… It's not like I didn't notice you at the restaurant every week either, Jeff…’’ Y/N’s hand sunk from his shoulder down his arm and stopped at his hand, inspecting and playing with his fingers intently. ‘’I just… why are we nothing more than friends?’’

‘’I just can’t, Y/N.’’ He wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to tell her how her perfume made him go crazy and how much time a day he spent thinking about her. He wanted to tell her that she was everything he ever wanted and that he was an asshole for not letting anyone touch him for so long. And most importantly, he wanted to grab her then and there and just press his lips all over her body, but he didn't. He just looked down, because he couldn't stand the emptiness and hope in Y/N’s eyes anymore.

‘’It’s my ex… I can’t.. I- … I really don't know. Give me some time.’’

‘’Give you time? Are you serious?’’ Y/N was calm but her voice was filled with a daring emphasis. ‘’Fuck her! Fuck everything, Jeff! I’ve met you five month ago and you're all I could think about from that moment on. I thought you were feeling the same…’’

Y/N scooched away from him before opening her mouth again: ‘’Now, I know that you and her had it rough and that you needed time to work through that, but that was over a Year ago. I want to help you, I really do, but you are making it so hard.’’

Her eyes started to water, but Y/N didn’t stop the tears from rolling down her reddened face. How did they have so much chemistry and yet so much unspoken things hanging between them. Jeff tried to reach out to her, but Y/N just flinched and looked away.

‘’I do like you… a lot, actually. You have to listen to me.’’ Y/N didn't want to listen anymore. She skittered farther away from him and tried to focus on something in the room that could possibly calm her nerves.

‘’I’m scared, okay! I’m scared that this shit is going to repeat itself and that I can't get through it again. And most importantly, I can't stand the thought of you going through that! I would never want anything to happen to you, because I care for you… deeply. Please, you have to understand me.’’

‘’I don't care.’’ Y/N’s voice was quiet and soft. She sniffed hesitantly and looked up to him again. 

‘’What?’’ there it was again: The stupidest answer one could ever give and Jeff wanted to bang his head on the wall. His friend was pouring his heart out for him and all he could do was sit there dumbfounded and make her repeat the words she had probably struggled to say the first time.

‘’I don't care if I get hurt. And you shouldn’t care, either. I’m not her. We are not the same. And even if it were to happen again.. So what? It will be better knowing, than never trying. What if this is going to be the best thing that will ever happen to us, Jeff?! I can't resist you any longer! I just I need you. I need you to be more than just a friend and I really hope you feel the same, because I can't stand it any longer. I really can’t.’’

Jeff was mesmerized. Y/N was so confident that her energy had radiated straight to him. She was right. He could never go on without knowing if this would actually work out. He didn't want to miss out on the opportunity and he most certainly did not want any person to have Y/N, other than him.

‘’Okay.’’ He stated self-assured. If it was not going to happen now, then it would never.

‘’Well then come on! Come on and kiss me already!’’

Jeff was still hesitant when he came closer to Y/N and reached out for her hand, which she gladly took. Excitement sparking in both their eyes when he slowly pulled her onto his lap. Their faces were close now. Their noses brushing and their eyes staring into each other as if they were the only thing existing in that moment.

‘’What are you waiting for Wittek?’’, Y/N questioned and bumped with her nose against his, ‘’Are you gonna chicken out again?’’

A daring smile snuck onto her face as she noticed how Jeff tensed up underneath her. He wouldn't let his pride get in the way of this moment and Y/N knew that. Just like she knew everything else about him.

Jeff grabbed her waist, one hand sliding lower down her body and pressed her even closer to him. Y/N squealed and Jeff took that opportunity to push his lips hard against hers. It wasn't a forceful kiss. It was full of love and unspoken words that he would have never been able to tell her without them being as close as they were right this second. They were both molding into the kiss, longing for each other more and more as their hands wandered all over the other’s body. It was by far the best kiss either of them had ever experienced and it was this moment, in which Jeff realised, this would never count as a mistake.

[bluebellhairpin]

Something’s Not Right

Bruce Wayne/Batman X Batmom!Reader 

A/N: Oh dear, here comes the angst. (This is like 6+ pages on my google docs. Ha Ha ha oops) - Nemo

Warning(s): Blood, kidnapping, almost character death, mentions of miscarriage and infertility, not necessarily in that order. This could be distressing, so don’t read this if you think it could upset you. 

Summary: Ever since Batman’s third Robin, you’ve been know as the Batmom to Batman’s mask. But events lead you to break with not knowing what to do, and the only comfort you find is Alfred, who then tells you of something you never knew. With your newfound information, you set to work saving your family.

Listening to: “Something's Not Right” by Lily Allen 

Series Masterlist 

Masterlist 

You first met Batman when you were robbing a bank. 

In your defense, you were a little inexperienced, and he only knew you were there because he saw a shadow pass inside through a window. 

After that you kept running into each other, and ended up becoming each others first vigilante partners. 

You know, before he had a million Robin’s. 

You even came to know who was under the mask. Bruce Wayne the billionaire. 

When he brought home the first soon-to-be Robin, Dick Grayson, you were raiding his fridge in the Manor’s kitchen, having made yourself at home over the last few years. You looked at Bruce like he was crazy, he told you he’d explain later and you sure as hell made sure he did. 

You offered Dick some of the cereal you’d raided, and he accepted with a mumble and small smile. From speaking to Bruce later, that boy had been through a lot. 

You only hoped that Bruce wouldn’t push him too hard. 

We had forever We never got it together

Jason Todd joined a few years later, having been found by both you and Bruce trying to steal hubcaps. When Bruce brought him inside after the to had talked, you got the horrible feeling that Jason would become a Robin too. 

Your worries were confirmed when you caught Bruce and Jason sparring in the cave. You caught Bruce’s eye, and he froze. You shook your head at him and he knew he had more explaining to do.

After that, you become monitor of the computer. With Jason as the new Robin, and Dick starting to spread his wings off as Nightwing, you didn’t desperately need to be out fighting anymore. Someone needed to stay home, and with your relationship with Bruce becoming something more than friends, he felt better when you weren’t in danger. 

When he brought that up, you never once failed to play the card of “What about Dick and Jason?” 

Despite Dick being Nightwing and not living permanently at home, or Jason not really wanting to be in the Cave when he could have the house all to himself aside from Alfred, they always managed to be in the staircase of the cave when your voices started to raise in the same heated discussion. They knew it wasn’t anything to worry about.

You were protective, viewing them as the sons you could never have, and Bruce was too careless for his own good. 

But really what they stayed for was what happened after the yelling, the telling off, and the arguing. You always made up after, with softer words, a hug and a kiss. They’d never seen anyone else do that after a fight.

I waited for you For you I made it better

Jason's death hit you all hard, but Bruce didn’t get over it. 

Then, a couple years after Jason died, Bruce came home with another boy donned in Jason’s old Robin suit. He introduced himself as Tim Drake. He said he knew who you were, and you told him ‘Who doesn’t know (y/n) Wayne?’. Then he said he knew who you really were. 

'Valentine' was a name previously not spoken directly to you in over half a decade, and this thirteen-year-old seemed to know more about you than you thought possible. 

The next few years went on with their own struggles. Bruce got used to having a Robin again. Tim dealt with troubles and struggles in the form of his real parents. You got over the fact Tim was wearing Jason’s costume once he got his own. And Tim became a permanent residence of the manor. 

With Bruce and Dick protecting the city, Tim as Robin, and Alfred wanting to keep monitor duty with Tim, you gave up the vigilante life for good. 

Nowadays you only ever went to the cave to deal with injuries, last-resort monitor duty, and scolding Bruce or Tim for staying up too late. 

The one thing that didn’t seem to change was Alfred and Dick. They were always there, always a shoulder to cry on, and a listening ear. They knew how hard it got for both you and Bruce. 

Dick wanted to be there to show he was grateful for what you’d done in the past. 

Alfred was there because that’s where he belonged. 

They kept telling me that it was unlikely All I had to do was keep you beside me

Once everything seemed to be falling back into a semi-blissful state, the world served another harsh blow. The first was to Bruce, in the form of a vengeful and now alive Jason Todd. 

While Bruce had to serve every night going out to face the Red Hood, you went back to the monitor spending your days trying to track Jason down. Now that your boy was back you needed to have him home. Even though they didn’t know it, you knew that what both Bruce and Jason needed  was to be together. 

Naturally, once the initial tension disappeared, you were right. 

Even now, now that Jason is back, you can still see the haunted look in Bruce’s eye that makes you think he’s almost believing he is seeing a ghost.

The second blow was to you, in the form of Bruce’s long-lost son Damian. 

He came in silence, and for the first few days you barely noticed a change. It was mostly Bruce’s attitude and reluctance to let you in the cave that made you suspicious. Luckily for Bruce, he was around when you found Damian in the cave. 

Needless to say it took a good couple hours of conversation before everything was cleared up.

Damian listened from the staircase, and eventually Tim wordlessly joined. The new duo unknowingly recreating what their predecessors did before them. Alfred felt a wave of nostalgia from just glancing at them. 

What Damian couldn’t believe through the whole ‘discussion’ was how much you were blaming his father for him being in your home, not him. Even though you both were fighting over him being there, there wasn’t any hate in your words to him, only annoyance to Bruce. 

He wondered exactly how many times you had to deal with the same thing before, aside from Tim. 

Cause there aren’t many stars in the sky tonight

As far as you were concerned, having children of your own was never going to happen. One robbery gone wrong was enough to pull your chances of your own children from an already mere fifty to less than twenty.  

It was one of the reasons you were so good at welcoming each boy into your home with such open arms. As soon as they stepped through the threshold with a tired introduction from your husband, small faces and bleary eyes, you saw them as yours. Every time, without fail.

Naturally it came as a shock to you when the doctor told you to take a pregnancy test after you’d been horrendously sick for the past week. It came as a bigger shock when the test came back positive. 

Bruce’s excitement and yours was taken too soon. In reality, you knew it could’ve happened, but you didn’t think it’d happen so suddenly, or so easily. 

Dick and Jason were among those waiting when you came home from the hospital, and everyone would've much preferred if the trip happened nine months later, and you’d have a bundle of blankets in your hands rather than just a bag of clothes. 

Even Damian couldn’t help the horrible feeling in the bottom of his stomach. After all he still wouldn’t be a big brother. 

It had been a couple weeks, but you were starting to worry. While you had grieved, and in your own way moved on, Bruce seemed to stay the same. He didn’t react. When the news came he went straight into autopilot. 

In his life he’d lost a lot of people. His parents, Jason, many other residence of Gotham, and now your baby. You started to think that with every lost soul his lost part of his own too. 

Cause I know that it’s day but it’s dark outside

Your worries were well served. Not even a couple nights after you voiced your concerns to Bruce himself did he and Damian get captured by the Joker. 

Tim was monitoring the computers, instantly sending out and alert to Dick to go help, but he just got caught too. Tim then contacted Jason, telling him to meet him near Gotham Docks. 

You wandered into the cave to see the monitor set to where Tim left it. A camera from in an old warehouse displayed all five of your boys beaten, bloodied, and tied up with the Joker pacing back and forth in front of them. 

Near the monitor keyboard was a notebook, open to a page with words scribbled in Tim’s characteristically messy writing. He found writing down thoughts helped him get his mind straight. It cleared his head. 

“Knows fighting styles - been monitoring us for weeks to memorize patterns - new moves needed - Jason good idea - Mom the last resort.” you read a loud, sinking to the chair at the monitor.

As you processed what was happening, you knew time was running short. You felt Alfred behind you, placing his hands reassuringly on your shoulders.

“What am I supposed to do?” you said, resting your head in your hands, “The GCPD won't be able to handle it well enough, and I can't just contact Clark or Diana. And I got rid of my suit years ago - it’s not like I can just slip on one of Bruce’s suits and go fight myself.” 

“I think there’s something I should show you.” Alfred said, squeezing your shoulders. 

And I feel a weight in my heart tonight

All the batsuits were displayed on one of the walls of the cave, it was like a trophy wall. And while your old Valentine suit wasn’t there, there was a display photo of you mid-flip as homage to what you’d done. 

As you went passed the suits, both old and new, and the empty cases of the suits being worn by your boys, Alfred soon stopped near your photo. He pressed the logo of your photo-suit and the glass moved away, soon followed by the wall, to reveal another glass case.

“Mister Bruce has been working on it since you destroyed your old one.” Alfred explained, letting you walk forwards to inspect your pristine suit, “He figured you might need it, and if I’m being honest I did too.”  

“Who else knows?” You asked, running your fingers over the fabric and the slightly darker logo on it’s chest. It was a lot like Bruce's suit.

“No one, but Tim found out, nothing’s a secret from him long.” you smiled. That’s Tim alright.

The fabric was new, a material you’d never seen before, but looked a lot like miniature chain-mail. Knife-proof.

The chest where your signature V logo was along with around your torso sounded a metallic tap. Bullet-proof.

You noted that although the mask only covered your eyes it was embedded with reflective glass. Photo-proof. 

“He sure was prepared.” you said, turning back to Alfred with the mask in your hands. “Will you man the computers for me?”  

“It would be an honor, Valentine.” 

Something's not right

“Copy V? Guards ahead.” Alfred said. The mask was also fit with a com-link. Bruce seemed to put everything in your suit, from an oxygen mask, to a lock-pick.

“Copy.” you said, sulking along the side of the warehouse towards the guards. You knew this could get nasty fast, but over time you learnt from Bruce many ways to subdue without killing. The guards were out of it before they even knew you were there. 

Inside, Bruce and the boys were getting antsy. 

Once when Joker left Tim said to the others he’d left a note near the computer encase he and Jason were unsuccessful, in the hope either you or Alfred would find it and send help. It had been almost two hours, and they were starting to doubt. Especially now that Joker was back and pacing in front of them. 

An explosion somewhere in another warehouse made their tired heads, and the heads of the others in the room, move towards the noise. The familiar sound of batarangs flying through the air made their head turn back right as two of the dozen guards fell to the floor, soon followed by two more. 

Joker ordered to start shooting at where the batarangs were coming from, and the solid sound of shots firing rang out for a couple long moments. When a figure clad in black dropped to the floor from the beams, Bruce felt his stomach drop. 

He knew that figure. He knew that suit. 

“Search them. Make sure whoever it is, is dead.” Joker said, dismissive in his words but the boys could tell he was on edge. Joker had the Batman, Nightwing, Red Hood and the two Robins. There wasn’t anymore, right? 

The guard moved to the figure, nudging its shoulder with his foot, and with the second nudge the figure shot up, pulling the guard into a headlock, and the guard dropped down unconscious in less than a few seconds. The other guards were trained on the figure, and Joker smiled.

“Well, well, does Batsy have a new birdy?” he sang, and the figure stepped forwards out of the shadow to reveal you, donned in your Valentine suit for all to see.

“Oh no, dear Joker,” you said, matching his tone yet lacing it with as much venom as humanly possible, “I promise you I’m far from new.” 

Cause I know that it’s day but it’s dark outside

The fact Joker wasn’t expecting a sixth ‘Batman partner’ to show up helped with taking down the guards. And like Tim noted, he was tracking everyone’s fighting styles. Even if Bruce was in the right mind-frame he had little chance of coming out on top. 

You hadn't fought in the public eye for many years, so there was no recent footage of your style, and even so most of it was back when you weren’t working with Batman at all. 

You had tied up Joker when you set to work setting the boys free, and it came as no surprise that he’d somehow gotten away by the time you’d given everyone a once-over. 

Back in the cave Damian was the first. Once back in the confides of safety Damian practically flung himself into you. 

“Ummi, I thought-” he said, stopping himself with a sniff and burying his nose in your stomach. 

“It was a close call.” Dick added, his voice strained. With a look you pulled him closer, and one by one you managed to deal out hugs and just the right words. 

In the next few hours Dick and Jason were both sent off back home with food Alfred made, and the reassurance that you’d come visit. Tim was sent off to bed, being told everything from the past events would be waiting when he wakes up. Damian was also given bed rest, but only after he got one last hug from you. 

All that was left was to deal with Bruce, who’d been in the cave since you all went upstairs. 

Like the feeling of rain on a Summer light

“Bruce.” you said, reaching his place at the computer. He stopped rather abruptly, and turned to face you with an agonizingly slow pace. The look on his face made you pull him into you just like you did with Dick. And for the first time in so long, Bruce cried. 

He could’ve lost everything on top of the baby. The other boys. You. Himself. 

He knew what he did wrong, he knew he went in without a clear head, all because something wasn’t right.

[lavenderek]

fwiw i’m an A*3 volunteer - i do tag wrangling, actually - and i really do need to emphasise the fact that we are VOLUNTEERS, and there’s really nothing we can do when it comes to bigger issues re: the core of how the site runs and the values people feel it holds.

what i am really tired of is people assuming things about me because i’m a volunteer. people can be so ridiculously vitriolic - like that anon you got who was immediately at you like ‘SO YOU’RE FINE WITH CHILD ABUSE?’ is a perfect example of what i mean. no, i’m not, but i honestly do appreciate a rare space online that is *relatively* unmoderated - which is NOT to say it isn’t completely unmoderated. like you said, there are so many cultural aspects to even simple tags, and as a tag wrangler, you’re ‘trained’ on that. that’s just tag wrangling - i’m sure higher up volunteer positions also take the time and care to educate volunteers correctly on how to manage their roles.

again, though, there is fundamentally very little us volunteers can do for parts people might disagree with. we come from all walks of life and there are so many roles and we all only have so much time. fact is, the website is the way it and it’s unlikely to change beyond perhaps adding more ‘social media’ type functions, like blocking people. if you feel that there is content that is inappropriate or commenters that are inappropriate or whatever, you can report it directly to the people running the website (which i’ve personally done before for an extreme underage fic about a real life - albeit of-age - person), and i obviously didn’t check back to see if it had been removed, but i assume it was dealt with because i genuinely do have faith in the moderators. anyway, just some insight as someone who works with the site.

hey! thanks for the info actually this is really interesting. sorry about the delayed response, i saved it as a draft to come back to it later and then i got busy at work and forgot

while you're here, you mind if i ask you some questions? feel free not to answer, you're not obligated

i separated it into sections because i’m what? longwinded and easily confused

1. can this happen (has questions for you in it)

it's my understanding that the big uproar vis a vis CP fic on a*3 is more that a*3 is inadvertently creating a space where p*dophiles feel safe and can establish a following, in turn allowing them to normalize what they're doing and gain access to potential victims.

tldr, it's less "this is inappropriate" and more "the person who made this is dangerous." like, if the person who wrote that nasty fic you reported had a whole profile full of similar content and was gaining a following from it, that would be concerning.

is the overall effect a user has something that you all take into account when you're going through content on the site, or are you instructed to take the specific piece of content at face value?

and, do you think that's something it's possible to address by moderators? regardless of whether or not it’ll actually happen, do you think that is possible on this system?

and, even more optional than the other questions, if that was possible, what do you think that would look like? 

2. what is the process like on your end (has questions for you in it)

just for my own curiosity, how much leeway do you as a volunteer have over whether a fic should be reported? 

is it up to your own judgment or is there like a rubric or something? 

and what happens if the moderators decide that yeah, this fic can't be up anymore, do they remove the fic or kill the user's profile or what?

what happens if you report something, and the moderators decide it’s fine? does that reflect on you in their eyes? 

how often do you report fic? 

3. clarification of motive (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

like i hear you that you, personally, Anon J. Wranglerton, don't have control over the site itself. the topic of CP and abuse is touchy and wigs people out because it sort of self perpetuates.

it's like that anecdote that went viral a few years ago where a bartender explained that allowing one polite n*zi into the bar leads very quickly into lots of n*zis being in the bar. people want the n*zis removed from the bar. 

i'm sorry people accuse you of being an abuse apologist because of that, i think the idea that people wouldn't really see abuse as a concern is like, actually horrifying to them lmao and i can't necessarily blame them for that in and of itself

4. if i see where they’re coming from then what’s my problem (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

i guess i don't share that reaction because disgusting content online isn't anything new for me. i accidentally came across it all the time when i was a kid going online. i nearly fell victim to an actual predator when i was 12 or 13. thankfully, once he asked me for more personal information i was able to get scared and see some red flags. (or if he wasn’t a predator then i should probably go and find my chat room boyfriend Oukami who explained “yiffing” to me and told me to send him pictures of myself so he could make me a wolf fursona)

from my perspective, the a*3 debate looks like this: predators are a concept that is deeply embedded in every corner of the internet, and very suddenly, people are very up in arms about a very specific website having predators on it. it’s like if all of a sudden people were like, “there are customers at Target who yell at the employees. if you still shop at Target, unfollow me.” 

like, yeah, you’re right, and that’s bad, but why Target specifically, and why now, you know? 

i think predators should be made to feel extremely unsafe in fandom spaces lmao, but i also think that’s something that can only be tackled socially. playing whack-a-mole with predators is a tale as old as time.

5. online predators (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

this is just me talking out of my ass, but my theory is that a huge component in kids today getting caught up by predators online is that the concept of anonymity and fear of strangers online has some holes in it on here.

first of all, people just a couple years younger than i am grew up on social media. that was the entire online landscape ever since myspace.

influencers use their real names and faces, and they have millions of followers and are treated like celebrities. a lot of these social networks make it extremely difficult to hide your identity at all. you sign in to youtube with your google account, which is linked to your phone and all your other accounts. instagram, twitter, facebook, and tumblr can all be connected, and a few of those apps encourage it and will interrupt you posting to be like “do you want to also put this on twitter, Firstname Lastname?” no, janet, i’m good. thank you though

this lends a certain amount of freedom to predators, because there is nothing stopping them from assessing somebody’s vulnerability and reaching out to them. 

6. online predators in fandom spaces specifically (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

i think the fandom space cultivated on tumblr has actively contributed to that. 

look at all these blogs, they’ve got “about me” descriptions with their name, their age, a blurb about their interests, their gender identity, their romantic/sexual preferences, sometimes their fuckin myers-briggs designation. this is all expected behavior on tumblr. 

it starts as a sort of “this is my blog, here’s what i’m about,” and is compounded by like, “NTs can reblog this post but don’t say anything stupid,” or “minors DNI, how old are you,” like, you have to kind of verify that you’re “allowed,” in a sense, to participate in some conversations or interact with some posts. 

i think there’s merit in both of those things, blogs are for self expression and for interacting with likeminded users; and i don’t think it’s “gatekeeping” to stop straighties from clowning on your post about queer issues. 

but this has inadvertently created a sort of entitlement to private information. it also creates this false idea that because you and i have x and y in common, we can interact comfortably. 

it’s crucial to remember that predators aren’t all scary white men who want to visit you at home. some of them are cool 20-somethings who just happen to be normalizing sexual content with children in it. and they genuinely don’t see what they’re doing as wrong. if they’re already your friend, and you see them saying shit about how they’re not hurting anybody, it’s just pretend, it’s just a kink, then you’re probably going to sympathize with them. 

this isn’t to say, “stupid kids, they’re bringing this on themselves by oversharing to the wrong people,” because it’s neither kids’ fault nor unique to children. this kind of oversharing is taking place with all ages and kinds of people on tumblr. 

this is to say, this is what this particular subculture has caused: healthy boundaries are kind of bulldozed to make room for a kind of disorganized sense of community and morality.

7. back to CP on a*3 (does not have questions for you in it, now i’m just talking)

i think this kind of “CP is disgusting and you’re disgusting for looking at it” shit is dangerous. 

things this is NOT because of: 

CP deserves a place online

It’s A Slippery Slope, What Will They Ban Next

um, kinkshaming

there is no point in even trying to get predators off a*3

i just think it’s completely unhelpful. it’s literally a waste of their time. they’re wasting their time and hurting themselves and others in the process. it’s lacking in nuance and perspective. 

what we should be saying is “CP is a red flag. CP tells you something about the person posting it.” 

we shouldn’t be asking “are you okay with child abuse,” we should be asking, “what does this content say about the person posting it? are they unsafe to have around? if i realize too late that they’re unsafe, who can i turn to?” those are the kinds of questions we should be asking if our goal really is to protect people.

what the collection of block lists of supposed abuse apologists says is this: “you have to choose between not having to police online behavior, and proving your morals to me, a complete fucking stranger. if your morals are lacking, you’re out, we don’t speak to you anymore, and we tell everyone who will listen that you are a bad person.” 

not to delegitimize their concerns, but it’s fully just mccarthyism. like... that’s what mccarthyism was like. the fact that mccarthyism was bad isn’t even the point, it’s important to recall that mccarthyism did not work. it stopped happening for myriad reasons, one of which was that it was hurting people and wasting resources and doing absolutely nothing else. 

i obviously don’t want to be labeled “anti-american pinko scum” and fired from my job and disallowed from my neighbor’s house. who would? they’re not actually weeding out anybody dangerous, they’re just rounding people up who are just as angry as they are or who are scared of them lmfao. 

ever since that shitty post of mine went viral (which - “viral,” i guarantee it isn’t viral, i stopped looking at it literally that night) i’ve been terrified that one of these days i’m gonna like, comment on something and have the OP be like “wait a minute, you’re that bitch who made fun of some anti-a*3 people, unfollow me” lmfao. like, that’s what this rhetoric is accomplishing. 

i’m not boohooing, i deserved a slap on the wrist for making rude comments. i’m just telling you the extent of the results they’re getting. they made me feel sad. so at least there’s that. 

8. anti-a*3 people (has questions for anyone in it)

“fine, so we’re not trying to evangelize for not liking CP. so what? we don’t want people who like CP around. supporting that stuff is disgusting. we are blocking them for our own safety and don’t appreciate the tone police coming in and telling us it’s no big deal.” - an anti a*3 person, probably

yeah i mean, i get that. if i was really upset about something important and somebody told me “you’re right, but shut up about it,” i would also be pissed. 

my question, though, is this: is the underage tag on a*3 the limit we want to place on our activism against predators online? at minimum, is yelling at and blocking people about it on tumblr making us feel safer?

and also: how are we going to define the things we are trying to get rid of? what is underage? how do we account for differences in culture? how do we account for nuance when we make broad judgments? 

and also: who do we really hold responsible for this? who do we think is at fault and what do we want them to do?

i feel like we could all benefit from some perspective here.

9. back to you (has questions for you in it)

so like, is it fun? how’d you get the position? how long do you work typically?

do you talk directly with higher-ups or whatever? do you have coworkers?

do you have to read through lots of fic yourself or does stuff get reported to you and then you look at it? 

what other stuff do you report content for, aside from abusive content? like i read a post saying people shouldn’t be advertising their paypal or whatever on their a*3, do you nip stuff like that in the bud or is that something else? 

what if it’s just mistagged, presumably by human error not by a legitimate abuse of the system, what do you do? do you tag it for them or do you reach out to them and tell them to fix it or what?

who decided on the color scheme? can there be a skin that’s orange and avocado green? can you pass that on for whoever does the colors? i think i’d spend more time on any particular website if the color scheme was a nice, desaturated orange and avocado green.

nice

[not-the-cleavers]

Target II - Chapter 6

HOLY SHIT sorry for the delay but I seriously got into a rut of ‘I don’t wanna” then Queen happened but now Chapter 6 is here!!! Now I’m not going to lie I did channel Penelope Garcia from Criminal Minds for a small section of this. Now Four comes across as a fuck boy in this chapter cause ya girl was dealing with some shit while writing this. Also I never thought that I would ever google “how to clean a gun” and “how to care for throwing knives” BUT HERE WE ARE!!!

Tags; @adrenaline-roulette​ and @amy-brooklyn99​ - if you would like to be tagged just let me know

Pairing; Four x Eight (female reader) Fandom; 6 Underground Warnings; Swearing, angst, mentions of trafficking again (sorry), violence against fellow ghosts and smoking Word count; 1.9k (total so far 9.8k) 

Summary; The team has moved onto their next target after dealing with Rovach Alimov, a war criminal named John Dough. Eight has just joined the team and is dying to show how much she deserves to be there

Catch up: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

A week has passed since my last interaction with Billy, was he avoiding me? I was able to keep my mind off the blonde for a while by concentrating on the hard drive and working out who John Dough interacted with most so we could hopefully take down his whole operation. Unfortunately, I made quick work of that task as Dough was meticulously organised. He had folders for business associates, shell companies, calendars and meetings with audio logs, he even had a folder for completed deals, and all were named as such. Normally organised hard drives were sought after, but all I wanted was a massive mess to have to dive into, search for what I need and take my mind off that stupidly beautiful blonde. So I started to make notes, prolonging my work and making the next brief easier, or at least that’s what I was telling myself. I decided a timeline was the best way to figure this guy out, so that’s exactly what I did. I hit play on a random playlist on my iPod to have play in the background while I focused. According to every system I had access to; John Dough did not exist before 2001 when he was 29. There are no birth or death certificates, no school, prison or medical records, no properties or loans under his name. He was effectively like us, a ghost. No real name or family, nothing tying him to anything before his crimes. Which began when he made a name for himself as a hitman. Starting slow, killing random strangers for other random strangers to make money, but without a conscious, it appeared he had no rules when it came to his murder for hire business. Three had previously mentioned almost all hitmen refuse to kill children, a few less refuse to kill women, but this guy had no cut off point. His youngest victim was just 6 months old when the car he was in with his mother exploded, as per the deal with the scumbag husband and father who paid him $500,000 for the hit. In 2008 he left the hitman business and became a human trafficker, more money and more risk involved with that particular lifestyle. And in that position he was able to create all sorts of partnerships with all types of psychopaths and lowlifes, so in 2011 when he decided that he wanted more money and more power, he became an arms dealer. His biggest earning clients were the terrorist cells he supplied with guns and chemical weapons. And that’s what he’s been doing for the past nine years, and that’s what caught One’s eye. One had a sneaking suspicion that Dough has supplied Rovach with the Sarin gas for the attack that he bore witness to all those years ago. Granted One had no idea I knew he was there during that attack, but I gather intelligence, of course I knew he was there.

Eight: Call a brief. One: You sure you’re ready, or do you still need your beauty sleep? Eight: Fuck off cunt. One: This better be fucking good. Hanger, 1 hour.

I busied myself, making seven copies of my notes and timeline and filed one copy into one folder for everyone, shoved another cigarette into my mouth and lit it, pocketed the pack and made my way over to the hanger with the files and my laptop. I had to set up to make this brief go smoothly, because unlike the rest of the ghosts, I have been legally dead for the past 3 years, well before One had recruited me. If One decided that he no longer needed me, I wasn’t stuck for options, he didn’t have to actually kill me and I could make do on my own, and he knew that.

I wirelessly connected my laptop to the multiple screens around the room, giving everyone a decent view of what I’ve found, and just as I was placing the folders around our table, One entered the room, making a scene and complaining that I was making the room smell worse with my cigarettes. “I prefer cigarette smoke over the smell of dried blood that normally floods this room” I sneered in his direction. He just rolled his eyes in response. Slowly everyone filtered in and took their seats, Billy was last in and refused to make eye contact with you. Fuck him; he doesn’t know what he’s missing! With a slight shake of my head I steadied my breath and started going over everything I know. “Alrighty squirrel friends, I have delved deep into this monsters hard drive and this is what I’ve learnt…” I started my monologue, going over the time line I created with all his victims in the early days, moving onto his trafficking days with the photos found a week ago inside their own manila folder for only the brave to look at. Four pushed that folder as far away from him as possible as soon as I mention what was inside. Finishing with his latest weapons deals that were leading to innocent deaths in the hundreds of thousands to possible millions. “Prior to 2001, there is nothing on him. I have no idea what this man was doing before he turned 29 so just in case it wasn’t obvious; John Dough is not his birth name.” this caused a small chuckle from the ghosts. “But what I do know, he travels to meet this man” I flashed a picture of a fat, white and balding man up on the screens for the team to see “twice a month, to eat expensive meals, drink ridiculously old and pricey scotch, smoke Cuban cigars and fuck high end prostitutes. Not to mention secure guns and chemical weapons for the people Dough sells to. His name is Stanislav Zakirov, a high level member of the Russian Mob. Now we could go after this piece of shit as well, but that would be more of a shit show than Hong Kong was. I would recommend hitting Dough after one of these meetings, after Zakirov leaves. This minimises the risk to us, keeps us away from the Russians, and means we can take this fucker down.” The room fell quiet as soon as I finished my speech; I was done talking so I just waited for someone to say something, a glance up at One revealed he was avoiding looking at me after his last words to me in person. After a few minutes with not a single word I decided I was done sitting around, I picked up my laptop once more, I walked past One and said loudly “Was that fucking good enough for you? Prick” lit another cigarette and walked out the hanger.  

Now with nothing to do to take my mind off everything that had happened over the past weeks I felt lost and unable to get rid of my anger, so a ritualistic activity was needed. Cleaning my guns and sharpening my knives. I walked to a rusted airplane fuselage across the lot that was upcycled into the armoury for the team, and over to my gear and started to lay out the items needed. I started with my knives, unsheathing the blades and placing them on the metal bench, and one by one sharpening them with my trusty bastard file, quickly washing away any shavings that might be left on the knife-edge and rubbing them down with lubricant, thankfully gun lubricant works for this as that’s all I had left. As I was sharpening the last blade I noticed it was slightly bent, possibly from the last mission, so I made quick work of straightening it out, placing it slightly offset from a piece of the fuselage and using my body weight. Not the best way to do it but after years I found it was the quickest. After all my knives were sharpened I started the formulaic process of cleaning my guns. Rolling out a towel and placing the brushes, lubricant, cleaning solvent and cotton swabs down and disassembling my guns one at a time. I found myself falling into rhythm, the clicks and smells of the cleaning solution taking my mind off the joke that was this teams current state of being. As I was working on my last gun my heightened instincts told me that someone was coming towards the armoury. I grabbed one of my knives and used my shirt to wipe away any remaining lubricant, and with one swift move I turned on the stool I was on and threw the blade. The knife pierced the plastic on the side of the planes body right by the door, a warning throw, not intended to harm but to scare away whoever was coming. “Fuck me dead Eight! You have to stop doing that to me” One’s voice, dripping with frustration and anger broke the silence of the room. “Maybe you should’ve learnt your lesson from last time and avoid sneaking up on me when I’m pissed off” I sneered, my attention was back to my gun, with one final click the barrel was back in place. “The fuck do you want, can’t you see I’m busy?” “Well we all wanted to know if you were coming back to the briefing or if you were gonna wallow here in self-pity” One snorted. That does it. I let loose another blade, this time aiming for his thigh, but he saw it coming and quickly dodged it. “See I did learn from last time” “Leave me alone One, I’m not in the mood for your bullshit right now. Last I checked, we were the ones working our asses off on your vendetta missions while you hang around out of danger and piss us all off.” I was yelling at this point. I was never one to hide my anger and One had hit just the right buttons, that and Four who was being the exact definition of a fuck boy right now, was enough to make me explode. “Now unless you’re here to apologise I suggest you get lost” my voice was almost a snarl at this point.

That’s when I noticed that the rest of the ghosts were also in the room with us, all but Two seemed surprised by my outburst, and even more so at my complete disregard to if I hit One or not. She had what almost looked like a smile on her lips. One pushed past them all in a huff, a string of profanities leaving his lips, all focused towards me. After a few awkward moments Two broke the silence. “Well I’m no pussy so I’ll speak. We agree with your plan, it’s smart and the easiest way to take him out. Also One is a dick. He wants to apologise but his ego is getting in the way” her French accent bringing an air of class to her words. The rest of the ghosts nodded along with her words.

“Right well he knows where to find me if he decides to pull his head out of his ass and apologise” I told her, standing from my position and making my way out of the room “excuse me, I need to be alone right now” I made my way past my team mates and out into the thick humidity of the Californian desert, unsure where I was going, but knowing I didn’t want to be around anyone.  

[omoi-no-hoka]

My Experience Working in Japan

Fear not--it’s not all gloom and doom.

Today I thought I’d talk a bit about what it’s been like working in Japan for half a decade. I imagine that my experience is probably different from someone who lives in a more metropolitan area like Tokyo. 

Why did you choose Hokkaido?

Hokkaido is the northernmost island/prefecture of Japan. It’s the biggest prefecture and plays a huge role in Japan’s agriculture. Since it’s a separate island from Honshu (the island with Tokyo, Osaka, Kyoto, and pretty much everywhere else of note), not too many foreigners choose to live here. However, there is a small but ever-growing community of winter sports lovers who move here long-term. 

I studied abroad in Hokkaido when I was in uni and fell in love with it. What can I say? I grew up on a farm in a county that had a grand total of three traffic lights, and I just hate the hustle and bustle and endless concrete of big cities. I’d go crazy if I had to live somewhere like Tokyo. I need to see green, I need to hear birds instead of sirens. 

What was your first job, and how did you get it?

I knew by about my third or fourth year of uni that I wanted to go to Japan for a while, so I double majored in the two areas that I knew would help get me a decent job there: Japanese, and English with a focus on linguistics, second language acquisition, and English as a Second Language (ESL). I also obtained a CELTA (Certificate in Teaching English to Speakers of Other Languages) from Cambridge. There are many different TEFL (Teaching English as a Foreign Language) certificates out there, but the CELTA is the most esteemed and recognized worldwide, so that was what I got. 

I ended up looking for teaching jobs in Sapporo, even though it was a much bigger city than I wanted to live in. It has a population of 2 million, and the city I had my eyes on was less than 1/4 of Sapporo’s size. But I couldn’t find any teaching jobs in the smaller city. The job-hunting was difficult, because unless you have a spousal visa or something, the employer has to be able to sponsor a work visa. But sponsoring work visas is very expensive for the company, so many smaller businesses can’t give you a work visa. 

There are many 英会話 (Eikaiwa) English Conversation schools in Japan. Basically, the entire English education curriculum and its implementation in Japanese public schools is...atrocious. Absolutely worthless. The vast majority of students study English for all 6 years of middle and high school and can’t have a simple conversation by the end of it, though they can read and write it somewhat decently. So the Eikaiwa industry was born, and these schools promise parents that their children can have native-like pronunciation and get jobs in fields where English is necessary if they pay outrageous costs for weekly 50-minute lessons. 

There are many big-name Eikaiwas in operation throughout the country, but many of these are so-called ブラック企業 (black kigyou, a.k.a. black businesses) which means that they commit various labor law violations. Most foreigners they hire don’t speak Japanese and aren’t aware of their legal rights, or what they can do when they are violated. A quick google search will show you tons of horror stories from foreigners hired by eikaiwas who didn’t receive pay, were screamed at for calling in sick to work, etc. Basically, most corporate eikaiwas don’t care who is teaching the kids, as long as they are white. You are a piece of meat to them. 

So I avoided all the big-name places and found a small, privately owned Eikaiwa in Sapporo, run by a fellow foreigner. I had a skype interview with her from my living room in America, she hired me, and I moved to Sapporo. I worked there for three years. Despite having a fellow ex-pat as a boss, I was still subjected to the mistreatment of the corporate eikaiwas. No matter how sick I was, despite the fact that we were forbidden from wearing masks (kids need to see our mouths for pronunciation), and despite the fact that I was constantly around infants, I was ordered to “take an aspirin and get to work.” I was under the impression I was enrolled in the Japanese pension, but after two years of working there I learned that we were not, in fact, enrolled in the pension. This is illegal, and I was forced to pay about $4,000 USD in backpay to the pension. My employers refused to provide assistance paying this even though by law the employer is required to pay 50% of an employee’s pension. 

So yeah. Not too fun really. The kids were really cute, though, and I didn’t hate teaching English. But after 3 years, I was ready to move on.

What’s your current job, and how did you get it?

The three years I worked at the Eikaiwa, I studied Japanese at least one hour every night, and at least 8-10 hours on the weekends. I had the conversation and grammar down, but my kanji and vocabulary was lacking so all I did was read, read, read. Thanks to that, I passed the JLPT N1 and my Japanese reached a level that I could survive in a Japanese workplace. 

Fed up with my current job and jaded of teaching, I looked for translation jobs in companies in Hokkaido. But there were absolutely zilch. I realized that (in Hokkaido), there were no jobs for foreigners other than teaching English. The situation was so hopeless that I actually looked for jobs back in the United States and applied for a couple. Moving back home after only 3 years of living abroad felt like defeat and I didn’t want to leave Japan, but I just couldn’t take the eikaiwa industry anymore, and I knew that I would only spiral further into depression in a metropolis like Tokyo. 

In June of 2017, I sent out some applications and applied to headhunting agencies in America. And in August, a friend here in Hokkaido called me with some incredible news. A student of hers was working as a temp translator for a company in the city I had originally wanted to live in. He needed a replacement, and would I be interested?

I couldn’t believe it. Translation was my dream job, and it was in my dream city. I immediately called to find out more, and I looked up how to make a Japanese resume. Did you know that resumes are printed on A3 paper and hand written?! Good lord, I spent about 9 hours writing and re-writing it because I don’t have good handwriting in Japanese. I went in for an interview. They said they would match the pay of my current job and then some, that I would have business trips to Tokyo, that there was a very likely chance I would get to see other parts of Japan due to this job, that I would be able to build experience in multiple fields at once, that they would give me all the benefits that they are legally obligated to give (lol), and they would let me go home to America for extended periods as long as I took my work laptop and didn’t mind doing a bit of work while I was there. It was everything I dreamed of, so of course I accepted the position. 

And the cherry on top? The guy who gave me the interview had a very unusual last name, which I’ll say is K___. At the end of the interview, he asked, “By the way, do you know anyone else named K___?”

Me: “Well, actually I do have a student whose last name is K___.”

And he smiles and says, “Yeah, that’s my daughter.”

In a city of 2 million people, about 700 children aged 0-18 were enrolled in my Eikaiwa. Out of those 700, I taught about 120. And out of all of those kids, one of them turned out to be the daughter of the man who gave me my interview and would become my boss! WHAT ARE THE CHANCES?! It still blows my mind to think about. 

Later, after I was hired and we went for drinks after work, he told me that the moment he had seen my resume and the name of the Eikaiwa, he had gone to his daughter and asked, “Hey, do you know omoi-no-hoka-sensei? What’s she like?” His daughter said a bunch of really nice things about me, and he decided that if his daughter liked me, then I must be a good addition to the company. Before the interview he had already decided to hire me. 

It just goes to show that you should always be your best because you never know who’s watching!

So yeah, I quit my job at the eikaiwa, moved to my dream city, and started my dream job two years ago. My coworkers are all really, really nice. My bosses are all great. I’m the only person in my whole office that speaks English though, so sometimes I get a bit lonely in that regard. But because I’m the only one who speaks English and this is a global company with headquarters in America, I get asked to do a bunch of miscellaneous tasks, so I’m never bored! Sometimes this means I have a lot of overtime, though. It’s not uncommon to have a 12 hour work-day. But in my downtime between translation requests, I make most of these Tumblr posts. 

[toomicsguide]

Toomics Cheats

Toomics Guide

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[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN USERS

Smoking rapidly became a statistically normal thing. As societies get richer, they learn something about everything and everything about something.1 In fact it's the old model: mainframe applications are all server-based software assumes nothing about the paths from poor to rich, I knew I could see myself—making at least 4 of these 5 mistakes. And bingo, there it is: The Men's Wearhouse.2 But as knowledge has grown more specialized, there are few strong enough to keep working on something no one around them cares about.3 As well as being smarter, they tend to be calmer and more upstanding; they don't need you, it will work anywhere the Web works. It was only then that we realized that they were started there. Unless you're planning to write math applications, of course. Where is the man bites dog in that?

Life in Berkeley is very civilized. During the 90s a lot of money. The simplest answer is to put them in a row. They were also a kind of semantic deficit spending: they knew new things were coming. Professors in New York and the Bay area are second class citizens—till they start hedge funds or startups respectively. I recommend being good. But I remember thinking his company's name was odd. They were also a kind of selflessness. That VC round was a series B round; the premoney valuation was $75 million. Economic power would have been the part where we were working hard, the groups all turned out to be, there are no customs yet to guide you. He tried to make it open. It's not something people tend to volunteer; one likes it the way one likes popping zits.

I want to do better. They usually know other founders, and certainly not you as an investor. And once you've written the software, and issue a press release saying that the new version was available immediately.4 Startups are stressful, and this made their software visibly inferior because among other things, incubators usually make you work in their office—that's where the word incubator comes from. The thesis seems to be that the most important consequence of realizing there can be good art is thus a property of the subject or the object if subjects all react similarly. What most don't realize is how late.5 What you're doing is business creation. Google does. There are sometimes minor tactical advantages to using one or the other, like a detective trying to unravel some mystery.

But writing and art are both very hard problems that some people work honestly at, so they're worth doing, especially if you can see your email, why not your calendar? VCs are pretty good at reading people. PR firms. Whatever looked like the biggest win.6 Treat the first few as an educational expense. Developers have used the accelerometer in ways Apple could never have imagined. So I added a message at that point. In art, the highest place has traditionally been given to paintings of people.

The self-reinforcing nature of this situation works the other way too: the less you need further investment, the easier it is to travel widely, in both time and space. The only place your judgement makes a difference is in the direction of over-engineering. The summer founders were as a rule of thumb from now on that if people don't think you're weird, you're living badly. Much of what's in the sage's head is also in the head of every twelve year old. If a physicist met a colleague from 100 years ago. I doubt it could be any other way, as long as the potential returns look good enough. Odds are this project won't be a class assignment.7 Our only expenses in that phase were food and rent.8

Why does John Grisham King of Torts sales rank, 44 outsell Jane Austen Pride and Prejudice: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good novel wouldn't complain that readers were unfair for preferring a potboiler with a racy cover. Viaweb let multiple users edit a site simultaneously, more because that was the truth. All you'll need will be something with a keyboard, a screen, and a funnel for peers. We always looked for new ways to give stuff away for free if advertisers would let them. His office was nicknamed the Hot Tub on account of the heat they generated. They're as expert in their world as you are in yours.9 Shockley Semiconductor, though itself not very successful, was big enough. The cheery, bland language of the people in a position of independence, they develop the qualities they need. It's something you're more likely to work in the end, and now he's a professor at MIT.10 This is particularly true of young people who have till now always been under the thumb of some kind of paternal responsibility toward employees without putting employees in the position of children. From this point, anyone proposing to run Windows on servers should be prepared to explain what to look for in founders. Because ambitions are to some extent marketing as well.11

How do you be a good angel investor? And how do you avoid mistakes you make by default? Most people who did great things were clumped together in a few top university departments and research labs—partly because investors are so unlike hackers, and they even let kids in.12 Currently the way VCs seem to operate is to invest in a bunch of ads, glued together by just enough articles to make it true, and the fact that they control Google, which affects practically everyone. Microsoft do? Among other things, they had no way around the statelessness of CGI scripts. Most high school students have searched for does not seem to exist.

Notes

Acquirers can be done, she expresses it by smiling more. And of course reflects a willful misunderstanding of what they too were feeling in 1914.

Ii.

I've said into something that would appeal to investors, you need to import is broader, ranging from designers to programmers to electrical engineers.

Founders rightly dislike the sort of person who would in itself, and Smartleaf co-founder before making any commitments. The other reason it used to end investor meetings with So, can I count you in? There's a variant of Reid Hoffman's principle that you can play it safe by excluding VC firms have started to give them sufficient activation energy required to notice them.

5%.

Revenue will ultimately be hurting yourself, if the statistics they consider are useful, how little autonomy one would say that I'm clueless or even being deliberately misleading by focusing so much on the blades may work for us, the airplane, the median VC loses money. I don't think you need to play games with kids' credulity.

Yes, there are before the name Homer, to the home team, I've become a function of the big winners are all that matters, just their sizes. Look at what adults told children in the succession of spectacular treason trials that punctuated Henry's erratic matrimonial progress made him an obvious candidate for grants of monastic property. Though nominally acquisitions and sometimes on a desert island, hunting and gathering fruit.

They'll be more likely to resort to expedients like selling autographed copies, or black beans n cubes Knorr beef or vegetable bouillon n teaspoons freshly ground black pepper 3n teaspoons ground cumin n cups dry rice, preferably brown Robert Morris wrote the first language to embody the principle that if a company they'd pay a premium for you by accidents of age and geography, rather than for any particular truths you'll learn. But no planes crash if your school, secretly write your thoughts down in, but this could be pleasure in a bar.

And I've never heard of investors want to change the number of startups have some kind of people we need to, so they will or at least for those founders.

In a project like a winner, they tend to say they prefer great markets to great people. But the most successful ones tend not to say they were still so small that no one on the parental dole for life in general we've done ok at fundraising is a scarce resource. The obvious choice for your side project.

The point of a cent per spam. One of the Daddy Model that it makes sense to exclude outliers from some types of applicants—for example, if you like a loser they're done, at least notice duplication though, because they can't afford to. But it's telling that it refers to features you could get a poem published in The New Yorker. This is what you love, or because they couldn't afford a monitor.

Actually he's no better or worse than Japanese car companies have been the first version was mostly Lisp, you should. I'm pathologically optimistic about people's ability to solve a lot of successful startups. There are some good proposals too.

[deniscollins]

In Amazon’s Bookstore, No Second Chances for the Third Reich

In 1998, when Amazon was an ambitious start-up, its founder, Jeff Bezos, said, “We want to make every book available — the good, the bad and the ugly.” Customers reviews, he said, would “let truth loose.”  David Duke has published several books advocating for the Ku Klux Klan, an American white supremacist hate group that argues for the purifying American society of African Americans, often based on distorted information. If you were an Amazon executive would you: (1) allow David Duke’s Klan books to be sold in honor of freedom of speech, or (2) ban Klan books by David Duke, as well as other KKK advocacy books? Why? What are the ethics underlying your decision?

Amazon is quietly canceling its Nazis.

Over the past 18 months, the retailer has removed two books by David Duke, a former leader of the Ku Klux Klan, as well as several titles by George Lincoln Rockwell, the founder of the American Nazi Party. Amazon has also prohibited volumes like “The Ruling Elite: The Zionist Seizure of World Power” and “A History of Central Banking and the Enslavement of Mankind.”

While few may lament the disappearance of these hate-filled books, the increasing number of banished titles has set off concern among some of the third-party booksellers who stock Amazon’s vast virtual shelves. Amazon, they said, seems to operate under vague or nonexistent rules.

“Amazon reserves the right to determine whether content provides an acceptable experience,” said one recent removal notice that the company sent to a bookseller.

Facebook, Twitter and YouTube have been roiled in recent years by controversies that pit freedom of speech against offensive content. Amazon has largely escaped this debate. But with millions of third-party merchants supplying much of what Amazon sells to tens of millions of customers, that ability to maintain a low profile may be reaching its end.

Amazon began as a bookstore and, even as it has moved on to many more lucrative projects, now controls at least two-thirds of the market for new, used and digital volumes in the United States. With its profusion of reader reviews, ability to cut prices without worrying about profitability and its control of the electronic book landscape, to name only three advantages, Amazon has immense power to shape what information people are consuming.

Yet the retailer declines to provide a list of prohibited books, say how they were chosen or even discuss the topic. “Booksellers make decisions every day about what selection of books they choose to offer,” it said in a statement.

Gregory Delzer is a Tennessee bookseller whose Amazon listings account for about a third of his sales. “They don’t tell us the rules and don’t let us have a say,” he said. “But they squeeze us for every penny.”

Nazi-themed items regularly crop up on Amazon, where they are removed under its policy on “offensive and controversial materials.” Those rules pointedly do not apply to books. Amazon merely says that books for sale on its site “should provide a positive customer experience.”

Now Amazon is becoming increasingly proactive in removing Nazi material. It even allowed its own Nazi-themed show, “The Man in the High Castle,” to be cleaned up for a tribute book. The series, which began in 2015 and concluded in November, is set in a parallel United States where the Germans and the Japanese won World War II.

“High Castle” is lavish in its use of National Socialist symbols. “There’s nothing that there isn’t a swastika on,” the actor Rufus Sewell, who played the Nazi antihero, said in a promotional video. The series promoted its portrayal of “the controlling aesthetic of Hitler” in its nomination for a special effects Emmy.

But in “The Man in the High Castle: Creating the Alt World,” published in November by Titan Books, the swastikas and eagle-and-crosses were digitally erased from Mr. Sewell’s uniform, from Times Square and the Statue of Liberty, even from scenes set in Berlin. A note on the copyright page said, “We respect, in this book, the legal and ethical responsibility of not perpetuating the distribution of the symbols of oppression.”

An Amazon spokeswoman said, “We did not make editorial edits to the images.” Titan, which wanted to market the book in Germany, where laws on Nazi imagery are strict, said Amazon approved the changes.

Some fans of the series said they found reading the book as dystopian as the show itself. “If you can’t even have swastikas shown in a book about Nazis taking over America, please do not make books ever again,” wrote one reviewer.

When Amazon drops a book from its store, it is as if it never existed. A recent Google search for David Duke’s “My Awakening: A Path to Racial Understanding” on Amazon yielded a link to a picture of an Amazon employee’s dog. Amazon sellers call these dead ends “dog pages.”

Some booksellers, who spoke on the condition of anonymity for fear of retaliation, said they had no problem with the retailer converting as many offensive books to dog pages as it wished.

Mr. Delzer, the proprietor of a secondhand store in Nashville called Defunct Books, has a different view. “If Amazon executives are so proud of their moral high ground, they should issue memos about which books they are banning instead of keeping sellers and readers in the dark,” he said.

The bookseller said he only knew Amazon was forbidding titles because he received an automated message from the retailer, saying two used books he sold seven years ago — “Conspiracy of the Six-Pointed Star: Eye-Opening Revelations and Forbidden Knowledge About Israel, the Jews, Zionism, and the Rothschilds” and “Toward the White Republic” — were now proscribed.

“This product was identified as one that is prohibited for sale,” Amazon told him. Failure to immediately delete listings for these books, the company said, “may result in the deactivation of your selling account” and possible confiscation of any money he was owed.

Amazon said it didn’t really mean any of that about “Toward the White Republic.” “We did not intend to imply the book itself could not be listed for sale,” it said in a statement.

As for “Conspiracy of the Six-Pointed Star,” which is widely available from other online booksellers, Amazon said the book did not comply with its “content guidelines.”

Mr. Delzer said the email, which he posted on an Amazon forum, was clear and Amazon was dissembling about “White Republic.”

A bookseller since 2001, Mr. Delzer said he does not condone white supremacist material but believes people should be free to read what they want. The biggest seller in his shop at the moment is by Greta Thunberg, the young climate activist.

“Amazon wants its customers to trust Amazon,” he said. “The place that sells books doesn’t want much critical thinking.”

In 1998, when Amazon was an ambitious start-up, its founder, Jeff Bezos, said, “We want to make every book available — the good, the bad and the ugly.” Customers reviews, he said, would “let truth loose.”

That expansive philosophy narrowed over the years. In 2010, when the news media discovered the self-published “Pedophile’s Guide to Love and Pleasure” on the site, the retailer’s first reaction was to hang tough.

“Amazon believes it is censorship not to sell certain books simply because we or others believe their message is objectionable,” it said at the time.

That resolution wilted in the face of a barrage of hostility and boycott threats. Amazon pulled the book.

Deborah Caldwell-Stone, director of the American Library Association’s Office for Intellectual Freedom, said Amazon has the same First Amendment right as any retailer.

“Amazon has a First Amendment right to pick and choose the materials they offer,” she said. “Despite its size, it does not have to sponsor speech it finds unacceptable.”

Physical bookstores rarely stock supremacist literature, for no other reason than it would alienate many customers. The question is whether Amazon, because of its size and power, should behave differently.

“I’m not going to argue for the wider distribution of Nazi material,” said Danny Caine of the Raven Book Store in Lawrence, Kan., who is the author of a critical pamphlet, “How to Resist Amazon and Why.” “But I still don’t trust Amazon to be the arbiters of free speech. What if Amazon decided to pull books representing a less despicable political viewpoint? Or books critical of Amazon’s practices?”

Amazon’s newfound zeal to remove “the ugly” extends beyond the Nazis. The order page for the e-book of The Nation of Islam’s “The Secret Relationship Between Blacks and Jews” stated last week, “This title not currently available for purchase.”

“The Man in the High Castle” was based on a 1962 novel of the same name by Philip K. Dick, whose stories are often about the slippery nature of reality and how it will be controlled in the future by governments and corporations. One character in the streaming series was Mr. Rockwell, the American Nazi Party founder.

In photos in “Creating the Alt World,” the tribute book, the swastika around Mr. Rockwell’s neck was removed. The real life Mr. Rockwell has been largely removed from Amazon’s bookstore as well.

After a complaint by a member of Congress in 2018, a children’s book that Mr. Rockwell wrote disappeared from Amazon. So did his book “White Power.” Other Rockwell material, like The Stormtrooper Magazine, is described as “currently unavailable.”

Some sellers circumvent the blocks by listing titles with a word or two changed, other booksellers said. One seller said he recently received a message from Amazon that several titles by Savitri Devi, also known as “Hitler’s Priestess,” were forbidden. But they are now on the site. And a copy of “Toward the White Republic” recently popped up on Amazon, for $973 plus postage.

There is still an abundance of other Nazi material available on Amazon, much of it with favorable reviews. There is the “SS Leadership Guide,” many editions of Hitler’s “Mein Kampf” and Joseph Goebbels’s “Nature and Form of National Socialism,” to name just a few.

That only underlines how hard it can be to tell exactly what Amazon’s rules are. The confusion is reinforced by AbeBooks, the biggest secondhand book platform outside of Amazon itself.

Some of the books dropped from Amazon are available on Abe. Recently, there were 18 copies of Mr. Duke’s books on Abe, at prices up to $150. Amazon, which owns Abe, declined to comment.