#links lead back to tumblr posts from my other account sorry for the mess

[artbytane]

Check out my Temeraire Voltron AU (and Sheith) arts and headcanons! 

[normalcartoonic]

I’m sorry...

Hello there, I know I won't be accepted forgiveness right away as I have a feeling you don't trust me, but I just want to say I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being pushy, I'm sorry for complaining, I'm sorry if I hurt you, I'm just sorry for everything. All I am is a loser with low self esteem that complains from time to time that everyone thinks I'm a liar. And I can't blame you as I feel like I'm a nobody to anybody. All I want was trying to be best person, but everything just pushes me down that I don't know who I am anymore.

Ever since I joined the internet, I've been worrying that there's a few people that would try to push me down that I can't think properly and feel like I'm nothing. Sometimes I would just push it aside and take a glimpse and take account on it's about. But he most recent event that dragged me down that made me felt like I don't belonged was around late 2019 when a friend showed me a callout post that some random person on the internet about me. I don't even know about this user until my friend showed me the journal. Most of the stuff the user said about me I can understand and I can't deny it as they exploit I draw some things people don't like (SOME things). But I felt like the user wasn't telling the entire truth as they showed that my naughty stuff (mainly pinups) weren't filtered, which is unture as I actually put some of the art under a mature filter. Either the artist may've had the mature filter off or just want to lie. Either way, I made some posts about it and all the user did was trying to make it worse. Not only that, but I found out that there's a blog on tumblr that calls out certain Mr. Men fandom users for actions they don't like, mainly those that possibly hate for not being pure, and I was in it. I didn't thought about it for a while until a week or two ago after I saw some Mr. Men servers on tumblr that I wanted to join and see who was part of it. But after trying to join, I was unexpectedly kicked out for no reason. I understand that not everyone is not gonna accept me, but at the same time that it still feels unfair that I was given the treatment, as I only just joined and didn't done anything wrong on the server. And I know there's people in the server that don't like my stuff, but it's not like I was gonna break the rules as I was gonna be on my best behavior. Besides, it's not like I'm the only one that draws NSFW Mr. Men stuff as there's other artists hidden that do similar things like that. Regardless, I decided to just give up on that Mr. Men server as I feel like I'm never gonna be part of it and they only want pure members. In hindsight, I wish my one friend never told me about that post as all it did was making feel miserable and think that everyone is gonna turn against me, which it kinda did as that blog made those servers think I'm bad person. If I hadn't heard about it, I would've been happy and oblivious and not care about what is going on.

Which leads me to another user that is somewhat connected to it. As some of you know, I've been doing the anthro takes of the Mr. Men characters based on what a friend of mine did for years and wanted to do that style as it was very comfortable doing that format, plus she did some questionable things with those takes so they didn't care if anybody else uses that take. A month ago, there was an artist I found out on tumblr that did some very cute drawings that made me jealous that I kinda wish I have that style. This artist did their take of one of my favorite characters Miss Calamity as I like the design of their human take and wanted to do their of it. I know some of you are gonna say that I should've looked at their twitter before drawing that take of the character and asked the artist to use permission on drawing their take of the character. But the thing is that I only know the artist through tumblr and I was just looking at the art they posted and didn't know about their twitter until recently. And even then, they may've blocked my twitter accounts beforehand (and possibly my tumblr account as I get an error reblogging their pieces), so I can't have any contact with the artist. And the problem with the humanized Miss Calamity design is that unlike an OC where it's 100 percent owned by the artist, a humanized take of a character from a show or film is a bit iffy as that character is owned by the company and I doubt that. And I had no other way to contact the artist and don't know what their friends are that I can pass telephone, so rather than waiting for a long time, I decided to go ahead to experiment two pieces. Sometime after venting on getting banned from the Mr. Men server I just joined, I cooled off for a bit and after talking with one of her friends and heard that that she was upset. I told them to pass an apology message about the whole mess. They don't want to talk to me directly, but they at least they know what is going on and accepted my apology.

So any future humanized Mr. Men pictures made after the two Miss Calamity pieces I drew a month ago (both safe and the explicit one) are not gonna be in that format anymore, and would go back to the previous style as it's more safe compare to the real human designs. In hindsight, I wish I never heard of this artist in the first place as I felt like finding out their human takes of the Mr. Men characters only soured out relationship more and it's unlikely we'll talk, which is sad as I like their art and felt like we could've been decent friends if things weren't exploited about me out in the open.

So what am I gonna do now? The first thing I'm gonna do is to put most of my NSFW stuff I put as links on DeviantArt under a paywall. I'm sorry for those that like my NSFW stuff, but after seeing some corners of the fandom don't like how my stuff is getting exposed that some people don't want to talk to me, I'm putting most of my stuff as payware through my patreon. So anything that wasn't under payware will be part of the treatment (alts included). Pinups are still gonna be under mature filters. If you're cheap and don't want to pay for them, go find some of them on other sites. I'm still gonna draw NSFW, but for safety reasons the more explicit stuff be mostly payware. And some of the taboo stuff won't be posted here (which doesn't matter as I just stopped doing it years ago after two posts). The second thing is that I cut some people out of my life that are just making my life hard for the past few years, like one that was friendly at first but later started to mock me over the years rather than telling me what I'm drawing wrong, and another person on twitter that was encouraging me to draw more NSFW that only made some people to not like me anymore. Now like I said, I'm still gonna draw that stuff, but it'll be under strict filters and payware after what happened. Some people that don't like me for drawing that stuff won't accept me back, but at least that's a start.

As of for what's ahead for me, I'm not sure at the moment. I just feel like I'm not meant to have any friends at all, either because of who I am, my actions or something is not related to me. All I know is that I'm still gonna draw stuff that would often pop into my mind, though I'm gonna be more careful unlike what happened recently. But we're all human and we all make mistakes. I'm also just gonna ignore anything about me that brings me down as all I want is to try to make myself happy as all that blog did was making me feel upset and feel like nobody is gonna like me on trying to exploit a lot of things about me. I know criticism is meant to make you be stronger, but some of it felt like it was trying to make be someone else that people want me to be, and all it does was just making me feel unhappy. And let's be honest, my life sucks, I have no friends and the whole world is against me no matter what I do. All I want is to be happy and do whatever I feel is right. So again, I'm sorry if were you hurt by me or feel like you were turned off by me either because of my content or how I was behaving. It's nobody's fault.

[ofmymuses]

Hello! I saw somewhere you are writing a book and I currently doing the same thing! May I ask you on some tips? I struggle with attention span, my own writing style and the pacing. How do you deal with this kind of stuff? Also with critics? I know I need it to be better but I am still super sensitive. GOOD LUCK TO YOU BTW!!!

hey  hey  !!  firstly,  i  want  to  thank  you  for  messaging  me  here  rather  than  over  on  my  indie  –   i’d  just  rather  keep  it  purely  rping  stuff  over  there  so  again,  thank  you  :~)  &  also  thank  you  for  the  well�� wishes  !!  i’m  super  excited  &  i  wish  you  the  absolute  best  with  your  book  as  well !!   ~  what’s  yours  going  to  be  about ?  if  you ( anyone  reading  this,  not  just  anon )  ever  want  dm  me  &  gush  about  our  books,  i  would  actually  love  to  :’’’)

but  onto  some  tips  …  please  keep  in  mind  that  these  are  just  what  i  do  because  i,  too,  have the  attention  span  of  an  actual  rock  DFKGHS.  if  you  ever  need  help  with  anything  else  (  regarding  story writing  or  anything  else  ),  feel  free  to  come  back  @  any  time  +  i’d  be  more  than  happy  to  help  :-)

so  …  i  don’t  think  it  really  matters  where  you  choose  to  write  your  story  –  in  any  writing  software  or  wherever –  but  i’d  suggest  writing  in  google  docs  simply  because  it  says  as  you  go  &,  knowing  from  experience,  there’s  nothing  more  heartbreaking  than  writing  for  an  hour  just  for  the  app  to  crash  +  you  lose  all  you’re  writing.

(  i’m  going  to  put  the  rest  under  a  read  more  so  i  can  write  all  my  thoughts  &  not  worry  about  it  being  super  long  – which it is, sorry about that –  &  clogging  the  dash  )

i  made  a  separate  tumblr  account  strictly  for  my  book  where  i  can  put  my  thoughts, ideas,  chapter  outlines,  character  stuff,  etc  on.  whenever  i  go  to  write  in  my  book,  i  keep  that  tumblr  signed  in  &  i  get  off  the  dash  and  only  keep  the  actual  blog  open  because  not  only  does  it  help  having  it  open  to  add  anything  important  you  may  think  of  while  writing  but  it  also  helps  keep  your  attention  off  the  dash  ‘cause  you  won’t  be  following  anyone  on  that  account  so  none  of  the  posts  will  be  your  friends  or  anything  that  really  pertains  to  you.  you’ll  also  be  able  to  follow  /  reblog  writing  help  stuff  or  just  things  that  inspire  your  book  there  without  worrying  about  “messing  up”  the  content  on  your  main  blog.

don’t  open  any  tabs  of  things  that  might  grab  your  attention  —  social  media,  youtube, game sites, etc.  it’s  super  important  to  only  keep  writing  help  tabs  up  so  you  aren’t  tempted  to visit  the  other  tabs  +  potentially  get  lost  among  them  and  lose  time.  the  tabs  i  personally  keep  open  are:  google  docs  for  writing,  spotify  ( or 8tracks )  for  inspiring  music  &  thesaurus ( or powerthesaurus )  for  help  finding  new  words.  this  is  just  me,  personally,  but  you  can  open  anything  that  you  think  will  help  you  stay  focus  &  inspired  to  write.  if  it  doesn’t  /  if  it’ll  just  be  a  distraction,  don’t  open  it.

pop  on  some  music  that  gives  off  the  vibe  of  your  story.  this  can  help  you  stay  inspired  &  get  more  in  the  zone.  what  i  always  do  is  think  of  different  games  /  books  /  shows  that  are  the  same  genre  and  look  up  playlists  for  that  other  thing.  or  you  can  directly  look  up  the  genre  of  your  book  +  writing.  so,  if  you’re  writing  a  scary  book  about  a  haunted  mansion,  you  could  look  up  “writing” + “horror”  ( or just “horror” )  &  i  guarantee  you  a  lot  of  different  options  will  come  up  to  help  you  really  get  into  that  setting. !!  BUT  !!  if  music  distracts  rather  than  inspires  &  if  you  prefer  writing  in  complete  silence,  just  ignore  this  ~  it’s  not  for  everyone.  a  bit  of  a  tip  i  do  have  for  you  though,  if  you’re  in  a  noisy  area,  is  to  put  headphones / earphones  in.  it  won’t  block  out  ALL  of  the  noise  but  it’ll  at  least  help  muffle  the  sound  around  you.

there  really  isn’t  one  set  way  to  stay  focused  ;  you  can  google  different  ways  to  keep  your  attention  on  one  thing  but  something  that  really  helps  me  is  writing  about  something  i  love  or  something  that  inspires  me  !  writing  a  story  about  a  romance  that  blossoms  when  your  true  passion  is  in  the  adventure  genre  is  a  surefire  way  of  making  it  hard  to  focus  when  writing.  no  one  likes  to  write  stuff  you  aren’t  interested  in  ~  so  don’t  do  it  !  it’s  your  book  and  no  one  can  tell  you  not  to  write  what  you  love.  just  find  a  topic  /  genre  you  really  enjoy  &  start  there.

regarding  pacing  ….  ( future edit: i  realize  i  didn’t  understand  what  type  of  pacing  you  meant ....  so  i  didn’t  really  answer  your  question  but  i  have  links  at  the  bottom  to  help  you;  sorry  about  that !!  ) let  me  tell  you  upfront  that  i  am  the  worst  when  it  comes  to  pacing  because  i  either  write  for  5  hours  straight  or  write  for  5  minutes  then  walk  away. and  that’s  okay  !  in  reality,  you  can’t  force  yourself  to  write.  this  just  leads  to  sloppiness  and  while, yes,  it’s  the  first  draft,  you’ll  be  giving  yourself  extra  things  to  do  in  the  future ( figuring out what you wanted to write  /  what  you  meant  at  the  time / editing, etc etc ).  SO  !  what  do  you  do  when  you  don’t  feel  like  writing  ?  i’ve  been  using  this  word  a  lot  and  i  apologize  but  you  should  inspire  yourself  to  write.  i’d  suggest maybe  watch  a  movie  that’s  similar  to  your  book  or  watching  a  bit  of  a  playthrough  of  a  game  ( or  play  a  bit  of  it  yourself  if  you  have  it  )  that’s  similar  to  your  book  or  even  read  a  bit  of  a  different  book  !  you  can  also  wait  until  you  feel  the  urge  to  write  again  but  there’s  never  telling  how  long  that  could  be.  something  that  i’m  going  to  try  doing  is  making  a  schedule  for  writing  your  book.  this  can  absolutely  help  keep  you  on  track  as  well  as  making  sure  you  don’t  burn out  from writing  too  much.

when  it  comes  to  critiquing  my  stories,  i  always  show  it  to  my  mom  /  brother  /  boyfriend  /  anyone  i  trust  to  give  their  real  opinion.  i  think  it’s  important  to  get  critics  from  people  you  KNOW  will  be  honest  (  but  not  rude  or  hurtful  )  about  it.  i  do  this  throughout  writing  &  not  when  i’m  fully  finished  ~  this  is  just  because  books  can  be  very  long  &  take  a  while  for  people  to  finish  meaning  you  get  feedback  slower  than  if  you  were  to  show  your  writing  during  the  process  ??  if  that  makes  sense ?  you  can  also  send  it  to  online  friends  (  which  is  another  reason  i  love  google  docs  btw !!  you  can  so  easily  send a  viewing  link  out  )  and  get  an  opinion  from  them.

regarding  writing  style  ….  i  feel  like  this  is  a  lot  like  when  artists  find  their  art  style.  you  can  just  write  &  let  the  words  flow  or  you  could  also  read  books  from  different  authors  &  see  which  interests  you  or  you  could  even  google  different  styles  ?  you  shouldn’t  force  yourself  to  do  a  certain  style  though,  pick  one  that  flows  well  for  you  &  isn’t  stressful  to  write.

i’m  sorry  for  how  long  this  got  DFDKGHD  i  didn’t  realize  how  much  there  was  to  say  but  i  think  i  got  it  all  out.  i  hope  it  helped  you  out  even  a  little  bit  !  i’ll  leave  you  with  a  few  resources  to  further  help  you  out  :~)  like  i  said  before,  please  do  come  back  if  you  have  any  other  questions  or  if  you  want  to  tell  me  about  your  book  because  i’d  looooooove  to  hear  it  ~

8 ways to improve your focus

8 quick ways to improve your attention span

10 ways to stand out and develop a unique writing style

how to find your writing style

7 quick tips for mastering pacing in your story

pacing in writing: what is it and how to master it

how to create strong pacing for your story

[blue-bismuth]

Case #0161210

i have been egged on to post this so! here’s what i consider my tma oc’s first real involvement with everything going on. it’s formatted like a statement but pretty much everything else i post here about them will be in my more traditional writing style

tws: mentions of trans/nbphobia, people acting uncanny, animal harm/death (no pets), kidnapping, cannibalism

EDIT: here’s the ao3 link if you wanna read it there!

-- -- --

Avery

You’re sure this isn’t too much of an inconvenience? I-I don’t have to talk about it. You probably still have more statements to get through.

Archivist

If you ask me that one more time, I won’t take statements from you ever again.

Avery

Christ, alright, I’ll stop. At least I won’t get in trouble, ‘cause I got everything assigned to me done already…

Archivist

Aren’t you fast.

Avery

It’s a blessing and a curse. Curse in that I get chewed out if I’m caught fucking around on the office computer.

Sorry, sorry, getting off topic. I’ll make the statement now.

Archivist

Statement of Avery Linwood, a finance worker in the Magnus Institute, regarding their time living in the rural town of Crestfallen, between the spring of 2014 and the summer of 2016. Statement taken direct from subject, December 10th, 2016. Statement begins.

Avery

Man, okay. So, as you can probably tell, I’m not from England. I was born and raised in America, Wisconsin to be specific. I graduated college in 2009 because I had to get 150 credits to qualify for CPA exams--although I guess in the end it did jack shit, ‘cause I only ended up staying in the U.S. for five years. 

Archivist

Sorry, could you clarify what a CPA is?

Avery

Oh! I-it stands for Certified Public Accountant. It basically means that I can provide accounting services to the public alongside working for companies. And since I’m here now instead of my home state, I have to do continuing education if I wanna keep that license active. I guess it makes sense, but it’s still extra work, y’know?

Sorry, getting off topic again. I feel like that’s gonna be a theme for this statement.

Archivist

I’ve had my fair share of ramblers. I’m guilty of it too.

Avery

I mean, still. Anyway, that shit kinda drove me into the ground. I never managed to get enough money to rent a decent office space so I could be independent, and the closest I ever got to that was working in assurance services. I would’ve stayed in forensic accounting, but every office I was in had a terrible culture. One of my ex-bosses told me that I, quote unquote, “had too big of a rack” to be anything but a girl. So...yeah.

Archivist

And I assume this is why you left?

Avery

Pretty much. I wasn’t too keen on moving anywhere inside the U.S., everywhere was either too bigoted or too expensive or too crowded...you get the picture. I guess I just wanted something different, something where I didn’t need to sit in an office all day and handle people’s taxes or whatever. I’ve always loved those kinda video games where you move to some old farmhouse and clean it up, start taking care of crops and livestock, making friends with the townspeople...it was a form of escapism I could never really afford--honestly, unless you’re a big dairy farmer, you’re not gonna get anywhere stable in Wisconsin. 

I don’t know how I found my way to Crestfallen. I think I saw a post on Tumblr about how, if you promise to restore an ancient castle--the ones that’re all over Europe--you can live in it for free, and there was a link to some website where you could register to do that. I guess it held more than castles, though, ‘cause I saw a section for old farmhouses. The one in Crestfallen was the cheapest, and apparently I would even get a financial reward from the mayor if I helped out enough. It was a moment of weakness, I guess.

I don’t tell my parents a whole lot of stuff anymore unless they ask, but I felt the need to tell them I was moving to a different country. They must’ve seen it as odd, but they knew I wasn’t doing too well in my...current line of work. They gave me their well wishes and I left for England.

I guess the first thing that tipped me off was getting there. I didn’t think anything of it, but when I told the bus driver--coach driver for you guys--where I was going, he seemed...surprised. He didn’t know the place at first, that it wasn’t even on his map. I pointed it out on my phone, and he said that the nearest stop was Billingham in County Durham. I said that was fine, that I could probably catch a taxi the rest of the way. I don’t know if he believed me, but either way, he accepted my ticket and I boarded. There wasn’t anything unusual about the ride up, and at the time, I just guessed he didn’t know because the town was so small.

When I finally arrived in Billingham, I managed to flag a taxi down and asked the driver to go to Crestfallen. He also seemed surprised, but it must’ve been for completely different reasons. Whatever they were, he shoved it down and told me it was going to be a fairly expensive taxi ride. That was fine by me, I had already converted all of my money to pounds anyway. So I loaded my luggage and got in the back.

Thankfully, he kept silent most of the way through. He told me when we were about five minutes away from the stop, and followed it up by telling me that if I wanted to turn back now, he wouldn’t charge me anything. 

I realized what he meant: I had been paying attention to my book and not to the town itself, which was covered in a heavy fog. I hadn’t noticed any fog when I got to Billingham; the skies were clear all day. Maybe it was just foggy west of the bus route and Billingham--I wanted to get away from my old life so desperately that I was denying any possibility that my new life would be worse.

I shook my head and said that I was staying. The taxi driver laughed, a short, almost bitter laugh. Told me that I was gonna die in Crestfallen one way or another before he dropped me off. I paid him and took my luggage, still questioning what exactly he meant.

The odd thing was that, after I stepped off, the fog had lifted. I mean, the sky was still overcast, but I could see clearly. I was in this...little clearing, with a path that presumably led to the town, and another one apparently leading to the farm. A man was waiting in the clearing, and he approached me. Said he was the mayor, and that he wanted to show me to the farm. 

I had already expected the farm to be a mess, honestly. I saw the pictures. There were scattered branches and stones throughout the farmland, wild grass growing everywhere...if there was even a previous owner, they must’ve left a long time ago. I wanted to ask the mayor, but he just ignored me. At the time, I thought he was just busy and that he had better things to do. He gave me a random bag of seeds and told me my tools were in the farmhouse. And then he just left.

I wish I could tell you more, but I just can’t remember a good chunk of my time there. My therapist is pretty sure it’s a symptom of my PTSD, which...if there’s even more traumatic memories my brain has blocked out, that’s scarier than anything I can remember.

Everything was just so uncanny. Most of the people always moved around like robots, their eyes glazed over, until I talked to them. And then they were all too perky. Even the people I were told were grumps acted like it. There were things that were superficially different about them, but they all acted so similarly, it felt like some sort of hive mind. I don’t know if that’s what was going on, and honestly, I don’t want to find out.

I say most of the people, because there were two I felt like I could trust. There was a huge lake on the outskirts of the town, and these two people lived on the beach. One of them lived in a small cabin, her name’s Odelia Stevens. She’s a writer, and she had gotten herself in the unfortunate situation where she couldn’t afford to move out, once she realized what was going on with the town. The second was an old fisherman living by the docks, his name was Langdon Averill. I’ll...get to why I say “is” for Odelia and “was” for Langdon later.

I think meeting them was the thing that kept me from falling into the town’s clutches. They were considered outcasts, and the town seemed to pretend like they didn’t exist. I never saw any of them go to the beach, and when one of them tried to talk to me after I left, they would tell me I just appeared out of nowhere.

I didn’t end up farming much. I would buy from the general store, at first, but when I harvested the crops, they were...god, I can’t think of the words. They were mangled and sickly, even though I knew the soil at least looked good. The seeds the mayor gave me, I think they were supposed to be parsnips, but the leaves were so shriveled, and the parsnips themselves were hard and spotted, and they were so small. When the mayor came to my farm to gather the harvest, I didn’t know whether or not to give...any of what I’d grown to him. But he saw them and he was overjoyed. He took one of those parsnips and bit right into it, dirt and spots and all. And he loved it! The only things that really prospered was food that I foraged from a nearby forest, and that became pretty much my entire diet. I took a sample of the soil from the farm; I have it with me if you want to keep it for testing or something.

Odelia and Langdon told me a lot about the other townsfolk, mostly so I wouldn’t outwardly freak out. I learned that they hate that the hard way--I once saw a child, couldn’t have been more than ten years old, shove a live robin down his throat and swallow it. I screamed, and the child’s mother descended on me, scratching me with her nails. Even though they were short, they were almost deadly sharp. I still have the scars on my cheek. She was screaming at me, over and over, screaming that he was just having a snack. It must’ve drawn the attention of the other townsfolk, because I could hear more voices yelling at me, telling me that I would be cooked in “his pot,” whatever that meant. Suddenly, the clock in the center of town rang and, like a reset button, they all stopped and went back to their usual activities. Thankfully, I had already met the two at the beach, and Langdon patched me up in his house.

I learned that they ate live birds a lot. They really seemed to like raw meat, flies or rotting be damned. I liked my meat, still do, but at least I cook it first. They would eat raw chicken and vomit in the streets afterwards. I never saw anyone die, funnily enough. 

They had celebrations every so often. I hadn’t properly learned from Odelia and Langdon yet, so I went to the first one in the spring. I think it was something for Easter, but all they did was crack a bunch of eggs in this huge pot and take turns drinking spoonfuls from it. When I declined, I could feel that they wanted to attack me, but something prevented them from ending the celebration in bloodshed. 

After that first spring, I spent a lot of my time at the beach and in the forest. The forest wasn’t completely free of the townsfolk, as one of them ran a ranch near the edge of that, but I needed it for food. Eventually, Langdon taught me how to fish--I couldn’t exactly subsist on wild leeks and berries forever. It was a nice way to pass the time.

By that first winter, though, things started to change. So long as snow covered the ground, the townsfolk would come in the night and write things in it. Sometimes I wouldn’t see them if the snow covered it up, but otherwise...it was always things about how I had betrayed their father, more references to his pot, that I would melt and cook while they feasted on my bones with said father. I wish I could remember more, Jon, I’m sorry.

Archivist

Do you remember anything else?

Avery

Well...sometime around the first fall, Odelia taught me how to make seeds out of the food and flowers I foraged. That was how I knew it wasn’t the soil that made the crops suffer, the seeds that I had made turned out fine--sometimes they were even better than what I had foraged. I ended up farming more for myself over anything, even though one of the points on that ad was that I had to be generous and donate some of my crops to the townspeople. I doubted it would make them happy, though. And I don’t really like hurting or killing people unless they’re actively attacking me or other innocent people; if my crops were going to poison the town, I didn’t want to risk anything. Chances are it would’ve just made them madder.

I tried to raise some chickens, though. Despite how much I didn’t want to interact with either of these people, I asked the carpenter to make a coop, and I got some chickens from the man running the ranch. By all accounts, they acted like normal chickens, and I tried to feed them good hay by harvesting the grass, but their eggs were still terrible: gray yolks, incredibly thin whites...I love scrambled eggs, but I could never use those. I eventually sold the chickens back to the ranch and had the coop taken down after a few months in the summer. I didn’t even want to try raising cows.

I wanted to leave so badly by the time that second winter rolled around. While Odelia and Langdon would often visit me and we would spend time on my farm or in the forest, by that time there was some odd force preventing them from leaving the beach. I witnessed it myself; anytime they would approach that border of trees separating the beach from the rest of the town, it was like they got...stuck. I don’t know if you play video games, but you know when you reach the border of the game map, and you just can’t go any further despite there not being anything physical stopping you? It looked like that. I could come and go as I pleased, but it was like...like the townspeople had rejected their existence so hard they couldn’t even penetrate the town they had constructed so carefully.

I think the final straw for the townspeople was late spring, the last year I was there. They had this sort of dance deep in the thick of the forest, apparently only accessible when the dance was going on. One of the men around my age there was the town doctor--which I doubt he was actually licensed to practice medicine, since I don’t even think he was thirty at the time--and he asked me to go to the dance. I’d never been asked before, in Crestfallen or in general, but I really didn’t want to go. I had no idea what kind of fucked up shit would happen there, and I didn’t want to find out. So I said no.

That night, just before I was about to go to bed, my door was broken down. I don’t remember how many people were there, but it was definitely the doctor and at least four other people. They descended on me like vultures, only instead of eating me they were savagely beating and kicking me. I was crying, and...sorry, hold on a second.

Archivist

Take your time.

Avery

[They nod, silently wiping tears away from their face]

Sorry, I...I have a bad habit of going nonverbal when I start crying. That, and I sound incomprehensible when I try to talk, and that’s especially bad considering you’re recording this. Anyway, I think one of them brought a bat down on my head, and I was knocked unconscious. I woke up the next morning in this weird white dress and a flower crown on my head. I could feel thorns on the stems threatening to pierce my already sensitive head. As my vision came into focus, I could see that my hands and feet were bound with rope. Actually, I wasn’t wearing anything but that dress, but when I tried to ask where my clothes had gone, I...I couldn’t make words with my mouth. Just a gentle sigh. It was a moment later that I saw the doctor holding my clothes, all neatly folded, approaching a blazing bonfire. Before I could even try to yell out, he threw them into the flames and turned towards me, watching me with cold infatuation as my clothes burned away.

Soon enough, the mayor approached me and grabbed my wrists, pulling me to the center of what looked to be the actual dancing part of the area. It was from here that I could see the whole field: the bonfire in the middle, separating what looked to be a buffet from the dancing. Various townspeople were milling around the buffet or looking at the bonfire, but when the mayor whistled, everyone turned to face me instantly.

They must’ve all known what would happen, because without a word or even a gesture from the mayor, the doctor stepped forward and grabbed my hands in his own. I tried to look at the ground, but the mayor held a hand under my chin so I would look my apparent dance partner in the eyes. 

I hated every second of it. I was basically just getting tossed around, since I couldn’t move my feet. I could hear the townspeople chanting and playing instruments, but it wasn’t anything I could decipher. That or I just can’t remember, I wouldn’t be surprised at this point. Slowly, more people joined in on the dance, although from the snippets I could see, their dance was totally different than whatever the doctor was doing to me.

It felt like hours, but the sun’s position hadn’t even moved in the sky when the dance was done and I was released. I didn’t get much time to relish it, though, because I was knocked unconscious again. When I woke up, it was night, and I was lying naked on top of my bed.

I knew at that point that I had to get out of there. But I didn’t want Odelia and Langdon to be trapped either. I needed to do something. God, I can’t believe I forgot to mention this, but the entire time I was there, I could never get a signal on my phone. And it wasn’t like I had run out of data or anything, I was on a by-the-gig plan at the time. At least I wasn’t wasting my money, but it still frustrated me. Most of my days after that dance were spent walking all around the town limits, trying in vain to even get one bar. I’d downloaded one of those rideshare apps forever ago, but I never used it, and I figured now would be the best time to see if anyone could show up. I didn’t have much faith, considering my previous experiences getting to Crestfallen, but dammit, I had to try. I did not want to die in this place, and I didn’t want Odelia or Langdon to either.

I know you’re probably wondering why I didn’t just walk the road back to where I came, but to be honest, I didn’t want the townspeople following me. None of them had cars, as far as I knew, maybe a motorcycle owned by one person, but I still feared that they could track us down anyway. Plus, I didn’t want to get turned around and end back up in Crestfallen again. So, I figured calling someone over would be the best solution. I really didn’t want to rope anyone else into this mess, but it had the highest chance of succeeding in my eyes. And well, I’m here right now.

I finally got two bars on May 31st. See, part of Crestfallen is on a huge hill, and on the peak of that there’s a train that comes through--no stops, unfortunately, and I never heard or saw one go by while I was living there. Either way, it was there that I finally found a signal. So, I told my plan to Odelia and Langdon: that as soon as I found a way to get them out of the beach and onto the single road that went out of Crestfallen, we were leaving. Langdon seemed more hopeless than Odelia, but they both eventually agreed. 

As it turned out, Odelia was on her high school’s swim team, and she had kept that up. She found that, so long as she swam to where the river flowing through Crestfallen emptied into the lake and kept her body underwater the entire time, she could escape into the rest of the town. With the added bonus of this river emptying out in the forest, she and Langdon could have some secrecy coming up. Meanwhile, I could take their luggage beforehand and keep it at my house until they were ready to go.

They were ready June 7th. The three of us stood at the top of the hill, Odelia and Langdon soaked, while I got someone to pick us up. Once the ride was approved, we raced back down to my house to get our luggage and wait for our driver. Unfortunately, the rest of the town seemed to have picked up on our plan.

Five minutes before our driver got there, we could see a mob approaching us, and they had weapons. Crude ones, but I could see kitchen knives glinting in people’s hands, sharpened sticks and stones and bats. They didn’t want to just beat us up this time; they were either going to indoctrinate us or kill us.

Despite his age, Langdon was surprisingly good at defending us against the mob. While we were able to avoid things being thrown at us, and at a couple points we threw them back to keep individual members from attacking us, Langdon was actively keeping them away with his suitcase. Two minutes before our driver got here, he was able to wrestle a butcher’s knife from a woman’s hand--the same woman that clawed my face so long ago. It felt like slow motion, watching him throw the knife right in the center of the woman’s forehead.

As she collapsed into a heap, the mob paused. They looked at the dead woman, and their faces contorted into anger. One of them cried out, and the mob descended on him just as the driver pulled up. Langdon screamed at us to save ourselves, and Odelia pulled me into the car. As she told the driver to go as fast as she could, I watched helplessly as the mob tore chunks from Langdon, and he screamed in pain as they ate his flesh.

When the driver dropped us off at the bus station, I gave her a five star rating and a tip that basically doubled the cost of the ride. She didn’t sign up to see a man be cannibalized, so it was the least I could do for potentially traumatizing her.

As we waited, I asked Odelia if Langdon sacrificing himself was something he planned. She shook her head, but she did remember hearing him say that he would rather he die on this mission over either of us, his rationale being that he was just an old fisherman, that we had more potential than he did out in the rest of England. I don’t know if he was right, but I can’t exactly change the past.

When the bus drove up, we boarded. I ended up sleeping most of the way down, which gave Odelia the chance to rest her head on my shoulder. Even though it was on a bus, it was the most comfortable I slept in the longest time. She must’ve had family or something in Liverpool, since that was where she requested to be dropped off. At first, I didn’t really know where I wanted to go. I didn’t know what to do with myself anymore; all of my plans for the future had been dashed by Crestfallen. I ended up telling the bus driver to bring me to Greenwich, since it seemed far enough away from the center of London that I wouldn’t be overwhelmed. I applied for temporary housing there while I looked around for jobs to tide me over. It took about a month for me to get my own place, and as you probably know, I got a job here in August.

Archivist

That’s...certainly a lot. Do you have any way of contacting Odelia to perhaps get her perspective on Crestfallen?

Avery

I have her number, yeah. Though I’m not sure how willing she’d be to talk to you about it, considering whenever I’ve tried to bring up her time in Crestfallen, she doesn’t want to talk about it.

Archivist

Well, I suppose that’s understandable. As much as I would want to send someone up there to investigate, it would likely take a day at least, and if your claims are true, it would be very dangerous for--

Avery

What, you don’t believe me?

Archivist

You said yourself that you don’t remember a whole lot. But considering some of the...more horrific things you’ve told me about Crestfallen, I don’t want to think about what’s been blocked from your memory due to trauma. 

Avery

I...I guess. I wouldn’t want anyone going out there either. Not without a weapon, and I doubt you can have those on public transportation.

Sorry. It’s just...wanting to tell someone about this was part of the reason why I applied to work at the Institute. Not all of it, but...I was kind of worried you wouldn’t believe me if I was some stranger. Although, I guess now’s not much better.

Archivist

[Sighs] Avery, I know I might act like I do, but I don’t hate you. I’m not around you enough to hate you.

Avery

I have a feeling you will if you get to know me better. It happens a lot. [Sighs, getting up from chair] Well, if that’s all you need from me, I should go.

Archivist

For now, yes. I’ll reach out if I need additional information.

Avery

Cool. [Footsteps, door opens then closes]

[CLICK]

Archivist

[CLICK]

Despite the...awkward ending to that statement, Avery has been surprisingly cooperative in regards to follow-up questions. They asked Odelia Stevens if she could come in and give a statement, but apparently her work schedule would make that difficult. However, Avery has arranged a video call with her and myself, so maybe she’ll be able to give us some more insight.

As it turns out, Crestfallen is a registered town in County Durham, despite there being very little information about...anything involving it, really. I don’t know how I could convince anyone to go there, even if they don’t know about it. I don’t think I could live with myself if I did that.

I really don’t know all that much about Avery, now that I think about it. As much as I don’t want to trust them, I’ve been trying to let my paranoia go. It’s strange, you’d think knowing them less would give me more reason to be paranoid about their intentions, but...quite the opposite, really. I don’t know what motivation they’d have for faking something on this scale, especially when their job is so removed from the more paranormal aspects of working here.

I just don’t know. And I don’t know if that’s a sign I should get to know them better, or keep them at arms’ length.

Recording ends.

[CLICK]

[daebakinc]

Hero Among Thorns - Pt.3

Pairing: Hyunwoo x Reader Genre: Undercover Detective AU, Action, Romance Word Count: 2.5K Summary: When a mistaken connection results in your kidnapping by one of the city’s most notorious gangs, the undercover detective Hyunwoo has no choice but to rescue and protect you, and, most dangerously of all, fall in love with you. Warning: Mentions of violence and blood. Parts: See Masterlist for previous parts. (Sorry, but Tumblr won’t show posts with links in tag searches. 

Under Jooheon’s watchful gaze, you shuffle out of the room after you eat and take a nap. The sun’s light is weak with dusk, the electrical lights humming above your head to brighten the hallway. A television’s indecipherable buzz gets louder as you walk down the short hall, passing two closed doors. When you step into the doorway leading to the living area, the first thing you notice is how cramped it is.

 The kitchen area is small but neat and modern with slate gray walls and tiles. A short half-counter separates it from the living room. Two large couches and an armchair in a darker shade of gray than the walls and overstuffed for perfect naps encircle a widescreen television. A weights bench and stand with free range weights is tucked into the corner by the small balcony. But maybe it isn’t the furniture that makes the room seem too small. It very well could be the six men ranged about the space.

Kihyun washes dishes with his back to a dark-haired man in an oversized hoodie hunched over a bulky laptop on the counter. Lines of green numbers and letters flash across the screen in meaningless sequences. Two men sit side by side on one of the couches in jeans and old graphic T’s, both animatedly discussing the soccer match on the television. One is blond, lanky, and practically vibrating with energy from his gesticulating hands to his bouncing knee. His companion is slightly calmer but just as intent and looks like he could be gym buddies with Dwayne Johnson. Yet another man with an angelic face dominates the other couch, his legs for miles dangling off the edge of an arm as he sleeps.

Shownu, or rather Hyunwoo, you remind yourself, sits in the armchair, his eyes following the ball on the screen. He’s changed from the jeans to more comfortable sweatpants a shade lighter than his shirt. Although you don’t make a sound or move, Hyunwoo’s gaze flicks to yours.

All the air rushes from your lungs. The medication Jooheon gave you must be stronger than you thought. No way Hyunwoo’s soft smile and the way it so genuinely shines in his eyes can have that effect on you already.

Must be a side effect of the medication. Has to be.

“Guys,” Hyunwoo rises from his chair, “our guest is up.”

Mr. Muscles shoots to his feet with a disconcerting speed, his neighbor rising from his seat as well. When his sleeping friend fails to follow, Muscles nudges the sleeping one’s feet off the couch. “Come on, where’re your manners? Stand when a lady comes into the room.”

“Getting there,” the friend mumbles as he sits up. He opens one eye to glare at the offender. “You didn’t draw the short straw for dawn surveillance.”

“I’m assuming you want us to introduce ourselves?” the blond asks Hyunwoo even as he moves around the couch. With a winning smile and waving hand, he comments, “Looks like I was pretty spot on. Everything fit okay?”

You pause mid-smile. “Excuse me?”

He gives you a boyish smile of apology. “Ah, sorry, that came out weird. I’m Minhyuk. Resident mechanic and artist. I’m really good with estimating measurements so I picked up your new clothes since we hadn’t gone to your place yet. I wasn’t sure on some but-”

“Shut up before you sound like a creep,” says Mr. Muscles, laughing. He inclines his head to you in a princely nod. “Hoseok, ma’am, second-in-command of the unit. I promise we’ll do our best to make this experience as safe and painless as possible.”

The third couch resident yawns and starts to stretch. “Ditto what he said except Hyungwon, sharpshooter slash whatever the boss needs.”

“Please, don’t get up on my account,” you say, throwing out your free hand when he begins to rise. “If you had a late night, you need rest.”

Hyungwon gives you an unreadable look before turning his head towards Hyunwoo. “I like her.” He settles back into the couch, body slack but eyes alert.

Kihyun finishes drying off a hand to flick the last remaining team member lightly on the forehead. “This one’s Changkyun. Kid hacker turned good guy by our captain over there.”

Changkyun taps one more key, then turns around to give you a brief, assessing look-over. “Yo.”

“Hi,” you reply.

“By the way,” Changkyun’s eyes go to Hyunwoo. “Turns out your gym is the gym she works at.”

Something clicks in your mind as you look at Hyunwoo, mouth dropping open. “That was you!” you squeak.

Hyunwoo’s mouth pouts in confusion. “Me? I’m sure we haven’t run into each other there before-”

“No, no.” You try to wave your hand, but the sling hinders your movement. “My friend, Amy, she took a picture of you like last week or something when she saw you there. She sent me the pic because –… well, you’re hot.”

More than one of the men snickers. Hyunwoo just looks amused and shakes his head.

“Well, one more piece of the puzzle falls into place,” Hyungwon says. “Still begs the question as to why Yew made such a dramatic a move now.”

“I’d really like to know a lot of things,” you add, trying to cross your arms only to remember you can’t. “I don’t take kindly to being shot, kidnapped, and drugged.”

“None of us enjoy it either,” Kihyun says matter-of-factly. He takes your uninjured arm and steers you towards the couch. Maneuvering Minhyuk aside with a bump of his elbow, he settles you in the space previously occupied by Hoseok and sits beside you. “But we do need to debrief you about what you remember. If you don’t mind doing that now.”

Jooheon answers the question in Kihyun’s glance over your head. “Without the lab, I can’t tell if any of the drugs used on her affect memory. That is if they haven’t already disappeared from her system.”

“You mean from when I was kidnapped?” you ask.

Kihyun nods and Minhyuk adds, “Don’t leave anything out. A detail may seem insignificant, but it could be useful to us.”

Hoseok picks up the remote to turn off the television. In the sudden quiet, you feel an intensity descend over the room. You look around to find each of the occupants intent on your face, your body language. Even Changkyun closes his laptop and watches from the stool. Jooheon and Minhyuk perch on the arms of Hyungwon’s couch while Hoseok stands beside Hyunwoo’s chair. The smiles are gone, replaced with the focus of hunters.

You are very, very glad these men are on your side and not after you. With their concentrated gazes and bodies leaning towards yours, they look like bloodhounds straining on leash, ready to track their prey to the ends of the earth. And you have no doubt once they do, it’s going to be dangerous for whoever it is.

“Um,…” Your voice falters and fails. Hyunwoo gives you a small smile. The tiny encouragement helps you find your words again. “I left work by myself at one that morning—”

“You work at a medical office, not a hospital. What were you doing there so late?” Changkyun interrupts.

“Our biller’s been out helping her daughter with a new grandbaby, so we were behind with insurance claims. Yester- that day was the last day to file them. I’m the only one who knows how to do it. I had to catch up on my own work, too: ordering vaccines and supplies, filing specialist reports, etcetera. The office is a mess if I don’t.”

“Not safe for a woman to be out alone like that,” you hear Hoseok mumble.

Minhyuk attempts to get the conversation back on track. “And after you left?”

You briefly describe your path home, leaving out your pause by the ballet studio. No need to relive that or drag them through your trip down memory lane. You describe the car that almost hit you, but then everything gets hazy. In the pain of being shot, your brain had been otherwise occupied.

Closing your eyes, you try harder. “I didn’t see the faces of whoever pulled me off the ground, but… there was a guy in the car, in the backseat that they showed me to. I couldn’t see his face. He was smoking something really bitter smelling. And his arm… there was a tattoo on his forearm. The outside of it. All black. Something like a tree, maybe?”

“Which arm?” Kihyun presses.

Eyes still shut, you shift your body, placing yourself back on that street. “I was walking down the street, so the right? I guess?”

“If you saw the tattoo again, would you recognize it?”

“Maybe.”

When you open your eyes, you catch the shared look between all the men. Changkyun magically has a tablet in his lap, fingers flying across the screen. The tattoo meant something.

Changkyun turns the screen back to you. “This it?”

The photo is slightly blurry as if the camera had to zoom in from a distance. It only shows an arm, raised in the air in mid-gesture. Although the finer details of the tattoo are smudged at the distance, you recognize the twisted trunk and severe lines.

Ignoring the chill that settles in your chest, you quickly look away. “Yeah. That’s it.”

“We must have really pissed Yew off if he oversaw the job personally,” Hoseok comments, glancing down at Hyunwoo. “This would be the first sighting of him in months.”

Hyunwoo’s gaze stays on the floor. A crease etches deeper between his eyes. His hand comes to his chin, his pointer finger rubbing the skin. “Maybe one of our recent deals hit a nerve.”

You wrap your free arm around yourself. “How… how bad is this guy? You said he was some kind of gangster, right?”

“He deals in drugs, contraband, murders, humans,” Jooheon spits, the hatred in his voice surprising you. “Anything sold on this region’s black-markets, he’s had a hand in it at some point. Arms are just his newest ‘business venture’.”

“So why hasn’t he been taken down before?”

Kihyun laughs humorlessly. “He’s a bastard, but unfortunately, he’s a smart one. Always careful to never have his name on the papers or the money, kept himself small enough to hide behind the bigger fish. That is until he made an example of one of our undercover agents he caught sniffing around. Since that day, he’s been our top priority.”

You don’t dare ask if they knew the murdered officer personally or what kind of example Yew chose. From the grim look on the men’s faces, they took the loss personally.

You look at the photograph on the screen again. Even faceless, or perhaps because he is so, Yew looms more menacingly than before. You draw your legs up to rest your chin on your knees. What kind of horrors did such a monster have planned for you if Hyunwoo had not acted or if he had acted any slower. What would he have done if Hyunwoo hadn’t acted at all. Cold creeps further into your skin as the millions of horrible fates you could have met flash like a demented movie reel through your head.

“I’ll be right back,” Hyunwoo suddenly says. He walks out of the room and out of sight into the hallway. When he returns, he holds a candy pink hoodie in his arms.

Unzipping it, he lays it across your shoulders. It’s ridiculously large and hangs loosely. But it also may be the warmest, softest, most comfortable thing you’ve ever worn. “You looked cold,” he says when you give him a questioning look.

“Ex-girlfriend’s?” you impulsively ask. With an internal sigh, you remind yourself it’s none of your business. And that you shouldn’t care. Not one bit.

Hoseok lets out a bark of laughter. “Nope. His.”

“His?” Incredulous, you pick at the fabric. They really expect you to believe some badass commando secret agent owns something like this?

Then again, this is the twenty-first century. Screw gender conformity. Men look good in pink.

Hyunwoo doesn’t appear embarrassed by your tone, simply smiling. “It’s a graduation gift from my old swim team. One of the coaches use to call me a merman. The girls on the team took it a little farther.”

You stay absolutely still as he reaches out and pinches some of the fabric to show you. There, stitched in bright red thread and loopy cursive, is ‘Merman.’

“Always thought I was more of a turtle, but it’s all in good fun,” Hyunwoo adds.

“It’s cute.” You smile at the thought of little Hyunwoo, if he was ever little, surrounded by a throng of giggling girls as they present the hoodie to him.

“Thanks.”

Pulling the hoodie closer around you, you venture, “So, can I ask my questions now?”

“Sure.”

“Do you have any idea when I can go home? If you’ve investigating Yew for a while, doesn’t that mean you’ll be done soon?” Maybe with the others present, you can get a different answer.

“I already contacted both of your jobs with a story about you being injured while going home to visit your family.” Changkyun says, leaning back on his elbows against the countertop. “The documentation I included was enough to buy three months’ medical leave from your office job. After that, we’ll figure something out. The gym will cover your classes indefinitely until you’re back. Once I’ve made sure your phone and online accounts aren’t being monitored, you can contact your family. I’ll figure out a cover story for you then. Your rent will be taken care of as we go.”

He makes it sound like it was nothing. Has he done this kind of thing that often that it really is nothing for him? Your second thought is where are they getting the money from. Your place isn’t the Ritz, but nothing in this city is cheap.

Scrambling to do calculations in your head, the amount needed to cover your rent for three months at once makes you woozy. You’ll really have to live sparsely, more so than normal, but if there’s one thing you hate, it’s owing people. “Can I pay you back in installments after this is all done?”

Changkyun shakes his head and your heart sinks, only for him to say, “You don’t have to pay us back at all. Our pockets are deep for this op; we’ll add it to our expenses.”

Shit, that’s a lot of money. It makes you uncomfortable taking it. “But-”

Hyunwoo cuts you off. “Consider it compensation for testifying when we close the case.”

“I never said I’d testify,” you blurt out.

[lazulifoster]

Get Up (Loki x reader) Part 3

Pairing: Loki x Reader x Thor

Warnings: Angst(?) Death, childbirth

Word Count: 2.7k+

A/N: Sorry for the delayed post, not gonna lie I stress myself out over my writing sometimes and think whatever I write is crap, but sometimes I just gotta post it no matter what my anxiety tells me :) Anyway, this whole chapter is a background, so everything makes sense from chapter 2. If there are any typos, from the bottom of my heart, my bad :)

Also, still new to Tumblr so if I forgot to tag you or something I’m so sorry, I just learned about how to link stuff :/

Previous Chapters:

Part 1  Part 2 

20+ Years Ago…

It was early dawn in Asgard. The sun had just begun to peek behind the mountains, causing the color of the sky to turn from deep indigo to blush pink. Other than a few guards making their rounds, most occupants of the Allfather’s palace lay asleep, perfectly silent; all except one. A Valkyrie hastily ran through the halls and corridors of the castle as quietly as possible. She periodically sprinted behind the palace’s many pillars and peeked cautiously around them, making sure she was not noticed by any of Odin’s guards. She finally arrived inside the palace library, the meeting place she agreed to meet Thor, her future King, and most trusted ally. She carefully peeked around the library, Thor was late. She began to pace, panic-stricken Thor had forgotten their meeting altogether.

Thor lackadaisically made his way toward the palace library. He found it extremely odd for Sigrún to ask him to meet secretly before sunrise inside the library, but nevertheless, he obliged her, not thinking much more of the request. When he finally arrived and saw the Valkyrie’s face he was shocked by her distraught demeanor.

“Lady Sigrún, what is the matter? Why do you look so troubled?”

“Your majesty, this is urgent, and there is no one else I trust."

Thor was taken aback, Sigrún was a mighty warrior who fought diligently for Odin’s army. She had no fear for any of Asgard’s foes and found valiantly whenever called upon. She had seen Hel and laughed at its gates. But now, Sigrún was acting like someone Thor did not recognize. Sigrún was utterly terrified, her fear was almost tangible inside the library. Thor reached out and gently grabbed her hand.

“My Lady, please tell me what is troubling you, you’re beginning to frighten me.”

Thor led Sigúrn a couple of feet to one of the many ornate benches and motioned for her to sit. Sigrun placed her head between her hands as she attempted to hold back sobs. Thor put his hand on Sigrún’s back, trying his best to comfort her until she finally spoke.

“I am with child.”

Thor was confused. “But—well, that’s wonderful news, Sigrún! Why are you so worried? Children are a blessing—”

“Your grace, I am carrying a human child, a Midgardian!”

Thor’s eyes widened. Odin had made it very clear that none of the Valkyrie were to ever leave Asgard, let alone lay with a Midgardian. He demanded all of their loyalty to Asgard. Odin had only recently permitted the Valkyrie to bare children with an Asgardian, but just because Frigga had requested that right for the Valkyries. And Odin, to not upset his Queen further, begrudgingly obliged. But what Sigrún had done, in Odin’s eyes, was treason, punishable by an eternity in a prison cell or death.

“Oh, Sigrún…”

“Please your majesty! I can’t—Help me! I do not know what to do!” She began to weep, uncontrollably

Seeing the mighty Valkyrie reduced to a grieving mess made Thor anxious. Sigrún was one of the Valkyrie he most admired. She had fought alongside Thor before, even saving his life once in battle. Thor didn’t need much time to think it over, he decided he would return the favor and save the life of his friend. Even if it meant betraying Odin.

“I think I might have an plan…”

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

Loki sat in the farthest corner of the palace library occupying his favorite chair. He had a difficult night sleeping the night before and decided to not fight his sleeplessness and made his way to the library, his sanctuary. He would peruse through the alchemy and spell books and then make his way to epics and poetry. This was his usual routine. He grabbed a few books from each section and began fervently reading, soaking up the words on each page. Suddenly, Loki started to heard heavy stomps, frantically moving around the library. He made himself invisible, curious who would be in the library at this time of morning. Loki peaked around a bookshelf and saw Sigrún, the Valkyrie, darting back and forth, seemingly looking for something. What is a Valkyrie doing here? Loki felt slightly possessive of the library even though it was technically open to all who entered the palace. Soon after his first discovery, he heard another set of footsteps, ones he recognized; thunderous and rhythmic. Thor needs to have his rendezvous elsewhere. Loki was irritated and almost revealed himself when he heard Sigrún plead for Thor’s help.

A smile spread across Loki’s face, Ahhh a secret… What are you trying to hide brother? Loki made his way closer to Sigrún and Thor, already thinking of ways to use this as blackmail against his father’s favorite son. But the more Loki eavesdropped on their conversation, the more his motives turned from mischievous to mutual concern. Despite what Loki would say, he cared for Sigrún greatly, especially after one particular instance. 

Years ago, when Loki’s Jotun heritage was exposed to all of Asgard, Sigrún had spotted Loki standing alone in the palace garden among a large hedge of roses in his Jotun form. She saw him plucking individual petals from the flowers, cupping handfuls in his palms and then turning them into ice and letting the frozen petals fall from his hands, watching them slowly dissolve when they hit the ground. Sigrún walked up beside him and tried to reach for him.

“Don’t!” Loki hissed “I’m sure Odin would not wish one of his treasured Valkyrie to be corrupted by a Frost Giant.”

Sigrún ignored him and gently grabbed his shoulder. Loki tried to jerk his shoulder away but the Valkyrie refused to move her hand. The both of them stood in silence for what felt like hours, staring at the rose hedge and the melting petals on the ground.

Sigrún didn’t say a word to the Loki, she merely stood beside him, silently showing her support.

The simple act of kindness that the Valkyrie showed Loki, by keeping him company among the roses, almost make him emotional. As much as he hated to admit it to himself, he was extremely grateful for the warmth of Sigrún’s simple act.

As Loki listened further, he vowed to himself he would never reveal what he heard, and perhaps, maybe even assist Sigrún in whatever way she needed, silently showing support.

***********

“Do you really think this will work, your grace?”

“It is a risk we have to take, Sigrún…” 

Thor’s plan was simple, he would take Sigrún back to Midgard without Odin’s knowledge and help her set her life up in Midgard with her human love, Aaron and their new baby. The plan seemed easy enough, but the execution would be much more challenging. Recent news of an uprising from Surtur surrounded the kingdom; Odin would most definitely call for his army of Valkyrie, making sure all were accounted for. 

Thor and Sigrún made a plan to meet in the middle of the night in the library once more when most of the servants, maids, and guards were sounds asleep. Thor would escort her to the Bifrost Bridge and beg Heimdall not to say a word to anyone, and travel to Midgard for a short while with Sigrún to make sure she was settled with her new life on Earth. 

The night came for Sigrúns escape. The palace was eerily silent. Sigrún carefully made her way to the library, unspotted. She peered behind the bookshelves, making sure she was alone. Thor arrived shortly after her.

“Are you ready, Lady Sigrún?” Thor whispered

“I am.”

Thor lead Sigruún through the long hallways of the palace, making sure not to be seen. The journey seemed forever for Sigrún, she was anxious to exit the palace.  Please, don’t let us be seen she prayed, to whoever would listen…

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

Loki waited for Thor and Sigurn to leave the library and began to follow them. While they were walking past the hallways, Loki had spotted two palace guards heading their way Excellent planning brother. Thor had obviously forgotten that because of the potential Surtur uprising, the palace would become more heavily guarded than usual. Loki quickly cast a spell on the guards, causing them to not see the Valkyrie or Thor. Loki did this their whole escape of the palace, casting spells on the various guards that would almost make their way towards the two escapees. He really didn’t know why he was helping his brother and the disgraced Valkyrie, it certainly wasn’t for sentiment, at least that's what he told himself. 

You are forever indebted to me for this, Brother.

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

6 months later

Something was wrong. Thor could sense it as he jolted out of bed and began to get dressed.

Thor had safely (and without exposure) aided Sigrún’s escape to Midgard. They had met up with Aaron in a small apartment, and all was well. 

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Thor—I-I mean, your Highness. Sigrún has told me so much about you and Asgard” Aaron began to bow which made Thor chuckle.

“It is quite alright, Aaron. And you may call me Thor.” 

It was the first time Aaron and Thor had met, but Thor could see that he was a good man. Especially if a highly esteemed Valkyrie was willing to risk everything and uproot her entire life for him. The two men became instant friends.

Thor stayed in Midgard for a few days before heading back to Asgard. The three of them shared tearful goodbyes, not knowing when they would all be together again.

“Thank you so much, for everything, your majesty. I will never be able to repay you.”

“You’re a fine woman, Sigrún, and I am honored I was able to aid you and your little one.” Thor reached down and placed a gentle hand on the Valkyries forming baby bump.

The God and Valkyrie embraced once more. Thor then raised Mjölnir above his head, called out to Heimdall and then quickly vanished.

Thor raced toward the Bifrost Bridge, awkwardly maneuvering through the bustling palace and ignoring anyone who called out to him. Loki happened to notice his brother running around which piqued his interest. He followed his brother from a distance and could see Thor was making his way toward Heimdall and the Bifrost. He made himself invisible and spied on Thor.

“Heimdall! I need you to allow me to leave for Midgard!”

Heimdall stood still, hardly acknowledging the booming demand.

“Heimdall!” Thor roared louder “I had a dream last night that felt more like a prophecy, I need you to see what has become of Sigrún.” 

After a few more silent moments, Heimdall finally opened the Bifrost Bridge, allowing Thor to leave. Loki decided he would follow his brother to Midgard, blaming his boredom and curiosity.

Thor arrived in a hospital waiting room. He was confused but then remembered it was approximately the time Sigrún was expecting to give birth to her child. Thor, with Loki invisible and close by, looked for someone who could help him locate Sigrún.

“Excuse me, Medicine Lady of the Children’s Ward, I’m looking for a new mother called Sigrún.”

The nurse raised her eyebrows in confusion. Thor’s Midgardian vernacular was still lacking. Loki laughed to himself, What a remarkable idiot.

“Any new moms will be that way.” 

Thor thanked the nurse and followed her direction. He entered a vast hallway, each room filled with women just arriving, in the process of giving birth, or just finishing the anguishing ordeal and holding their new babies. Thor looked at the names on each door trying to find the Valkyrie’s name. After about the seventh door, he saw a sign reading; “Welcome Sigrún to room 1107.”  Thor was immediately excited. Without thinking he barged in, hoping Sigrún had given birth already so he could meet the new baby. When Thor (and Loki) walked in, the scene was not what they expected after a joyous event. Aaron was resting his head between his arms on the side of Sigrún’s bed. It was evident he was crying, but the only noise coming from the room were the soft cries of a newborn coming from an infant cot in the corner of the room.

Sigrún lay perfectly stiff in her bed, colorless. Thor quickly processed what had happened and that his foreboding dream was indeed a prophecy. In his dream, Sigrún was covered in blood begging for help, with the sound of a baby crying in the background. Thor’s eyes welled up with tears. 

Loki was hysterical. He immediately left the room, and transported himself back to his room on Asgard and began to throw and shatter any objects he could find. One of the few people who ever showed him kindness in his Jotun form was gone. And there was nothing to do to bring her back.

Back on Midgard, Aaron looked up to see Thor standing in the room, his eyes were bloodshot, and his face was covered with tears and snot. 

“What. Happened?”  Thor tried to keep his voice from cracking.

“They said it was ‘postpartum hemorrhaging.’ She—bled to death.” Aaron began weeping again. The baby’s cries continued. Thor looked over to the infant cot and saw a beautiful baby swaddled in a white hospital blanket wearing a pink cap. Thor assumed the baby was a girl. He walked over to the newborn and picked her up from the cot and held her. He looked at her little face. She was absolutely beautiful, making out the features she shared with her mother. The baby stopped crying as Thor gently rocked her back and forth. 

“What am I gonna do, Thor?”

The two men looked at each other. They both saw a mutual uncertainty in their faces. Thor didn’t know how to answer him.

“I do not know, Aaron. But what I do know is that Sigrún would want you to remain strong for your child’s sake.” 

Thor handed the baby to her grieving father. “Why don’t you hold your daughter and come up with a name for her.”

Aaron looked at his child as tears continuously ran down his cheeks. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“Her name is Y/N, Sigrún said she really liked that name.”

“A beautiful name.”

Thor made his way by his friend's side and stood next to him. He looked at the Valkyrie’s lifeless body once more and silently promised her that he would never allow anything to happen to Aaron and Y/N.

taglist: @portietomednalynn

[aswithasunbeam]

Hey! I love your fics soo(get it Soo) much! Could you please make a fluffy A Winter's Ball/a night in Morristown Hamliza fic?I'd really appreciate it.

Ha! I love that! And I’d love to do more fluffy Morristown stories!! They’re one of my favorite things to write! I actually wrote a really long piece set in Morristown over on my AO3 account, which you might not have seen as I haven’t cross-posted here on tumblr. It’s called “A Winter’s Romance” and the overall vib is pretty fluffy, though there is some angst thrown in for good measure :)

Here’s a link and an except from the first chapter, if you’re interested!

[Read on AO3]

February 1780

“Is this your shirt?” Tilghman asked, digging through a pile of clothes that had yet to be laundered. His jacket had been discarded, his breeches were half undone and the shirt he had on had been untucked. All in all, he looked like a disheveled mess, which was unfortunate, as the dancing assembly was to start in less than an hour’s time.

Hamilton looked over at the bright white linen in Tilghman’s hands and shook his head. Not only was the shirt too large for him, but his clothes had all been mended and washed too many times to look that white. “Must be Mac’s,” he suggested as he yanked fresh breeches over his hips.

Tilghman frowned, looking around the room with an intensely puzzled expression. “What’s happened to all my shirts?”

Hamilton tried to stifle a laugh. “Would you like to borrow one of mine?”

“Yours would make me look like a chubby giant,” Tilghman refused.

Hamilton did laugh this time. “Just wear the one you have on, then.”

“This one smells.”

“Well, I don’t know how to help you,” Hamilton said with amusement as he pulled on his uniform jacket. He ran his hand over his chin and considered shaving again.

“I want to look my best. Do you know who just arrived in town today?” Tilghman’s eyes lit up with excitement. Hamilton shook his head, and his friend continued, “General Schuyler’s daughter, Elizabeth. We met some time ago when I was negotiating with the Six Nations. She’s twenty-two, now, and still unattached. She’s supposedly visiting her aunt, Doctor Cochran’s wife, but it’s obvious she’s on the hunt for a husband.”

Elizabeth Schuyler. The name conjured the image of striking black eyes and a warm smile. He’d met the young lady some time ago when he was in Albany trying to pry troops loose from the greedy hands of General Gates. General Schuyler had invited him to dine, although most of his family was away. Elizabeth had been at home, however, and she had more than upheld the Schuyler reputation for hospitality. He didn’t remember the conversation exactly, but he remembered laughing a great deal.

“And you’re hoping to oblige her in her quest?” Hamilton asked. Tilghman had just turned thirty-five that Christmas, so there was something of an age difference, but he doubted it would prove much of an obstacle if the girl was willing.

“She’s a lovely young woman,” Tilghman replied diplomatically. Hamilton took that to be a firm yes. “She’s traveling with Catharine Livingston. Aren’t you acquainted with her family?”  

Kitty Livingston’s name hit him like a swift kick to the abdomen. He’d been utterly infatuated with the beautiful heiress when he’d boarded with her family before he’d started at King’s. He’d gone so far as to write her a love letter. She’d rejected him in no uncertain terms. He was still trying to disentangle himself from Cornelia Lott after his disastrous meeting with her father. The prospect of a night with both Cornelia and Kitty made him feel vaguely ill.

“Ham?” Tilghman prompted.

“Hm?” He hummed, pulled from his thoughts. “Oh, yes. I’m very well acquainted with the Livingstons.”

“You wouldn’t mind entertaining Miss Livingston a bit, would you? Just so I might have the chance to speak with Miss Schuyler alone?”

Hamilton met his friend’s hopeful eyes and found himself nodding. What was a bit more humiliation and misery, after all, if it might bring his friend happiness?

~*~

Lively music and a roaring fire greeted Hamilton and Tilghman as they entered the hall where the dancing assembly was held. A table was set up in the corner with what passed for a feast in these conditions: two pots of stew, assorted root vegetables, and a very meager chicken that had already been almost entirely consumed.

“Colonel Hamilton,” Cornelia’s high voice came from just behind him.

He turned and saw that she had been waiting by the door. “Miss Lott,” he replied, bending low and pressing a kiss to her outstretched hand. “You’re looking well.”

“Oh, I’m very well, Colonel.” She gave him a tiny, hopeful smile. “I hope you are, also. I’ve missed seeing you the past few weeks.”

“I’ve been…very busy,” he said vaguely.

She nodded rapidly, clinging on to the excuse like a lifeline. “I thought you must be.”

An awkward pause followed as he searched for something to say. He didn’t want to raise her hopes, and he was still too embarrassed and stung to tell her about his humiliating meeting with her father. And what good would telling her do anyway, he thought; knowing would only cause a rift between her and her father. As he was standing there staring at her, the band struck up a new song.

“Would you like to dance, Colonel?”

“I…” He hesitated. If he danced with her, she’d think there was still hope for them. The only way forward he could see was to break her heart. Being cruel now would be kinder in the end, he told himself. “No, Miss Lott.”

Her whole face fell. She blinked at him, as if waiting for him to take it back, or to explain.

“I’m sorry,” he told her. Then he turned away.

He felt like a monster.

He spotted Tilghman, McHenry, Webb, and Richard Meade standing in a group near the food and he made his way towards them. Mac slapped him on the back companionably when he stopped beside him. Tilghman shook his head. “Poor Polly. Looks as though you’ve just torn her heart out.”

He refused to look back. Plastering the same fake smile he’d been wearing more and more of late, he said, “You know how it goes.”

“Onwards to the next conquest,” Webb laughed.

“That chicken didn’t make for much of a feast,” Hamilton commented, desperate to change to subject. The conversation mercifully turned to dreams of feasts after the war.

Tilghman tugged at his sleeve a few minutes later.

“Mrs. Washington is done speaking with Miss Schuyler and Miss Livingston,” Tilghman whispered, his eyes focused somewhere to the left. Hamilton followed his gaze and saw the two young ladies were standing by the fireplace, speaking quietly to each other.

Hamilton nodded for his friend to go first, and followed a pace behind as they made their way to the girls.

“Miss Schuyler, how wonderful to see you again,” Tilghman proclaimed as they approached.

“Colonel Tilghman,” Miss Schuyler greeted him warmly. “I did not know I’d be graced with your company tonight.”

Tilghman bent low to kiss her hand.

“Might I present Colonel Hamilton? He’s a dear friend of mine,” Tilghman added, gesturing back to him without turning around.

“I had the pleasure of meeting Miss Schuyler when I dined with her family in Albany,” he stated, bowing and kissing her hand as well. When he stood, he found her dark eyes scrutinizing his face. He smiled tightly at her, sure she didn’t remember the meeting. She must have dined with the whole Continental Army by this point, with Philip Schuyler for a father.

He turned his attention to Kitty. “Miss Livingston,” he greeted, bowing to her this time. He then introduced Tilghman, who repeated the ritual.  

“Did you have a pleasant journey?” Tilghman asked, his eyes glued to Miss Schuyler.

Hamilton turned his attention to Kitty. “It’s been quite a while since we’ve last spoken.”

Kitty nodded, her eyes tracking over his uniform and lingering on his rank insignia. “You’ve done well for yourself since then, Hammy,” she noted, smiling warmly at him. “I’m very glad to see it.”

He thanked her softly. Glancing to the side, he saw Tilghman had fully engaged with Miss Schuyler in conversation about her travels from Albany. He smiled and held out a hand to Kitty. “Would you care to dance, Miss Livingston?”

“It would be my pleasure, Colonel,” she agreed. As he lead her towards the dance floor, she leaned in to him and added, “I see Colonel Tilghman has wasted no time in staking a claim for my dear Betsey.”  

They shared a smile as they positioned themselves to join the dance.

~*~

His breath created a great puff of white smoke in the frigid air as he leaned against the porch rail. The music from inside was still audible, but dulled by the closed front door. There were torches glowing along the walkway that provided fairly good light, but hardly any warmth. Still, a moment of solitude was well worth braving the bitter cold.

Miss Livingston had quickly found dancing partners, lovely and eligible as she was. Cornelia seemed to have departed the party shortly after their talk. Tilghman was happily monopolizing Miss Schuyler. Everyone inside seemed paired off and content, leaving him free to slip outside.

He missed John. He missed having a dear, loyal companion, someone with whom he could talk and laugh. Someone to drive away his darkest thoughts on these cold, lonely nights.

He may as well get used to being alone, he thought harshly. No man was ever going to consent to having him for a son-in-law. Cornelia’s broken heart would be a warning to him to never attempt to love again.

The music swelled suddenly, then dulled again with the sound of the front door closing. He turned to see Elizabeth Schuyler stepping out onto the front porch. She smiled at him.

“Are you well, Colonel? I saw you stepping outside, and I was concerned.”

He forced another smile. “Quite well, thank you. I was just a bit warm from dancing.”

She nodded, then stepped closer to him, leaning against the rail as well.

“It’s a beautiful night,” she commented mildly, her face turned up towards the sky.

He followed her gaze, looking up at the nearly full moon and the bright stars dotting the dark winter sky. “Yes, it is,” he agreed. “Though it is terribly cold.”

She laughed. “I’m from Albany. I’m quite used to the cold.”

“I wish I were,” he replied.

“I suppose you never had to deal with these kinds of conditions in the Caribbean.”

He nodded, then his brow furrowed. “Did you recognize my accent?”

“No,” she said simply. She glanced over at him and smiled again. The expression made her eyes sparkle, he noticed. “You mentioned you were from Saint Croix when you dined with my family in Albany.”

He cocked his head to the side, surprised. “I didn’t think you remembered.”

“Of course I do.”

“It’s just, I know you must have dinner with officers all the time,” he tried to explain, hoping she didn’t think he accusing her of being rude or ill-mannered.

“That is true,” she laughed. “But you made an impression.”

He laughed as well. “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

She gave him a considering look. “I suppose we’ll find out,” she said coyly.

He grinned and nodded.

A companionable silence followed, their attention turning back to the still winter night.

“Did you really come out here because you were warm from dancing?” she asked suddenly.

He looked back at her, and found he wanted to answer honestly. “No. I’ve been feeling a little low of late. And, due to some unfortunate circumstances, I had to hurt someone’s feelings tonight. I suppose I’m simply not in the merry-making spirit.”

Her expression was compassionate. She reached out a hand tentatively, laying it lightly on his upper arm. “I saw you standing out here from the window,” she told him. “You looked…lonely.”

“So you came to keep me company?” he asked.

She nodded as she removed her hand. “You can tell me if I’m intruding.”

He shook his head. “I’m enjoying your company,” he assured her.

She smiled again. A moment of silence followed, before she began to speak again, easily changing topics. “I was speaking to Mrs. Washington earlier. She was telling me about her work with the sick and wounded soldiers, and she promised to take me with her on one of her visits. I do hope I can make myself useful while I’m here.”

“I’m sure the men would appreciate your assistance,” he told her sincerely.

“Is there anything else I could do to help? Mrs. Washington told me you would know best what needed doing.”

He felt a flicker of pride at the compliment from the dear old lady. Considering a moment, he asked, “Can you knit? Sew?”

She nodded.

“We always need hats, mittens, scarfs and the like. And many of the men have clothes that need mending. That would certainly be a help.”

Her eyes dropped to his hands gripping at the railing. “Do you have any mittens, Colonel?”

He looked down at his chapped hands and shook his head. “I had a pair, but they wore out last winter. I haven’t had the chance to replace them.”

“I’ll knit you a pair first,” she said decisively. “From what I’ve heard, your pen is our country’s best hope of winning this war. Whatever would we do if you developed frost bite?”

“I’d be most obliged to you, Miss Schuyler.”

“Speaking of frost bite, I think perhaps we should go back inside,” she suggested. She chuckled as she looked at him. “Your nose has turned bright red with cold.”

He nodded. She turned and pulled open the front door, light and music pouring out. Looking back at him, she made a little motion with her head to urge him on. As he followed her inside, he felt a smile stretching his face again. A real smile.

Well, he thought, that was just…so inconvenient.

[warninggraphiccontent]

6 August 2021

The sun is shinin', come on get mappy

Ever found yourself floating aimlessly around the alphabet soup of UK government departments doing data, wondering who's responsible for what? Or lost track of all the interesting initiatives that you might be able to get involved with or learn from?

I'm delighted to be running a new project with the ODI that tries to help with that. We're mapping data responsibility and initiatives across the UK government here, so please do tell us what we've missed and comment on what we've already got. It'll be open for comments until Friday 10 September, so you have all summer to contribute.

There's a launch page explaining everything here, and we're also going to be publishing a blogpost a week focusing on a particular area of the ODI manifesto. This week is infrastructure week. Keep an eye on the ODI blog for future ones.

In other news:

A date for your diary - the 22nd Data Bites will be taking place on Wednesday 8 September at 6pm, thanks to ADR UK and the ESRC. Details will appear here in due course - which is also where you can catch up on the previous 21 events.

I'm also chairing an event for IfG at this year's Labour Party conference - more here.

I'm really sad to see this news about Understanding Patient Data (full disclosure - I'm doing some work for them at the moment). Natalie has done a terrific job, and I really hope their work is able to find a home elsewhere - it's more important than ever, given recent events.

Nick Timmins' new report on how the Department for Education handled the pandemic is well worth a read. Warning: contains mutant algorithms. Diginomica pull out some lessons on those here; my piece from last summer on that is here; and there are more links below.

If you enjoyed this account of what allegedly happened to that Spectator piece on Marcus Rashford (h/t Alice), pour yourself a cup of tea and enjoy this story of something similar from my time at the Media Standards Trust.  

I did it - my first half marathon since 2019. There's still time to sponsor me and donate to the excellent Tommy's, here.

Warning: Graphic Content will now be taking a break until September. I'll be posting some things on Medium as well as on Twitter in the meantime, so do follow me there. If you need some other data-related newsletters, podcasts or event series to tide you over, there's a list for that. And if you know anyone else who should subscribe, encourage them to start the new school/parliamentary term in September the right way by signing up.

Enjoy the summer, thanks for subscribing, and see you in September

Gavin

Enjoying Warning: Graphic Content?

Tell your friends - forward this email, and they can:

Subscribe via email

Follow on Twitter

Follow on Tumblr

Or:

Buy me a coffee (thank you!)

Follow me, Gavin Freeguard, on Twitter

Visit my website (I'm available for work!)

Today's links:

Graphic content

Tokyo shift

Olympic records are being broken at a record pace* (The Economist)

How the Olympics became bigger and more diverse* (The Economist)

What the Tokyo medal table tells us halfway through the Games (BBC Sport)

Russia and Kenya take the podium in the athletics doping contest* (The Economist)

Tokyo Olympics: Will Team GB beat its record-breaking performance in Rio? (Sky News)

20 Chinese gold medal contenders at the Tokyo 2020 Olympics (South China Morning Post)

Olympians are probably older — and younger — than you think* (Washington Post)

The Fastest Men In The World Are Still Chasing Usain Bolt (FiveThirtyEight)

Here's how Sydney McLaughlin of the U.S. won the 400-meter hurdles at #Tokyo2020, breaking her own world record (New York Times - more here)

Katie Ledecky's historic week, day by day* (Washington Post)

The Climber: Adam Ondra | The Hurdler: Dalilah Muhammad | The Gymnast: Sunisa Lee | The Swimmer: Simone Manuel (New York Times)

Viral content

Why are Covid cases falling in the UK?* (FT)

Excess deaths in your neighbourhood during the coronavirus (COVID-19) pandemic (ONS)

COVID-19: Sewage surveillance reveals 'widespread increase' of coronavirus in England last month (Sky News)

Covid travel: which countries are on the green, amber and red lists? (The Guardian)

Tim Spector: the data explorer who uncovered vital clues to Covid* (FT)

Which Americans are against the jab?* (The Economist)

Chart: Less than 0.1% of vaccinated Americans tested positive for COVID-19 (Axios)

America is plummeting down the global vaccination league table* (The Economist)

Florida’s hospitals set a bleak pandemic record* (FT)

How Europe, After a Fumbling Start, Overtook the U.S. in Vaccination* (New York Times)

Side effects

Why the pandemic is not making your rent cheaper* (New Statesman)

New York City Homebuyers Are Back, and They’re Looking for Deals* (Bloomberg)

Net worth

How Google quietly funds Europe’s leading tech policy institutes* (New Statesman)

Explore different settlements on the balance of power and what they mean for the future of the Internet (Demos)

Ransomware attacks rise despite US call for clampdown on cybercriminals* (FT)

Environment

Planetary ‘vital signs’ show extent of climate stress — and some hope* (FT)

How heat dome has sparked worst wildfires in a decade across parts of Southern Europe (Sky News)

Beyond human endurance: How climate change is making parts of the world too hot and humid to survive* (Washington Post)

Race

The 'ethnic data gap' on voters - and why it matters to parties and pollsters (Sky News)

Hollywood reaps the rewards of becoming more diverse* (The Economist)

UK

The first ever machine generated map of the @UKParliament treaty procedure (UK Parliament)

Favourability towards Boris Johnson falls to lowest level since October (Ipsos MORI)

Productivity: firing on all cylinders (IfG)

Mathematician Hannah Fry: ‘I’m sure there’s lots of tutting — but not to my face* (FT)

Everywhere else

‘It’s Huge, It’s Historic, It’s Unheard-of’: Drug Overdose Deaths Spike* (The Upshot)

Elon Musk’s Outrageous Moonshot Award Catches on Across America* (Bloomberg)

Police shootings continue daily, despite a pandemic, protests and pushes for reform* (Washington Post)

People in the West are least worried about hurtful speech* (The Economist)

An Inca highway still benefits people living nearby* (The Economist)

German election 2021: The New Statesman’s poll tracker* (New Statesman)

Meta data

Information health

Statistics informing quarantine requirements for arrivals to England (Office for Statistics Regulation)

Review of NHS Test and Trace (England) and NHS COVID-19 app statistics (Office for Statistics Regulation)

What we mean by trustworthy use of patient data (Understanding Patient Data)

The future of Understanding Patient Data (Understanding Patient Data)

Lord Bethell’s new phone (Good Law Project)

UK government defends deleting all trace of job vacancies after appointing Matt Hancock's lover to health department board (Business Insider)

Education, education, education

Schools and coronavirus: The government’s handling of education during the pandemic (IfG)

The UK A-Level ‘COVID-19 algorithm fiasco’ and lessons for the enterprise (diginomica)

Four things government must learn from the A-level algorithm fiasco (me from last year for IfG)

More from last summer (W:GC)

Even more from last summer (W:GC)

Ensuring statistical models command public confidence: Learning lessons from the approach to developing models for awarding grades in the UK in 2020 (Office for Statistics Regulation, from March 2021)

AI got 'rithm

Hundreds of AI tools have been built to catch covid. None of them helped.* (MIT Technology Review)

I’m sorry Dave I’m afraid I invented that: Australian court finds AI systems can be recognised under patent law (The Guardian)

Bias in Artificial Intelligence (Harvard Magazine)

The ethics of recommendation systems in public-service media (Ada Lovelace Institute)

Britain can set 'gold standard' in ethical artificial intelligence - industry report (BCS)

ICO baby

The Information Commissioner's Office is letting us down*  (Telegraph)

Response: ICO’s priorities and impact of our work (ICO)

New guidance on direct marketing and the public sector (ICO)

Thread (Tim Turner)

Information Rights Strategic Plan: Trust and Confidence - annual tracker (ICO)

UK government

Introduction to Data Quality course launched (Government Data Quality Hub)

A new model for modelling (Actuaries in government)

Six reasons why digital transformation is still a problem for government (NAO)

govcookiecutter: A template for data science projects (Data in government)

Radar – more than just wave detection (Defra digital)

Driving technology convergence and reuse in our Future Borders and Immigration System (Home Office Digital, Data and Technology)

The longlist (Civil Service Data Challenge)

Cabinet Office eyes ‘geographical capability map’ for civil servants (Civil Service World)

Next step in plans to govern use of digital identities revealed (DCMS)

Building a single sign-on for government: What we’ve learnt so far (Services in government)

ESRC launches opportunity to inform data infrastructure strategy (UKRI)

Keeping old computers going costs government £2.3bn a year, says report (BBC News - CSW had this last week)

2021 Deane-Stone Lecture: Ambitious, Radical, Inclusive and Sustainable: How a National Statistical Institute evolved through Covid-19 (Sir Ian Diamond for NIESR)

Taking the wiki

Left-leaning Wikipedia is no match for my shelf of dictionaries* (Telegraph)

There are 11,656 athletes at the Olympics. Guy Fraser wanted them all on Wikipedia (The Guardian)

A sense of place

‘X’ Marks the Spot: Officials Map a Route Out of the Pandemic* (New York Times)

What 3 Words is a Mess

Dis and that

Disinformation: It’s History (CIGI)

Why Generation Z falls for online misinformation (MIT Technology Review)

It's a jungle out there

Why Amazon’s £636m GDPR fine really matters* (Wired)

The slow collapse of Amazon’s drone delivery dream* (Wired)

Open for the best

Natalia Carfi to carry the torch of openness (Open Data Charter)

Tech spec experts seek allies to tear down ISO standards paywall (The Register)

The promise of open-source intelligence* (The Economist)

Private parts

Estonia says a hacker downloaded 286,000 ID photos from government database (The Record)

Here’s how police can get your data — even if you aren’t suspected of a crime (Recode)

Everything else

The social value of data (Bennett Institute)

BIG TECH’S DUTY OF CARE (New Economics Foundation)

Inequality just went stratospheric. Can we bring it down to earth?* (Prospect)

A New Tech ‘Cold War?’ Not for Europe. (AI Now Institute)

THE TIME TAX: Why is so much American bureaucracy left to average citizens?* (The Atlantic)

Can data cooperatives sustain themselves? (LSE Business Review)

medConfidential note on the PRUK green paper and DARE project (medConfidential)

Measuring internet poverty (Brookings)

Data don’t lie, but they can lead scientists to opposite conclusions* (The Economist)

Opportunities

JOB: Head of Digital Data & Digital Democracy (London Borough of Newham, via Martin)

JOB: Executive Director (Digital Freedom Fund)

JOB: Senior Data Analyst (Common Wealth)

JOB: Visuals Project Editor - Visuals (The Guardian)

JOBS: Data for Science & Health team (Wellcome Trust)

JOB: Data Journalist (Tech Monitor, New Statesman Media Group)

JOBS: Data and Digitalisation programme (Ofgem, via Owen Boswarva)

JOB: Head of Strategic Communications and Engagement, Centre for Data Ethics and Innovation (DCMS)

JOBS: Economic Advisers - The Digital and Tech Analysis team (DCMS)

JOBS: Modelling Hub Analyst Roles, Data & Analytical Services Directorate (MoJ)

JOB: Director of Analysis (MoD)

RESEARCH FELLOWSHIP: Data, Visualisation and Storytelling (The National Archives)

JOB: Product Manager - Data (BBC, via Jukesie)

And finally...

Vennerable

In celebration of John Venn's 187th birthday today, here's a poem in the form of a Venn diagram. (Brian Bilston)

*whispers* that's not actually how they work, but fine, it's funny (@StandingHannah, via David)