#iPad Cover and Keyboard

[typecase07]

Best iPad Pro 12.9 3rd Generation Case with Typecase Keyboard 

When it comes to maximizing the functionality of your iPad Pro, a quality keyboard case is an essential accessory. Not only does it provide protection, but it also transforms your iPad into a productivity powerhouse. If you’re searching for the perfect combination of style, protection, and usability, the iPad Pro 12.9 3rd Generation Case with Keyboard and iPad Cover and Keyboard from Typecase are the ultimate solutions.

The Importance of a Quality iPad Pro 12.9 3rd Generation Case with Keyboard

The iPad Pro 12.9 3rd Generation is a powerful device, but to unlock its full potential, pairing it with the right accessories is crucial. A case with a keyboard is not just an accessory; it's an investment in productivity. The Typecase offers a robust iPad Pro 12.9 3rd Generation Case with Keyboard that seamlessly combines protection with a responsive, tactile keyboard.

This case is designed to protect your iPad from drops, scratches, and everyday wear and tear while also providing a comfortable typing experience. The keyboard is backlit, allowing you to work efficiently in low-light conditions, and the keys are well-spaced, ensuring that your typing is fast and accurate. Additionally, the Typecase keyboard is detachable, giving you the flexibility to use your iPad in different modes – whether you're typing, sketching, or watching a video.

Why Choose an iPad Cover and Keyboard?

An iPad Cover and Keyboard is essential for anyone who uses their iPad on the go. The Typecase iPad Cover and Keyboard not only provides all-around protection for your iPad but also enhances its functionality. Whether you're a student, a professional, or someone who enjoys using their iPad for entertainment, this accessory is designed to meet your needs.

The Typecase iPad Cover and Keyboard is lightweight and easy to carry, making it ideal for travel. It offers multiple viewing angles, so you can adjust your iPad to the perfect position for typing, drawing, or browsing. The keyboard connects easily via Bluetooth, ensuring a stable connection without the need for additional cables or connectors.

Compatibility and Versatility with Typecase

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The keyboard is compatible with iOS, providing shortcuts and commands that are intuitive and easy to use. Whether you're editing documents, creating presentations, or simply sending emails, the Typecase keyboard enhances your efficiency and productivity.

Enhance Your Workflow with Typecase

Investing in a high-quality iPad Pro 12.9 3rd Generation Case with Keyboard or iPad Cover and Keyboard can significantly enhance your workflow. The Typecase products are designed with the user in mind, offering a blend of protection, functionality, and style. The durable materials used in these cases ensure that your iPad is safe from the rigors of daily use, while the sleek design adds a touch of sophistication.

Moreover, the Typecase keyboard features a long-lasting battery, so you don't have to worry about constantly recharging it. With a single charge, you can use the keyboard for several weeks, depending on your usage. This makes it an ideal accessory for those who are always on the move.

Final Thoughts

The iPad Pro 12.9 3rd Generation Case with Keyboard and iPad Cover and Keyboard from Typecase are perfect companions for your iPad. They offer a combination of protection, enhanced productivity, and stylish design that is hard to beat. Whether you’re working on a big project, taking notes in class, or enjoying your favorite movies, these accessories provide the versatility and convenience you need.

[emily-mooon]

To make up for the fact that I didn’t do anything for them for Christmas, here’s another fake shoujo magazine chapter cover :]

pose ref ↓

HAHA ITS FROM ITAKISS!!!! Naoki and kotoko are nothing like the blorbs but I thought this pose worked for that scene (it’s apart of a much large page split into two images, but I decided to crop it cause the rest of it doesn’t matter tbh)

[lightspren]

i’m kinda excited bc my dad is upgrading his ipad and offered the old one, so since my siblings didn’t need it I claimed it. I’m gonna get a stylus and a bluetooth keyboard and then get to write on the go and try and get back into drawing :)

[certifiedwerewolf]

Well, my charger on my laptop is officially not working. I’m currently using my ipad which will hopefully help a little bit with typing but I am officially stuck on mobile until I can replace my charger. Oh and my ipad keyboard is also on its way out so certain keys don’t work without fighting them. Like K and G and M and V, which you never realize how much you use until they aren’t working.

I’m reblogging this to my poll blogs, so if you’re following one of those, current status is that the polls are on hold until I can replace my charger. This won’t have much effect on the Discworld bracket since that one is open till the 25th, but for the crossover ship bracket we’re going to stall out for awhile. I can still work on pairing everything into the brackets but that’s the extent of what I can do until I can get back on my laptop. Sorry.

Oh and I just realized my ipad has a crack in it too. That’s fun 🙃

I will be able to replace my cord in a couple weeks but I already had to borrow from my rent money to get groceries this week so next check is going to be tight since I need to put that back, so there’s no question of replacing it. If you would like me to get off of mobile sooner, my paypal is linked in my pinned post. Any help you can give me will be appreciated; I have only been typing on my ipad for about ten minutes and already I want to throw something.

[eve209]

‼️‼️SMUT WARNING CAUSE IM PISSED‼️‼️

FOR SOME BACK STORY: on Roblox I got banned for a day then when I was logging back in it wouldn’t let me do to the 2 step vari so….I’m mad rn tbh and I wanna fuck Roblox

ROBLOX X TOP MALE READER

THIS FANFIC IS JOKE PLS (kinda short)

(Update that account got deleted…)

‼️WARINGS‼️ punishment, spanking, light choking, degrading, little praise here and there, daddy kink (only 2 times though), pet names, mirror fucking, almost gettin caught, sir kink.

_________________________________________

“FUCKING HELL DUDE” I said bashing my head on my keyboard then looking back up at the screen in front of me.

“What are you mad about this time?” My homie,  Kayden on the call said while chucking.

“Ya know how got ban from Roblox yesterday?”

“Mhm”

“well now I’m trying to log in and it says I have to have a 6 digit code that got sent to my email and I didn’t hook a FUCKING EMAIL ON MY ACCOUNT.”

“PFFFFFF HAHAHA, do ya want me to come over and help with it? Maybe I can spend the night or somethin.” Alex said while I heard him shuffling for something, probably his phone.

“But then I have to wait 45 minutes for you to drive here tf am I going to do in the mean time!?” I said while stretching out my arms and pushing my gaming chair back with my feet till it hit my bed while still having my headset on.

“It’s ok dude your gonna live im packing rn so hold tight and jerk off or somethin.” Alex said.

“BRO WTF-“ I said while getting cut off by the end call sound.

“Fucking hell…” I said breathing out but again getting interrupted by a strange noise coming from the pc. Bringing my head back down from looking up at the ceiling while everything started to violently shake around me.

“What the fuck is happening!” I said gripping the arm rests of the chair then closing my eyes and waiting for everything to be over.

….

…….

Suddenly everything stopped. ‘What the fuck..’ I thought opening my eyes slowly while feeling pressure on my lap.

“Hi there! I heard you are having a hard time logging into your Roblox account! May I help you in anyway to satisfy you?” A soft male voice said above me while I was looking my lap seeing tight, outlined thighs with a small bulge in between.

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU!?” I said looking up, following the tanned body that’s connected to the thighs I was checkin out earlier.

“Oh I’m sorry dear! I’m Roblox! I’m sorry I forgot to introduce myself! Your having trouble right? Well I’m here to take that trouble away!” Said Roblox while holding an iPad, still sitting on my lap.

“Y-yeah I am having trouble. My names (M/n) by the way..” I said lightly grabbing his waist so his ass can stop grinding on my dick.

“Yep! I already know that but thank you for reminding me!” He said but then quickly adding onto it while starting to turn around to the PC, “What seems to be the problem sir?”

‘Fuck…’ I thought while still holding on to his waist. The sight of his round, squish-able ass on my covered dick kinda turned me on. ‘I never knew a fucking app could have such a fuckable ass…’

“Um sir, what you do need help with?” Roblox said while slightly turning his body to the side to look at me.

“Oh yeah um I can’t log into my Roblox account because it says I need a six digit code thats sent to my email but it didn’t send me it so I don’t know what to do.” I said scratching the back of my head while looking up at him, still on my lap.

“Oh well are you sure that you checked your inbox?”

“I’m pretty fucking sure…” I said tilting my head back.

“Well then I’m sorry sir but I don’t know how to help you then…you probably turned on two-step verification and didn’t put an email to go with it!” Roblox said, moving his body to face me again while resting his hands on my chest, and looking at me.

With a deep sigh coming from my mouth, I moved my hands to go under his butt and stood up while still holding him and walking to my bed and placing Roblox in the middle of it.

“Um sir! W-what are you d-doing!” Roblox said moving his hands to clutch the pillow, his head was laying on.

“You said you were here to take my trouble away right?” I said, taking off my hoodie I had on.

“Y-Yes! That’s what I’m here for, but what are you doing!” Roblox said with a worried look.

“Well I have some trouble with my dick and I think you would be perfect and you need a punishment for not doing your job right.” I said putting a hand next to Roblox’s face and looking down on him. “How does that sound princess?” I said slipping my hand down to grab his ass.

POV NOW IN 3RD PERSON

“But sir- MHMM!~” Roblox stuttered before (M/n) smashed his lips onto his roughly and slipped his tongue in his mouth.

As (M/n) was taking his sweatpants and boxers off, he took his tongue out of Roblox’s mouth to replace them with two of his own fingers.

“Fuck baby, look at how hard my dick is because of you.” (M/n) said, grabbing his cock and jerking himself off while taking his fingers out of Roblox’s mouth and entering his fingers in his tight hole. After stuffing his fingers in, (M/n) immediately started to thrust his fingers faster and harder making Roblox scream in pleasure.

After a couple of minutes, Roblox’s tight hole was already nice and loose, which once (M/n) realized this, he took his fingers out and stopped jerking his massive cock off. “Fucking hell, do you know how much time and money I put in that stupid fucking account since I was like 10?” (M/n) said, grabbing Roblox’s neck, choking him, and leaning down to slide his tongue around Roblox’ s face cheek.

“P-please sir! I’m s-so sorry I couldn’t help but I-!~ AH!” Roblox said before getting cut off by (M/n) thrusting his cock into Roblox’s pathetic hole, making Roblox cum right then and there.

“S-shit Baby your still so fuckin tight after fingering your hole for 10 minutes, goddamn slut.” (M/n) said til grabbing onto his neck. Roblox couldn’t even get a breather, nor thought in before (M/n) started thrusting fast into Roblox, making their skin slap together.

“AHH~! DADDY PLEASE!~~ it’s to much! Please daddy I just c-came! Wait wait w-wait!” Roblox said tears of overstimulation and pleasure running down his face.

“God princess, just take it.” (M/n) said while smacking Roblox’s ass.

After 20 minutes of thrusting, choking, degrading and praise, (M/n) still hasn’t came deep inside Roblox like he wants! Unlike (M/n), Roblox has came 3 times already, almost passing out. “F-fuck what a good boy you are baby, such a big dick for a tight ass like yours and your still taking it.” (M/n) said smirking as Roblox arched his back.

“Fuck! S-sir! I-it’s to m-much! Ah!~” Roblox said screaming as (M/n)s dick reached the deepest part of him.

*knock knock knock*

….

“Who the fuck….” (M/n) said stopping, but not pulling out of Roblox. Roblox whimpered,  tightening around (M/n)s cock. Breathing heavily, Roblox asked (M/n) “W-why did y-you st-“. “HEY DUDE WTF ARE YOU DOING??” Kayden said still knocking on the door.

“F-fuck um ONE SECOND LET ME GO TAKE A SHOWER!” (M/n) said covering Roblox’s mouth in the process.

“NAH MAN WTF I WAS JOKING ABOUT YOU JERKING OFF YOU FREAK” Kayden said, laughing and fidgeting with the door.

“BRO STFU I HATE U I DIDNT DO THAT” (M/n) said picking up Roblox and walking to his bathroom in his room. Quickly turning the shower on and sitting on the lid of the toilet. (M/n) breathes and slaps Roblox’s butt and throws his head back before looking at Roblox and whispering..

“You think you can be quiet?”

[wisteria-blooms]

sunburns & dragons (charlie weasley & reader) (8/??)

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST AT THE BOTTOM! (Let me know if you'd like to be added or if I've missed you!) A/N: Sorry this took so long to get out! I've been experimenting using my iPad + keyboard to edit which messed up my coordination on my laptop, if that's any excuse. It's just been hard to edit in this little rut where I can't bear to read what I write, but stick around, things are going to get exciting after this...

(GIF credits to @alicent-targaryen; I have so much trouble properly crediting when the GIF isn't the first in the set, ahh).

CHAPTER 8: Foolishly thinking things would slow down after Charlie moved in with you, you find that you're dead wrong. In fact, he finds a new way to integrate into your life: by attending the highly-anticipated book club meeting your mother had invited you to. But as you watch women flock to him like bees to honey, you find another problem to deal with, one that involves your heart. (6.6k words)

CHAPTER 8: TEA TIME (YOU'RE SO VAIN)

And all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner, they'd be your partner...

“(Y/N)! Congratulations on the new place—”

“It’s every bit as beautiful as Bill described to us—”

“Perfect for a new couple, truly—”

Fred and George strode through the ajar door while talking amongst themselves as if they were walking into their own place. They displayed absolutely no respect for your sacred space. However, you felt no need to stop them from where you were in the kitchen—you were expecting them on this lovely Friday afternoon. After all, you’d invited them.

George cradled a large, wrapped box. He was strong but you could tell it was heavy by the slight strain in his arms. Fred, conversely, easily held a bottle of wine adorned with a ribbon on the neck.

“Thought we’d bring some housewarming gifts,” George said, setting his present on the counter.

“Had to guess most of it, as you and Charlie didn’t have a registry of any sorts,” Fred quipped, a smug look on his face, proud of his insinuation of you being married.

“Very funny.” You rolled your eyes. “When are you going to give that up? You seem to be the only ones who know the truth, but refuse to acknowledge it.”

You should’ve expected their answer that was given in unison: “Never.” 

“I do appreciate the gifts,” you said earnestly. Underneath their teasing tones, Fred and George were still your greatest friends, and you were appreciative of their generosity.

You laid two palms on the box George had set on your kitchen island. “What’s this?” 

“Open it up and see,” offered George. 

Delicately, you began to unwrap the gift, plucking the tape off and careful not to rip the paper. 

“Save us the anticipation and just rip it open, will you?” Fred suggested, finishing off his remark with an animalistic shake of his head, like he was a lion tearing his prey’s flesh. The prey being your present.

“I’ve been conditioned not to do that,” you explained with a gentle sigh, recalling all your mother’s scoldings when you used to tear into presents as a child. When you set the edges of the wrapping paper down, you beamed at what was in the box. “An espresso machine! Really, Georgie?”

George nodded proudly. “Figured you’d need your coffee first thing in the morning.”

You enveloped him in a warm hug. “Oh, you know me so well.”

George rolled up his sleeves. “I‘ll get it set up,” he offered.

“And I’ve procured some wine for when you need a sleeping aid,” Fred added.

“Thank you,” you responded. “ Now I’ll have my morning and nights covered.”

Fred placed a hand on your shoulder and gently guided you away. “Let’s see Charlie’s room.”

You stiffened. How many times and to how many people were you going to have to explain this one? “It’s not his room.”

“Then what is it?” Fred queried innocently.

“It’s a guest bedroom.”

“We can debate the semantics of the love lair”—Fred had to suppress a laugh when your face contorted menacingly, and even George tried to stifle his laugh—“ but for now, give me and Georgie a tour of the this lovely place, will you?”

When the two jests had finally left after dinner, you closed the door and leaned against it. Fred and George’s footsteps faded with each passing second. You drew a deep breath. After the initial onslaught of visitors, being alone felt splendid. 

You lit a candle and began drawing a bath when you returned to the bathroom. Stripped away were the comforts of Dobby’s aid and you were left alone to your devices. You were off to a good start and you were going to prove you could manage just fine. You submerged yourself in the hot water to wash the grime and the weight of workweek away. 

When you were clean and dry, you slipped into a silk nightgown, the one with thin straps that hung over your shoulders and whose hem just covered your thighs. It was by far the comfiest because of how little material there was. You walked into the kitchen to fetch yourself a glass of water but not without admiring your space shrouded in moonlight first. The only thing keeping you from touching a blanket of stars were your windows. The flowers you’d received from the move-in were still in full bloom, the steel from George’s espresso machine gleamed, and your couch was plush and cozy. 

It was lovely and inviting. You didn’t regret moving out at all, no matter how difficult the circumstances were initially.

“So this is what freedom feels like,” you hummed. You loved the feeling of wearing and doing anything you wanted—you were the master of the house. 

You then ambled back to your bedroom. You set the glass down and walked over to the window to appreciate another view of the city—something you didn’t get back at home. Your eyes found the dome structure of King’s Cross station immediately. Hues of yellow and magenta surrounded the space to guide passengers and it stuck out like a sore thumb in the silence of the night.

You shut your curtains and crawled into bed.  You wondered how Charlie was doing, if his train was timely and if the ride was comfortable. As you fell asleep, you hoped the answer was ‘yes, it was.’

You didn’t know what time it was when a light roused you. Your mind was still clouded with sleep and you had just the slightest bit of consciousness. A weak beam of light seeped out from below the bathroom door. You heard the running of the tap and the bristling of a toothbrush on teeth. 

When the bathroom light flickered off, a new one flickered on. This one was more faint, further from you. 

“Wow.” 

That was all you heard before the second light shut off. You were far too deep in sleep to inquire about what you were seeing or hearing. Probably ghosts of Charlie floating about, taunting you and luring you into wicked, unthinkable dreams. 

When you fully roused in the morning, you rubbed your eyes. The feeling of complete rest tingled pleasantly in your body. You walked over to the window where blackout curtains shielded you from the sunlight. You swung them open and let the light filter in, illuminating every crevice of your new bedroom. You walked into your washroom to brush your teeth, wash your face, and to tame your hair. 

Remembering that George had generously gifted you an espresso machine, you hurried out of your room to get a sip of that sweet substance. 

The first thing you saw when you exited your bedroom was a black topcoat hanging from the rack. Below it, mounted by the wall, was a pair of slightly scuffed leather boots. Fred and George left with all their belongings, so the coat and shoes couldn’t have been theirs. Your heart skipped a beat and fear consumed your body: there was an intruder in the house. 

The most rational thing to do would be to bolt out the front door and to call security for help and enlist someone more qualified to dispose of the intruder. But pride got the best of you, and you decided you weren’t a damsel in distress who needed saving anymore. It could’ve been Fred or George coming back to play an elaborate prank on you. And when you fell for it, they’d never let you live it down. And the concierge would never let in an unauthorized visitor, so yes, obviously, there was nothing to worry about. 

The only issue was that your wand was in the living room, shredding any chance of self -defence. Instead, you grabbed a metal shoe horn and tiptoed quietly down the hall to the kitchen where you could hear sounds of someone being there: a barstool squeaking, the kettle steaming, and some humming. The bass notes of a man’s voice wasn’t clicking in your memory. Now, you were starting to doubt it was Fred or George.

It was too late to retreat. “Get back!” you yelled with ferocity. You hated to admit, but you’d squeezed your eyes shut so you were waving a shoe horn aimlessly. How you passed Defence Against the Dark Arts was a mystery indeed.

When you heard nothing, and felt no signs of you being murdered, you opened your eyes.

This was no thief or intruder.

It was Charlie.

He playfully threw up both his arms in surrender, teabag in one hand, and pretended to fall backwards, tailbone digging into the kitchen counter. 

You set down your weapon. “What are you doing here?”

He flicked the tag off his tea bag with his thumb, then let out a low whistle. “I think the question you mean to ask is, what are you wearing?”

Charlie’s question echoed in your head as embarrassment stirred up inside you. What were you wearing, exactly?

You looked down for the answer: a thin-strapped silk dress that barely covered your shoulders and thighs. Well, all that while brandishing your favourite accessory: the shoe horn.

“Is that how you win your duels? By distracting your opponent?” he asked. 

You were so infatuated and caught up with the idea of independence that you had forgotten that Charlie had a key and that he was staying over. Combined with the adrenaline of thinking that there was someone in the house, you might as well have had amnesia. His presence did corroborate with the lights and voices you heard last night. Oh shit, come to think of it, he did warn you he was coming over before he departed on Wednesday, but in the mess of things like his and Bill’s untimely appearance and Alicia’s fervent teasing, you’d forgotten.

“This is just what I sleep in!” You were in a right state. Panicked, you tried to make fun of him. Maybe he would lose some of that unbreakable composure. “Don’t you sleep in the same thing? If the rumours are true, that is.”

Charlie chuckled lowly, his laughter rising in volume. “Are you seriously asking me what I sleep in?” he responded. “(Y/N), your mind is a literal cesspool.”

You didn’t want to give off the impression of being embarrassed, so you walked on into the kitchen like nothing happened. “I think I know the answer, based on your deflection,” you mumbled as you settled in the spot beside him. “You can sleep in whatever you like, Charlie, I won’t judge you.”

“I was going to say I often wear much less,” he added in a husky half-whisper by your earlobe.

Oh.

You hand squeezed the metal handle of the espresso portafilter. The coffee wasn’t going to be the only thing steaming in here. You didn’t dare turn your head. You could imagine the handsome smirk at the things he was making you think: Charlie and his naked torso covered in a sheen of sweat, languidly moving under the covers, each hard ridge of muscle skimming the sheets… “Well, that’s just dandy for you, isn’t it?”

“Do I detect a trace of sarcasm?” Charlie pouted, looking down at you. He gave you a nudge. “Need I remind you that you asked me first?”

You kept your mouth shut and fiddled with the top of the espresso grinder instead. It didn’t come off easily, so you tried to pry it off with your nail. When it felt like the grinder was going to take off your nail instead, you gave up.

“Have you made coffee before?” Charlie questioned. His larger hand enveloped the top and twisted it off with ease. 

You seethed silently. 

Charlie continued, unbothered by your lack of response: “I was thinking we could grab breakfast first and discuss how to use the espresso machine after.”

Charlie’s offer was sounding pretty scrumptious. You needed a jolt of caffeine stat if you were going to make it through the rest of the day. 

“Fine,” you conceded quickly, shutting the machine off. “Lead the way.”

“Are you going to get changed first?” Charlie snickered. “It’s a bit nippy for that little number, isn’t it?”

You grabbed the shoehorn from the island. “If you aren’t careful, this shoehorn will meet your head.”

His mouth twisted in a way that made your heart flutter. “Whoa, you’re pretty intimidating for someone so small.”

Beautiful, crooked words.

“I’m really not just saying it for show,” you warned. 

Charlie stepped back, face full of feigned fear. “I’ll believe it.”

You huffed and turned around.

“When I see it,” he added quickly.

You nearly stomped back to your room to change.

“So, if I am staying over Friday night, I’d like to keep some eggs in the fridge and bread in the pantry, at the very least. I get pretty peckish right after I wake up.”

Charlie was explaining his terms and conditions to you on the way back from the cafe where you enjoyed a breakfast sandwich and a coffee. You were grateful you kept your attire simple—a white shirt over some flowy culottes and a trench coat—because you would’ve felt ridiculous setting foot into a homey family establishment dressed otherwise. Charlie even had a long chat with the owners, a married couple in their late sixties who’d insisted on your meal being on the house. 

After breakfast, you’d forgiven him for his teasing and stopped by the grocers to pick up some pantry staples. Charlie cradled a paper bag in one arm and looped a bag of tangerines around the other. Despite all this grocery juggling, he held the door for you as you made your way to the lift and continued to talk about his favourite topic: breakfast.

“Of course you can,” you replied.

“I appreciate you being alright with it. After all, there’s a decent amount of space in your fridge. Do you even cook?”

You reddened. “I only moved in two days ago. I haven’t had the time to—”

“Hm.” He cocked his head as the lift ascended. “Not much of an excuse given the rest of the space looks so furnished.”

“Fred and George came over for dinner last night with takeaway,” you retorted.

Charlie made a strangled noise. “I wasn’t invited?”

“You were at Hogwarts,” you reminded him.

He laughed. “It’s the thought that counts. The notion of me being invited. I thought you Malfoys were all about keeping up appearances.”

“You seem to know very little, Charlie,” you said as you opened the door, “about Malfoys.”

“You’re killing me today, (Y/N),” he said. He set his paper bag down and began organising his purchases on the island. “I didn’t take you to be so mean.”

You froze midway through taking off your trench coat. “I am not mean.”

He placed a carton of eggs in the icebox. “So, so, mean.”

You opened your mouth to say something but your words caught in your throat. You decided not to entangle yourself in the web that was Charlie’s teasing though it felt nice that he was so concentrated on you, and that he kept the conversation going. You sauntered over to the bookshelf instead and plucked out one of Madame Millicent’s books. You turned to the page you’d bookmarked, knee-deep in learning how to knead the most buttery and flaky pie crust. It would’ve been a really mundane topic, but this Millicent woman used such vivid descriptors that you could practically taste the decadence in your mouth. 

“What’s this?” Charlie asked, walking towards the sectional.

“Something I’m reading for a book club.” Oh, shit. You really had to get going on those Madame Millicent books. The date for the afternoon tea was fast approaching and each second brought you closer to a due date of less than a week. 

“Hm.” Charlie plucked a book out from beside the empty space, flipped to a random page, and began reading aloud. “Create a vacuum around his appendage. Use your tongue to stroke the tip of him. This is his most sensitive region. Make sure to gently lap any juices. Remember to engage in eye contact with him. Your eyes will be his undoing.” Charlie looked up. “Did you know that, (Y/N)? You may be on your knees or writhing under him, but you are the temptress with control, he is your subordinate.

You blanked out and blinked at Charlie. “What?”

“Is this what you’re discussing at your book club?” Charlie asked, handing you the book. His fingers touched the header. “Oral sex in flowery prose?”

You frowned. “You made that up.”

“I didn’t, but I’m flattered you think I write so well.”

You grabbed the book from him and looked to where he had been narrating from. To your horror, these were the exact words he’d read, except the addition of your name when he tried to get your attention. “I didn’t know it was about… this. It was supposed to be about female empowerment.” You looked at the book you were initially reading, confusion splayed all over your face. “Or at least her first title was?”

You skimmed your fingers over the textured spine where ‘Madame Millicent: Pleasing the Patriarchy’ was deeply embroidered. Well, this radiated a completely different persona than ‘Madame Millicent: Maître de la Maison.”

“Of course you didn’t, Miss Malfoy,” Charlie said with a snicker. “Wait until your father hears about what you’re reading now that you live all alone.”

You scoffed. “Actually, my mother was the one who recommended it.”

Charlie cleared his throat very audibly. “I’m sorry, what?”

You nodded slowly, never breaking eye contact with him.

Charlie shook his head. “Not the fair maiden, Narcissa Malfoy. She would never muddle her name with such sacrilegious affairs.” He stopped when a new train of thought struck him. “But that’d give our mothers a mutual topic to talk about, if they ever met.”

You eyed him curiously. Was he implying the saintly Molly Weasley indulged in erotica? Feeling awkward, you continued to talk about the book club.

“Well, Charlie,” you started, about to shatter his misconceptions about your mother.  “My mother is part of the book club that Madame Millicent is speaking at next week. She’s invited me as well, hence why I’m reading her titles. And you’ll find that lonely housewives adore books like these.”

“Seriously?” Charlie’s eyes lit up delightfully. “You get to meet the temptress in person?” he asked excitedly. “Can I come, too?”

“Why would you want to do that?” You snapped your book shut. “There won’t be a single man there.”

“Why, (Y/N), because I’m extremely well-read. And I care deeply for female empowerment, especially in the brazen manner Madame Millicent portrays it.”

You cocked your head and narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. “Really?” You shook the book he was holding. “Or just this title in particular?”

He eyed you curiously, a smirk spreading across his face. “I’ll have all these titles finished by next week.”

“You shouldn’t overestimate your ability to read through all this, it’s quite a bit.”

“Oh, I know my limits,” Charlie affirmed. “I’ll see you at this afternoon tea.”

“You really read through it all?” you asked Charlie, voice thick with doubt, as you walked on the cobblestone entrance. 

Tea was to be hosted this afternoon at a venue your mother had written to you about. It was such a lovely place, green and whimsical, and its dreamy appearance befit its claim as a popular wedding destination. Evergreen shrubs, touched with the slightest amount of morning dew and rain, lined the path you and Charlie were taking. It had rained earlier this morning when the both of you were getting dressed in your apartment. 

“(Y/N),” Charlie started. “We read all day yesterday. All day. You didn’t even let me take a washroom break.”

That was true. He’d gotten back from Hogwarts late Friday evening, slipped into his room, and woke up before you to work the espresso machine for the two of you. Then, you got right to it. You had both claimed the opposite ends of the sectional and read through the rest of the titles in preparation for today. Charlie seemed content to spend his Saturday with you, and you were elated when he nestled into the couch and made no plans to leave. He did head back late Saturday evening to the Burrow, but came back this morning to dress for the event. 

You had Charlie for a full weekend, and you couldn’t suppress a smile at the thought of it.

“I had to oversee you reading the other two titles,” you teased. “Seeing you were so affixed on Pleasing on Patriarch.”

”It’s what I know best. I’m sure Millicent and I will have colourful discussions on it.”

You were received by a dapper little house elf in a bowtie at the front door who guided you through the hallway inside the mansion, then helped you down the back down some stone steps, before leading you into the gardens. It didn’t seem sensible or at all seasonable for afternoon tea to be hosted outside this time of year, but a warming spell that arced across the pavilion kept the women at the round table warm. The trees were blazing with hues of red and orange, nearly ready to shrivel and die as soon as the temperature dipped any further. At least they provided some colour in contrast to the dull, grey skies. 

“How are you feeling? Cold?” Charlie asked. He fiddled with the collar of your tweed cardigan that you’d layered over a long dress.

You perked quickly at his concern for you and the brush of his finger near your neck. His touch was the only thing that was shiver-inducing. “I feel fine. What about you?”

”I’m at the perfect temperature,” he said as he adjusted his suit. He was wearing an outfit a touch toned down from when you had dinner with your parents. While you liked his bedhead and the mess of curls that he usually sported, you had to admit that he was unusually beautiful when he tamed his hair. It drew attention to the sharp juts of his jaw and cheekbones that were usually hidden.

The two of you continued down the steps and the further you got, the more the stunning set up came into view. A round table was constructed in the centre of the gardens. A tablecloth decorated in rich autumn hues—deep red and gold—draped over it. The centrepiece which consisted of candles, pumpkins, and a leafy wreath snaked around the middle.

“Charlie!”

You both looked up.

This voice did not belong to your mother. It didn’t belong to anyone you were particularly familiar with.

But when a grey-haired woman stood up, you could pinpoint exactly who’d called.

“Mrs. Cromwell!” Charlie responded first.

“Cecile!” she yelled in cheery correction, still a ways away from the base of the steps. She lifted herself from the chair, gloved hands by her side to help with her balance, and ambled as quickly as her old age would take her to where you and Charlie were standing. Charlie, not wanting an elderly lady to walk unsteadily to him, ran over and you followed. Cecile gracefully extended her arm as if pulling him over. Time had softened her bones and compressed some cartilage, and she seemed very, very small next to Charlie. “Remember me?”

“How could I forget?” Charlie chuckled, placing a kiss on the back of her hand. Cecile giggled at his show of chivalry. 

As the twosome continued their conversation, you caught your mother beckoning you over with a glance. You left Charlie and Cecile and shuffled over.

“Why did you bring him?” Narcissa whispered, pulling you in by the arm. “I thought I made the invitation exclusive to you.”

“I informed you in a letter, mother,” you rebutted. 

“And I responded saying there were no extra seats at this function. It is extremely exclusive, (Y/N).” Narcissa’s tone was sharp and stern. “Charlie absolutely cannot be accommodated.”

“Okay,” you said. “Then I’ll leave.”

”You are not leaving,” Narcissa insisted in a harsh whisper. “Madame Millicent is expecting you.”

You looked back up to where Mrs. Cromwell was leading Charlie back to the round table, a funny sight indeed seeing that Charlie had no issues ambulating, but Mrs. Cromwell was roleplaying a nurse supporting an elderly patient at St Mungos.

“Mrs. Cromwell certainly seems to want him here,” you muttered through your teeth. “She’d happily let him take her place.”

Narcissa let out a long, hopeless sigh, and her hands lifted to rub at her temples. “I kindly ask you to ask him to leave.”

”But—”

“Good afternoon, ladies,” a voice called out from the back of the house. Twelve heads spun around to the lady standing at the top of the steps. She was short, slightly stocky in nature, and cloaked in beautiful deep purple robes. Her greying hair was pulled back into a bun on the top of her head. Her features were foxy and homely, and if you didn’t have the context that you did as to who she was, you’d never have guessed she was Madame Millicent. 

Her house elf scrambled in front of her. “Ladies,”—he glanced at Charlie—“and gentleman, may I present to you, Madame Millicent?”

Everyone at the table stood up as Millicent proceeded down the same steps you and Charlie had just taken.  

“Who do we have here?” Millicent called out, fixated on Charlie whose arm now permanently belonged to Mrs. Cromwell.

”Charlie Weasley, madame.”

”Weasley?” she questioned with a quirk of a well-groomed eyebrow. “Now, where have I heard that before?”

Your breath caught.

Narcissa gave you a pointed look and shook her head slowly. If Madame Millicent hated the Weasleys a fraction of the amount your parents did, you’d truly come to regret inviting Charlie.

”Now I know why that sounds so familiar!” Millicent exclaimed suddenly, clapping her hands together with glee. “Molly Weasley. Is that your mother?”

Charlie nodded. “Yes.”

”Such a small world we live in, don’t we?” Millicent continued. “She came to my last book signing and we had a chat about my recipes that lasted over an hour. Such a lovely woman, so lovely. I reckon I’ll be looking to her for advice on homemaking for my next book. A powerful woman, too, raised seven kids, if I remember correctly, and put them all through school.” She looked up Charlie up and down. “She forgot to mention how handsome her son was.” 

“Handsome? Wait until you see my older brother,” Charlie said, brushing off a compliment for the first time you’d witnessed.

Charlie’s comment certainly piqued Mrs. Cromwell’s interest. She looked up at him with an inquisitive look while Millicent did a quick assessment of the available seats and frowned.

“Well, that just won’t do,” Millicent tutted. “Gibbly, fetch me another seat for Mr. Weasley. He can be seated right next by me.”

Gibbly, Millicent’s house elf, dashed back inside the house to retrieve a chair. You and Narcissa just looked on with astounded expressions (like mother, like daughter). Neither of you expected Millicent would be so taken by Charlie. 

“You could’ve given me that honour, Millie,” Mrs. Cromwell huffed with a displeased expression. “I wouldn’t mind sitting next to him.” When Millicent just smiled, you relaxed. It must’ve been an old joke between friends, you reckoned. 

After Charlie was seated, tea had made its rounds. You stirred your earl grey with trepidation, knowing your mother was looking on, ensuring you were following good tea etiquette. You’d stirred for close to two minutes, preoccupied with trying to catch a glimpse of Charlie. You were seated left of Narcissa, so six seats from Charlie which was six seats too far and at a very odd angle. 

“I want to get to know the unfamiliar faces in this room. Would you mind introducing yourself, love?” Millicent was staring at you.

You set your spoon down. “I’m (Y/N) Malfoy,” you said. “I’m Narcissa’s daughter. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” 

“Of course, I should’ve known,” Millicent said with a smile. “I can see your mother in you, but you take after your father so well.” 

You almost retched. 

Then, she turned to Charlie. “And what brings you here today, Charlie? I don’t recall seeing your name on the guest list.”

“Actually, (Y/N) was the reason I came today.”

Millicent leaned in. “Really?”

“Her interest in your writing rubbed off on me,” Charlie explained. “I was thrilled to have the opportunity to meet you in person. Take it as you will, but I was quite literally on my knees to be here today.”

You squinted. Was that… a patch of red spreading on Millicent’s cheeks?

“Well,” Millicent chirped happily. “Let’s start our discussions then.”

The first part of the discussion focussed on her first two titles, Maître de La Maison and Tips for the Domesticated Witch. Women around the table praised her recipes and how the results were always a hit with all their guests at functions they hosted. You nibbled quietly at a cucumber sandwich as the conversation droned on, having nothing of substance to offer. Charlie, on the other hand, seemed very interested, and even asked questions: “Millicent, precisely, how important is the bain-marie method for a perfect cheesecake?”

“Now,” Millicent said suddenly with a clap. “Let’s move on to what I know you ladies are really here for.”

A wave of giggles chorused through the pavilion. You looked to your mother for solidarity, but she remained tight-lipped and looked displeased. Well, there was only one last book left to discuss…

“I wish I could’ve attended an earlier session, but I was touring Northern Europe for the release of Pleasing the Patriarchy all summer. I’m delighted to be back in England to discuss my latest bestseller with you.”

“And I wish Chuck was still here to witness all my learnings through that book,” Mrs. Cromwell added in a serious tone. “You couldn’t have finished that book any earlier, Millie?” Her quip earned a round of subdued laughs. 

“Well, as I say to every woman, it’s never too late,” Millicent assured. “I reckon a steady dose of intercourse will keep all of us healthy and young on all accounts.”

”Trust me, I know,” Mrs. Cromwell said. “But I find men my age are so selfish and well-worn in their ways. I’m from a cursed generation where a woman’s pleasure was always secondary to her husband’s.”

“And it’s so awful,” Millicent agreed. “But you’re a crafty woman, Cecile. You must know a way around such a dated practice.”

Mrs. Cromwell made a face like the answer was obvious. “Of course, I only entertain the younger men now.”

An unabashed chorus of laughter erupted from the table this time. Mrs. Cromwell sent a wrinkled wink at Charlie, who smiled back. 

“Speaking of younger men,” Madame Millicent changed the topic and looked to Charlie, “It’s fate that we have one of those here today. What do you think of the advice laid out in my latest release?”

“You’re still talking about Pleasing the Patriarchy, correct?” Charlie repeated.

“Yes.” Millicent nodded. “I’ve consulted a fair share of men as preliminary research, but I’m curious as to what you think of it, the feasibility and authenticity of the tips, that is, if you could comment on both.”

“Well,” Charlie started, leaning back in his seat, “I reckon your advice is fabulous, very feasible. You’ve really captured the steps precisely. Put it in better words than I ever could.”

“Hm.” Millicent seemed mighty proud of herself. “And have you been able to integrate these tips in the bedroom?”

“Ah,” Charlie stalled, his breath catching in his throat in another historical first. What happened to the ever-so-confident Charlie Weasley you’ve come to know? He cast you a quick glance. You imagined his hesitation was due to the fact that your mother was right beside you, and he was being lightly coerced to talk about his sex life despite keeping things as vague as possible until this point. The only people in the room who knew about you and Charlie were your mother and Mrs. Cromwell; you weren’t certain Millicent or the twelve others had connected the dots.  

If Narcissa weren’t here, he might’ve been more adventurous in his answer. He shifted his attention back to Millicent in a flash; the untrained eye wouldn’t have sensed any hesitation. “Of course. I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity for self-improvement.”

“How considerate of you,” Mrs. Cromwell added with a dreamy, longing sigh. 

“Very much so,” solidified Millicent.

“Millicent, what do we do if our husbands are so consumed in their work at the Ministry that they won’t even pay us the time of day when they get home?” a younger woman in her thirties, draped in a dark teal shawl, piped up. Her seat-mate nodded in agreement. “I don’t even have the opportunity to practise anything I read. I’m so terribly frustrated, Millicent.”

“Sadly, that’s not out of the ordinary,” Millicent consoled, sympathy written on her face. “Has he always been so detached, Anna?”

“Ever since we’ve started living together, it’s as if the passion has faded.”

Millicent nodded. “Through my research, there are a number of things that decimate passion in the bedroom: children, work, and moving in together. When you move in together, you sacrifice the feelings of excitement and mystery that fuelled the passion and intimacy at the beginning of your relationship. We tend to absorb our roles as homemaker or a mother and less of a sexual partner.”

Anna sighed.

“Charlie, do you live alone?” Millicent queried. 

“I live with (Y/N),” Charlie answered without missing a beat. “Most days, anyways.”

Millicent’s mouth rounded. Mrs. Cromwell leaned in suspiciously at this revelation. Likely, her head was whirring around the fact that you spent time with Charlie in the bedroom. 

“And if you’re comfortable sharing,” Millicent asked in such a delicate but firm manner that you know she’d definitely prodded like this before, “what fluctuations in your physical relationship have you experienced since moving in?”

“I reckon everything’s stayed the same,” Charlie mused, his eyes brooding in deep thought, “or honestly, at an increased frequency.”

Both you and your mother immediately turned as red as the sugar-glazed strawberries on the tart on the serving tray. Your mother coughed, the insinuation that Charlie had punched into the conversation—that you and him had sex—interfering with her ability to masticate. You buried your head down to evade curious glances and looked down at the table cloth. Wow, has crocheting always yielded such beautiful results?

Millicent leaned her face into the palms of her hand. “Why do you think that is?”

“Well, as you said, we shouldn’t forget our roles as partners. And with a partner so beautiful, it’s not hard.”

You were mortified. You thought about asking Gibbly to help you dig a hole into the ground so you could block out all the chatter about your fictitious sex life.

“Well, my love,” Millicent redirected her attention to Anna, “here’s what I think you can do to bring back the spark in the bedroom….”

An hour later, afternoon tea was nearing an end. Gibbly cleared out the trays and teacups as you followed the other woman on the trail back into the manor. Charlie stood back with Mrs. Cromwell by a gate. This old woman and her spindly claws just weren’t going to let go of him! Your eyes followed his body as he leaned down, almost on his knees to listen to what she was whispering to his ear, a corner of his mouth pulled up in handsome amusement. 

‘She’s probably inviting him to her bed!’ you thought. 

“(Y/N),” Narcissa called, gently pulling at your arm. “Let’s go somewhere private to have a chat.”

“Sure,” you responded, walking with your mother northward but eyes still on Charlie southward. 

As you walked, you felt a sharp tug on your heart when Anna skipped over, teal dress grazing the grass, to join in on Charlie and Mrs. Cromwell’s conversation. Charlie’s smile was as friendly as ever as he chatted with a married woman who’d loudly and publicly announced she was lonely—practically a mating call if you’d ever heard one. He couldn’t be so deaf or stupid to ignore that, could he? 

You felt forgotten even though Charlie made such a grand display of you being his partner.

You almost tripped over a divot in the ground, but you couldn’t stop staring at what was unfolding behind you. It reminded you of his chummy conversation with Mallory at the bar, him never brushing off Mrs. Cromwell’s forward advances, Millicent praising his looks and asking him invasive questions, and now Anna giggling at him. If he could be so forthcoming with all these random women in front of you, how many of them was he charming behind your back? All while crawling his way to sharing the same apartment as you?

But it didn’t matter, did it? Your chest felt heavy at the realization that he wasn’t doing anything immoral or wrong. If you were together, you’d be well within your rights to be suspicious. Factually, you were the one who tangled him in this ruse, and the only credit you could give yourself was that it got a little more complicated and spindly than you could handle. So, you forced yourself to swallow the apprehension about the women in Charlie’s life the best you could. 

Narcissa led you over to a more secluded part of the garden where only the trees could hear your conversation. And you were going to be glad for it. 

“Is it true?” Narcissa prodded.

“What’s true?”

“What Charlie said?”

“He said a lot of things,” you reminded her. “But yes, mother, the bain-marie method will yield a better-tasting cheesecake.” 

“No,”—Narcissa shook her head—“about your sexual activity.”

“Mother!” you exclaimed in a whisper. You leaned out to make sure Charlie hadn’t come any closer. “I’d prefer if we discussed it later, or never at all, especially as it was already dissected in front of everyone.”

“I understand,” she said. “It’s a difficult topic, but I regret not sitting you down when you were younger, I truly do, (Y/N). It was a failure on my part. I had your father talk to Draco about these matters, but I need to make sure you’re taking care of your reproductive health before something unwanted happens.

“Of course I am!” you promised. “You needn’t worry about it.” Because we aren’t in a relationship. We aren’t having sex.

You wanted out of here. This conversation and the charades that followed didn’t feel exciting anymore. It now felt empty and wrong. It was a chore, trying to keep in line with what Charlie had announced, and you were certain he didn’t put a single care behind his words to you. 

“Well, it would give me peace of mind if you made an appointment with our Healer. There are many options for contraception nowadays, much more than when I was a young witch.”

“Contra—”

“It doesn’t have to be at the first appointment, but Healer Tousignant will go over your options and you should take some time to decide what works best for you. I promise, she is excellent at what she does. And I won’t ask anything of it afterwards.”

You skimmed through all the options in your head. If you refused Narcissa’s offer, you’d be subject to more questions about your sexual health, and who knows what inopportune place she’d choose to talk about it next? In front of your cousins during Christmas in Switzerland? In the middle of Diagon Alley? At dinner where Draco and your father would be present?

If you just accepted the appointment, you could conceal the fact you weren’t in Charlie’s bed (despite a naughty crevice of your brain that controlled your dreams hoping you were). 

A dull pain interlaced with the beat of your heart at the possibility of that person not being you. Reality told you it wasn’t going to be. It could be Mallory, Mrs. Cromwell, Millicent, Anna— 

“Fine,” you agreed with a forced smile. “Tell me when, and I’ll be there.”

>> NEXT CHAPTER

CHAPTER DIRECTORY

TAGLIST: @badgerqueen07 @superduckmilkshake @k-k-merlin @kisskittenn @pluiesdefleurs@lilianelena39 @bathwater101 @evilunicorns4minions @noah-uhhh-what @earth-to-lottie @kissingyourgrl @sihtricswife @adalia-jaycee @anuttellaa @weasley-clan (Let me know if I missed you, or if you want to be added!)

[roboreviewer]

"You call being chased by a lunatic snowman scary? You twit."

Name: The Computer

(Mental) Age: Adult (implied)

Pronouns: He/Him It/It's

Appearance(s): Courage The Cowardly Dog, The Fog of Courage, Straight Outta Nowhere: Scooby-Doo! Meets Courage the Cowardly Dog

Fandom Activity: dead at the moment. More on this later

Fanon accuracy: Man.. it's too complicated to say here

------In Canon------

Computer (yes that's its name) is the computer owned by the Bagge's located I'm their attic. Courage uses him to search for how to defeat the monster of the day, research specific items, with occasional off screen NORMAL computer activities

Computer appears in every season if the show: 9 times in season 1 (one being a cameo), 5 times in season two, 3 times in season 3, and four times in season four. He makes two quick appearances in The Fog Of Courage and Straight Outta Nowhere: Scooby-Doo! Meets Courage the Cowardly Dog movies.

The Computer will usually say a snippy one liner before and or after actually giving the information Courage wants.

Courage (searching for a cure): "What should I do?"

Computer: "if I were you, I'd get a big mallet and-" (smash them presumably)

Courage: "No no NO! A cure! A cure!"

Computer: "Oh....... That's easy, get a little hair from the mole that bit you."

(Courage gets ready to leave)

Computer: "just don't get bitten!~" (teasing tone meant to shake courage up)

The Computer has a masculine British voice DRIPPING with sarcasm, having a new voice actor in every new appearance: Simon Prebble, Paul Schoeffler, and Jeff Bergman respectfully

------Analysis------

- The computer is most likely based off of a Amiga 3000

You can see the resemblance yes? Cube monitor that sits on top the rectangle (I forgot the name sue me) with the clunky keyboard (ho mama) honestly perfect for a cartoon. Although he is still simplified, without a mouse and numpad (fair enough)

- In season 2 episode 14 he gains an off switch meant only as a gag. The Computer makes fun of Courage for.. being a cowardly dog and Courage flips the switch turning it off. It then disappears for the rest of the season until season 3, where it now has the words "OFF" under it.

- In season 3 episode seven, Muriel presses a random key on the Computers keyboard. Which then plays [SENSUAL TRUMPET NOISE] and presumably shows something in his screen, it isn't shown to the audience and Courage covers it up embarrassed. The Computer then says "Hey, push that button again!" in a..flirtatious??? Tone, To which Courage responds by ripping out the key and tossing it.. did Courage have a P@%# Hot key?? Was it giving The Computer physical satisfaction?? Gross.

- Anyway in this episode The computer has three keys near both sides of the space bar (unlike the images shown above before this episode, which has two keys on each side)

Courage rips out the one in the bottom right of the keyboard. Here's an image of the Amiga 3000 keyboard

As you can see it doesn't HAVE a third key at the bottom. The quality is s$!÷ but the closest one is the right ALT key. Meaning the 'button' is either the ALT key in earlier episodes or (going off of other keyboards) the right CTRL key in this episode

- the Computer regularly says suggestive S#!÷ in a suggestive tone. In Straight Outta Nowhere: Scooby-Doo! Meets Courage the Cowardly Dog: he outright flirts with Velmas iPad and asks if later she would want to do some "Downloading and updating"

Yeah I don't even know man

- The computer is a lot nicer in the Scooby-Doo movie. When I say a lot nicer I mean he only insults someone like once

-----This part------

Okay so when I first looked up the computer, I just did a quick search on Tumblr and saw only a few posts. So like a sane person I just assumed he wasn't very popular and moved on.

BUT NO! F#@%!×$ NO!!

For S#!+$ and giggles I did one lazy search and found All things End: A Computer x Courage slow burn

If you use your eyes you can see 3 things: one, this has 144 chapters, 2 this has 415,955 words, so those aren't SHORT chapters, and three-

THIS IS PART F@#$%!÷ ONE!!!

This series has 3 parts, the final STILL BEING WRITTEN. it started in 2010-07-31. As of writing this that's 13.86 YEARS! This series would be getting ready for high-school!

The plot is about courage falling Ill with a rare fatal disease that will soon kill him. So he and the computer go on a quest to get the cure. The Computer gets a dog body, and the creator has drawn posters for each volume (although only volume one's showed up for me)

The first volume has 415,955 words

The second volume has 474,148 words

The final volume as of writing has 110,744 words

The total word count of the series 1,000,847 words. Giving it 217,770 more words than the kings James version of the Bible which- may I repeat the final is STILL GOING. I hope to one day finish reading this masterpiece. Godspeed Couragefan09 o7

------My Opinion------

10/10 this all started with a video on my YouTube recommended, which I use for most of the pictures. I came out of this having a new fanfic to read for the summer.. and probably fall too. With that being said his character actually made me laugh out loud and I'm SO F#@%!$# PISSED NO ONE TALKS ABOUT HIM! WATCH IT, WATCH IT NOW

[cheemscakecat]

Missing In Action Update

Hey guys, it’s been a while, huh?

Sorry about that, I hate hiatuses as much as anyone else. There’s two reasons why Missing in Action’s next chapter hasn’t come out yet, and neither of them is a cancellation of the project.

It’ll come out, it’s just a matter of when.

At first, the only reason was that I had extra schoolwork taking up time on Saturday that I usually use for finishing drafts and typing them up.

But then my IPad’s keyboard case lost some buttons that I actually need for typing. I’ve had the case for years, and it was one of those awful Apple ones where the plastic fabric covering starts peeling up. The buttons start coming loose once the cheap fabric is off.

Between the tape that refuses to stick to the weird fabric, then gets fuzzy and nasty, and the missing buttons, the thing isn’t fit for fanfic writing. Or any writing at all.

Thankfully, there’s better keyboard cases from other companies that fit my IPad, and I’m going to get one soon. They’re plastic all over, so there’s no fabric to worry about and the buttons won’t fall off.

It also doesn’t help that the BillFord resurgence of 2024 has me looking out at Tumblr like this gentleman.

But in all seriousness, thank you for your patience y’all. I know it probably feels like I abandoned the project, and me being radio silent didn’t help with that. I’ve been let down by half-finished fanfics in the past, and I don’t want to leave you with the same disappointment.

[smoshidiot]

hey guys: i ranked every smosh video

yes, every. single. smosh video. (every main channel sketch from 2005-2017 + 2023)

here it is under the cut if for some damn reason you're curious

♡ ABSOLUTE FAVES ♡ Paranormal Easy Bake Oven Sleepwalking Disaster Mortal Kombat Theme Food Battle 2006 Food Battle 2023 The Legend of Zelda Rap Axe Murderer Battleship Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Theme Boxman's Girlfriend Pokemon Theme Ian's Birthday Anthony Gets a Haircut Pokemon Theme REVENGE That Damn Neighbor Assassins Creed 3 Song My Dead Friend Boxman 2.0 Boxman Smosh Short 1: Dolls Unitarded A Very Hairy Situation w/Billy Mays Anthony is Mexican Left Handed Magic Keyboard Food Battle 2007 That Damn Yard Sale Four Years Foreplay Pokemon In Real Life Stuck in a Toilet My Mom's AMAZING Video Sex Ed Rocks Going to the Mountains Stop Copying Me! Cursed Magic 8 Ball We Rule High School Dixon Cider Smosh the Movie Real Death Note Firetruck I Broke My Foot 1 Hour Special Ghostmates Food Battle 2008 The Ultimate Shoedown WTF! I'm Old! Food Battle 2010 Dolls: 10 Years Later The Real Party Song Kiss Currency PRETTY DAMN GOOD

Smash Rap Molester Moon Hand Bomb Sleeping Pill Disaster My Grandpa's Dirty Secret Food Battle 2011 Quest for the Scooter Smosh Found Dead Garrett's Blog How Not to Act on a First Date Longest Staring Contest Ever Extreme Sleepover Hardcore Max Real Voodoo Doll He's Driving Me Crazy First Person Shooters Suck Drink Your Own Piss Parents SuckWe're Stuck Together We Finally Released Our Banned Video Boxman for President Cat Soup I Caught Every Pokemon Ian is Dangerous Ian's First Girlfriend Ian Gets Lucky Manspider Happy Cow Food Battle 2012 Pizza Zombies Food Battle 2013 Evil Fortune Cookie Hardcore Max 2 Food Battle 2014 License Test Toy Airplane Food Battle X Finger Guns Google Glass SUCKS My Mutant Rash The NEW Smosh TV Show That Damn Shower EDITOR! Camp in a Van Sexual Sun Every Smosh Video Ever Addicted to Selfies Hide and Seek My Best Friend is a Robot How Google's Space Ship Failed Business Boy Emoji Curse Human Pokemon Battle Rejected Zelda Games We're Stuck in Fan Fiction

I LIKED THIS ONE

A Hairy Situation w/ Billy Mays Anthony's Death That Damn Prison Break Anthony's Resurrection Evil AI Tried to Kill Me We Summoned a Demon Help I Became an NPC Stranded Transformers Theme How Not to Make a First Impression The Best Car EVER Reunited? The HauntingMale Model Replacement Needed Easy Step April First Evil Chain Letter Power Rangers Theme Life as Ghosts Ep 1-4 Crybaby I'm Not Racist Pokemon In Real Life 2 The BEST Bottled Water Meeting My Identical Twin I Killed the Tooth Fairy Guys' Guide to Hugging Guys My Real Pet Pikachu Homeless Millionaire The Ditto - Movie Trailer Meat In Your Mouth I Love Lou Ferigno Anthony Poses for Playgirl?! Vader and Me Killer Teddy Bear That Damn Punishment Arm Wrestling TO THE DEATH If Superheroes Were Real Worst Twist Endings Ever I'm Naked Pokemon In Real Life 3 How to Cover Up a Murder The World's First Internet Tutorial Motion Games Suck I'm Possessed By a Demon Addicted to Honey Boo Boo Child My New Best Friend is a Robot My Weird Addiction Food Battle 2013 Assassins Creed 4 Song So Many Hickies Guns Suck My Morning Routine Guy's Guide to Being Manly Jurassic Pokemon Magic iPad 21 Things I'd Rather Do Than Smoke Netflix Rap Video Game Items In Real Life My Hot Online Girlfriend Murder Party

[st-kitten]

“cinnamon girl"

MIGUEL O'HARA x READER warnings: none that disastrous, mention of piercings, biting and blood (harmless, but hot) words: 2,598

Miguel is busy working, trying to focus on tasks at hand when you walk in the office space and suddenly, all he can think about is why you smell so good. He can’t get your fragrance out of his mind, which drives him to give in to his infatuation…

As Miguel sat diligently at his desk in the bustling headquarters of the Spider Society, he immersed himself in his work. Surrounded by the hum of activity and the glow of computer screens, he focused intently on the tasks at hand. With his attention fixed on the reports and footage in front of him, Miguel was determined to meet his self-imposed deadlines and excel in stabilising the multiverse.

Behind him, Jess and Gwen discussed their latest mission. As radiant as ever, Jess flaunted her expertise on Gwen, who absorbed every last detail with admiring eyes gawking at her. Somewhere in the corner, Pavitr and Hobie lurked in the shadows, contemplating yet another political firecracker Hobie had ignited between the two. Peter sat on one of the couches, exhausted from having to run after Mayday, who had been confined to her seat surrounded by a labyrinth of webs. The hubbub was lively, and somewhat productive.

Miguel hoped for a break in the stagnancy. He reminded Lyla to send alerts to everyone, instructing them to work, but to no avail. It seemed that everyone had taken one long break. Well, everyone except Miguel, who had not rested for two whole nights, his eyes half-lidded and brow tensed.

But amidst the controlled chaos of the office, something unexpected disrupted his concentration. A delicate fragrance, sweet and intoxicating, began to waft through the air, catching the attention of his spidey senses like a gentle whisper. The scent was so enchanting, so captivating, that it transported his thoughts to a place far removed from the monotony of his workplace. The aroma of cinnamon, coconut, and vanilla trickled through his nose and smudged his mind into a fog of nothing.

Intrigued by the allure of the aroma, Miguel glanced around, trying to discern its origin. He followed the scent with his senses, his focus shifting away from the computer screen and onto the ethereal fragrance. It seemed to be emanating from the far end of the office, teasing him with its enigmatic presence.

You walked in, eyes fixed on your iPad, tapping away furiously, as if racing towards the finish line. You could barely see what or who was in front of you and bumped into Gwen, pushing her into Jess, which Gwen obviously didn't mind.

"Honey, watch where you're going, yeah? One of these days, you're going to leap of some edge..." Jess muttered affectionately.

Redirecting yourself, you began walking in the other direction, almost missing the corner of the coffee table, which Peter managed to cover and soften with a blob of web.

Miguel watched you from his vantage point, wading through the numerous obstacles, including Pavitr and Hobie who had managed to hold themselves in some unsolicitedly intricate Yoga pose. As if under a spell, his mind wandered, captivated by the intoxicating scent that seemed to possess a magnetic pull over him. His eyes glazed over you, no longer registering the rows of desks or the symphony of typing keyboards. Instead, his imagination conjured images. Images he never would've visualised were it not for the fact that after all these months of you working for him, he hadn't notice how beautiful you were. Was it your perfume? Or did it just take him this long to fully notice you.

Miguel had spent countless hours working side by side with you. You shared the same office space, exchanged occasional pleasantries, and collaborated on projects. You'd helped him analyse data and organise it. He had never seen you. He simply took you for another helper. You, a human, hired for your impeccable work ethic and skills, were simply a resource to him. But all that changed when he saw you in your element. Did you always smell this great?

It was as if a veil had been lifted, revealing a captivating sight he had somehow overlooked. Your silky, flowing hair cascaded gracefully through a ponytail, framing a face that radiated warmth and intelligence. Your eyes, deep and expressive, looked so sensual whenever they focused on something. The way you would bite your lip when you came across information you didn't understand, the way you'd tuck strands of hair behind your face, but they'd never stay there, the was your neck arched to look up at the screens, revealing your collarbones and the pearls that rested on them, the way your loose buttoned up tops would slightly give away the view inside, the way your your trousers hugged your curves perfectly, the arch of your feet when you took off your shoes to sit comfortably on the couch now made Miguel mesmerised and entranced. He marvelled at how he had been blind to this captivating presence for so long, consumed by the mundane routines of their shared workspace.

As Miguel watched you interact with colleagues, he noticed the genuine kindness that infused your conversations. You effortlessly put others at ease with your compassionate words and infectious laughter. The more he observed, the deeper he fell under your spell, unable to tear his eyes away from your captivating aura.

Yet, even as his heart soared, doubt crept in. Miguel wondered if his sudden infatuation was a fleeting illusion, a trick played by his own desires. Maybe he was just exhausted and needed to sleep.

Shaking his head, he forced himself to look away from you and went back to work. Surely the multiverse was more important than his momentary crush on you.

As the day wore on, Miguel's infatuation with you continued to grow, his thoughts consumed by your presence. Feeling the need for a brief respite, he decided to take a quick water break, hoping to clear his mind and regain focus. He made his way to the lobby, where a small coffee cart stood, offering a momentary escape from the office routine.

As Miguel approached the cart, his attention was diverted by a figure standing nearby. It was you, engaged in a conversation with another colleague. Something about your demeanour caught his eye, a certain grace that commanded attention.

"Ay, dios mío, por favor..." he mumbled to himself, palming his creased forehead.

You looked back, glad to see Miguel out of his seat. You were hoping he would take breaks more often. The man worked for 24 hours. If a day was made up of 38, he would work for 38 hours.

"It's nice to see you out here... in the plebeian world..." you said jokingly, not meaning to practically throw it at his face.

Miguel didn't know whether to reply or to claw away at the walls and escape. Even your voice was a delight to hear. It was like you aroused all five of his senses. Slowly, he made his way to you, hoping to chug the whole water canister and not speak for God forbid what comes out of his mouth if he's left to his own devices.

The colleague who was with you took one look at a fatigued Miguel, said God's name, and chose to march in the opposite direction.

"What would you like? Coffee? Tea? Whatever that green thing is at the back?" you asked.

Your perfume. That's what I'd like, he thought to himself.

"Uh... Coffee."

"Milk and sugar?" you asked sweetly.

"Just throw it in," he said. He couldn't take it anymore. The alluring scent of your perfume, it enveloped Miguel's senses, and he couldn't help but inhale deeply, the fragrance permeating every fibre of his being. It was a fragrance so intoxicating, so enticing, that it seemed to possess a magical quality.

He gave in to that tiny part of him and stepped closer, standing behind you, watching you press the buttons on the coffeemaker. AS gently as he could, he lowered his head and breathed in. The combination of cinnamon, coconut, and vanilla in her perfume was an intoxicating symphony that danced around Miguel's senses, leaving him spellbound and yearning for more.

The warmth of cinnamon caressed his olfactory receptors, infusing him with a sense of comfort and familiarity. The spicy notes seemed to ignite a spark within him, igniting a fire of passion and igniting a newfound energy that fuelled his infatuation.

Coconut, with its tropical essence, added a touch of exoticism to the fragrance. As the scent mingled with the air, it invoked a sense of freedom, inviting him to embrace the spontaneity of life and the possibility of new beginnings.

And then there was vanilla, the sweetest and most alluring note of all. Its creamy and comforting aroma wrapped Miguel in a tender embrace, evoking a sense of intimacy and tenderness. It awakened his senses to the depth of his emotions, stirring a yearning for connection and a longing to explore the depths of his infatuation.

How could a stupid perfume make him act like that?

He regained composure and stepped back slightly. He watched you watch the machine pour coffee in a small cup. His eyes fell on your pierced ears. He got a feeling that you liked pain, in an adventurous way. Four piercings were after all a lot.

"Here," you said, handing him his cup. In his hands, the size of it shrunk dramatically.

Miguel took it, his fingers brushing past yours, which didn't help his plan of resistance at all. With each sip he took of that ridiculously sweet beverage, his need to consume you grew. He clutched the cup tightly, hoping his mind would find something else to focus on. He almost wished an anomaly would come and wreck the room. Lost in thoughts, he held the cup so tightly that it broke into pieces, splashing the coffee around and lo-and-behold, on your top.

"Fuck... I-" before he could apologise, you interjected and began dabbing tissues on your chest.

"That's okay. It happens. With you people. I guess. I think. I concur. I'll just... Go to the washroom," you said.

"Yes. This way," Miguel replied, leading you to the nearest washroom. He had no idea why he was going with her. She knew where it was. Why was he with her?

She opened the door to the washroom, walking over to the basin, leaning over it, and splashed some water on her top.

Unbeknownst to him, Miguel had followed her in and now stood behind her, trying his hardest to pull his gaze away from her chest, which was glistening with water droplets.

"You good?" you asked, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

He couldn't resist the temptation any longer. He reached out and took your wrist in his hand, holding it gently but firmly. He lifted it to his nose and took a deep breath, savouring the scent of her perfume. It was intoxicating, and he felt himself getting lost in it.

"What is this?" he asked.

"What?"

"Your perfume. It's fucking ridiculous. Why does it smell so good?"

You let out a soft chuckle. "It's just a body splash... Why-" you couldn't finish your sentence because of what Miguel started to do.

As he held your wrist, he realised how smooth your skin felt against his fingers. He couldn't resist the urge to touch her more. Slowly, he let go of your wrist and placed his hand on her neck, feeling the softness of your skin. He leaned in, inhaling her scent, and felt a rush of desire wash over him. He was going insane over how good you smelled, how smooth your skin felt against his. Feeling your skin rise with goosebumps satisfied the animal in him. Like a bloodhound, he buried his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling as much as he could, his hand still tenderly caressing your arm, running his fingertips up and down.

He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but he couldn't help himself. She was like a drug to him, and he was addicted. He felt his self-control slipping away, and he knew that he was in danger of losing everything he had worked so hard to achieve. He tried to pull away, to regain his focus, but it was too late. He had already crossed a line, and he couldn't go back.

"Dios mío, hueles tan bien..." he whispered in your ear, feeling you shudder.

He smiled, and continued whispering sweet nothings in your ear. "Eres tan hermosa. No sabes lo que me estás haciendo, verdad?" He closed his eyes and let his body react to you. He snaked his arm around your waist, pulling you closer and trapping you between the basin and his body.

"I have no idea what you're saying but..." you paused to take a deep breath.

"Mmm? Qué pasó, mi chica canela?" his voice reverberated in your ear like a rattling bass and that silenced you from thinking.

You shook your head, and mumbled, "Nothing... don't stop."

"I don't plan to." He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. You, completely drunk on how Miguel made you feel, responded eagerly, your arms wrapping around his neck as he held you closer.

He couldn't get enough of you, the taste of your lips, the feel of your body against his. As your lips met, a rush of electricity shot through his body. He pulled you closer, leaving next to no space between you, his hands sliding down your back as he deepened the kiss. He untucked your top from your trousers and slowly unbuttoned your shirt.

"Don't throw it on the floor... It's expensive," you muttered in between kisses.

"I'll buy you ten more."

Feeling you smile into the kiss, Miguel growled, his grip on your waist tightening. He was indebted to that coffee stain for he would never have been in this situation were it not for that. As you pulled away for a bare moment, Miguel stared into your eyes, his heart racing. He knew that he was in too deep, that he had gone too far. But he couldn't bring himself to care. All that mattered was you, your scent, your touch, your kiss. He knew that he was putting everything he had worked for at risk, but he couldn't help himself.

"Mierda, quiero morderte, nena..."

"Hmm?" you asked, tilting your head oh so conveniently.

Miguel inhaled sharply and looked up at the ceiling. Did you really just do that? he thought.

He cocked his head and looked down at your innocent face. He wasn't a person who'd ever ask for anyone's permission, but seeing you be so vulnerably beautiful made him do it anyway...

"Can I bite you?"

He half expected you to run away. So, when your eyes glinted with and approving excitement, he was surprised, to say the least. He wasted no time holding your face in his palm and tilting your head, exposing your neck already pampered with his kisses. His dug his fangs into the soft flesh, feeling ecstatic, as if he was transported to another dimension.

All of his senses were heightened. Your perfume, the feel of your skin, you soft gasps, the taste of your blood, and the sight of your figure reacting to him in the mirror, sent Miguel to heaven. You were simply divine.

Miguel O'Hara had never wished for a more opportune break from his work and he was sure to take some more henceforth.

[typecase07]

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[dreiser7]

Title: The Science Guild (Or How Kara Danvers Became A Nerd Icon) Chapters: 9/? Fandom: Supergirl (TV 2015) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor Characters: Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor Additional Tags: Romance, Femslash, Humor, Inspired By Tumblr, Kara Loves Science, Social Media Summary: Science was always a comfort to Kara. It was a reminder of Krypton. Of her people, culture, and family. She focused her attention on studying it when she first arrived on Earth for that reason. Then the years passed, Kara learned how to hide her differences, become more human, and that focus was lost. At least until Snapper reassigned her to cover the science and technology beat at The Tribune. Author’s Note: I'm back! Thank a month break from touring and a new laptop for inspiration. I want to finish this at maybe 12 chapters. Not sure yet. I am committed to completing it. Having a laptop rather than iPad helps in my productivity somehow. Maybe it's the keyboard? Who knows.

Music is from folks I love, some of which I'll see in June at Hellfest.

Trying to get back into fandom socialization so if any of you are on Discord and have servers I should join or want to message me just look for dreiser5418

Puerto Rico story is something that happened the last time I played there. Rain is no joke.

Also smut warning if you need that. I write way too late at night.

[dragongirltail]

I hear that you like Microsoft Surface tablets. I'm currently setting one up for my friend, and I'm wondering what it is that draws you to them? I know it's Microsoft's "answer" to the iPad but haven't paid much attention to it since it's release

Oooo, loaded question that one! In truth, it's less that I like Surface tablets and more that there's nothing that does it like them.

The windows tablet market is a hellscape where most of what people use them for is lightweight chromebook note block stuff that requires little to no computing power, so most of what's available from most companies is just kinda meh.

You have tons of Lenovo/Thinkpad stuff that tends to run on pentiums and low power i3s and whatnot, it'll be able to play a youtube video but that's about it.

For higher performance there's like two or three models by lenovo, Dell has a few good ones, you can go the gamer route and buy an asus ROG thingie that looks gaudy and like it's made for 15 year olds, but either way you're gonna be running short on something if you just want something basic.

Gaming tablets are high in power but at that point you might aswell buy a laptop since the battery life is atrocious, the lenovo ones are alright but quite new and hard to get used, and I just dislike dell out of principle because they're a terrible company.

So that means generally the only real answer lies in Microsoft's lineup since they offer sleek but pleasant designs, and their performance isn't so through the roof that you can't use them without wall power, but still good enough to do general tasks and basic gaming which is exactly the sweet spot I'm looking for!

The personal answer here is that the surface Pro series specifically covers a large area of specific things I'd like in my secondary device: Portable, decently long battery life, good performance for how long it lasts.

The main purpose for wanting one is so I can use it to watch videos in bed before sleep on a larger screen, to be able to play basic games when I'm away from home, and as an auxilliary screen to put somewhere on my desk when I need it for other stuff like reference pictures or whatnot.

Having a touchscreen is a godsend there since it's so much easier to operate something with just bapping it with your fingers instead of operating a trackpad, keyboard, or mouse so it's the easiest choice for that kind of "no brain" use to me.

The other issue is price, since most of the other companies only recently jumped on the windows tablet bandwagon they're hard to get used, but surfaces are available online for cheap the further back in generation you go.

Currently I've got a Pro 7+ with an i7-1165G7, 16GB of ram, and 512GB of storage + a 128GB micro sd card installed. The i7 is an 11th gen intel model which means it has the blazing fast iris Xe integrated graphics and anything I can really see myself playing on this thing it handles swimmingly (minecraft, warframe, any game from like 6+ years ago).

Bought it for about 500€ last winter, which is extremely good value for what it is, seriously!

TL;DR: Surfaces are the least bad choice in the tablet/convertible market, they're expensive but previous gen models will still do all you'd ask from one without much issue.

[serinemisc]

Your graphical character entry menu looks a lot like the one I get in Linux Mint when I hit Control+Semicolon, but mine only works on certain GTK applications, excluding Emacs & Firefox, and it only searches for emojis. What's your setup?

(context: bragging about text input)

That's macOS's emoji menu, which also supports other characters. You bring it up with Ctrl+Cmd+Space, that's the default shortcut that should work on any Mac (it also works on iPhone/iPad with an attached keyboard, but that one only has emoji).

I would say that one of the biggest reasons I use macOS is its text input; it's much better out-of-the-box than anything I've managed to manually configure in Windows or Linux.

Out of the box, you can type accented characters. The modern way is that you hold down the letter and it lets you choose an accented version. For instance, this is from holding down e:

I usually turn that off, though, so I can use key repeat. I use the old way, dead keys: Opt+E will add an acute accent to the next letter you press, so Opt+E A will produce á.

Windows, on the other hand, will simply be "nope" out of the box, I guess you can memorize altcodes, or you could use their US International keyboard layout. But their US International keyboard layout replaces the apostrophe button with the acute accent button! I want to be able to type in other languages without making it harder to type English!

Meanwhile, out of the box on macOS I can talk about how it's 35°C outside, and I had crème brûlée last night, and I have like ≥50¢ in change that I'm trying to Get Rid Of™. And that's just English!

Out-of-the-box, in addition to English, it's also pretty easy to type Spanish and French and a bunch of other common European languages, but I actually use the ABC Extended keyboard because I want to type more obscure words from Pinyin (lǘ) and Esperanto (ĝi). And I can do it all on one keyboard! I don't need to switch input languages or anything!

My input menu only has three keyboards:

And it's enough to cover the nineish languages I type in (I wouldn't say I'm good at any of these languages, I'm just a linguistics nerd).

For Chinese and Japanese, it comes with kanji handwriting recognition that just has you draw on the trackpad, which has come in handy SO often:

And these are all features it had over ten years ago!

[saintescuderia]

An ode to a fallen comrade, my laptop.

I’m weirdly sentimental when it comes to my laptops. I say this but I’ve only ever had two. My first was a chunk old silver MacBook Pro that was a gift from my father. It saw me all the way through those formative highschool years. I even used it at school. It was the laptop I used to give Tommy Bellamy a copy of channel.ORANGE with the fact that this version of Mac actually still had USB ports. And humanity also still used USBs. Not to mention the CD port in which I actually burnt music onto plain discs and made mixtapes for people.

I wrote countless stories on that laptop. It was where I wrote my 120k Avengers fanfiction, something I started when I was 14. Four years later and in my final year of school, I had a run of waking up at 5am to write. Never mind the fact that I was waking up at 5am to write a fic about Frank Ocean.

That laptop went through it all with me. Like old men with their cars, I named it. Stanley. Stanley was covered with homemade stickers that summed up the formative youth of my teenage years. A picture of Kendrick Lamar with his signature, a SAVE FERRIS collage, a photo of Chandler Bing (season 1), the screen card of Hugo Stiglitz from Tarantino’s Inglorious Basterds. And Frank Ocean, of course.

Stanley saw me through it all… until university where it promptly died. Or, ‘Apple died’ in which it just kept overheating, the battery life was horrible and I saw more circle spins of death in the last two weeks of use than I had in the last two years. Suffice, to say, it was time for an upgrade.

So I got another MacBook. His name was Bernie Mac which I thought clever and my first wallpaper was, indeed, a photo of the comedian. It was sleeker, didn’t have USB ports and in some odd and unexplainable way, didn’t seem as good as Stanley. Never mind that it was faster, thinner and had an actually life of a battery. I hated the keyboard, the darker colour and the fact that Bernie Mac just wasn’t Stanley.

Only after writing several novels - and one collection of poetry - creating various mixtapes (with a CD extension!), editing films, binging series and the countless PDFs I read and the essays I wrote of the two (and a half) degrees that this laptop went through did it finally die.

It’s funny. I’m not emotional. I won’t lie and say to you that the 18 year old who had to put Stanley down and admit defeat was emotional. So much so that she refused to trade it in and instead has it sat on her bookshelf beside a coffee table book on writers. In a way, that very first MacBook serves as a reminder of all the things I realised I could do. I could be a writer.

Now, this laptop before me, the one that refuses to turn on, might not hold as much sentimental weight but it’s still a nice marker of times gone by. It travelled with me across countries and it did get me through those incredibly painful and awkward years of your early 20s.

I went through lockdown with it.

What’s more, I watched my first ever F1 race on it.

So I won’t let the frustrations of the end get to me. The fact that I had to walk around with a charger because 100% battery didn’t mean anything. Or the fact that it would overheat and kick the fan into overdrive and it sounded like an airplane. Or the fact that it’s died when I decided to start becoming a little more serious with this ‘I want to be a writer’ business and now I have to type on my iPad like I’m Toto Wolff in Drive to Survive. Maybe that will make this whole March 30 Day challenge all the more memorable - I did it despite the fact that my laptop literally fucking died after three days! What’s more than that though the three days into this, it died literally the day before university starts.

It’s okay, though. I’ve already ordered another laptop from Apple that should be coming next week. And maybe that’s just what I need; a fresh start with a fresh laptop to bring in the next chapter of adventures. Even though you can still trust that the first song that’ll play from that yet-to-be-named MacBook is finna be Pyramids.

[lilveeblog]

sick

poorly jj with no mama around

requested on twitter !!

“Penny,” JJ whimpered softly as her stomach turned.

“One second, honey,” Garcia replied, tapping away at her keyboards but JJ didn’t have a second. Before either of them could react, JJ had been sick all over her blankets and toys and Garcia gasped. The smaller girl began to cry, only wanting her mama’s company. Her mama’s company which she couldn’t have.

“Oh Jay,” Garcia mumbled before hurrying into action. She grabbed the young girl and moved her away from the mess before taking off her t-shirt which was also covered.

“Mama,” JJ only whined, rubbing her eyes. All morning she’d been extremely fussy and tired and the team had a case. It was only in the next state so Emily trusted that JJ would be okay with Penelope for a few days and if she was drastically needed, she could come home quickly. However, none of them knew JJ was sick.

“I’ll get mama in a minute sweetheart,” Garcia reassured.

“Mama,” JJ continued to cry as Garcia scooped up the toys and mess and moved it to one side. She called down a cleaning lady before wrapping her fluffy, multicoloured cardigan around the shivering girl sitting on the desk. “Mama,” JJ cried again. She put her head on Garcia’s shoulder, feeling extra small and tiny.

“This is why you’ve been so fussy hm,” Garcia mumbled, rubbing JJ’s back gently. “Let me call your mama.” The phone rang a few times and then Emily’s tired voice came through.

“Prentiss,” she answered.

“Emily!” Penelope said as JJ snuggled in further to the older woman. “We have a slight issue.”

“What’s she done?” Emily sighed. Garcia chuckled a little, finding it cute that her mama instantly thought she’d been up to mischief when in fact she’d been as good as gold.

“No no, she’s been good. She’s just been sick… like everywhere,” Garica grimaced, looking around her office.

“You’re joking,” Emily sighed. Garcia could picture her touching the bridge of her nose through the tone of her voice and she sighed too.

“Mama no joke,” JJ whimpered down the phone. At the sound of her baby’s soft, poor voice, Emily felt guilty. Guilty for leaving her girl behind, guilty for not knowing she was poorly and guilty for not being able to back any time soon. The case now involved the kidnapping of a 7-year-old boy so the team had to be all hands on deck.

“Oh baby,” Emily whispered down the phone. “Do you still feel poorly?”

“Mama home,” JJ replied, wrapping her fist around Penelope’s t-shirt and wiping her wet eyes with it.

“Mama’s working right now angel but I’ll be home when I can,” Emily said to her gently hoping not to upset her too much.

“Mama home now,” the regressed girl cried and began to sob into Garcia’s cardigan. Just then, there was a commotion on Emily’s end of the line.

“Penelope I have to go. Try and get her down for a nap or head home if she’s really bad,” Emily quickly said and hung up. At the sound of the line going dead, JJ sobbed harder into Garcia’s shoulder, only wanting her mama.

“Oh my sugar,” Penelope mumbled, rubbing JJ’s back. Her cries mellowed out pretty quickly, purely due to her exhaustion but now she was fighting sleep, only wanting her mama. Garica had moved from her office, which needed a deep clean, to Emily’s office where they had more of JJ’s things. Garcia sat on the floor, tapping away at her laptop when she could whilst JJ sat between her legs, desperately trying to stay awake. Her Ipad lay on her lap as she tapped away on it softly. She whimpered occasionally and rubbed her belly, really not feeling good but hoping and praying her mama would be back soon. She feared that if she slept, her mama would come and go!

“Would you not like to nap?” Garcia asked her softly, putting some hair behind her ear.

“Nooo,” JJ whined, throwing back her head, sick of the question. “Mama.”

“Okay, okay. We can wait for Mama,” Penelope said, only wrapping her arms around the girl tighter. “I love you, little lady.”

Of course, with how sick she felt and how tired she was, the warm embrace and soft, quiet cartoons on her iPad - and the gentle rocking motion Garcia fell into, JJ was asleep within half an hour. Thankfully, Emily was also home before sunset. Knowing her girl was asleep, she snuck into her office and thanked Garcia majorly.

“She was only sick once, no temperature. I’m not sure what it was but it seems to have passed already,” Garcia lets Emily know.

“That’s all good, is your office okay?”

Garica laughed lightly, being cautious not to disturb the sleeping girl on her chest. “It is but I’m not sure if all of her toys are salvageable.” Emily shrugged, JJ had plenty of them and she had no doubt Garcia would buy her more anyway.

“Do you want to try to lay her down and head home? I’ve got some repo-” JJ began to stir and wiggle and Emily rolled her eyes. Typical. However, she had missed her baby and she knew when JJ was sick, reports could wait.

“Mama,” Jj instantly cried out, realising she was still in the same place. Her head threw back and she went to wail but when she saw her mama sitting behind her - a large smile on her face, she was quick to scramble out of Penelope’s arms.

“Mama!” She gasped, practically jumping into Emily’s arms.

“Hi baby,” Emily chuckled, holding JJ close. Subtly, she felt the back of her neck and sighed with relief.

“Mama went so long,” JJ whined, settling into Emily’s lap and beginning to play with her necklace.

“I was super long but I’m here now,” Emily replied.

“Forever,” JJ whispered. She wrapped her arms around Emily’s neck and hung onto her like a sloth.