#you know i do have a feeling like my content is getting increasingly niche

[vidumavi]

Prompt: Rhovanion & shadows of things that were yet to be

Hiii thank you <3 I understood rhovanion to imply my favourite niche family

(Names: Vinitharya = Eldacar, Minalcar = Romendacil II, Meligavi = Eldacar's canonical but unnamed sibling)

The messenger had been formally received with the same ceremonials as all of his kind who had made the journey from the far south over the last decade. He had come with greetings from one king to another and a stack of letters: for Vidugavia, for his son-in-law and his daughter. There had even been a small, cloth-wrapped package for his grandchildren that revealed finely made toys and a bag of dried figs and peaches.

Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary, but Vidugavia had taken note of a line of tension in Valacar’s face and a guarded look in his eyes as he watched the messenger approach. He had searched for a similar reaction in his daughter, but Vidumavi had been preoccupied with the bored and restless toddler on her hip, her face turned away and half-obscured by her hair.

Minalcar’s letter had offered nothing save for the usual diplomatic pleasantries and goings-on when Vidugavia had opened it that evening, but over the following weeks, he watched a strain grow in the bearing of his daughter and his law-son. They tried to keep their whispered arguments away from their children, he knew, but little Vinitharya, five years old now, was precocious and disposed to listening at doors. He soon lost interest in the beautiful, detailed model of a ship that had been gifted to him and began to look sullen and hide when he was called for.

Vidugavia had known this day would come, but foolish, soft old man that he had become, he had hoped he would not live to see it, that he might die surrounded by all his children and grandchildren. But it seemed Minalcar, who had after Vinitharya’s birth tentatively begun hinting that Valacar might best serve the realm in Gondor now, had finally lost his patience for good.

Vidugavia had some inkling of the stern conventions that ruled over an empire like Gondor, over its ancient, sprawling stone cities and harbours, over the far older families at its helm: the news of their prince marrying in foreign lands, not even deigning to bring his bride home for the wedding, must have been received with bitterness indeed. Had he been only a politician, he would have advised against it, told Valacar to be wed according to all standards of tradition to take the sting off his choice in spouse- but he was a sentimental old man as well, and he had wanted to see his daughter married where he had raised her.

Mist clung to the earth that morning when he walked toward her home. He had let her avoid him for too long already. But when he stepped into her entrance hall, he nearly stumbled over his grandson, who was carrying his sister in his arms with some difficulty. On his back was a large pack and he swayed slightly on his feet.

“Careful, there,” Vidugavia said and put a hand on his shoulder to steady him, “And where are you going, young man?”

Vinitharya’s expression was half guilt and half stubbornness.

“I’m running away,” he replied, jutting his chin out imperiously.

“I see. How come?”

Before Vinitharya could answer, the voice of his mother echoed from another room, closely followed by that of his father.

“ - sooner or later - “

“ - before my children – “

They caught only snatches of their words, but Vinitharya’s face scrunched up in distress, his eyes watering. Little Meligavi began squirming in his arms and Vidugavia bowed to take her in his own before she could drop to the floor.

“Alright,” he said, “Let’s go.”

He told a guard to inform his daughter that he was taking the children out for the day and led them out of the keep, through the town and its gates and into the forest. They went west, where the hills grew higher and the trees taller, stopping to pick berries and some of the year’s first apples. What luxury, to walk with children and no guard so far from any fortification- but Vinitharya and Meligavi knew nothing else, children of peacetime that they were.

May it stay that way, he thought as they climbed the tallest hill for miles, its top bare of trees and its western slopes steep and rocky. From its highest point, a dark smudge was visible far to the north: the mountains of Mirkwood and, past them, the Lonely Mountain. Fainter even, only a grey speck on the horizon, was the mountain to the south that rose over the darkened parts of the forest where shadows walked and poison stained the rivers and the air.

Vinitharya did not complain about having every landmark explained to him despite knowing them all already, hanging on his grandfather’s every word. Vidugavia even told him of the cave that reached deep beneath the hill, that had been used as a shelter during the war. It was no story for children, but he was overcome with the sudden urge to tell his grandson all he knew ere he was taken to be raised in a strange land. Vinitharya at least was old enough to remember: Meligavi, who had only just learned to walk a few wavering steps, would likely not even remember his face.

He looked at his granddaughter, who was sitting in the grass, grabbing at wildflowers with her chubby hands and babbling, oblivious to her family’s sorrow.

“Watch out for your sister,” he told Vinitharya, “She will not remember her home. See to it that she knows where she hails from.”

Vinitharya looked close to tears.

“I don’t want to go.”

“I know. But I must ask you to be brave.”

He bent his weary knees to heave Vinitharya upon his shoulders and let him gaze far and wide across Rhovanion. Summer was drawing to its close, the nights growing colder by the day, but the woods were yet green.  

“For six months, the cave below sheltered my company,” Vidugavia said, “Cradled us, protected us against enemy and elements alike. You, too, are children of this land. It will not forsake you when the time comes.”

Vinitharya sniffed.

“Are we not forsaking it first?”

“Earth and people both will remember you. You will always have a home here, I give you my word.”

Vinitharya appeared to reluctantly accept his words. Then, he insisted on looking at the cave himself. They climbed through the concealed entrance and into the narrow tunnels, where he touched the cold, granite walls with reverence. Vidugavia saw him collect two smooth, black rocks from the ground and put them in his pocket.

The sun was beginning to set by the time they returned. Vidugavia let himself into their private lodgings, Meligavi fast asleep in his arms. Vidumavi and Valacar turned to him as one when he entered. Valacar’s hand had been resting on her arm, but now he strode toward his son and embraced him.

“We’re sorry, darling,” Vidugavia heard him murmur, “We did not mean to scare you.”

Vidumavi looked at her father intently, perfect understanding passing between them.

“Thank you,” she said, “for watching them.”

He nodded and moved to return her daughter to her, but she shook her head.

“Keep her just a moment longer,” she said, “I would not wish to wake her.”

[max1461]

Thought for a moment in the 2010s that we were entering a new serious era (e.g. 1920s, 30s, 40s), but it seems that we're instead in an increasingly tacky era (50s, 60s, 70s). Like look at the change in YouTube. Well you all are textheads you don't do video, I know that. But like. In 2017 there was ContraPoints. Agree or disagree with her opinions, what she was doing was conceptually and aesthetically serious. Even her early, low-production-value stuff. She was talking about incels and other internet shit, but the internet is part of the real world, that's fine. In fact that's what gave me hope for another serious era, people were finally talking about internet stuff the way 1920s German intellectuals or whatever talked about the cultural trends of their day. Maybe because Contra has half a philosophy PhD and was explicitly influenced by those German intellectuals.

Another example from a totally disjoint cultural niche was Digi a.k.a. Trixie a.k.a. Ygg Studios or whatever they go by now. Drunk, smelly, and unkempt—yes. Or at least so went the persona. Talking seriously about anime—also yes. When they claimed they were the only good anime reviewer on the internet it made a lot of people mad. But they were right!

There were thinkers, we had thinkers. My generation, or roughly my generation, had thinkers. To be clear, when I include Contra here I'm not including all of her ilk, I'm not including the leftist-theory-regurgitators and so on. But Contra herself was a thinker! Digi was a thinker! We had thinkers.

But that era is over now, on YouTube at least. I go on there and it's all algorithmic drivel. I look for anime content and as I've explained it's all about #hype and #epic and how the new season of whatever #hits different and other empty meaningless bullshit. No analysis, no thought, fundementally unserious bullshit. Tacky! It's tacky! The the YouTube thumbnail O-face is fucking 70s-ass fake wood paneling tacky bullshit!

MrBeast. I've never seen a MrBeast video but I hate him for what he represents. I used to watch this channel called Wranglerstar, he made videos about different types of axes and forest fire fighting equipment and various other stuff. "Modern homesteading" I believe was the tagline. And it was always evident that he was a far-right guy but who gives a shit, his videos where good. Serious videos about interesting topics, that a fucking normal guy might watch. Well around 2020 he basically started flooding his channel with covid conspiracy bullshit and "the Chinese are going to attack us any day!" bullshit and other unserious crap. And I had to stop watching. How could I find any of that compelling? It's vapid nonsense.

And I don't know if it's a shift in the algorithm or people becoming more savvy to the algorithm or what, but all of YouTube is like this now. Vapid clickbait empty meaningless bullshit for another tacky commercialized bullshit era.

And you know, I felt like it might just be localized to YouTube for a while, but I started to look around, and it just feels like everything is like this. Backsliding to the tacky times. God I hate tackiness. I hate unseriousness. I'm having a little meltdown. At least SMW kaizo hacks are having a renaissance. People are doing serious shit in that space, serious shit that is also not anachronistic, you know, it's kept up with the modern world. It addresses modern concerns (fun to play hard Mario). But it's serious. People are serious. One of the few serious things happening in my orbit.

Even in science it feels like people aren't serious anymore. You know, standard Sabine Hossenfelder complaint about particle physics. But I don't really know enough about that to say. Get the vibe that biology is still serious these days.

To be clear, everything I'm saying here is pure vibes. I'm just saying shit. I'm just saying shit that I feel. But I'll be deeply disappointed if I have to live my youth in another tacky era, god damn it. Even the 80s seem like they were better than this.

[elialys]

hey. as a fellow writer from niche fandoms and unpopular ships, can i just say i really appreciate you being upfront about how much lack of engagement sucks. really thank you. especially because it comes from someone like you who has a fair amount of engagement, but you know what? you’re right being pissed. i know i am. i come from fandoms where people are constantly yapping about lack of content yet none of them engage w/ each other. i ended up leaving bc i felt like i was screaming to a wall. and you know what? i haven’t stopped writing, just posting. bc why bother? so yeah, i AM writing for myself, and also keeping it from myself. idc if that’s petty honestly, like no, it doesn’t make me feel any better if someone out there might end up liking it one day if they’re being completely silent about it. fandoms aren’t supposed to be one-sided. i’m fine w people not reading my stuff cause they don’t like it. you can straight up tell me you hate my ship and i will be like. cool 👍 but when people do read and like your stuff and yet never say anything, that’s something that i don’t like

anyway sorry for rambling, know that you’re much appreciated. i remember you from my doctor who days and i wish i were in your fandoms so i could keep reading your stuff. ❤️

For the longest time I didn’t say anything because I realize that in a lot of cases, I’ve had what you’d call great engagement, and I’ve always been so thankful for the love my stories have received throughout various fandoms. But the decline is STEEP these days, and I have the hindsight of having been writing/sharing fics online for two decades, so I have a lot of 'data' to compare these days’ numbers to.

That’s the thing that has always gotten to me. NUMBERS. Being so, so aware of how many people click on our fics, and how few of them actually engage with a comment. Even at my most “popular”, I didn’t get more than 5% of my readers interacting with me; it felt like a lot because I had a lot of readers, so it meant more comments, but it still was only 5%.

Like you said, it’s this knowing that people are reading, that they are coming back chapter after chapter, yet they don’t bother engaging with us, even when most of us basically BEG in author notes for them to comment and make us feel less like word spewing machines and more like creative members of their online community. What really got to me this last month was updating my fic for The Last of Us, a chapter that got 1,000 hits in two weeks, and I got 10 comments for it. I was just…how the fuck are 1,000 people reading and only 10 of them bothering? Especially since that fic had averaged 3 times that amount of comments for months on previous chapters.

Every time I get disheartened by the increasingly shitty reader engagement, I tell myself that’s it, I’m done writing fics. But then I always go back to it a few days later because I actually LOVE writing fics. Like, fuck yeah, I do write for myself and actually enjoy it for myself (in a love-hate kind of writing relationship obviously 🤣). I do it because I am in love with the characters I’m writing about, and fascinated by their dynamics and relationships, so it’s genuinely a THRILL, and my biggest passion.

But the abysmal engagement these days is just…it makes me feel like shit, there’s no other word for it. Because I spend so much time and energy on those stories (because I want to and I LOVE to write), but as a fic writer, there’s always this part of me that’s excited to be SHARING it with the fandom. Because twenty years of this have gotten me used to at least some decent interaction, and feeling like I'm part of a community. But then the hit count goes up and the comment count stays low or nearly empty, and it’s just gutting. People just consume, consume, consume.

Honestly, GOOD ON YOU for still writing while deciding not to share with your niche fandom at the moment. I’m thinking I might do the same with the rest of my Tess & Ellie AU, because I want to see it through and finish it for ME, but I’m done spoon-feeding an apathetic crowd. I’ll reach out to my most loyal readers and regular commenters when the day comes, and give them a way to read the rest of the story, might even just post the chapters straight on my blog here like I used to do, but not on AO3, not for a goooooood while.

Maybe it is petty, maybe I am just butt hurt. But fuck it, it does hurt my feelings, and I’m the one spending hours of my life writing those things, so I’ll do it my way. And I will continue to call readers out, and ask them to step up. We are human beings, not chatGPT, we just want some appreciation for sharing our art.

[soundorp]

How to make 1000$ money per month with podcasts? Here are the Hacks.

So you’ve got a podcast, huh? Maybe it’s something you started just for fun, or perhaps you’re using it as part of your business strategy. Either way, did you know you can actually make some serious cash from it? And if you were searching “How to make money with podcasts” on the internet you are on the right page!

Brand Sponsorships: Turning Your Passion into Profit

Let’s get to the first way of making money with your podcast, which is brand sponsorships. Brands and businesses these days pay top dollars to put their products and services in front of specific audiences. Currently, we’re seeing a shift where big and small businesses are investing more money in sponsoring independent podcasters like you and me instead of spending money on traditional forms of advertisement like paid ads. Because independent creators have a closer relationship with their audiences. They’ve been building trust and building their relationship with their listeners and followers by posting content and showing up consistently. Even more so if you have a podcast.

What’s a Brand Sponsorship?: Think of it like – big and small companies pay you to talk about their stuff on your podcast.

Why Are Brands Interested in You?: Because you have something special – a connection with your listeners that big ads can’t buy.

The Power of Podcasting: Unlike social media, where people swipe ads faster than flash, your podcast keeps listeners hooked for the whole show.

Quality Over Quantity: Why 200 Engaged Listeners Beat 2000 Social Media Followers

A thousand podcast listeners is more powerful than having thousands of followers on social media when the topic is monetizing your audience. Why is that? Because, my bud, it’s all about attention. For how long? How frequent can you keep your audience’s attention? Attention is currency these days. People get lost on their smartphones, sometimes going back and forth between apps and tapping on notifications. That iss getting increasingly hard for brands to keep the attention of their target audience for more than a few seconds. Unlike social media, podcasting has the incredible power of keeping listeners hooked for the duration of an entire episode.

The Attention Game: Attention is like gold these days. It’s hard to keep, but podcasting makes it easier because listeners stick around if you and your guest are talking stuffs.

Niche is Nice: Having a small but super-focused audience means your listeners are more likely to buy what you recommend.

The Parasocial Connection: Your listeners might not know you personally, but they feel like they do. That’s powerful!

Building Relationships with Brands

You might be sitting on some real opportunities without even knowing. Start reaching out to brands and businesses that would be interested in putting their products and services in front of your audience. Find the contact information for their marketing department and shoot that person a DM or an email telling them about your podcast and your interest in creating episodes highlighting their products. Be thoughtful and clear in your communication and highlight how excited you are to introduce their product or service to your audience. Also, don’t forget to include your podcast analytics and use the same argument I presented about why you have a small but real audience.

Reaching Out: Don’t wait for opportunities to come to you. They don’t come when you sit idle. Make a list of brands you’d like to work with and reach out to them personally.

Audience First: Choose brands that match with your audience’s interests and needs. Trust is important, so only promote products/services you believe in.

The Power of Follow-Up: Even if a brand initially says no, staying on their radar can lead to future opportunities.

How to Land Those Brand Deals: Tips for Reaching Out to Companies

Get Their Attention: Find the right person to talk to in the marketing department and shoot them a message.

Be Clear and Excited: Tell them why you love their product and why your audience will too.

Show Them the Numbers: Share your podcast stats and explain why your small audience is mighty.

Creating and Selling Intellectual Property

Another way to make money from your podcast is by packaging and selling your intellectual property online. So, it sounds more complicated than it is. Let me simplify it. You identify a problem your audience has, and you create a solution so they can go from point A to point B. You may be doing this already with your business. Maybe you have a digital course or an ebook you’re selling to your audience. If this is the case, I want you to create a special offer only for your podcast listeners, add more value in the form of a one-on-one coaching session or a mastermind or a more intimate event.

Identify Audience Needs: Use your podcasting to identify common problems your audience faces.

Offer Solutions: Develop digital products like courses, ebooks, or coaching sessions to address these needs. Just like a blog. We provide solution and sell products from amazon or services from in the process according to your needs.

Tailored Offers: Provide exclusive offers for your podcast listeners to add more value and deepen your relationship with them.

Affiliate Marketing

You know those awesome guests you have on your show? Well, if they’ve got something to sell, why not ask them for a little something in return? You can ask for a commission for helping them sell their things. Plus, don’t forget to score a discount for your listeners – they’ll love you for it! Just make sure to tell them you’re earning a commission, so they know what’s up.

Easy Entry: Start earning commissions by promoting products/services through affiliate marketing.

Know Your Audience: Choose affiliate products/services that resonate with your audience.

Transparency Matters: Always disclose your affiliate relationships to maintain trust with your listeners. Sane goes with the sponsors.

I have discussed some more hacks in my Full article on How to make 1000$ money per month with podcasts.

[octavio-world]

Oh this got big. First, let me say I feel like all of this is largely overblown corportese-induced panic, and realistically tumblr will just get sold off or circle the drain in stasis ala twitter. But I do think the reaction and scale of panic is an apt expression of where we're all at collectively with social media. With the common acceptance of enshittification as a hard rule of platforms online and either seeing the blatant injection of commerce (ala instagram, tiktok et all are now just shopping places ft your friends,) or alt-right conspiracy hate leading engagement-based sites (like twitter, facebook) it's easy to see the steady drip of thinkpieces working through a prevailing exhaustion with social media as a while.

Speaking as a 30s guy whose humor was shaped and born out of the early net, finding our slice of niche (albeit seemingly popular these days) humor has felt increasingly fraught. Weird-twitter and their ilk always held on to it's glint of SA/early 4chan irony and sardonic edge in a way that always rubbed me the wrong way. As someone who saw that pipeline into blatant alt-right/ reactionary/ or "dirtbag left" as it was being built, it was hard to laugh as 4chan reactionary lingo got adopted to the point where real life friends were saying twitter things offhand without knowing the often racist, incel-oriented origins. Tumblr, with no motivation for people to "build brands" or secure writing/ podcast fanbases and no sheen of networking or clout, became a place where the earnestly weird and expressively offbeat rose into it's own accord. Of course there are popular blogs and screencaps that gain a wider reach, but one look at the wild shit my mutuals post will tell you that we're not just doing a character for internet points. It's earnest, comedic, ugly, desperate, horny outlet for expression in the same vein of ytps or early forum comedy that is built from community. The existential loss of that, which I imagine must be only more real to a younger crowd just discovering itself (via RTVS and other internet oldheads) and especially the trans, queer communities that produce so much of the content, definitely feels abrupt and destabilizing. Of course there's Discord for chat and people can always stay in touch. RSS and legacy channels are all still fine, and there's a new legion of forums (ProBoards seems to be gaining traction) that can create the "old net feel," but it's worth reflecting on what that loss will mean, should this eventually be unplugged and vanish. How much smaller and more niche will things get? Is the solution entering back into the ego-politics of forum culture? (I'm old enough to remember past the nostalgia for the platform). I don't think it's earnestly time to panic over anything, but I do think it's an apt time for reflection. Would love to hear from fellow internet historian @beesmygod and fellow internet art creator @cheddar-baby, and any mutual's thoughts. I just care for my insanity outlet and got worked up.

if they shut down this site i finally snap. the niche of insane posting i have with my mutuals is all that is keeping me functioning in society. if i can't read about a suicidal tekken character jacking off and watch the kpop celibacy gif and look at beautiful artwork and rare auction pieces from niche archivists i will snap do you understand

[starrypawz]

❝  have you ever had something…missing?  like something just doesn’t feel right inside you but you don’t know what it is.  ❞ for Johnny and Lucas? :eyes:

Prompts AO3 @the-passenger-if

Happy Passenger Game Eve, it's been a fun journey following this game since 2019 and Pime thanks for letting me run amock with your creation as I make my own very niche content from it and hopefully there's much more to come 💜

The voice of the budget Sagan has trailed into silence followed shortly by the sound of the projector winding down. The sparsely populated theatre had been quickly vacated leaving them bathed in silence, alone and the only light the dull glow of the exit sign and the dull lights on the stairs. 

Lucas leans into Jonny’s shoulder. 

“I don’t think they’ve changed that show since I was in 6th grade,” Jonny mumbles and Lucas gives a faint snort. 

“Was that the last time you saw it?”

“No,” Jonny pauses, “Last time I… wasn’t really paying attention to it,” 

“Are you trying to tell me I’m not the first person you’ve taken here to take advantage of the fact it’s a dark room,” Jonny snorts, “No… I uh was you know-” “Oh” “Yeah,” Jonny clears his throat and Lucas gives a knowing chuckle, “Mostly stared at the colours,” squeezes Lucas’s shoulder gently as he pulls him in closer. 

It’s little effort for Lucas to climb over the arm of the seat  into Jonny’s lap and Jonny pulls Lucas in for a kiss and sighs into it as his hands settle into that sweet spot on Lucas’s hips. 

Lucas kisses back, but Jonny finds it… lacking. He’s well aware by this point of the various ways Lucas enjoys teasing but… this doesn’t quite feel like it.

“Lucas?”

“Yeah darlin?”

“You…” He sighs a few potential sentences bubble up and then pop immediately before he settles on, “Ok? I mean are you ok?” 

“I’m,” Lucas pauses as also for him a few potential sentences bubble up and then pop immediately, “I don’t know,”

Jonny tenses up

“I just… I feel kind of weird,”

“Weird?” Jonny catches his lip, “Like sick or?”

Lucas shakes his head, “Just… weird,” 

Weird is probably the understatement of the century. But the word both seems to encompass everything and explain nothing. 

“Do…. Should we get out of here?” Jonny swallows, “Like… need some air?” 

Lucas mumbles a no, shifts position so he’s tucked under Jonny’s chin and sighs softly as he feels Jonny’s fingers slip under the back of his shirt and start running circles on the small of his back. 

Lucas doesn’t even know where to start. His mind is seldom quiet at the best of times (Even on the best days he’s aware of that spot right at the base of hisnothecaket’s skull where the spine comes out and he’s got a grip right there, most of the time it feels like fingers, on a bad day it feels like he’s got the casket’s skull in his maw and then he just needs to bite down and he’ll puncture through and sever everything like in that documentary on lions in a highschool biology class.  Right now his thoughts feel tangled, like that time when the thecasketnohe was five and the Christmas lights had come out and they were tangled up all weird and somehow he’d sat there with Livvy and mom having to untangle them. 

(And Lucas had actually been pretty good at it, and they’d said that “Dad” has been pretty good at it and implied maybe he’d got it from them and Lucas hadn’t known if he wanted to revel in smugness at their ignorance or feel guilty about this whole situation) 

The show had started, a ten minute express tour of the seeming known universe (If only they knew) and as it progressed Lucas had found himself increasingly becoming unmoored whilst watching the cosmos roll on by reminding him of how he’s barely fits into these bones and it makes them ache and how everything here is small, so small not even a tiny dot within the eyes of what he actually is and how by the the time one of those four eyes blinks all of this would’ve been birthed and died and he wouldn’t have even noticed and how everything he feels is dulled but also too much at the same time and… 

“You…” Lucas begins as he grabs onto a stay thought like a lifeline,  “You ever feel like something’s missing?” 

“I…” Jonny pauses, “Is this… a trans thing?”

“No… kind of… not ugh,” Lucas catches his lip as he tries to pull something useful out of his tangled Christmas lights thoughts, “It’s… about everything,” 

“About everything huh?” Jonny huffs.

“Yeah,” Lucas sighs, “Everything just… feels weird sometimes? I guess, I don’t know, like… inside something feels wrong and you can’t quite work out what it is”

“I… I get it,” Jonny offers up with a sigh. 

You don’t A part of Lucas says You really really don’t

The projector whirs back to life and the film grain overlain starfield reappears with a burst of music where someone’s gone a little too heavy on the synthesiser  and the budget Sagan begins its narration of the vastness of the universe and the smallness of this planet he’s ended up on all over again and Lucas clings tighter onto Jonny and Jonny presses a kiss to the top of Lucas’ head. 

“It feels less like it when I’m around you,” Lucas mumbles and Jonny holds him closer. 

Homesick, the word comes to him some time later. 

Homesick.

[thetinypsychologist]

HOW TO SURVIVE UNIVERSITY AS A FIRST-YEAR STUDENT

So! I am currently in my first-year at University but I’ve been studying for a couple of months now and feel as though I have enough information and experience to make this post!

MANAGE YOUR TIME

Whether it’s a timetable, to-do list, writing in your planner - you need some sort of method to manage your time and note what tasks you need to do and when. Set a specific time for each class and plan your own class schedule. Even better, study for your classes at the same time they should be held. This will create a sense of routine and make things so much easier. Find what works for you! Your perfect system won’t work great for your friends! There’s no shame in not being able to keep up with the schedule you’ve made. If you’ve tried or if it hurts you mentally or physically, then that schedule is just not the one for you. Finding a system that works for you takes time, patience, and courage. but it will be absolutely worth it. Find yourself a routine that works best for you! I know that my method doesn’t work well for my peers: I make a to-do list for the week and note down the tasks I want to do for each day and do a little bit everyday but I know some people would rather do everything in two days and have the rest of the week free! Below I’ve showed how I organise my week:

BE ACTIVELY ENGAGED

In your lectures and seminars, engage!!! Ask questions, answer questions, take part in the discussions!! It’ll help you retain the content much easier and you’ll enjoy learning so much more compared to just sitting there mindlessly listening. Take notes, even if you can record your lessons and/or access the lessons later. This will force you into focusing and minimise the chance of you getting distracted and zoning out. If you have any face-to-face lecture/seminars then it’s a good idea to sit in the first few rows, towards the front - again, this minimises the chance of you zoning out and increases the chance of you engaging.

ACCOMMODATE YOURSELF

Accommodate yourself, not just with comfort, but also with actual necessities that you cannot usually get in your usual classroom/library due to whatever reason. Whether it be stress balls, stim toys, motivational cards, calming music/candles. comfort items. chewing gum. As long as it helps you focus better, keep it with you. Other necessities may be water, a snack, sticky notes etc. Make sure to declutter your study space. put your phone out of reach & turn off notifications. If you have problems with this, I recommend using an app called Forest or putting your phone in another room.

FIND WHAT WORKS FOR YOU

I know that I will start a lecture around 9/10am. But all mine is asynchronous (narrated powerpoint or videos) and so I will sit for literally two hours just listening to the lecture trying to take notes but very quickly losing focus. I’ve now realised that I can make notes from the powerpoint slides, and then use the narrations/videos for when I want more detail or don’t understand something. This saved me a lot of time, cutting down my time spent on one lecture from around 70 minutes, to 35. This gives me more time to start other content, work on my assignments, and give myself the breaks I need to work efficiently.

WORK TOWARDS YOUR CAREER

Since more and more people go to universities each year, the job market is becoming increasingly competitive for academics. It is important that you obtain skills outside of your studies – for example through societies or volunteer work. Just find something that’s fun and doesn’t feel like another burden. You might also want to become a student representative or part of a student parliament if your university has one. Your university’s career service provides you with tips and resources for a good start into your work life. Things are competitive - find something to make you stand out. Examples of things I’ve done (not just at university) include: Senior Prefect, write and directed my own play for younger students to perform, TEFL course, taught at an Arabic school, volunteered as a youth worker, Duke of Edinburgh Award, Course Representative etc.

MAKE FRIENDS

Being at university can be lonely. You might have moved to a different place, you’re faced with new challenges, and you might find that adult life is not at all like you imagined. Having someone to talk to is important. Good thing that it’s never easier to make friends than at university. You are surrounded by people your age (and it’s actually a lot easier to not see people you don’t like than it is in school.)

Fresher’s week is full of opportunities to meet new people! Check out the societies at the fresher’s fair. In the UK, there are usually societies for every niche interest you can think of. You might end up not actually going, but sometimes you still keep a friend. Another idea is to make a group chat with people in your classes - introduce yourself to the people sitting next to you. Ask them if they would like to go to lunch together, check out the library etc.

TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF

University is not all about working 24/7 and pushing yourself. Listen to your mind and body. It’s normal and okay to feel lost or overwhelmed. Please take care of your mental and physical well-being during this very, very weird time. Keep yourself active. Re-ignite old interests/ hobbies. Give yourself some love. A tip I always give to people is to have some sort of creative/kinaesthetic hobby - whether it’s writing, art, embroidery, making collages, journalling etc. Having some sort of fun creative outlet is just what I need when I don’t want to do work but still want to be a little productive. Make sure you’re eating enough, and make sure you’re getting at least 8 hours of sleep. Take care of your body.

MISC TIPS

Make cheatsheets to revise from

See if your university offers free/discounted versions of resources like MS Word etc

Talk to your tutors. Get to know them so they know who you are.

Don’t be afraid to ask you tutors for help - that is what they are there for. They LOVE students that are self-advocates for their own learning.

Give yourself breaks.

Learn your methods. Learn how to use whatever resources / software your university uses. Learn what study styles work best for you.

[canmom]

i appreciate the jumbled up quality of tumblr; you never know what's going to be in the next post. serious but playful academic discussion of early capitalism? esoteric meme? incredible work of art? niche cartoon porn? treatise on perspective drawing? i am glad that you're all willing to stay here without knowing whether I'll be talking about federici or godzilla...

of course like all social media websites it's designed to channel the chaotic creativity of its users into a stream of Content in nice interchangeable measurable boxes that will keep people locked in to the place where the ads are; then sell that attention to the increasingly desperate players of the decaying wizard war, who have built a whole house of cards parasitic industry on the claim that they can provide the monarch gold opportunities to valorise their capital.

there's so much machinery now trying to hook into controlling people's desire. gacha games are probably the epitome, putting immense creative talent into, as far as capital is concerned, trying to build time consuming mind prisons for the sake of a minority who will spend vast quantities of disposable income on gambling for higher numbers/an ephemeral sense of 'ownership'. and this works well enough that like, most major releases are getting gambling features added, high profile anime are gacha adaptations...

perhaps this is not so different from cathedral builders commissioning artists. people will always want to create artworks, and the canny rich will recognise how much controlling the artists that can help them secure their rule. the current era though... it feels less like a functional self sustaining system of psychic control and more like a whalefall feeding frenzy; all these different players trying to jam themselves into your brain, trying out ever more esoteric strategies and absorbing more and more of the old capitalist industry into this futile self-directed game, and all weakening each other in the process.

and this all hooks into extractivism. all these technologies to try and grab attention and take control of desire depend on electronics manufacturing. for the sake of letting players grind their skill in a virtual mine, someone has to go down a real mine for rare earths; someone else has to build it. not that you can neatly separate these populations for the ones having their desires toyed with; for some reason this translated pamphlet stuck in my brain for showing shenzhen electronics workers going to an internet café to play LoL after work.

traditionally capitalism worked on a "double moulinet" where on the one hand you have money circulating through the reproduction of capital (finished goods are sold and used to buy materials and maintain machines) and on the other hand through the workers' social reproduction (wages are used to buy food electricity and clothes etc for the worker and everyone dependent on their wage including future workers) and these two circles come together at the moment of production; each one links up to other capitalist industries which work on the same principle.

one of the things the worker would spend money on would always have been entertainment products, including gambling, which would try to expand to suck up whatever money remained. so in a sense that's nothing new. what seems novel is... well, i don't have any figures to prove this, but it seems like a great deal more resources and effort are being expended on this gambling, and it has the odd side effect of trapping people who don't have disposable income to burn.

but it's like... thanks to the successes of technology, only a minority of the world's workers are now needed to meet everyone's need for food, water, shelter, and clothing, along with newer industries like 'white goods' that save domestic labour; yet this leaves a vast pool of capital that doesn't know what to do with itself, so in order to keep growing, it has ever more pressure to invent new needs and try to persuade people to want them. which means an intensification of the wizard war, since the flow of 'disposable' income doesn't really increase to match; and this leads to all sorts of bizarre extrusions as desperate dollars slosh around the world like a scattered host, all trying to find a way to keep growing.

i wonder how it will all end...

[astrowithkaro]

Hi. Can you do January 16th birthday personality? Also what are the traits like do they attract people with their aura? Thanks.

Language Of Birthdays: January 16 - Capricorn

[You can find the rest of the series here; or check out my masterlist]

The Day Of Fulfillment

Fulfillment is the ultimate goal of a January 16 person, whether of a personal, social or even universal nature. Ultimately, it is a feeling of satisfaction or wholeness those born on this day are after, often involving a completion, rounding off and tidy resolution to endeavors. But this is not the whole story. Fulfillment also includes an intangible something which says that they have done their best and that their hopes and wishes have been finally realized. In a sense, this subjective state (which may not last very long before a new goal is set), signals for them that things quite simply have gone well.

Such indications of well-being and acknowledgment are needed regularly by January 16 people, as a kind of ego-reinforcement or security apparatus. Those born on this day are well suited for work where they can clearly accomplish tasks in a given time, rather than occupations with a great deal of uncertainty or flux. As for any habituated person, however, their feelings of satisfaction may diminish over time unless the projects are upped both in their scope and intensity.

This is where the chance of failure can enter the picture. The excitement sharpens, the involvement deepens, but so does the risk of projects falling through, and consequently those born on this day (who may not be well adapted for stress) have to learn to deal with more improbable outcomes, and of course a certain lack of fulfillment which now and then insidiously rears its head. Worse yet, they may perversely come to accept uncertainty as the norm and ultimately deprive themselves of fulfillment altogether.

Successful January 16 people recognize when challenge becomes self destructive and find a realistic level for their endeavors. They come to know and accept themselves, and live with their limitations. It is crucial that they find their work niveau or niche in society. Indeed, those January 16 people who accomplish a series of varying but not necessarily increasingly intensive objectives are more likely to find lasting happiness. However, a new project beckoning over the horizon or a refusal to quit or retire from their professions are ever-present threats to such stability.

January 16 people can drive themselves and everyone else around them to distraction, unless they are able to accept the regularity of everyday life. This goes very much for their interpersonal relationships as well. Perhaps those born on this day could more often seek fulfillment on a day-to-day, even minute-to-minute basis. Indeed, their personal success may well depend on their ability to focus on present concerns and find greater satisfaction in the matter at hand.

To Answer Your Question:

Those born on the 16th day of the month are ruled by the number 7 (1+6=7), and by the watery planet Neptune. Those ruled by the number 7 often fail to follow through on their ideas and can get out of touch with reality easily, particularly true for January 16 people if they overstep their limits. I don't know too much about auras but considering that they are almost always about their bag 🤑I'm sure it attracts a lot of partners for sure. Neptune is the planet of dreams, fantasies and religious feeling, which coupled with the saturnian influence of their sign (Capricorn) grants those born on this day material luck, if they can keep themselves under control.

Strengths:

Diligent

Steady

Thorough

Weaknesses:

Habituated

Stressed

Advice

Those born on January 16 are capable of having long and healthy lives as long as they do not subject themselves to an excess of stress. On the other hand, if they are lucky enough to find a suitable life for themselves where they feel contented, they must guard against complacency and its physical manifestations, such as weight gain, listlessness. mental dullness, etc. Vigorous physical exercise, including competitive activities of many types, individual sports with the challenge of personal athletic goals, and group workout routines are all suggested. As far as diet is concerned, cutting down on dairy and meat products, pastries and sugar, and emphasizing fresh vegetables and grains help reduce body fat and increase alertness. Regular sleep patterns are necessary, but too much sleep can work against an active lifestyle.

Make a realistic assessment of your abilities

Keep your nose to the grindstone, but don't take on more than you can handle

On the other hand, remain active and avoid complacency

Pay sufficient attention to your relationships

[animatedminds]

Star Wars: Visions - Episode 9: Akakiri

And here we make it to the end of the set: the last episode of Star Wars: Visions. It’s been a wonderful ride, and a fine addition to the recent influx of great Star Wars content: really making me itch for more. But all things must be released in The Force in time - which is to say, all things must come to an end, so we reach that finale together, with...

Episode 9: Akakiri Developed By: Science SARU Directed By: Eunyoung Choi This film makes for a fine bookend with The Duel. Like the Duel, the plot of this one is somber and straightforward. And like The Duel, the like entire story is a slow build up to a striking conclusion... this time, due to a terrible twist.

The plot of this one regards a Jedi in an indeterminate time period - perhaps best presumed as during the Sith Wars - returning to his home planet in order to aid the princess of his land, who seeks to reclaim her throne after her aunt joined the Sith and murdered her way into power. The short is mostly a small scale, tightly focused set of traveling scenes as they approach the castle: just the two of them, along with two more comedic but loyal traveling companions. The two muse over their lots in life, reaffirm their resolve, and deal with their feelings for one another, all before the final battle... in which things do not go quite as one might expect.

This, like The Twins, comes across as an abstraction of a story we all know, but unlike The Twins rather than a referential cavalcade this film proceeds like a retelling: a unexpected story that descends tragically into something familiar. I won’t go into all the details of what that story is, but let us just say that it seems no accident that over the course of the story the princess slowly comes to physically resemble the traits of a certain Padme Amidala, and the Jedi a certain Anakin Skywalker.

Like The Duel, this short is another where the straightforward nature of the plot means there isn’t much to say about - at least if is not going too deeply into the spoilers. Visually, this one is stylized towards action: simpler character designs which move with an increased fluidity. Another one that puts a lot of design into its settings and backgrounds: the locations go from rural to increasingly urbanized over the course of the short, with the final locales being rigid, cold and imposing. Thematically, this transition works well for the destinies the characters increasingly wrangle with, a visual progression of peace falling to oppression.

For this review’s obligatory digression, we both start and finish with an awesome fight with a female Sith, something that’s woefully underdone in Star Wars proper. The fight itself was very surprising: there’s a significant size advantage, and I’m always used to bigger opponents in anime being portrayed as less competent than smaller. Size is typically an indicator of brutishness rather than strength in Eastern storytelling, but the short plays with this: our antagonist is not only larger in strength in stature, but larger in control - smarter, and more cunning than the heroes are wholly prepared for. And so it all leads up to the darkest hour: the moment where heroes are made or broken by their decisions. And the decision made may surprise you - or may not, depending on your genre savvy. Though it had the slight misfortune to follow the short I believe to be the best of the bunch - or at least close to the best of the bunch - it is a very good short to end the set on, a similar feel and experience to start and to finish. And so we conclude with the final look at canon potential. None of these shorts have been canon. We all know this, but we all love them regardless. However, in a series like Star Wars, becoming incorporated - or even simply followed up on - is a matter of support: if some of these shorts get enough pull behind them from the audience, you can bet that the studio will at least consider doing more with those particular characters. But it also depends on whether the short fits into the setting - or what the studio wants to do with the setting - as well.

And does this Akakiri fit? I’d give it Good Chances. Not great chances, but decent ones. As I mentioned before in an earlier one of these, Lucasfilm seems fairly hesitant to canonically depict the earliest days of the Republic and the Sith Wars: which is my presumption for why they have been evasive and frankly less than positive about whether upcoming KOTOR remake will be canon. This short taking place in a time where the Sith are a large enough organization that individual defecting to them is a real possibility, there are few other eras where it can fit. But also, the nature of this short as a more overt - if only partial - retelling of a familiar story does give it a bit less of an identity of its own. However, despite that, the characters, the setting and the concept still work very well within the framework of Star Wars: and if they did choose to do so, it wouldn’t take much work at all to give this concept its very own significant niche. And that, in the end, is that. Nine episodes, nine different anime from a slew of different studios. All with their own unique takes on a franchise that’s loved around the world. Would I like to see more of this? You bet: more of certain specific ideas we’ve seen here, and perhaps another season of this with nine more shorts and another entirely new slew of developers

This has been Star Wars: Visions, with an Animated Mind for an Animated Time. May the force be with you: it’s a good time to be a Star Wars fan, so embrace it. Don’t let the hate get you down, and look forward to more Visions like this.

[atmilliways]

On the 2nd day of Dethmas this writer gives to thee…

Dec 14 - Kissing under the mistletoe (or office party shenanigans)

Charles gets roped into the role of Santa Clause at the holiday office party. 

Charles/Pickles

~

The dreaded Dethklok Inc. office Christmas party was coming up—dreaded not by the band or most of the employees, who typically had a blast, but by the CFO who had to arrange and organize everything before and after, up to and including the inevitable handful of resulting funeral arrangements.

Charles was looking forward to it even less than usual, because the band had thrown an absolute shitfit to get him to agree to play Santa this year. He didn’t know why they wanted him to do this. The party didn’t even normally have a Santa. His first thought was that it was Toki’s idea, but on second thought Toki tended to lack the charisma to get the rest of the guys to throw in with him on niche interests like that.

But fine. Whatever. He’d agreed to do it once, and next year he could simply point to whatever came of it this year as an argument against repeating the experience.

He kept telling himself that right up until donning the red and white Santa suit, the iconic hat, and the fake beard. (The damn thing was so big that practically all he could see of his own face in the mirror were his eyes. At least they were letting him keep his glasses.) Then he took his seat in a throne-like chair that had been special ordered for the occasion, specially decorated with carvings of presents, the most unsettling depictions of Christmas elves that he’d ever seen, and skulls with real candles balanced on them, lit and already beginning to dribble red and black wax . . . and immediately felt that somewhere in life he must have made a grave, grave mistake to have ended up here.

The band took the stage in the center of the hall, half the room away from where Charles sat, and went into a jumbled “Merry Christmas, go fuck yourselves!” sort of speech. He mostly tuned it out until—

“And hey, errybody,” Pickles slurred into his mic, “don’t ferget ta sit on Santa’s lap and tell ‘im what you want fer Christmas!”

That had not been part of the discussion, let alone the agreement, but at this point what was he going to do about it? Besides hope that grown men and women hired for their professional abilities would have no interest in sitting on the lap of the man who signed their paychecks.

~

“You can’t have a pony,” Charles said flatly. “There isn’t space for one in the employee barracks, and even if there were it would be both impractical and unsanitary.”

The Klokateer perched on his lap, crushing the feeling out of his legs, tittered and took another sip of his holiday punch through a straw poked up under his mask. “Oo-kay Mr. Grinchy-claus, no pony for me then. Aren’tcha going to say ‘ho ho ho, Merry Christmas’?”

“Ho ho ho. Now go away.”

Laughing drunkenly, the man lurched up and made his way off the Santa podium to get a refill of punch. The next Klokateer in line had an Online Division pin on one shoulder and a spiked eggnog in her hand. Charles braced himself for yet another request for fewer blocks on searching for porn using company computers.

~

“Hey look, it’sch Schanty Clausche!”

Charles grimaced behind his beard. “Hello, Murderface.”

The first of the boys to visit him, Murderface seemed to be in unusually high spirits. His ass landed on Charles’ knees like a ton of bricks. “Wow,” he crooned with exaggerated delight, “Schanta really does know all the namesch of the good little boysch and girlsch!”

“Very funny. Would you mind telling me whose idea this was?”

The bassist shook his head. “Hey man, I’m not here to narc on my bandmatesch, I’m here to tell Schanta what I want for Chrischtmasch. ”

“Alright. Fine. What would you like for Christmas.”

Murderface looked around furtively, then leaned in and whispered, “A dischguische kit.”

“A . . . disguise kit.”

“Yeah! I’m tired of being mobbed whenever I go out in public, scho I need it. For camouflasche. ”

Charles couldn’t remember a single incident of a fan mob forming for just Murderface; it only ever seemed to happen when one or more of the other band members were with him, though there were probably a few people who did wander up and ask for an autograph. There had been one unfortunately memorable band meeting a few months ago where Murderface had bragged about someone wanting to touch his penis for good luck, pleased at the recognition but at the same time calling said fan an ‘incredibly fucking gay regular jackoff.’

“I’ll, ah, make sure that’s added to the list,” Charles assured him, and breathed a sigh of relief when Murderface nodded in satisfaction and stood to leave.

~

“Hey, knock knock.”

Charles sighed from the depths of his soul at this second Dethklok visitation. “Who’s there.”

“Nathan Explosion,” said Nathan Explosion, dropping unceremoniously onto his lap.

Luckily, the beard hid Charles’ wince at the impact. He was probably going to have a lot of weird leg bruises tomorrow. “Nathan Explosion who.”

“Nathan Explosion, here to tell you you’re the party ho ho ho! ” Nathan broke into riotous laughter and clapped Charles good-naturedly on the back, causing him to accidentally inhale a mouthful of fake beard.

After a moment to catch his breath, Charles nodded along. “Very amusing. What would you, ah, like for Christmas, Nathan?”

“I need new pants.”

Well, that was unexpectedly straightforward. “New pants. You got it.”

“One hundred pairs. Exactly one hundred.”

“Okay.”

“Just, uh. A couple inches bigger in the waist. For the holiday weight that I am definitely going to lose in January.”

He couldn’t feel his legs; this was not the time to point out that Nathan wouldn’t have time to wear all one hundred pairs of new pants between December 25th and the start of January, nor that January as a deadline for such a drastic fitness undertaking was probably an unrealistic deadline.

“That’s fine, Nathan. One hundred pairs of pants. I’ll make sure, the, ah, elves get the message.” Maybe he would throw in some math flash cards while he was at it.

~

Toki weighed less than the first two, but was unfortunately so excited that he landed on Charles’ lap hard . Definitely, definitely going to have bruises.

“God Jul, Charles —I means Santa!” the guitarist chirped, bright-eyed and swaying slightly. Charles fervently hoped he wasn’t about to throw up; he didn’t even think being covered in vomit would do much to get him out of this holiday circle of hell. “Merries Christmas!!”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Toki. What do you, ah, want to ask Santa for this year?”

He didn’t have a watch, but he estimated that Toki’s list, plus miscellaneous excited chatter, took at least half an hour and mentioned many things he knew for a fact that Toki already owned.

~

“Eeuyghh, looks, it ams everys-ones favorites butler,” Skwisgaar said, then folded himself gracefully into a sitting position. After an hour or two of being sat on like this and having plenty to compare it to, Charles wondered if the man was eating enough.

This was in spite of the fact that Skwisgaar was toting around a small plate loaded with various cheeses, fruit, and greasy finger sausages skewered on toothpicks. Party food. To Charles, who hadn’t realized that this gig would take so long and therefore hadn’t eaten in advance, it smelled wonderful.

The Swede must have noticed him eyeing it, or perhaps heard the growl of his stomach over the noise of the surrounding party somehow, because he smirked and held it out in offering. “Pickle says for you to haves this. Gots to keep yous strengths up, you knows.”

Pickles, Charles noted as he balanced the plate off to one side on one of the less obvious and candle-less Christmas skulls. He also pulled one of the sausages free of its toothpick and reached under the beard to jam it in his mouth. Still warm.

“Thank you, Skwisgaar,” he said once he’d finished chewing. “Now, what can I get for you? Ah, as Santa. Ho ho.”

“Everyones know it ams three ‘ho’s, dildo.” Skwisgaar steepled his fingers. “But I woulds like five ins mine room to enjoy ons the Christmas morning. You know the kinds I likes?”

Charles didn’t know what he’d expected. “It’s my job to know, so . . . yes.”

“Greats.” The guitarist patted him on the shoulder of his Santa suit. “Glads that ams sorted outs. Keeps up that good works, yous.”

Then he got up and wandered away, leaving Charles to realize that he hadn’t had a chance to ask him who was behind this whole Santa idea.

~

Charles finished the plate of food before Pickles made an appearance. He also realized that he could persuade his increasingly inebriated employees to bring him more food, and also drinks, by threatening them with cleanup duty after the party. (He was not in a generous mood; the ones that tried to weasel out of it at first would get cleanup duty regardless of whether they eventually caved or not.) There was no way to escape the alcohol content in the drinks—even when he asked for water it came spiked with vodka or peppermint schnapps, because everyone wanted to see the company’s CFO hammered.

At least they knew better than to roofie him, because Charles would have them killed.

He saw Pickles coming from a mile away. Maybe it was because Charles knew that once all of Dethklok had a chance to visit with “Santa Clause” he would be allowed to escape this torment; maybe it was because he really wanted to know if Pickles was, indeed, the mastermind behind this whole thing; and maybe it was just a tiny bit because he was annoyed the drummer had forgotten to wander over earlier.

But being annoyed at any of the guys was a nonstarter. Putting up with their antics was just part of the job.

“Heeeeeeeeeeey,” Pickles greeted him as he swayed his way over and plopped onto Charles’ lap. Unlike everyone else who had visited Santa this evening, he didn’t stick to perching closer to Charles’ knees but scooted in as close as he could until they were practically nose to nose. Mingled notes of every kind of booze available at the party wafted the short distance from the drummer’s mouth (and shirt, and hands, and dreads), until all Charles could smell was Pickles. “Lookin’ hot in that suit, dood. Is the temp in here okay? Gettin’ a little warm in there?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Charles said, trying not to be too aware that Pickles seemed incapable of sitting still and his ass was rubbing against . . . things. “Ah. Merry Christmas.”

Pickles snickered. “Did Nat’en make that ho joke?”

No one could see for the beard that Charles’ lips twitched toward a smile at that. “Yes, he did.”

“‘M glad yer not a ho, Charlie,” Pickles slurred affectionately. “A'least, not no much'a one. That’d be a bummer.”

“Ah . . . okay.” He didn’t know what to make of that, or the continuing subtle lap dance, so he said, “What would you like for Christmas this year, Pickles?”

“Weeeeell. . . .” Grinning, Pickles waggles his double-pierced eyebrows. It seems like he’s trying to be suggestive, but Charles has no idea what that’s supposed to suggest. The drummer leaned even closer, lips brushing against Charles’ ear as he murmurs, “I kinda already got my present right in front’a me, chief. Just gotta unwrap it.”

All of this was sending shivers and goosebumps down Charles’ spine under the (admittedly warm) Santa suit, but for heaven’s sake, it was just Pickles. When wasted, which he was more often than not, man oscillated between being a destructive drunk and clingy one. Apparently tonight it was . . . very much so the latter. Not a good time to ask about the Santa plot, really.

He had dealt with this before, just not with Pickles literally draped over and inconspicuously grinding on him. Come on, Offdensen, pull it together . Do not get a boner at the holiday office party. No matter how long it’s been!

“Well, ah, sounds like you’re all taken care of then,” Charles hazarded. “All that’s left to do is, ah, enjoy the party. Why don’t you go do that.”

Pickles chuckled, a low, sultry sound that just made the situation even more difficult. “Workin’ on it dood, I’m workin’ on it.” He shifted thoughtfully again, then bit his lip through a grin. “And it feels like we’re gettin’ there, huh chief?”

“I. Ah, what?” At least the big fake beard was concealing his blush better than he’d been able to contain his body’s mounting interest in the increasingly distracting ass squirming around on top of him. This is a public place , he wanted to protest, but didn’t want to risk pointing out something that might be completely unintentional. After all, it was Pickles , who did this sort of thing fairly regularly.

But the next murmured words out of Pickles’ mouth stopped every single one of Charles’ thoughts in their tracks.

“Fuck, even in this stupid suit yer sexy. How d’you do that?” A brief nip, teeth closing and tugging on Charles’ earlobe before releasing with a soft wet pop .

Nothing but overwhelmed static on the other side of that ear; the quiet gasp was completely involuntary.

“C’mon Charlie,” Pickles all but whined, “you don’t have to do this anymore. Jest call it a night and meet me in the bathroom or somethin’, okie?”

The amazing thing, Charles thought distantly, was that from a distance, it wouldn’t look like anything was happening. Just a grown man, swaying drunk off his ass, sitting on Santa’s lap to whisper what he wanted for Christmas. Regular office holiday party shenanigans for a laugh. But under the surface, Charles was starting to feel like a shaken champagne bottle.

“You, ah,” he managed. “You do realize that you, ah, seem to be prepositioning me for, ah. Sex?”

Pickles leaned into him with a laugh. “Like I said, dood, that’s what I’m tryin’ ta do. Fer like, fuckin’ forever. For a smart guy you can be pretty stupid, y’know that?”

“Ah.” Charles shifted awkwardly and nearly choked when Pickles very pointedly pushed into it at the exact right moment. “There’s . . . a chance I’ve been told that before,” he hedged, already vowing to himself that he would never admit how many times. This isn’t something he ever would have looked for, but mistaking Pickles hitting on him for god only knew how long for just being an affectionate drunk? That was pretty fucking funny if you thought about it, and he'd consumed just enough alcohol so far to really give it some very serious thought.

And . . . his job was to keep everyone in the band happy.

“So, ah. There are several bathrooms off this hall. . . . Which one did you have in mind?”

[bisluthq]

?? I meaN tavi is known but not to gp in my humble one. But with gg 2.0 maybe she will be!!

Okay see we are back to a term y’all love to throw around that annoys me because it… feels a little silly. And that’s this whole idea of a “general public”. Now, no doubt you get SUPERSTAR celebs - Beyoncé, Madonna, Taylor, the living members of the Beatles, Brad Pitt, Leo DiCaprio, JLo, the KarJenners etc - where you do kind of have to live under a rock to not have heard about them. They’re ubiquitous. They’re iconic and legendary and like… yeah everyone’s heard of them, whether you’re a fan or not. You know the name and you know what they do and you can put the name to the face, which you… know.

Then you start getting era specific celebs tbh. Like everyone of a certain age knows the supermodels - Linda Evangelista, Cindy Crawford, Naomi Campbell, Claudia Schiffer etc - but I honestly don’t think all Gen Zs do. They were HUGELY famous in their moment, but that moment passed. If some 16 year old doesn’t know who Claudia Schiffer is, does that mean she’s not known? Like almost on that tier of iconic tbh? Not at all.

And after that, it really depends on your own personal interests. I don’t follow rap, especially dude rappers, so I was last week years old when I heard of Fetty Wap. I was today years old when I heard of Stormzy (I got an anon about him and had to have a young Google). Does that mean those two incredibly successful men are unknowns? No it just means I don’t follow rap and don’t know who the big names are.

I don’t follow KPop. I know that BTS exists and BLCKPINK (sp?) exists but I can’t name a single member of either group off the top of my head. That doesn’t mean that these groups aren’t fucking INSANELY successful and popular. It’s just not something I follow.

Gossip Girl reboot is absolutely not going to make someone superstar level famous. It’s a big show and all but like one can easily not watch. It’s not a cultural moment in the way Game of Thrones was (and tbh nothing will probably ever be again, but that’s a whole separate conversation on the end of the Golden Age of TV and the rise of streaming). And even with GoT the individual actors didn’t get superstar status, their CHARACTERS did, but plenty of people watched the show and can’t fucking name those names.

I think a lot of Taylor fans get confused about this shit because they’re stanning a fucking SUPERSTAR, so y’all seem to think if someone isn’t as famous as THAT then they’re unknowns. That’s just not a reasonable benchmark.

With the rise of streaming and the advance of social media and the death of print media tbh, we’re seeing a lot less superstars in general because we can now watch whatever the fuck we want - there is so much content - and follow our fave celebs. We don’t all need to tune in to the same show, we don’t even know exact numerical ratings for shows/films anymore a lot of the time, and we don’t need to wait for Us Weekly to report on the celeb, we can curate our information about them on socials and articles can be churned out about all sorts of people and get clicks/earn money without needing to sell someone a cover with a huge star’s face (which everyone will then learn to recognize).

So like celebs are becoming a lot more niche specific and age specific.

Gossip Girl can make Tavi popular amongst English speaking teenagers and millennial girls (and some boys). It will not and cannot make anyone a fucking superstar though, and like I say - becoming a superstar is an increasingly nuanced process because you can be HUGE in your industry but unknown by someone who isn’t interested in that.

And on top of that we layer language and region, right, someone can be HUGE in their country, but unknown elsewhere. The stars of Magnificent Century are fucking Turkish ICONS and are very well known like throughout Europe as well but aren’t really known in English speaking countries. Does that mean they’re not a huge deal or that fucking GIANT of a show was a flop?

I hope this makes sense but ya I really wish y’all would stop throwing around that term because it doesn’t ever really make any sense to me.

[cipheramnesia]

So Easy It's Child's Play

Child's Play is a strange franchise. Most horror franchises have a familiar arc to them, quality often progressively falling as they drag on, and increasingly seek only to reproduce the success and material of earlier iterations, while the original creator is decreasingly involved in the material.

The Child's Play series, or the Chucky series as it's now become, is a bit different in that it has made it to seven sequels, with the original writer (Don Mancini) writing all of them save part three. What's fascinating about the series is that it rapidly departs from attempts to match the source material. Instead, each movie is uniquely it's own specific thing. And while each movie is not a thing for everyone, they all successfully accomplish their goals. Even if a movie isn't for you, it's possible to admire the fact that it successfully exists as the type of art it's meant to be. More unusualy, even when the tone and content departs wildly from each previous film, Don Mancini maintains the series continuity. It's a genuinely impressive, if very niche, accomplishment.

I say all this as a preface because I watched the somewhat recent Child's Play remake. Don Mancini wasn't involved, and so this might be difficult for some of you to hear:

It's rather good. I mean, it's not just okay, but it's well made movie which I can see myself re-watching a few more times.

Part of this might be my expectations, which were extremely low. I was anticipating a movie something like the horrible Scream knock offs in the 90's or the many other more recent efforts, all bland and bloodless and toothless, Truth or Dare, Friend Request, etc.

Rebooting a franchise which is not only still going, but has recently fielded some of its best entries, is the kind of thing that producers who don't care about the movie quality would do, and probably did. The premise of it sounds so terrible. Chucky is no longer a possessed doll, but some kind of advanced walking, talking, iPhone that becomes evil when all his safety programming is turned off. Like, only slightly different from the Killer Krusty doll in the Simpson's Tree House of Horror, he pretty much has his digital switch flipped from good to evil. They redesigned the look of Chucky which, I don't know if you've seen it, but it is genuinely terrible. It looks terrible not in the same way Chucky classic looks terrible, as in scary, but terrible as in like someone turned in a first draft and they never bothered trying to fix it.

I need you to understand how much the deck was stacked here, because I really liked this movie. See, the very first Child's Play is one of those horror movies from the 1980's with a proto-Spielberg vibe, which happened when everyone saw what he was doing and tried to hit the same notes and some people actually did a passingly decent job. It's an enjoyable movie about a kid coming of age and dealing with weird difficult shit which happens to involve a horror element. And you know 2019 Child's Play is the same deal. It's very much a more modern "kids on bikes" horror movie, where a young boy has to make friends in a new city while dealing with his single mom, and there's also a murderous robot doll that brings everyone together.

People in this film feel committed to making it work. There's no phoned in performances, there's mostly no actors waffling directionlessly about their character. It's all tight, unified, it has the chemistry you get from good performers under good direction. The script doesn't feel like it's a binder full of stapled producer notes. It kinda feels like whoever had the money mostly left everyone alone, mostly, maybe a prod here and there.

More surprisingly for this sort of movie, it's very well paced. It's willing to build up the characters and the setting and the necessary foundation for Chucky to go from a "best friend" to a murderous mechanical moppet. Yeah, you could say it's weird to care about building up settings like this for a killer doll movie, but the end result is we have a real sense of what this Chucky is, what it can do, and how it's doing it. Because it takes the same time with characters before getting into any violence, we’re able to get invested in everyone, even in Chucky himself.

While we're on the subject, the movie also ventures into the wonderful sub-genre of "teenagers have to solve horror problem on their own because it sounds absurd to adults," which is played with just the right about of time to add that coming of age Spielberg styled glow of nostalgia that gives it a real emotionally hook. This movie got me invested well before the 1/3 mark, but if you can't enjoy a bunch of kids plotting to take down a killer robot then what can you enjoy any more?

Another detour here, at one point Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 is playing in television with a lot of cutaways to shots from the movie. It's an interesting choice, as TCM2 was in part made by Tobe Hooper as an intentionally absurd movie for everyone who didn't understand he'd meant the first TCM to be a kind of black comedy. Difficult to know what the intent was - could it be the director or writer signalling to the audience that he had real horror chops? TCM2 is a pretty rarely referenced movie unless you're a genre fan. Or he might be signaling the audience that his movie is also a black comedy (which feels unnecessary because it's about a killer mini-me). Or just maybe it was a head's up to let everyone know things were going to get gory.

Because, by the way, it gets gory. Far be it from me to dwell on gore as a critical part of a horror movie, but everything about Child's Play 2019 screamed "bloodless violence" which isn't really what a Child's Play movie should be. It's in fact plenty gory as it would need to be for its pedigree. While it's nothing bonkers like TCM2, it certainly delivers some pretty grotesque kills (save for one death of a character where it would have ruined the emotional impact, so that's kind of impressive by itself, knowing when to pull back). And the conclusion, if not precisely a grand guignol of gore, is at least a nicely overblown escalation into the realm of the absurd in a fashion which is supported by rest of the film.

Lastly, by around the 1/3 mark, I was sold on the design. I'm not sure why or how. Still, in the context of the film, Chucky looking like a weird, fleshy, sanitized and corporate version of the more friendly/creepy classic design really sells the idea that it could be a real, modern, mass marketed doll, and very much amplifies the creepy factor of when he's engaged in malevolence. The classic Chucky over time feels like (and is) more one doll which has been increasingly warped by an evil spirit into its own thing. Digital Chucky feels much more like something designed with the modern aesthetic of being blandly palatable, but which has become sinister from the inside.

Which, getting down to it, is where a modern Child's Play ought to be at. The protagonists are all in the pre-teen or teen range. Young enough that I can believe they'd have a doll like Chucky purely based on it being able to act like some kind of Alexa or Siri in manikin form, but too old to want something like Chucky classic, which is more like a Teddy Ruxpin. The age of people who are engaging with the world through the smartphone, another device with a sort of dull, harmless aesthetic, user friendly with a cheerful interface, but which has some sense of sinister infiltration into our lives. I wouldn't say Child's Play is committed to the theme, but if nothing else it has thoughts in its head and a reason for doing what it did.

Somehow, against all odds, the Child's Play remake is not only a good movie, but a worthy remake (for me anyway) lives up to the original.

[stutterfly]

Love Bytes 02 | Firewall Breach | KNJ (M)

Last time on LB01: You find yourself at Tae & Kookie’s place for your Saturday night hangout. Some teasing and drinks are had, and you’re waiting outside for your ride with the boys while mindlessly swiping on Tinder. Hoseok catches a glimpse of the steamy image on your screen.

Rating: M (18+)

Word Count: 7.4K

Series: Love Bytes (2/?)

Genre: F2L, Fluff, Bestfriends!au, CollegeProjessor!Namjoon,  friendship feels, slow burn, fluff, sexual tension, humor, pining, embarrassingReader, light Jimin smut (tempting me)

CW: grinding, teasing, pining

Pairings: Namjoon x Reader, brot7

masterlist // previous chapter // next chapter 

Do not repost.

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Hoseok sits with his chin resting on a palm, staring down at the same image with a concentrated gaze. For a moment only your eyes move, now acutely aware of the man to your left. You’re frozen in place, hoping the shame will kill you instantly so you don’t have to face the subsequent humiliation.

You sit motionless, like maybe if you’re still enough, he’ll forget you’re there. You pray his perception is based on movement as your teeth sink deeper into the flesh of your knuckle, letting only shallow breaths escape. But as the seconds pass, they grow increasingly unbearable. You turn your head, ever so slightly, immediately locking eyes with Hoseok. The crooked smile on his face speaks volumes louder than the whisper that follows.

“Such a dirty girl.”

You blink a few times and guiltily drop your hand to cover the screen. A nervous laugh escapes your throat. “What do you mean?”

You squirm as you stretch your legs out and press your thighs together, trying to pretend he didn’t just catch you in the act. His eyebrows raise and you feel like prey as he tilts his head towards you, husky voice chastising you with your own name.

"You know what I mean."

You sit in stunned silence, wishing Hoseok would let you transform into a statue and become one with the stairway. It seems fate has other plans as a car rolls up to the curb.

“Show me your profile."

The tone of his voice tells you it's not a question, and the hand snaking around your back tells you there's no escape. Hoseok springs to his feet, dragging your stumbling form towards the car. You feel him prying the phone from your clammy fingers.

“You’re paying for my fucking drinks,” you counter, deathgrip on the case.

“Deal!” He’s shaking your hand and the phone fervently as you both shuffle down the final step.

To prove his merit, he presents you with a credit card, knowing full well you’ll beat him to the bar. You eagerly snatch it before he changes his mind. When keeps his palm extended and snaps his fingers a few times, you know he wants far more than just a peek at the profile. With a low groan, you surrender the device, hoping that by some miracle he’ll be merciful.

“Please don’t tell them, Hobi,” you quietly beg, swallowing hard. He’s already hungrily scanning through and you're desperate to limit the damage of whatever he's so eager to see.

You lock eyes with Jimin just as he finishes climbing into the back seat. He sends you a smile that threatens to make your knees buckle. You panic for a moment at the thought of being forced to sit next to him, but the alcohol is catching up to you and the growing heat between your legs nearly cancels out the butterflies in your stomach.

Hoseok hums, reaching for Namjoon, whom is already palming the handle on the front passenger door. "Nah nah nah nah nah. Let Y/N sit up front. I gotta show you something.”

Namjoon furrows his brow as Hoseok ushers you into the front seat. You stumble with one hand around the door frame, glaring daggers at him, which does not go unnoticed by your best friend.

Hoseok waves your phone up in the air and wiggles his eyebrows at you before taking his seat. “She needs our help.”

Namjoon shakes his head and speaks in a low tone, almost as if he’s talking to himself, “Man, she’s really pissed. I’m almost afraid to see.”

“Hobi, you’re such a dick,” you whine. God, if only you were a little more drunk, maybe you wouldn’t feel so mortified.

Hoseok is sandwiched between Namjoon and Jimin, giving a content sigh as he buckles himself in, unbothered by his knees jutting up on either side of the armrest. You’re about to fasten your own seatbelt when you feel pressure on the back of your seat. Namjoon loudly clears his throat, as if you couldn’t tell his gangly kneecaps were the culprit. You roll your eyes hard, making sure he sees the reaction in the side mirror before you comply. He presses his lips together in a thin line, and even in the dim light you can see the dimples forming.

The car takes off and you’re grateful the radio is on loud enough so you don’t have to hear what the men are saying. The driver has the rearview mirror angled off so you can’t use it to spy on the interaction. You’re not sure if that’s better or worse than being able to witness it. You attempt to distract yourself by looking out the window, but you can see Namjoon’s profile in the side mirror and your eyes are glued to him, looking for any sign of the judgement you know is coming. His lips are still pressed together, but you can’t make out any additional details as the street lights outside become sparse.

Hobi stone cold fucking betrayed you and you knew you should have expected it, but still. What the fuck did he mean you needed their help? You were doing fine! You wrote an intro with a few witty lines and a bullet list of interests. You admit they’re probably kind of niche, but similar interests make for good relationships, right? Compatibility is a standard for those kinds of things. After all, if you have an Intel CPU, you can’t be trying to install a motherboard built for an AMD processor; it just doesn’t work that way. People are kind of like that too, except with more variables. You’ve told yourself this countless times and yet now your resolve falters, knowing your marketing strategy is falling under heavy scrutiny.

Your pictures weren’t anything fancy --three selfies you had taken in the last couple months. Definitely nothing you would call “sexy,” but it was hard enough to write a profile that felt like “you,” nevermind taking photos for it.

The first was a smiling headshot on a day when your hair was cooperating and your skin wasn’t on a moody breakout rampage. The next was more cringeworthy, not because it was a bad photo --on the contrary, you looked pretty cute leaning casually against a wall, and for once your trademark sweatshirt wasn’t covering up the natural curves of your body. But you know the painstaking effort that went into taking it, and how many times you had to run back and forth from the camera to the wall before auto-timer went off. How many terrible body selfies did you take in order to get the one? Too fucking many. You involuntarily crinkle your nose, remembering some of the particularly unflattering ones. You silently bless your past self for deleting those ahead of time.

The last was an angled selfie of you in the lab, elbow deep in repairs, completely taken on a whim while you were working late. I mean, it is your life after all: fixing shit and looking like a hot mess, pretty much 24/7. Might as well be honest about it.

You spare a peek back. The phone screen illuminates Namjoon’s glasses and you can see your first profile picture reflected there. Jimin leans in, resting his chin on Hoseok’s shoulder; you know your profile has his full attention. He’s pointing and saying something, but you can’t make it out. Your cheeks flare with heat; there’s no way your pictures would be up to his standards.

Jimin touches the screen and the reflection in Joon’s eyes changes. You’re suddenly positive all three photos are way shittier than you remember. You lean out further from behind the seat, eyes wide with drunken curiosity at the reaction. It’s like a fucking trainwreck and as bad as the damage is, you want to see it. You fucking have to.

You don’t need much light to notice the way Hoseok is positively beaming; at least he’s enjoying this. Fucker. Jimin darts his tongue out and you’re so focused on the path it traces around his mouth that you miss the way Namjoon sucks in a shallow breath and bites down. It’s only when you notice the absence of the reflection in his glasses with the tilt of his head, that you realize Joon is reacting at all. He leans down to get a better look, slowly letting his lip drag across his teeth. You freeze, shocked at the salacious response to whatever caught his eye. What the fuck? No way was that in response to anything you have up there. You swear to god if they got distracted and are using your phone to look at porn, you’re going to be pissed.

All three men have their fingers on the phone now, talking amongst themselves and leaning in towards the screen. You’re ready to fucking explode with curiosity. You face forward in a huff, knowing you can’t hear them right now, no matter how hard you try. As you turn towards the window, you drum your fingertips on your thighs to the rhythm of pop song on the radio, aching to end the boredom.

Again, your eyes lock onto Namjoon’s silhouette, desperate to glean some information from him. You take note of the swoop in his hair, how it falls over his eye and brushes against his cheek; despite how unkempt it is today, it still looks good, and you kind of hate him for it. When was the last time he cut his hair anyway? He usually didn’t allow it to grow this long. You pat your pockets in search of your phone, meaning to text him a snarky reminder when you realize it’s still in the boys’ possession. Ugh. The dissonance of the trio’s laughter is the one thing that carries clearly through the car. You slink down into your seat, waiting to arrive so you can get drunk enough to ignore the world.

Thankfully, the car pulls up before much longer and you desperately scramble out and beeline for the doors of the club, ignoring the way Namjoon is calling your name. Whatever he has to say can wait until you have a drink in your hand. The bouncer sizes you up as you present ID, and you offer a dorky smile as he stamps your hand; despite being in your mid 20s, you still never feel like you’re old enough to go to these places.

It doesn’t take long for you to circumvent the crowd to an empty seat at the bar. You slide the bartender Hoseok’s card, asking him to start a tab before ordering your usual. Resting your elbows on the bar allows you to prop your chin on the back of your hands as your eyes drift across the room.

You don’t see the others, but you know they’re definitely here. You can feel Kim Seokjin’s drunk hoe energy sparking throughout the club. Out of all the drunk hoes in the room, he was probably the drunkest--and at this point, the sluttiest. That was part of the beauty of Jin, though. He was always so considerate, so ready to help at the drop of a hat, even when there was no way he possibly could. But he was also the same broad-shouldered hunk that accidentally flashed his dick to everyone in the room while attempting a handstand the week after you met him. That was when you learned to love basketball shorts.

At first you thought him to be soft spoken and meek, but that wasn’t really his persona. He did his best not to be imposing or threatening; he wanted to be someone whom could earn your trust, someone you could come to for any problem whatsoever, and he definitely was. So level headed, so genuinely kind, he could heal any wound with his dumb jokes and affectionate hugs. You loved him for it. But as with any of the friends you cared for so greatly, there were layers to him. And one of those layers was being the biggest pervert and party boy you have ever met in your goddamn life. When the alcohol came out, the floodgates opened, and the pants came off. Maybe someday if you were brave enough to break the firewall, you could take advantage of that opportunity. Fat chance though; you were fully aware of your cowardice.

The Tequila Sunrise slides its way over to you and you grant the bartender a nod of approval as you take that first delicious sip. Gentle fingers sweep against the nape of your neck. Ready to kill, you round on the offender to find no one. Quickly turning to the other side, Namjoon is already sitting in the seat next to you, resting his cheek on his knuckles with a grin. Your eyes narrow before he says a word. He presents your phone and your greedy fingers snatch it up, spinning back to face your drink.

He leans in close and you find your shoulder and neck craning together to combat the hot breath that tickles your ear. “How come you didn’t tell me you were on Tinder?”

It’s hard to detect the nature of his tone over the thrum of a heavy bassline, and it’s dangerous to assume anything about Namjoon. You’d learned that his profession had given him a great amount of practice keeping himself composed in front of others if he chose to do so.

You quaff the beverage in response, keeping your eyes fixed on his. Your cheeks pucker in around the straw and the liquid quickly disappears.

He watches you expectantly, blinking a few times and raising his eyebrows. When he realizes you’re downing the whole thing to avoid the question, he leans in close enough to be sure you’ll hear the deep sigh that follows, “Ooh yeah. Suck it up baby. Suck it all up.”

You almost choke on the liquid and cough around the straw briefly before smacking your hand against the bar and continuing to drain the cup.

“Oh? Are you choking? Is it too much? Oh, that’s it, use your hand. Mmm. I love it when you choke, baby.” The way he tilts his head towards his shoulder as he provokes you sends a jolt of electricity through your spine.

Christ, Joon.

You loudly smack your lips as you finish the drink. Namjoon steals the cherry sitting on a mountain of ice and pops it into his mouth, letting the stem dangle out from between his lips. “Attagirl.”

“Nothing that a good suck can’t distract you from, huh?” Your lips curl into a smile as you notice the bartender making his way back over and you motion for another as you starting flipping your phone around in your hands.

“You gonna actually talk to me about it? Or would you rather me just... sex you up some more?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and you can’t help but laugh. He has the strangest way of making you feel at ease, even when you’re ready to burst from anxiety.

You place your phone on the bar and blink at him a few times, noticing the stem still hanging from his mouth. “Hey, I was gonna eat that!”

“Your own cherry?” He winks, giving you a playful nudge with his elbow. “Impressive.”

You swirl the straw around the ice in the empty glass a few times. “I didn’t want you judging me for using a dating app.”

He sits back and crosses his arms. “Judging? I’m not judging.”

You spare a glance, catching a hint of the dark smugness there. “I see you with your judgy eyes! You’re doing it right now!”

He snorts and rests his elbows on the bar. “I’m not."

"Yeah, okay," you sneer, rolling your eyes. You flash a grin at the bartender as before taking a short sip.

"I just… want you to be safe." His muffled voice dies against his hands, completely lost to your ears in the music. He orders a shot of tequila before he turns his head towards you. "Hey, we worry about you is all."

"I can take care of myself," you challenge, eyes narrowed.

Namjoon is eying the cherry nested on the rim of the new glass. You're quick to suck it up before he can take a swipe at it, gasping as the fruit lodges itself in the back of your throat. You choke out a few coughs and fish for the stem, pulling it from your mouth entirely.

He's got an eyebrow raised as his shot is set before him. "And you wonder why we worry."

"Fuck off," you manage to sputter, eyes watering.

You drag the spit covered cherry back into your mouth, separating the stem with your teeth. Namjoon’s eyes drag over you in revulsion before turning his attention to the shot before him. He downs it with a quick shake of his head and snatches the orange slice from your glass to act as a chaser. Instinctually, you crinkle your nose at him and continue to siphon alcohol through your straw, placing the cherry stem on the napkin below your drink.

“Wait, where’s your stem?”

Namjoon’s jaw snaps shut and he raises his eyebrows. “Mmm?”

“The cherry stem,” you continue, a laugh bubbling in your throat. Namjoon shifts in his seat and you can’t help the cackle that escapes you. “You fucking ate it?”

He expels a puff of air as he tosses the rind on the bar, leftover juices making a small puddle on the countertop. “You know, guys aren’t gonna like it when you laugh like a witch. Might wanna stop that shit.”

“I’m not about to take advice from someone who doesn’t know how to clean up after himself. Case and point.” You pick up the orange peel and drop it on the napkin, wiping the area around your drink.

He blinks at you indignantly, “Wow.”

“Yeah, I call it like I see ‘em.”

You sip on the fruity beverage, focusing your attention to the phone on the bar for the first time since Namjoon had returned it to you. You swipe at the screen and are surprised to see everything is as you left it. There’s a red notification bubble on your messaging app and you’re drunkenly tonguing the straw as you open it, trying to remember why you’d leave it unread.

Joonie: DIRTY GIRL???? 😂

Ugh. Now you remembered. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the fact that you know he’s reading his own words over your shoulder, but your face is burning. “You know I was hoping that text would just disappear if I ignored it, but the notification was bothering me.”

He lets out an amused hum and cocks his head to the side, watching you swirl your tongue across the straw between sips. He slides you a glass of water that definitely wasn’t there before you started looking at your phone. “You’re gonna get sick if you keep drinking this fast.”

He’s right.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you spit, using your finger to push the water back towards him and start sucking on the straw with renewed vigor.

“Then don’t be dumb,” he answers simply. You can tell he’s annoyed by the way he pokes his tongue out over his top lip as he carefully glides the cup over to you.

When you tilt your head back to give him that incredulous look he hates so much, you feel the world spin a moment, causing you to blink a few times. As you look at the counter again, you realize the second tequila sunrise is half gone. You know he has a point, but your pride has already taken enough of a beating tonight that you’re not willing to concede.

Namjoon sighs as you sit there with your bottom lip protruding in a pout. He takes the straw from the alcoholic beverage and sets it in the water. You’re about to protest when an arm drapes around your shoulder and a familiar voice steals your attention.

“Ma’am is this man bothering you?”

You turn to see Seokjin wearing aviator sunglasses, two leis draped around his neck. You strain to keep your posture as Jin pulls you both close to his chest. What once resembled a hug had now become a sort of chokehold, pressing your cheeks partially against each other and partially into his sweat-soaked shirt.

“Yeah, officer, take him away,” you mumble, giving Jin two playful smacks on his jaw.

“Can’t you let me off with a warning?” Namjoon pleads, playing into it.

Jin loosens his grip, allowing you both to escape. He tilts his head forward, which pushes the glasses down the bridge of his nose. “Okay, but I hope you learned your lesson.”

Namjoon bows his head slightly. “Of course! Of course! Sorry, officer.”

You smirk at the display, absentmindedly sipping water through your straw.

Jin turns his attention towards you, a dark and wicked grin on his features. “Do you want to get laid, Y/N?”

The water nearly shoots out of your nose as you choke out a response, “J-Jin?”

You can see Namjoon snickering behind his hands. “Oh, she definitely does.”

Jin takes the pink chain of flowers from around his neck and drapes it over you with a nod of approval. “Ah! There! You are now,” he hiccups mid-word, “leid!”

You can’t help but laugh at his stupid joke. “I can always count on you, Jin.”

“Count on me? One, two, three. One, two, three.”

Confused, you watch him for a moment as he does a waltz by himself, which contrasts the heavy baseline of the current song.

“Join me, Y/N!” he calls, motioning for you to go to him with wide gestures. He begins to disappear into the crowd, accidentally smacking a few people as he goes.

You take the straw from the water and drop it back into the alcoholic beverage, rising from your seat, immediately wobbling. Namjoon’s arm is already out, looped around your waist in support before you fall. “I gotcha.”

The contact of his hand causes you to shiver, despite feeling incredibly warm. Your chin comes to rest on his shoulder as you exhale softly against his ear. The slurred pout that escapes you is dripping with sweetness. “Finish my drink for me, Joonie?”

He sighs loudly. “God, you’re gonna be so sick later, aren’t you?” He pauses to inspect you. “You good?” As you nod, you’re puffing your cheeks out like a child. He murmurs under his breath, “Okay, I’m not babysitting you this time. I’m not.”

The way his fingers slowly trail up your side and drift across your back cause your eyelids to flutter a moment. Not allowing yourself to linger on the sensation, you grab the glass of water and chug it down as fast as you possibly can. Water comes dribbling down from the rim onto your chest before you slam the empty glass down on the counter and tuck your phone into the top of your shirt, securing it beneath your bra.

Namjoon laughs, taking the straw out of the tequila sunrise before gulping it down. “You’re such a fuckin’ mess.”

You wipe a sleeve across your mouth, a wide grin left behind. “Takes one to know one.”

He shakes his head as you disappear into the crowd in search of Seokjin.

____

Hours had passed and you find yourself in the thrall of alcohol, dancing like an idiot with Jin for a good portion of it. He was just so goofy and fun; it was hard not to jump around with him, especially since he had gotten you leid. He had this weird way of making you forget about all the shitty parts of the week. You bobbed your heads together and threw your arms around one another, dancing ridiculously around a swarm of sweaty bodies.

Taehyung and Jungkook had been competing for the same girl’s attention, trying to outdo each other all night. Currently, they were sandwiching her between their pelvises, and it was obvious she was LIVING for it, milking the competition for all it was worth. You couldn’t help the envy coursing through your veins as you watched them grind her like coffee beans.

Yoongi had been busy drinking, disappearing upstairs with a couple of girls last you saw him. The few times you made your way back to the bar, Namjoon was nowhere to be found. That was fine by you, since you didn’t feel like getting yelled at for drinking more anyway. Hoseok was the life of the party, dancing his way around the club, a drink almost always in his hand. You haven't seen Jimin since the ride over, slightly disappointed by the lack of juicy booty in your life.

Your body is overheating and you wrench yourself away from your smiling friend, heading towards the doors for some air. You can’t pull the hoodie off your body fast enough as you reach the exit, tying it around your waist and letting your hair down. You sit alongside the curb, reveling in the temperature of the concrete.

“Fancy seeing you out here.” Your head snaps toward the voice to see the familiar blonde hair of Jimin in the moonlight. He grins as his dark eyes run across your now exposed torso. “Cooling off?”

You nod enthusiastically, exposing your neck to the brisk night air. You arch your back, chest rising higher than normal in an exaggerated stretch for his benefit. Alcohol had made you brave. Stupid, but brave nonetheless.

You hum in acknowledgement, your lips curling into a smile as you note the angle of his gaze. “Did you see what Tae and Kookie were doing to that girl?” You tug on your top, excessively fanning the air along the inside of the fabric, allowing a playful glimpse of the dark lace underneath. “Whew, way too hot for me. Got me a little dizzy.”

“Oh?” His body floats gracefully down, coming to rest beside you. The warmth radiating from his core immediately causes sweat to trail down the back of your neck. “You did have a lot to drink. Do you need some help standing? Do you want me to get you a ride?”

Yeah, get me a ride on that dick.

You feel yourself clench around nothing, despite knowing he’s being kind and trying to take care of you. You inhale deeply and shake your head, willing the thought away before giving it a chance to pass your lips. Letting the bravery take control for the short amount of time it’s available, you lean in and link arms, lightly tracing the denim with your other hand. “Mmm, I’m okay. I think I might just need a breather before going back in. The air feels so good right now.”

Jimin smiles softly and tilts his head down at you. “Any luck with tinder so far?”

You scoff, eyes scanning the cityscape for something else to focus on. “I’d be more successful finding a guy to grind on and take home with me tonight.”

He laughs. “I guess that’s true. Though I’m not surprised. Your photos suck.”

Your eyes snap to his face, immediately allowing the shame and disappointment course through your knotted brows and slack jaw. Fighting the surge of tears, your hands retract to hug your knees and find a building to focus on in the distance. “Not all of us can be models,” you huff, unable to hide the defensive nature of your tone.

He chokes out a laugh. “No no no no no, not like that. It’s so mean like that. I’m sorry. Hey, look at me.”

You chew on your bottom lip and do your best to keep your attention elsewhere. It’s not until a small, soft hand is tapping your shoulder that you turn back, eyes threatening to spill out at any moment.

“I meant to say… You're a lot prettier in real life,” he mumbles, the tinge of pink in his cheeks apparent even in such low light. “Your photos don’t show it well enough.”

You're not sure if you're hearing him correctly as your chest tightens and the blood rushes to your ears. But the shy smile growing across his face has you questioning your judgement. You wipe your eyes as tears inadvertently fall, unknowingly smearing the eyeliner and mascara across your face. “You think I’m pretty?”

“Of course I do. Ah?” He pauses a moment, registering the sight before him. “Oh nooooo. I made you cry?” It’s then that his eyes also begin to water. “I’m so sorry. You know I don’t like,” he can’t fight the sob that interrupts him, “to see you cry, Y/N.”

“Don’t you start crying, Jimin! You’re gonna make me...” The words are almost indiscernible as your voice raises two octaves. “...cry more...”

It’s too late; the tears are flowing freely down his cheeks and you can’t fight the way your eyes are stinging as your makeup runs into them. The alcohol has an iron-clad grip on both of you.  He turns towards you, arms sloppily finding their way around your shoulders and knotting around your neck. You lean in towards him, pressing your forehead into his. Being this close and seeing how swollen and red his face is, you can’t help the wet snort that bubbles in your throat, allowing a giggle to escape.The more you try to stop, the more they keep coming.

He scoffs desperately as he looks at you through puffy, squinted eyes. “Why are you laughing at me? You’re being so mean!”

“I’m sorry! You’re just so drunk! It’s cute,” you try to explain between wheezes, tears still dribbling down your cheeks and across your nose.

“You’re more drunk than me!” he protests, unable to stop his own giggle as he runs his eyes across your bloated, streaky face.

“Now who’s the mean one?” you sniff and wipe at your face with the back of your hands, unable to ignore the black smears left behind. “Oh god. I’m a fuckin’ mess.”

You pull back from Jimin, eager to go find a mirror to fix your face. His arms, however, remain locked around your neck. Seeing you shift uncomfortably, he drops his hold on you. “You’re not a mess,” he whispers, tracing a thumb around your face and resting it on your chin. “You’re pretty.”

Your heart aches, body set ablaze and yearning to go in further, but you’re frozen in awe and fear of his beauty. The swelling in his face has already faded, the frown replaced with high cheekbones and a warm smile. Joon was supposed to help stop you from getting into situations like this, but right now you can’t tell if you’re upset or relieved he’s not here this time. Entranced by Jimin’s ethereal gaze, he draws you in --guiding you towards him with his thumb. You’re not sure if he’s pulling you or if you’re leaning into it; either way you’re fucking hammered and far beyond making sense of it. You close your eyes pause as your lips lightly brush his, feeling his hot breath mingling with yours, and again you find yourself stuck, trying to will your mouth forward just a bit more.

You both hold there, breathing, skimming your lips across one another without pressure, aching for him to just fucking do it already. You steal a glance through half-lidded eyes and see a cheshire grin overtake his features. He’s watching you, waiting for you to react. Mother. Fucking. Tease.

“Want to dance?” he asks, letting his lips graze yours ever so slightly, knowing full well his provocation is having the desired effect. The game of chicken will continue, even though you know you’re far too drunk to not cross the line.

You drop your face into the crook of his neck and groan. “Fuck you.”

“Careful, Y/N. It’s not nice to tease,” he laughs, patting the back of your head.

“Who says I’m teasing?” you challenge, pausing to purse your lips and read the reaction.

His eyebrows raise, a look of incredulity spreading across his features as he tilts his head back. “Aren’t you?”

Your fingers drift along his hair, lightly brushing his skin with the back of your palm. His tongue briefly darts out to wet his lips, curious about what you’re about to do. He sucks on the inside of his cheek, causing his mouth to bend into a lopsided smile. Letting yourself gravitate towards him, you stop just shy of his lips --a reciprocating action of what he had done to you earlier. “Let’s dance.”

__

Your sweaty bodies writhe in time with the rhythm of the base. You buck your hips against his pelvis and grind your ass back into him, intoxicated by the way he groans into the back of your neck. It’s hard not to notice the length pressing into your backside with each thrust and body roll. Every slight movement causes more and more heat to pool between your legs, craving a deeper grind, deeper satisfaction from the movements. Under normal circumstances, you would have been down-right embarrassed at the state of your panties, twisted up and soaked inside your jeans. But alcohol had given you stupidity and courage, and at least the temporary effect of not giving a flying fuck about how desperately you wanted to fuck Park Jimin tonight.

His hands roam across the curve of your torso, tracing the outer edge of your breasts before grasping your hips and pressing you further back towards him. You’re unsure whether this is torture of ecstasy for the both of you. Lost in the sway of his hips, you allow him to lead your motions, rolling your head back and seizing the side of his face with a curled palm. Before your brain can register what’s happening, Jimin drags his tongue across your neck, tracing a line around your jaw before returning to the crook and lightly dragging the flesh through his teeth. Your pussy clenches around nothing as he latches onto your neck, tonguing and sucking the sensitive skin while relentlessly grinding into you from behind. You let out a loud moan that gets lost in the sound of music.

The reward of a needy purr from Jimin vibrates through your neck and raises goosebumps across your chest; despite the heat radiating from your body and the disgusting amount of sweat coating your skin, he has a way of bringing that electric chill through you. A playful bite on your earlobe has you weak, his heavy breaths the only sound you can focus on as he lingers there. You want to turn your face to his, to taste those delicious, plump lips. But the sound of him desperately panting into your ear has you hypnotized, with your dripping pussy aching to grip the cock at your backside. You’re so caught up in each other that the music might as well be white noise, the other patrons merely shadows moving too fast to perceive.

You clutch at his thighs and your back arches up, leaning on him for support as you roll your body in time with his. He releases a sigh against you --and with it a distraught curse that’s so soft you almost miss it. “...fuck…” You’re in disbelief at the sound, and panting like a bitch in heat to match his frenzied breaths. His arms trace up your body again and latch around you possessively, as if to pull you impossibly closer.

He claps one hand to your hip while the other is splayed across your chest, heaving with the movement of your bodies. Before you have a chance to mentally quell the new tidal wave forming in your panties, Jimin dips his hand beneath the fabric of your shirt, allowing it to roam freely across your abdomen; the skin-on-skin contact is enough to make sure that later on when you’re peeling away your sticky panties and throwing them out, you have to throw away the jeans too.

You want to stop yourself, but your starved pussy advises otherwise. You look back to meet his gaze, breathless smile matching your own. You knot your fingers in his hair before closing in on his lips. Fingernails dig into your belly as the greedy kiss consumes your air. Sloppy tongues roam over each other and you turn back towards him, allowing yourself to drag his lower lip through your teeth and slowly let it snap back to him. He doesn’t hesitate to quickly relieve the space between you again, hungrily chasing your lips when you attempt to tease him.

While you feel up his chest with impatient hands, he wastes no time in wedging a thigh between your legs and grinding up into your crotch, causing a fevered moan to escape between parted lips for a fraction of a second before your mouths are crashing down once again. You’re in a state of euphoria as you roll your hips down, grinding your clit into his thigh and drinking in a slew of wet kisses.

You have to take a moment to allow oxygen to fill your burning lungs, but you use the opportunity to lathe your tongue along his jawline, wanting to taste all of him. All you can taste is salty sweat. You don’t know what you expected.

___

Namjoon had been watching from across the bar for some time. He kept telling himself it was creepy to just keep staring like this --and that he should stop-- but he couldn’t seem to focus on anything else. He kept telling himself this was fine; it was what you had said you wanted after all. Firewalls be damned. You wanted him to let you break the rules: you had always joked about it, but he knew you were one hundred percent serious if he’d never stop you.

After seeing your prospects and dating profile… well maybe you could use someone who could make you feel good. And who was he to keep stopping you? Granted, you had asked Namjoon to step in and stop you from breaking the group dynamic, but this was different, wasn’t it? You needed to get laid, and you already liked him. Jimin was perfect. He could give you the raw emotion you needed to see in someone else. He would laugh at your stupid jokes and tell you how impressive you were for doing your job. He could give you the fulfilling sex it was obvious you were craving. He would talk you up and treat you the way you deserved, inside and out. He’d regard you as a princess and fall head over heels for you. You’d be so happy.

As your best friend, Namjoon wanted you to be happy. So why did it feel so bad to see finally unfolding like this?

“Wow, they’re really going at it huh?”

Namjoon jumps back a bit in surprise. He was so busy doing the spying that he never thought someone would be paying much attention to him. Hoseok stands a few feet away, leaning against the bar and sipping on a drink as his eyes fix on the way you and Jimin seemed to become one blurry form, chests rising and falling together.

“Who?” Namjoon pretends to squint into the crowd, as if his eyes weren’t glued to your form for the better part of an hour.

Hoseok sets his drink down on the bar, giving Namjoon a stern look. “Really?”

Namjoon returns the stare, blinking a few times and pursing his lips innocently.

“You know, you could just tell her.” Hoseok rolls his eyes hard and starts cleaning underneath one of his fingernails.

“Tell? Tell who? What’s there to tell?” Suddenly Namjoon is as cool as can be, hiding behind a stoic mask.

Hoseok finds Namjoon’s shoulders, gripping them tightly. “You go up to her just like this and you say ‘Y/N, I need to talk to you about something.’”

Namjoon scoffs. “Come on, man. Don’t be weird.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll let you be you. Pretend I am her. Come on.” Hoseok clears his throat before getting as high pitched as he can. “J-joonie, why do you need to talk to me?”

Namjoon lets out a soft chuckle as he keeps his eyes trained on the dance floor to make sure you’re still there, even though each touch you share with Jimin causes a pang of hurt to run deep through his belly. “Because… I need you to know I care about you.”

Hoseok drops to his normal tone. “Oh shit. Okay direct. I like it. Oh? So why do you send me to Jimin’s arms?”

“Because he can be better for you than I can,” he responds absentmindedly as he watches you crane your neck towards the ceiling, exposing the skin for Jimin to pepper kisses along, to which he readily obliges.

Hoseok gives a slap to Namjoon’s face, causing the man to rub his cheek in disbelief and regain his attention. “No! You stop that. You’re perfect!” He clears his throat and goes high pitched again.“You could be my tall man, Joonie.”

Namjoon can’t help but laugh. “Why the hell am I playing along with this?”

“Because you looooove me. Say it.” Hoseok raises his eyebrows, shit-eating grin strewn across his face, which causes Namjoon to pause.

“I don’t ...Ah…” he starts, eyes drifting back to Jimin pulling the hair from your face. He tugs at the lei around your neck, bringing you down low enough to meet his lips. Again the bite of jealousy stings Namjoon, posture stiffening and voice firm. “It’s not like that.”

Hoseok drops the charade and allows his drink to dribble back into his glass in order to interrupt. “Like hell it ain’t! Don’t even play, Joon. You can’t even keep your eyes on me when I’m pretending to be her, not when you know she’s over there with her tongue down Jimin’s throat.”

Namjoon’s eyes dart back to Hoseok, defense faltering with the crack in his voice. “I don’t love her.”

“Yeah, okay. And I don’t love pussy,” he mumbles; the caustic statement deafened by the liquid hitting his tongue.

Namjoon clears his throat, gesturing towards the dancefloor. “Don’t you think she looks happy?”

“I think she looks drunk,” he answers with a shrug, cocking his head to the side when he sees the way you’re sliding your hand along Jimin’s pants. “...And horny! Whew! You sure it was a good idea to let them go at it? I can cockblock if you want.”

A conflicted groan lingers in Namjoon’s throat as he shakes his head. “...No. I just need to not be bothered by this whole Tinder thing. She wants to get laid. Let her get laid by someone we trust.”

Hoseok opens his mouth, but promptly shuts it before taking another sip from his drink. “It’s been over a year and you still haven’t done anything about how you feel. Of course it’s going to bother you.” He whistles, watching you and Jimin both teasingly tug on each other’s shirts. “Especially since they’re not going to make it back to his apartment at this rate.”

Namjoon knows he’s right as he watches you claw Jimin’s bare shoulder in response to the blonde burying his face in your chest. He also knows that very drunk you is about to make the mistake of fucking a very drunk Jimin in the bathroom and you’re both probably going to be crying about it later. Jimin would cry because he wouldn’t have been able to give you his best, questioning whether you actually enjoyed it or not-- that and not being able to see your tits because he’d undoubtedly be fucking you from behind-- and Joon would have to hear all about it. You’d be crying because you’d fucked Park Jimin in a bathroom stall like a cheap whore instead of fucking Park Jimin in his bed like a reasonably-priced whore. And again, Joon would have to hear all about it.

Or worse. You’d be going down on him, and gag all over his dick. With how much you’d been drinking, it seemed plausible. You both would cry to him for sure. But what if both of these drunken messes somehow had the most mind-blowing sex and wouldn’t fucking shut up about it? Or worse, they’d do it again and again, leaving his mind to constantly think about how Jimin would make love to you in ways that Namjoon had been aching to for ages. He hadn’t thought it through. It was going to drive him crazy no matter the direction the night took.

Hoseok must have been watching the mental gymnastics going on, because he pounds the rest of his drink and rubs his hands together. “Showtime.”

[dreamaze]

Get to know me tag

Tagged by: kim seokjin’s wife @houseofarmanto, thank you Ava ♡

Tagging: @yoong02, @yoonqiful, @today-we-will-survive, @cassiavioletblue, @wabisaba, if you’re interested (and if you’ve been tagged before, apologies!)

what do you prefer to be called name wise? Wings

when is your birthday? Early August

where do you live? USA, to my increasingly frequent dismay

three things you are doing right now? I’m not much of a multitasker, but drinking jasmine tea while I fill this out. More generally, planning a 3-part subset of a series on my main blog.

four fandoms that have piqued your interest right now? The one I’m truly engaged in is BTS, and if you’ll allow me a moment of generosity, BTS Universe as well, since it feels like a pretty niche area of the larger fandom. I’m growing interested in TXT mostly thanks to TU (surprise, surprise) and some of their songs. I finished watching The Untamed recently, but haven’t done much more than gaze longingly at some beautiful gifsets. Also a resident lurker of ludomusicology twitter.

how is the pandemic treating you? It hasn’t killed me yet. (Okay, less cynically, I am very grateful for the privilege of being able to work remotely for the indefinite future. Mental health isn’t great, but what else is new.)

a song you can’t stop listening to right now? I’m so bad at picking one for these. :( It really depends on my mood. ON and UGH! in succession if I need something empowering. TXT’s Eternally for something soft but with teeth. Amy Lee’s Speak to Me because I was taking a stroll down nostalgia lane and somehow only just discovered its existence.

recommend a movie? Spirited Away ♡

how old are you? 30 going on everlasting grandpa energy

school, university, occupation, other? I work full-time at a university library and compose and write on the side. I have two music composition degrees and we’re not going to talk about my year-long hiatus because Reasons.

do you prefer hot or cold? Neither, I am a noodle with terrible temperature regulation. But I guess since we’re melting through a heat wave right now, I’ll say cold weather because at least you can bundle up outside.

name one fact others may not know about you: I’ve never had a cavity.

are you shy? Definitely introverted and not good at being the one to initiate conversations with new people. I would rather listen than speak, unless I really have something to say.

do you have any preferred pronouns? she/they

any pet peeves? Most pressing right now would have to be people wearing their masks incorrectly in public.

what’s your favorite “dere” type? Haha you mean there’s more than one? Let’s just say I’m living for the fact that the editors labeled Yoongi’s Tiny Tan as tsundere. 

rate your life 1-10; 1 being really crappy and 10 being the best you could ever be: 5, which I suppose is nothing to complain about seven months into a global pandemic

what’s your main blog? becomewings, for my own BTS Universe content

list your side blogs and what they are used for: ourownwings, for everything else (but mostly BTS and reblogs... and looking to start some semi-regular TU content)

is there anything you think people need to know about you before being friends with you? It takes a long time for me to open up to people, even those I’m close to, so please don’t take that personally. I will give you as much kindness and support as I can. And despite the gravity of my writing even in little forms like this, I do enjoy yelling about things that excite me with other excited people. ♡

[quentinblack]

Smoke and Mirrors

Word Count: 8.5K words

Chapter 15 - Ron IV: Australia Magizoo (link to full story on FF.net)

Featuring: Ron Weasley & Hermione Granger

Warnings: Explicit sexual content. 18+/Rated R. 

Author’s Notes: At the time of writing this was pretty much the longest chapter I’d ever written. I’ve read a lot of fluff/sex scenes in fanfic over the years, some good, some bad, some ugly, so whilst writing my first proper long-running fic I was somewhat hesitant about including it. I didn’t want to have it just in there for the sake of it, but if I could find a scene or chapter where I felt like it would work well for the story and the arc of, in this case Ron’s story, then I thought I would throw it in. The cool thing about this chapter I felt was playing around with subverting people’s expectations upon reading at the start, then have it go full circle towards the end of the chapter. It’s probably not the best chapter I’ve ever written, but it was one of the more entertaining ones to actually write.

A warm breeze brushed across Ron’s face, as he felt his fringe pushed to the left hand side of his face by the summery wind.

He leaned forward casually on the white marble railing towards the end of their hotel balcony, wearing just his sky-blue swimming trunks, whilst he watched the stunning sunset taking place across the scenic artificial beach that lay not far from their room.

Ron was not quite sure what kind of magic the Australians were using to conjure up such a relaxing ambience, but he was very impressed by it all the same.

There were entire geo-magical landscapes and weather-enchantment spells surrounding the inner walls of the hotel, which were all very carefully adapted for the preferences of different guests. Their part of the hotel had a tropical theme, equipped with a synthetic summer climate, palm trees and a beautiful beach, with the clearest of seas that one could imagine.  

The hotel’s colossal size was such that Ron and Hermione had not managed to venture out to any of the other geo-magical landscapes yet. However, Ron read in the glossy brochure (entirely devoid of any magical moving images in full faux-muggle style) that there was also a secluded woodland retreat theme for lovers of nature, as well as a winter wonderland, equipped with a massive mountain for skiing - and there was even a newly built and increasingly popular section entirely based on muggle Britain’s royal heritage.

Brad hadn’t been joking when he’d said that Wizarding tourism was booming in Australia – and they were even taking advantage of people’s reluctance and fear to travel to Britain too. Ron wondered how long they would be able to capitalise on that particular niche, as Kingsley’s new government was hopefully going to help usher in a new era of peace and prosperity in the coming months and years.

“Ronald!”

Ron heard Hermione’s faint call of his name, which was barely audible above the gentle whirl of the simmering bubbles in their enormous en-suite hot-tub.

He stared down into the bubbles for a brief moment.

There was something about the water that did not look quite right, but he could not put his finger on what it was that was off about it.

He was, for a brief moment, utterly mesmerised by the relentless pulse of the bubbles and he very nearly hurled himself into the warm and inviting water, but then thought better of it.

“Ronald! Oh do hurry up, it’s urgent!”

There was a more frantic tone to his girlfriend’s call this time – and it was much louder too.

Perhaps she had received word that they had found her parents.

He paced quickly across the paved floor of their balcony and back into the room to see what it was that she wanted and… and…

Hermione was laying on her back, facing the balcony door… but her eyes were closed.

Ron looked at her in complete shock.

He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing.  

She was completely naked, except for a black lace bra that slightly covered her small, firm breasts.

Her eyes were closed, but not in a state of sleep – no, quite the opposite in-fact, they were closed in a state of pure pleasure, as, with the fingers of her right hand, she softly played with herself.

Ron felt his cock harden slightly and it began to bulge in his swimming trunks as he watched her caressing her completely shaved cunt.  

Hermione opened her dark, brown eyes and she grinned devilishly as they met his own.

She bit her lip slightly and motioned with her spare left hand for him to join her on the bed, whilst she continued to masturbate with her favoured right.

Ron could not quite believe his luck and momentarily paused in panic.

He had been dreaming of this moment for months, or years really.

He had secretly hoped once it was confirmed that Harry was no longer coming with them to Australia that this moment might somehow present itself, but to have it fall into his lap this way really was like a dream come true.

Ron excitedly pulled down his trunks and discarded them to the floor, letting Hermione have her first look at his now fully erect penis, which burst out from a bushy bed of red pubic hair.

“Oh fuck,” Hermione moaned, as she bit her lip once more and began playing with herself with increased vigour.

Ron had never heard her say fuck before.

It didn’t sound quite right coming out of her pure, pretty mouth, but it turned him on and made his cock swell up even more, as he began to pull himself onto the bed towards her.

“Quickly Ron,” she sighed desperately, as he clamoured towards her gorgeous naked body. “I need you inside me… please…  I’ve been waiting so long for you to finally fuck me!”

Ron began to slowly pull his bulging dick towards her tight, wet vagina.

This was it.

The moment of truth.

The moment he had waited so long for.

He thrust his cock towards her, but just as he was about to enter her everything went black and faded away.

Ron woke up in a panicked, nervous sweat, breathing heavily as he came to terms with the fact he had just been dreaming.

His arms were clutched around Hermione’s waist, with the pair having slept cradled together in their pyjamas in the lightly air-conditioned room.

He felt Hermione stir slightly – and, to his absolute horror, he discovered that the erect penis part of his dream had in fact been based on reality.

His crotch was positioned in such a way that his bulging erection, which was pressing mercilessly into his pyjama bottoms, was also pressing mercilessly into Hermione’s bottom.

He thought that there was no way that she could not feel it.

Ron adjusted the positioning of his thighs slightly so that he was no longer making direct contact with her with his lower body, but just as soon as he had done that she had wriggled herself backwards a bit, which meant his cock was now pushed up against the back of one of her thighs instead.  

He wriggled slightly to get away from her again, but after a few moments she once again moved back towards him, inadvertently nudging his hard-on in the process.

It was almost as if she was doing it deliberately, but she was still half-asleep and probably hadn’t even noticed what was happening.

Ron lay awake in their king-sized bed still spooning Hermione for another ten minutes, with it gradually becoming less awkward as his erection slowly subsided.

It soon became apparent though that he would not fall back to sleep any time soon, so he relented and decided to get up and shower

.

The hotel bathroom was state-of-the-art, even by muggle standards according to Hermione – and it was all very impressive, with the hot water jets blasting against his fair-skin soon ensuring that he was fully awake and energised.

Ron spent a considerable amount of time in the shower, as once he had fully washed his hair and body he slowly lathered himself up once again and masturbated, thinking of the naked Hermione from his dream as he relieved himself and eventually climaxed.

It took several minutes to ensure the last of his cum had trickled down the drain… then, just as the last of it was washing away there was a knock on the bathroom door.

He ignored the knock as he meticulously watched the final traces of his semen slide out of sight.

There was another knock on the door, but this time it was a fair bit louder.

“Ronald! Are you alright? You’ve been absolutely ages in there!” Hermione remarked, with a slight sound of worry in her sleepy sounding voice.

Ron quickly wrapped himself in a towel and in a slightly panicked fluster he opened the door.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Just enjoying myself in the shower,” he blurted out.

“Oh, I see-

“Enjoying myself because it’s bloody brilliant!” he quickly added. “I mean, as shower’s go, its right up there… it’s really good… wakes you right up… you should try it!”

“Right, yes… well, I will have to, when I have a wash myself…” she replied, perhaps a bit confused at his feigned enthusiasm for the shower. “I was just a little worried that’s all, I know, I was just being a bit silly, but you don’t usually take that long and you locked the door and…

“You’d get used to locking bathroom doors too if you grew up living in a house with Fred and George!” he replied softly, with what he thought was a well-timed save, as he remembered the countless times that his older twin brothers had tormented him and caused many a toilet-related mishap, which were now nothing more than bittersweet memories.

“Yes, of course,” Hermione retorted. “And I know you would never wish for me to intrude or invade your privacy-

Ron momentarily considered correcting her on this point, as, on the contrary, he would’ve loved nothing more than for her to walk in on him naked, but he swiftly decided against it.

“I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I just wanted to make sure that you were alright,” she said, as she blushed slightly.

“As always I appreciate your concern,” he joked, before leaning forward and kissing her on the lips, which caused his soaking wet hair to press right up against her dry, bushy mane.  

She was slightly taken aback at first, but then soon pressed her lips back to his – and she even briefly parted them, to allow him to slip his tongue into her mouth, before she reached back and broke free.

“Oh and can you believe this?” she demanded, instantly killing the moment, as she then reached down towards the bed and picked up their daily newspaper, which must have been delivered whilst he was washing.

It was The Sydney Spell, which seemed to be the Australian equivalent of The Daily Prophet.

“CROOKED KRUM SEIZED AS MATCH-FIXING SCANDAL ROCKS THE QUIDDITCH WORLD!” read the headline, which was accompanied by an animated picture of Viktor Krum catching the snitch in the World Cup final they’d seen live all those years ago, before the Death Eaters had wreaked havoc on the camp-site.

“Bloody hell!” Ron exclaimed.

“My thoughts exactly,” Hermione added in a glum tone. “You’re obviously a lot more clued up on the nuances of a Quidditch match than I am…” she added, as Ron reflected on whether this was the first time she had ever admitted that he was more clued up on something.

“You watched that match… do you really think it’s possible that it was fixed?” she asked.

“Well… I dunno,” he began, as he thought back to it. “I mean, it was a little odd that he caught the snitch in a losing position, but it does happen… it’s a very fast-paced sport so he could well have missed something or thought the score was closer than it actually was… and… well, Quidditch players aren’t exactly renowned for being the most intelligent of people -

“You know full well that Viktor is not stupid!” she hissed slightly.

“Well… no,” he conceded. “But if I remember rightly both Krum and Lynch spotted the snitch at the same time, so if Krum hadn’t have caught it when he did then they would’ve still lost anyway, just by an even bigger margin.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought,” Hermione replied, deep in contemplation. “Although Krum was, or rather, still is considered one of, if not the greatest seeker of his generation, is he not?”

Ron felt a slight flush of jealously at hearing her talk about Krum with such high regard.

“Well… I mean, some would argue that to be considered the greatest seeker of a generation you would have to win a World Cup, which Krum has never-

“If not the greatest, then one of the greatest then?” she sternly replied.

“Yes, one of the greatest, of course,” he quickly conceded.

“Then wouldn’t one of the greatest seekers of his generation always be aware of what the current score was? And wouldn’t one of the greatest seekers of his generation do everything that was physically possible to avoid catching the snitch until he was absolutely sure it would win his country the World Cup?” she asked rhetorically, perhaps now questioning herself more than Ron.

“I… I suppose-

“Think back to our 3rd year… the final game of the season against Slytherin, when Harry caught the snitch to win the House Cup,” she said, once more deep in thought.

“Oh yeah – that was brilliant!” Ron exclaimed, as he remembered the moment Harry had captured the little golden-snitch with both hands off of his broom.

“Think harder!” Hermione urged. “You remember, don’t you? Gryffindor had to win the game by at least 210 points, otherwise Slytherin would have still won the Cup on point’s difference.”

“Yeah… yeah I do remember, of course,” Ron said, as he thought he began to grasp what she was getting at.

“Wood drilled it into Harry for ages… whatever you do, Harry, do not catch the snitch whilst it is mathematically impossible for Gryffindor to win the Cup. You do remember that, yes?” she demanded.

“Yes… yes of course I remember. So what are you saying then? You actually think that this stuff about Krum is true? That he really did agree to throw the final?” he asked, slightly bewildered at what she seemed to be insinuating.

“No. Of course not!” Hermione snapped back.

Ron was completely lost now.

“But I thought you were saying-

“I don’t think for one moment that Viktor agreed to throw the match. His professional pride, desire to win and love for his country would prevent him from doing that,” she said solemnly. “However, I do think there’s a very good chance that it was fixed and that somebody may have been controlling him... but who… how… and to what end?”

Australia Magizoo really was quite something.

Their day had begun with an extremely filling breakfast that could’ve possibly put even Hogwarts to shame, as Ron loaded up on copious amounts of poached eggs, bacon and sausages.

Hermione had settled for a few freshly made French pastries and a slice of toast with something called Vegemite spread onto it. Ron was not sure what exactly Vegemite was, but it had an awful smell to it and did not look up to too much cop either – his girlfriend reassuring him that it was just a type of yeast extract did not particularly sell it either. It looked like it had been scooped out of the bottom of a cup in one of Professor Trelawney’s tea-reading classes.

Following their stomachs being filled by their respective breakfasts, they had spent nearly the entire day exploring the gigantic grounds of Woollahra’s wizarding tourist attraction – and Ron could see why it was such an attraction.

The park was filled with almost every creature that you could possibly name, with a large section even being dedicated to housing non-magical creatures of interest too - such as lions, giraffes and even wild polar bears in a sub-zero arctic section!

A lot of the magizoo’s star attractions were dedicated to beasts that Ron and Hermione had been fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to encounter before. He had never really considered how lucky they’d actually been over the last seven years, at least in terms of seeing such a wide array of creatures.

Children and adults alike were crowding round for a glimpse of a phoenix in the flesh, which Ron shrugged off as nothing too exciting, as he’d seen Dumbledore’s one countless times before in their former headmaster’s office– and he’d even been flown out of the Chamber of Secrets by it in second year.

They balked at a massive queue that had formed for rides on the thestrals, with many lucky adults and children very excited at the prospect of riding on a beast that was invisible to them. Hermione read on a sign that outside of Britain the wild populations of thestrals were dwindling quite a lot, so for many non-Brits this would be their first and possibly only chance to ever see, or indeed, not see a thestral, which any British student would obviously just take for granted - they were even used as a mode of transport at Hogwarts!

If they had thought that the queue for the thestrals was large then that paled in comparison to the one for the hippogriffs, as everyone longed to receive a bow from one of the delightful, but deadly part-horse, part-eagle creatures. They did not linger there too long, as again, unlike much of the world’s population they had also had their fair share of experiences with hippogriffs.

The next portion of the park following the hippogriffs was dedicated to the world’s deadliest beasts – and after Ron hastily hurried Hermione away from the acromantulas, they spent a while looking at the magnificent Antipodean Opaleye dragon. The purple dragon was a New Zealand-native and as such, one of the more locally sourced creatures in the entire magizoo, although they soon noticed that the next part of the tour was actually dedicated entirely to the magical creatures of Australia.

At first they were introduced to the bunyips which were based in a large swamp. They were peculiar creatures, with big tusks, flippers for feet and large bushy tails. A sign near them spoke of how over the years there had been several infamous incidents where rogue bunyips had got loose and attacked muggles, with the beasts coming out at night in the cover of darkness to attack small children, women or defenceless household pets.

One of the world’s last living muldjewangk was housed in a lake not far from the bunyips. The muldjewangk, who did not surface whilst they were at the lake, were described as kind of like a cross between giant squid and merpeople.

It was said that in centuries gone by hordes of muldjewangk terrorised muggle fisherman all over the Indian Ocean, but in the last hundred years they had become an endangered species thanks partially to pollution in muggle waters, but mostly due to wizarding-poachers hunting them for their teeth and blood, with both apparently fetching a pretty penny due to their rarity and variety of uses.

It was just as they were walking away from the lake, somewhat disappointed at not glimpsing a sight of the muldjewangk, that they bumped into Tezza, who was the porter that had taken their bags upon arrival and asked about You Know Who’s nose. It seemed that Tezza performed an array of roles at the hotel, one of which also seemingly involved working with the creatures themselves.

“Alright guys?!” he chirped excitedly when he spotted them, as they said hello and made some small talk.

“Didn’t get to see the muldjewangk? Don’t be too down guys, they don’t like coming out during the day much anyways. The kids here are always devo at missing out like, but let me show you some little buggers that I think you’ll both be stoked on seeing.”

They followed Tezza over to some large gum trees, which had magical protections placed just in-front of them, indicating how dangerous whatever beasts they housed must be.

“Now these little ones might look cute, but trust me, they’re fierce little bastards especially if they’re after a bit of grub,” he said, as he pointed to what looked like a tiny little bear climbing the tree nearest to them.

“Isn’t that a koala bear?” a confused Hermione asked, as Tezza burst out laughing.

“They might look like koalas, but take a look for yourself,” Tezza said, before waving his wand and erecting a human-like mannequin on the ground about 10 metres directly below the creature. It noticed and after a brief second of contemplation it instantly threw itself down through the sky, claws first, soon landing on the head of the mannequin, tearing it apart with both its paws and teeth.

“Bloody hell!” Ron swore.

“You can say that again, mate!” Tezza replied. “That little bugger is called a drop bear and well… it lives up to its name,” he added, as the little beast tore furiously at the prop, before Tezza conjured it up a few dead rats for it to feast on instead as a treat for its part in the show.

“Do they mind being here… at the magizoo… with all these people ogling at them?” Hermione asked Tezza.

“The drop bears?”

Ron felt a little awkward as he guessed the train of thought and line of questioning that his girlfriend would have for Tezza.

“Yes, the drop bears, but, well, all of the creatures and beasts you house here really. Do they like it here… rather than being in the wild?”

“To tell you the truth Miss Granger,” Tezza said, as he paused for a brief moment before continuing. ”For most of them now there ain’t no wild no more anyway... what with all the poachers like, and it ain’t as easy as it was years ago keeping ‘em away from exposure to muggoes neither. It’s the same way most the muggo animals are going too. Woollahra’s the best place for ‘em I say.”

Hermione seemed content enough with Tezza’s response, although Tezza was hardly going to turn round and admit the creatures all hated it there if they did anyway.

The magizoo worker began guiding them away from the drop bear enclosure and further along to a stretch of grassland in the distance.

“Course, we don’t house any beasts that are sentient,” Tezza continued, as Hermione nodded along in approval. “You won’t find no centaurs, vampires or werewolves here… ‘tho all the guests would be clamouring to see ‘em if they were, as you can imagine, like.

Fancy that ehh? Seeing an actual centaur or werewolf in the flesh, now that would be proper gnarly!”

Ron was once more left feeling a bit spoilt by his education.

He couldn’t quite believe that Tezza had never seen a werewolf or centaur in the flesh, at Hogwarts they’d had a werewolf and a centaur among the faculty at varying intervals of his stint at school.

“What about house elves?” Ron asked nervously, as he stole a quick glance at Hermione, who looked even more interested in Tezza’s response to the latest question posed to him, as they walked past a giant, yellow warning sign that read:

“CAUTION: YOU ARE NOW APPROACHING THE YARA-MA-YHA-WHO ENCLOSURE. THIS BEAST IS EXTREMELY DANGEROUS! DO NOT ENGAGE IT IF IT ESCAPES! CHILDREN UNDER THE AGE OF 15 MUST BE ACCOMPANIED BY A RESPONSIBLE PARENT OR GUARDIAN!”

“You certainly won’t find no house-elves here!” Tezza said in a slightly bemused tone. “Not working for us anyway… course we get lots of rich families from America, India and France come and visit who bring theirs along for the trip… ya’ kno’, funny thing is I’d never even seen one in the flesh before I started working here myself!”

“Why is that?” Hermione asked. “Are house-elves against the law in Australia?” she added, with a hopeful tone in her voice.

Tezza audibly chuckled.

“Against the law? We’d have to bloody have some for ‘em to be illegal! Never really caught on down here since nobody could bloody afford one. I’m sure whoever cooked up the idea for this place could have their pick of them now though, like, you know I-

“WHAT’S THAT?!” Ron burst out, as Hermione instinctively grabbed his hand, as she too saw a giant bear-like creature waddling towards them.

It was just their luck.

The one time they visit the magizoo was the time that the extremely dangerous creature broke out.

Why was it always them?!

At least Tezza would know what to do.

He didn’t look in the slightest bit afraid, which reassured Ron that he must know how to handle the very dangerous looking beast heading towards them.  

“What’s what?” a bemused looking Ted asked them, as Hermione and Ron both drew their wands, which confused him even more.

“Over there!” Hermione gasped, as she pointed over to the furry giant which was getting closer to them, albeit at a fairly slow pace.

“HA-HA! You can’t mean… oh you think that silly bugger is the dangerous beast that sign was warning yous about?” he asked with a patronising look on his tanned face, as Ron nodded awkwardly.

“HA-HA! You wait until all of the lads hear about this one!” he blurted out, with a furious grin washed across his face. “Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger frightened off their rocker by a silly old yowie! COME HERE YA BIG WALKING CARPET!” Tezza shouted, as the yowie responded to his call and quickened his pace, although only slightly.

“They’re clever creatures, yowie’s, but they’re bloody pussies. Wouldn’t hurt a mozza, even if it was biting on one of their balls!” Tezza joked, as he stretched his arms out for the yowie to give him a hug.

The yowie towered over him, it must’ve been at least seven foot, but he showed no fear when it barked softly and wrapped its furry arms right round his thin-frame, almost lifting him off of the ground with enthusiasm as it hugged him.

“We call him Chewy,” Tezza said excitedly, as the yowie released him. “You know, like the wookie from Star Wars.”

“What’s Star Wars?” Ron asked blankly.

“Only one of the greatest bloody movies of all time, mate!” Tezza replied indignantly.

“I’ve never watched any movies,” Ron responded.

“You ain’t ever seen a single movie in ya’ life?”

Tezza looked in a state of shock, perhaps he was a half-blood or a muggle-born and had grown up with the muggle television.

Ron shook his head in response.

“Blimey. Where did you find this guy?!” Tezza quizzed Hermione.

“It’s kind of a long story,” she replied, before smirking a little at both Tezza and then Ron himself.

“Now you run along now Chewy,” Tezza ordered to the yowie. “Shouldn’t be out here near the yara-ma-yha-who anyway you daft git,” he added, as he poked his bear-like companion. The yowie obeyed, sauntering off in the opposite direction after uttering what sounded like it could only be a laugh at Tezza.

“Oh my goodness,” Hermione mouthed, seemingly noticing something in the distance. “Is that… is that…

“Too right-o, Miss Granger,” Tezza replied. “That is a yara-ma-yha who.”

Ron saw it out of the corner of his eye, rested on a similar tree to the one that the drop bear had been grasping to before it flew out of the sky.

The yara-ma-yha-who was a slightly slimy, amphibious looking red creature that can’t have been much bigger than the average goblin.

Its dark blood-red body resembled a frightening cross between a frog, an octopus and a common garden gnome.

It was truly hideous.

It hung to the tree by its tiny red hands, but it also had thin, slippery suckers on the rear of its body which it used to swing around the tree too, almost like a monkey would do with its tail.

“That little bugger is damn-near the most deadly beast in this entire magizoo. If I had to face the dragon or that thing without a wand – I’d choose the dragon every bloody time… you wanna kno’ why?” Tezza asked, pausing slightly for effect.

Ron suspected that he would tell them the answer whether they wanted to hear it or not, but nonetheless he humoured Tezza all the same.

“Alrite, I’ll tell you why… you run into a hungry dragon on a bad day, it’ll smoke you alrite… but dragons don’t play with their food… a dragon will roast ya’ long before it thinks about eating ya’ to stop ya’ from runnin’ away… but these things… mate… ya kno’ what these things do to ya? It uses those suckers to drain you of your blood, but not enough to kill ya’… na’, it takes just enuff to weaken ya’ and keep ya’ within its grasp… then it will swallow ya’ whole… they can swallow up to four time their body weight… but that’s not the last of it, oh na’, wouldn’t be so bad if it was, like, but that’s only the start of it… ya’ see once it falls asleep it pumps oxygen right through the victim’s brain and airwaves… acts kinda like an oxygen tank in there… to try and keep ya alive… then as it gradually comes out of its slumber it slowly regurgitates ya’… then… when it wakes up… it starts the process all over again. They can sometimes keep their prey alive for over four days before finally killing it for good.”

Hermione said nothing, but she had a look of utter disgust and horror on her face.

“And has one of those…things… ever actually escaped?” Ron managed to muster.

“Oh Christ no!” Tezza jibed. “They’d probably shut the whole place down if one of those got out and killed a poor little ankle biter or somethin’. Can you imagine the bad press we’d-

“ATTENTION ALL STATIONS!”

A loud, slightly muffled booming voice came out from what looked like a small, portable muggle radio on Tezza’s belt.

“WHO WAS THE LAST OF YOUS TO HAVE SEEN OUR BRITISH VISITORS? I REPEAT, WHO WAS THE LAST OF YOUS TO HAVE SEEN OUR BRITISH VISITORS? OVER!”

Tezza smiled slightly.

“Funny you should ask that, Zoe,” he said into the radio. “I’m with ‘em right now. Over.”

“Is that you Terrence? Over.”

“Sure as hell is, Zoe, you see-

“What’s your nearest assembly point? Over.”

“Well… we’re just by the old Yara-ma-yha-who enclosure… so I’d say…erm… ah ya! The Great Barrier Reef café. Over.”

“That’s great. Head over with them now… I’ll meet you there in ten minutes. Over.”

“No worries, Zoe, mate. I’ll bring ‘em right down. Over,” he said into the radio, as he started heading east, then motioned with his hand for them to follow him.

The Great Barrier Reef café turned out to be a massive muggle-style aquarium, with a sizeable restaurant in the back serving up mostly seafood-based cuisine. The aquarium hosted mostly exotic fish found in the seas of Sydney, but there were also other creatures like sharks and turtles housed there too.

Tezza stayed with them in a waiting area of the main reception, which housed a large open-tank filled with different types of rays, which people, mostly children, were able to reach in and feed if they so pleased.

Whoever had designed the hotel had really gone all in on the muggle-theme, as this particular section even had a large boxed television raised up high on the wall, with some kind of muggle wildlife program playing.

“That man on the television. Is he a muggle?” Hermione asked, as the blonde, burly man in a khaki outfit stalked a large crocodile whilst he talked to the camera.

“Who? Steve Irwin?! He’s only one of the most famous muggoes in all of Australia! Surprised you ain’t heard of him,” he replied.

“But how… but how is he able to avoid being killed by that crocodile? If he’s not a wizard?” Ron quizzed, as he too began watching on at the TV in surprise.

“Beats me, mate. But he ain’t in no danger – those crocco’s love him,” Tezza said with a wry smile on his face, as he placed his left hand into the water and reached down. “Why… Steve-o up there’s in no more danger with one of those crocs than I am with this little sting-ray,” he added, as he caressed one of the floating flat creatures with his fingers.

“AH YA CUNT!!!!” Tezza blurted out, splashing water everywhere as he quickly removed his hand from the tank.

“The little bastard stung me!” he exclaimed in outrage.

“Hermione Granger? Ron Weasley?”

Ron saw a middle-aged lady with heavily tanned skin and thick dark hair, who he guessed had been the female voice from the muggle radio. She was well dressed, with a face full of perfectly applied make-up and the fixed-forced smile of someone who had probably been working in customer-facing roles for a long time.

“That’s us,” Hermione responded eagerly, with a distant sound of hope in her voice.

“I’m Zoe Federici. Head of Guest Relations here at the hotel,” Federici said, just before shaking both of their hands. “The Ministry have sent us word that they have found your parents, Miss Granger,” she added, flashing a brief smile and her bright, white teeth in Hermione’s direction.

Ron heard an audible gasp of both relief and excitement from Hermione, as she grasped onto his hand very tightly.

“Given the circumstances they thought it best to err on the side of caution and have opted against using magic to transport them here.  Their current working plan is for you to be re-introduced just after breakfast tomorrow morning… meet me in the main lobby reception just after 10AM... and in the mean-time, please, if there is anything I or any of my staff can do to improve your stay with us, all you have to do is ask.”

The good news that Federici had delivered to them earlier in the day had come as a pretty big relief to Ron, but it couldn’t compare to the relief that it had taken off of his girlfriend’s shoulders. In the hours that followed Hermione had finally allowed herself to properly enjoy the extravagant and exotic surroundings that they found themselves located in.

Their first act, on Zoe’s own suggestion, had been a trip to the beach bar in their section of the resort. The Guest Relations manager had insisted on pouring their first round of celebratory cocktails herself, which had presented a new dilemma for them, as neither of them had ordered an alcoholic cocktail before in their lives.

This did not act as a set-back for Federici, more-so, it actually put a genuinely excited smile on her face, as she whipped out a strange, leathery brown hat which had several corks attached to it with string.

“This isn’t just any old hat,” she had said. “This hat has been charmed to explore your mind, body and soul to work out the exact cocktail that you would most like at that given moment.”

They had each had a go at trying on the hat over two hours ago – and were both now pretty tipsy after consuming their fair share of cocktails at the bar. Hermione drinking the refreshing rum, lime and mint mojitos, with Ron knocking back the even sweeter pineapple and coconut concoctions called pina coladas.

Ron was now drinking his fourth, or maybe his fifth, as they relaxed on comfortable cushioned chairs back up at their balcony whilst watching the artificial sun-set. The synthetic weather was still warm enough that Ron sat with his top off, just wearing a pair of swim-shorts, whilst Hermione relaxed in a white swimsuit, which was nicely cut around her cleavage.

Ron was sure that Hermione had caught him on one of the few occasions that he had stolen a quick glance at her slightly protruding breasts – and to his surprise she had not told him off, instead she had said nothing, merely looking away hesitantly with a wry smile on her pretty face.

“You know… there was something Miss Burke said back at the Australian Ministry that I found a little… odd,” a tipsy Hermione said, as Ron looked over at her, pondering his reply as he tried to avoid staring at her cleavage.

“Did you know that Kingsley had a brother?” she said with a confused look on her face before he could think of anything to say in response. “She mentioned that back when they were at Hogwarts together Kingsley and his brother used to gloat to her about the Quidditch results.”

Ron did vaguely remember Olivia Burke making an offhand comment like that, but such was his mental and physical state following that horrific portkey journey that it had completely passed him by, not registering as particularly odd at the time – or if it had, that train of thought had swiftly departed the station of his mind just as soon as it had entered it.

“No… no I don’t think he’s ever mentioned having a brother before,” Ron responded, as he searched through his less than sober mind for any recollection of such a conversation.

“Don’t you agree that that’s a little bit odd?” Hermione offered, as she took a deep sip on her straw, twirling around the little mint leaves in her sugar-coated glass as she did so.

It was a little bit odd, Ron agreed, but that sort of thing wasn’t completely unheard of in the wizarding community.

“Perhaps a little, yes… but Mum never likes to talk about her brothers… maybe Kingsley’s brother was killed in the first war too.”

“That’s a good point,” Hermione said. “I hadn’t considered that… yes… yes, you may well be right.”

“Always the tone of surprise,” he teased sarcastically, as Hermione smiled a little, then let out a tipsy laugh.

“I do understand why she never talks about them,” Ron continued, suddenly steering the conversation to a more serious direction, perhaps partially due to the influence of the alcohol, as he noticed the expression on Hermione’s face turn from a smile to one of sympathy.

“Dad always said that a little part of her died the day she found out that they’d been killed… and I know it must have been really hard for her… but I do sometimes wish she would’ve talked about them more. Even just told us some funny family stories or something. It feels weird to even say their names out loud since nobody would ever talk about them…

Hermione reached over and placed her soft, warm hand on top of Ron’s, caressing his hand with her slim fingers as he kept talking.

“… I won’t ever let myself do that with Fred,” Ron added, trying to reassure himself more than Hermione.  

“When we’re married and have children of our own I’ll tell them every funny story about Fred that I know and-

Ron stopped himself as he realised what he had just said.

Hermione had already started laughing.

“Wait- that’s not what I meant- I-

“When we’re married and have children of our own?” Hermione jibed, as she sarcastically raised her eyebrows.

“No- no- I meant- you know what I-

“I’m very interested to hear what you meant to say, Ronald,” Hermione said, still giggling at his mistake, as she stood up from her chair after finishing the last of her drink.

Ron clumsily pulled himself up from his chair so that they were standing face to face in the sunset.

“Well I just meant if… you know if-

Hermione kissed his lips before he had a chance to finish.

He felt her arms wrap tightly around his shoulders, pulling him in even closer, as he rested his own arms around the back of her slender waist.

“I don’t know how much you know about the human anatomy Ron,” she said softly, almost in a whisper, as she temporary broke away from the kiss. “But it seems a little premature for you to be thinking about getting me pregnant when we haven’t even… you know…”

Ron felt his heartrate rise rapidly.

He didn’t quite know what to say.

Her skin looked so soft and creamy.

His eyes fell on her cleavage once more and he noticed the outline of her two nipples and breasts against her white swimsuit.

His cock tingled slightly as he imagined what it would be like to have one of her breasts in his mouth.

“Why is it that we haven’t yet, do you think?” Hermione asked.

“I dunno… I mean-

“I suppose I have been awfully stressed about my parents… and I’m sure it has been awfully difficult for you too… we’ve been so caught up with everything we just haven’t really had time to think about it,” she concluded, as Ron nodded in agreement, even though it wasn’t the slightest bit true that he hadn’t had time to think about it.

“You do want to… you know… don’t you?” she whispered, with a look of doubt on her face.

“Yes!” he blurted out. “I mean… if… only if you want to,” he quickly added.

“You don’t think I look awfully stupid… in this swimsuit, I mean. You don’t think I look too-

“I think you look perfect,” Ron drunkenly pronounced, as he pulled her close and passionately kissed her lips. He heard her sigh softly as he ran his hands gently down her back, eventually resting them on her bottom.

Ron squeezed her bum cheeks firmly as her tongue aggressively fought its way into his mouth.

He lifted her up and stumbled slightly, before she straddled her legs around his waist as they continued lustfully kissing whilst he carried her into the bedroom, before thrusting her down onto the bed and pressing her down against the sheets as they continued their steamy embrace.

Ron broke away from kissing her lips and quickly worked his way across first to her right cheek, then further down the side of her face before he began amorously pecking her neck.

Hermione sighed softly, then began to press her nails across his back as he remembered the technique that Lavender had taught him during their brief fling in sixth year.

He opened his mouth as if to bite her neck, but instead he sucked strongly, causing his girlfriend to gasp with pleasure. Ron wondered if he would be the first person to give Hermione a love-bite, he hoped he was – and the jealous thought of Viktor Krum, or anyone else having done this to her only caused him to suck with a renewed sense of vigour.  

Hermione scratched his back in delight as he felt his penis grow harder and harder, as he broke free of his sucking to begin snogging her again, tasting the rum, lime and mint on her tongue and breathe as he did so.

His train of thought briefly went back to Lavender Brown – and he quickly pushed the horrific sight of her dead, mutilated body out and away from his mind.

He pulled back from his embrace with Hermione and got up slightly, before untying the cords and taking off his shorts, leaving him fully naked and exposed in-front of her.

Ron’s cock stood firmly to attention and Hermione studied it with enough curiosity for him to feel reassured that his was the very first that she had seen in the flesh. The excitement of her studying his naked body like it was a brand-new book made him feel about as horny as he could ever remember feeling.  

She followed his lead in getting undressed and smiled shyly at him, before sitting up and slowly taking off her white swimsuit and casting it aside, leaving only her glorious, bare-naked skin in its wake.

Her body was scattered with occasional freckles, much lighter and less noticeable than his own, but noticeable in their own way nonetheless. His dick stiffened up even more as he finally cast his eyes on her beautiful breasts and perky, pink nipples. She had a small mole on her left breast and just above her belly button – and upon seeing those little imperfections he had never felt more intimate and close to her.

He stared at her bare, naked body as she did the same to him, for all his sneaky glances at her breasts throughout the last hour or so, she was more than getting even now as she bashfully eyed up his cock.

Ron looked towards the middle of her legs and unlike her smoothly shaven sex in his dream that morning, her vagina was covered by small tufts of bushy, brown pubic hair.

They caught each other’s eye at the same time and hungrily embraced once more, lips against lips, tongue to tongue, as they began to explore each other’s body with their hands. Ron fondled her breasts firmly, as she reached out and got her first grasp of his erect cock.

He was surprised he didn’t cum there and then, but he relaxed himself as she begin gently pulling up and down on his penis as his right hand trickled down from her breast to her stomach, before he eventually reached the inside of her thighs and the tufts of her pubic hair.

Hermione moaned and swore under her breath as his fingers slowly glided their way through the hairs and reached her glistening clitoris and he began to softly rub it, as Lavender had once taught him.

At the time of their break-up Ron had harboured a slight tinge of regret that they had only ever gone as far as to fondle around with each other, but in hindsight he had absolutely no regrets considering that he was about to lose his virginity with the girl that he had loved for several years now.  

The sight of Lavender’s dead corpse once again entered his mind though - and for a brief moment all sense of arousal was lost.

“Don’t stop,” Hermione whispered gently – and he was soon just as horny as he was before when she increased the speed and force of her grip on his cock.

He continued to press his fingers against her, feeling her wetness increase with each stroke, causing her to dampen her pubic hairs and cover his index and middle fingers with the fruits of his labour.

“I think I’m ready,” she softly gasped, as she reluctantly relented her grip of his cock and lay back, opening her legs even further.

He stared down at his beautiful naked girlfriend, her dark brown eyes gazing down at him with a look of both excitement and slight nervousness on her face.

Ron remembered that he hadn’t yet uttered the contraceptive spell and quickly grabbed his wand from the bedside table, muttering the spell he had first seen written on a desk in one of the Herbology greenhouses in 3rd year.

A feint and very quickly invisible trail of white smoke brushed against, then evaporated onto his penis, as he held onto Hermione’s thighs and then slowly but surely entered her tight, wet cunt.

Hermione gasped heavily, with what seemed like a mixture of pleasure and pain.

So this was it.

This was what it felt like.

The sight of Lavender’s corpse once again entered his horrified mind as he came to terms with the fact that he was finally inside of Hermione and had lost his virginity.  

He reached out and held one of his girlfriend’s hands, softly pulling his penis slightly out and then back inside of her again.

Now he saw Remus, Tonks and finally Fred’s lifeless body laid out in the great hall.

Ron tried to get the horrible, graphic images out of his head but they just wouldn’t budge.

He slowed his rhythm almost to a halt entirely - and felt the blood and the excitement of his arousal slowly shift away from his penis.

His eyes opened slightly and Hermione shot him a curious, concerned look.

“Are you alright?” she murmured.

Lavender – dead.

Remus – dead.

Sirius – dead.

“Ronald?”

Mad Eye – dead.

Tonks – dead.

Dobby – dead.

Dumbledore – dead.

Fred… Fred… dead.

“They’re all gone,” he mumbled, as he felt the hot tears began to form in his eyelids.

“They’re all dead.”

The tears began to slowly run down his face, before he quickly began blubbing his eyes out.

Hermione held him tight for a while, as he buried his face into her bosom and then slowly cried himself to sleep.