#I stopped with labeling the number of them for a multitude of reasons | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gravegroves · 3 years

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“11. Billy” seems mysterious ! pls I must know more

11. Billy

The actual fic is named so too, as that's the way Billy signs all his postcards. The fic is about Claudia Henderson giving Billy a lift from the hospital to the airport and about the postcards he sends her from his trip. It's eventual Harringrove, but I haven't gotten that far yet. Here's a weird assortment of snippets from the fic:

As they pass the turn-off for Hawkins, the road Claudia would have originally taken to get home, Billy sinks down into his seat beside her, turning his head away from the town sign to stare straight ahead, jaw clenched.

"You from Hawkins, too, Billy?" Claudia ventures, curiosity and concern competing for first place.

"Not from that shithole," Billy mutters. Claudia frowns. "Lived there until yesterday."

"Oh, you're moving?"

Billy barks a harsh laugh and Claudia flinches a little in surprise.

"Got a bedside visit from the old man to tell me not to bother coming back to get my shit. After everything and he's the one that gets to slam the door in my face--" Billy's voice cuts off, his breathing harsh and uneven.

Claudia tightens her hands on the steering wheel.

*****

"Help yourself."

Billy gives her a look that tells her he doesn't have much confidence in her taste, but he opens the glove compartment and pulls out a box of tapes. She can hear the click clack of him looking through them all, reading the labels and discarding them one by one before he stops.

Curious, Claudia looks over. In his hand, Billy holds a familiar, well-loved tape.

"Oh, I haven't listened to them in a while. Pop it in!"

"You like Led Zeppelin?" Billy asks, choked, like his whole world is turning upside down.

Claudia laughs, "Oh yes. I wanted Stairway to Heaven played at my wedding, but my husband wouldn't allow it."

"And you still married him?" Billy grins, somehow brighter and more real than any he's given up so far. Claudia feels a little proud of it somehow.

"Well, he's now my ex husband, if that helps."

Billy's grin only grows wider. None of the usual averted eyes and condolences Claudia typically prepares herself for. It's refreshing. "Good for you."

*****

"You call me when you get where you're going, alright honey?" She says, "Let me know that you're not dead in a ditch somewhere."

Billy nods, folds the paper securely into his threadbare wallet. He looks back through the window at her.

"You're the only person worth anything in that fucking town, Ms Henderson."

She smiles, "Oh, I think we both know that isn't quite true."

His face goes distant. Claudia watches him, silently.

"Maybe."

He hesitates again.

"Thanks, Claudia." He slaps the edge of the open window, straightens up with an air of finality and adjusts the duffle bag on his shoulder.

"You take care, Billy."

She watches him walk into the airport. He never turns to look back.

*****

Steve is sleeping on the couch when Claudia gets home. The boy is sitting in the sofa chair in front of the muted TV, neck bent at an odd angle, mouth open and drooling on his own shoulder.

She wakes him gently, coaxes him half asleep out of the chair and down the hall into the tiny guest bedroom.

He collapses onto the bed, out like a light before she can bid him goodnight. The boy never seems to get enough sleep, so she's happy to leave him there instead of sending him back to that lonely, empty house of his. She throws a blanket over him, knows it's not her place to pet his hair and give him hugs unless he asks it of her. So instead she makes sure his feet are covered, knows by now that if Steve's feet get too cold that it'll wake him and keep him up until they're warm again.

Before going to bed herself, Claudia checks on her son. She notices the light coming from under his door and sighs a little before she gently knocks. There's no reply. She cracks the door open and peers in. Dustin is tucked into bed, his bedside lamp on and a book collapsed over his face.

With a small smile and a shake of her head, she moves into the room. Gently peels the book away, marking the page with a bookmark before placing it on the bedside table. She tugs one stray arm down -- knows her Dusty has a tendency to sleep with his arms above his head and wakes up with them half numb and hurting -- before she tucks him in and kisses his curly head.

She turns off the light and closes the door on the way out, ready for bed herself and happy knowing her boys are safe and sound and close.

*****

The last time Claudia cried herself to sleep was the day she accepted that Mews wasn't coming home. She's an easy crier, it doesn't take much. She'd cried as she picked up Tews from the shelter and again the first time she woke up with him sleeping at the foot of her bed.

This time is different. When the first sob escapes her, it feels like it's being wrenched out of her by force, like a cork out of a bottle, leaving her helpless to stop the grief from pouring out. She feels like she might explode from the emotions if she doesn't let it happen, so she just… lets it all out. Bawls into a pillow, hugs it to her chest when she can manage to breathe without great heaving keens and stares into the dark.

She cries for Dustin, her darling boy who's been so brave for so long, for Steve with his absent parents and desperate need for company, for Billy and the kind of life that leads a boy to wherever he is now. Maybe even a little for herself.

Being a single mother hasn't always been easy. Claudia has gone without more times than she can count, but that's on her. She brought Dustin into this world and for that she owes him the best life she can give him. Even when that means divorcing her no-good husband. Even when she struggled to make ends meet and put food on the table. Things are okay now, but there was a time not too long ago when her tiny family had been one injury away from losing everything.

Even then, she knows things could've been so much worse.

She imagines Gene doing to Dustin what she suspects Neil Hargrove has done to Billy. Or abandoning him to a lonely hell like the one Lorne and Kate Harrington have left Steve in and she buries her face into the pillow yet again.

Claudia is definitely not the only good person in Hawkins, but she thinks there are far fewer than she might've once thought.

*****

Billy doesn't call.

Claudia knows there could be a multitude of reasons for why that is, the most likely of which being that Billy simply doesn't want to. She still feels a little ball of worry forming in her stomach.

The first post card arrives two months later. It's short and to the point, but Claudia feels such immense relief that each word feels precious to her.

Not dead yet. Prague is nice.

Billy

Claudia clears the cork board she has up for reminders and shopping lists and pins the picture of a beautiful European town where she can see it every day.

*****

Karen Wheeler is someone Claudia knows by association. They've exchanged the usual niceties while picking up their kids from each other's houses and should they pass on the street they smile and nod to each other at the very least. Claudia knows Karen Wheeler, but they aren't friends and they certainly don't frequent the same social circles.

Claudia likes her book clubs, her cats, her knitting. She enjoys a quiet and comfortable existence after a life of too much family drama and financial strain.

Karen Wheeler likes… well, none of those things. Which simply means that conversation doesn't exactly flow between them unless they're talking about their sons.

Today, talking at length seems unavoidable. Dustin and his friends are insisting that they need another fifteen minutes to finish up their English presentation and Karen is standing at the front door looking done up and impatient.

Claudia, of course, invites her inside for a cup of coffee while they wait for the children to finish up.

It's as they're both sitting at the dining table that Karen spots the cork board.

"Is that Billy Hargrove?" She points to the latest photo he'd sent her, tacked over the letter that came with it. Claudia opens her mouth to respond, but instead watches, speechless as Karen gets up and untacks them both before bringing them both back to the table.

Claudia swallows down an annoyed comment and smiles politely.

"Yes, that's Billy." She says, before going on to explain how she came about meeting the boy.

"He sends you postcards?" Karen's eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline, corner of her mouth twitching and giving Claudia a look she can't quite discern.

"It's more of a favour to me," She laughs "I asked him to let me know if he made it safely so I didn't have to worry and since then he's been nice enough to keep my mind at ease. You do hear about such awful things happening to young travellers, it's good to keep track."

"That's… that's very sweet of you, Claudia."

Claudia wraps her hands around her mug and frowns a little. "Someone needs to care about that boy."

"Oh, of course." Karen says, looking slightly taken aback.

"If his parents won't, then that someone might as well be me."

Karen hums and goes back to looking at the photo. "He's rather good looking, don't you think?"

Frowning at the incredibly odd change in subject, Claudia opens her mouth to answer when the words really begin to sink in. She closes her mouth and stares.

Unaware of Claudia's scrutiny, Karen continues. "Did he send other photos? I'd love to see them."

Claudia opens her mouth again and knows she's about to tell a lie. She's interrupted by Mike sulkily appearing in the doorway to the kitchen.

Karen gets up. "All finished?" She asks and doesn't seem bothered at all when Mike ignores her and disappears out into the hallway to put his shoes on.

"Thank you so much for the coffee, Claudia. Please, don't get up, I'll let us out."

She rummages around her purse before she takes out a pen and piece of paper. She scribbles something Claudia quickly realises is her address and phone number before she slides it across the table. She clears her throat.

"You're right to be so worried for Billy, he needs all the support he can get. Maybe… maybe I could write to him as well? The more people that care, the better."

It's only when the front door closes that Claudia realises that the photo is gone.

There is a moment where she stares at the spot where the picture should be, right beside the letter, completely dumbstruck by the sheer audacity of Karen Wheeler. And she might have let it go under different circumstances, but Claudia has been on this earth long enough to know when to trust her gut, and her gut is telling her to not let Karen get her hands on any piece of Billy Hargrove, no matter how small.

Emboldened, she snatches the piece of paper off the kitchen counter and runs to the front door. When she steps out onto the driveway the Wheelers have already gotten into the car.

Claudia marches up to the car without hesitation and knocks on the window. Karen looks surprised for a second, then rolls it down.

Without a word, Claudia sticks her hand in, palm flat and face up.

They stare at each other.

The other woman tries for confusion for a few seconds, before she, rather guiltily, reaches into her purse and takes out the photo.

Claudia snatches it out of her hand before she can give it over and the woman flinches slightly.

"I don't think this will be necessary." She tosses the crumpled piece of paper through the open window, turns about and marches back up to the house without a backward glance.

She doesn't miss Mike's "What just happened?" Drifting out into the evening air, but she's too angry, too… something to care in that moment.

When she's back in the kitchen she calls Steve and invites the boy to dinner with her and Dusty.

I have much more, but I don't want to flood peoples feed. So I'll leave it at that.

#gravegroves writes #tag game #billy hargrove #steve harrington #Claudia Henderson

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themself · 3 years

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what do you mean about the kinnie post i want to read the essay

THANKS BESTIE

okay so basically i feel like there’s a multitude of the reasons why i think kinning is popular particularly in this era and how that ties into capitalism. i’m going to cover a few of the main reasons here

1) encouragement to self label - so i think this is the one that OP of the tiktok was getting at. but essentially under the current era of capitalism, people feel alienated from themselves and their own identity due to how populated the world is and how much we have to compete with each other. this oftentimes leads to people desperately trying to become the best at something or the most of something-- people want to feel distinct from the crowd and have some identity of who they are. i think this is the kind of stuff that leads people towards being super into astrology or hogwarts houses or mbti stuff. like, we feel the need to have some way to define who we are, what we’re like, etc. and people will often cling onto these general clusters of personality traits so they can be sorted

in addition to feeling alienated from ourselves, we’re often encouraged by capitalist culture to label ourselves. the more labels we have, the more boxes we fit into the more we can be advertised to. “merchandise for isfps!” “come join the my favorite food is kale club and buy our kale t-shirts”. like the more labels you have on yourself the more marketing boxes you can fit in the easier you are to market towards. this is especially prominent with media which leads me to my next point

2) encouragement of consumption of media as identity - so i think we’re seeing this especially recently where more and more media consumption is encouraged and nerd culture-- what once was othered and in small circles, has become mainstream media. this leads to events like cons and media that was once considered niche (marvel, anime, etc) becoming more mainstream. in addition to modern life becoming increasingly depessing leading to escapism in media, more corporations have also realized how much money there is to make in marketing! people are encouraged by media companies to make their favorite tv show/game/etc their identity. are you a real movies fan? buy movies merchandise for a gajillion dollars and PROVE how much you love movies. be the number one movies man. line up for hours and prove how much you love [thing].

this is also what leads to people becoming so FIERCELY protective over media from criticism, because they identify with it. you see this when people criticize ships, tv shows, movies, consumption habits, etc. people have made the stuff they consume into who they are

now, this ties into kinning in a few interesting ways. first, we have the obvious urge to escape from the world as we know it, and this is what leads people to claim they’re actually x much cooler fictional character and were them from a past life. i’m pretty sure this is similar to what leads to lots of chuunibyou in japanese culture. we don’t just live in a society that sucks, we live in a boring dull society that drains you of your personality. finding color where it can is infinitely more appealing. however, i don’t think this solely covers all of the reasons why people kin-- there’s people who are happy who kin characters and there’s people who use it as a term for “relates heavily” to a fictional character rather than literally believing they were a fictional character in a past life. this leads me to my other hypothesis

we have people who’ve been brought up to constantly desire putting words to describe who they are in order to communicate to others what they are, and to understand to themselves who they are too. combine this with a rise in people self-identifying with media, you get a lot of people who will tie their identity to tenents of fiction. so a lot of people will use fictional characters as their zodiacs, their hogwarts houses, their mbtis, to assign meaning to themselves in a meaningless world, to tie themselves down to something that feels real colorful and coherent. when i personally used to kin characters, this was a big reason. i wanted some way to help explain who i was and what my experiences were like, and fictional characters who are a lot like me was a convenient way to do so. especially in online circles, we’ve been taught to treat the art we love as a part of who we are, and to mark ourselves into traits to communicate who we are as well.

all of this said- i don’t think kinning is bad. i do think people who are so invested in fiction to the point they harass others over which anime characters they put in their carrds are engaging in unhealthy behavior. but, i would feel the same way about people who lead targeted harassment campaigns agianst women who criticize their favorite videogames. its about clinging too much onto fiction and projecting yourself onto it to the point where other people criticizing fiction feels like a personal attack on you. if you can maintain a boundary, i really dont think its that harmful

like yes, kinning is a symptom of capitalism. but so is nearly every behavior we currently have. kinning is a relatively harmless thing that hurts nobody. its just like being a chuuni. i think being critical of any part of your identity and wondering about where it comes from and why you’re like this is healthy and good, but i don’t think that recognizing something has some pernicious roots means you need to stop doing it. even holidays i love like halloween i can recognize were probably pushed by candy corporations. but its okay! i can recognize the capitalism in it and still be like yeah i’m good

#i did not read this a second time so if its incoherent you're sorry <3 #although all of the last paragraph said this is why i stopped being a kinnie #personally i do not want to define myself in any significant way or another because i as a human being am so much more complicated than any #i also sometimes think about what if kinning went mainstream #and disney offered to give you the rights to claim to be the true captain america kinnie for 500million dollar #i try not to think about that #Anonymous #ok to rb

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murdersexual · 4 years

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So... When are you going to post that LeoPika fic? 👀👀👀

Mane bet... 😏 But I might delete it later! Here’s part one!

🚨WARNING!🚨

Rated MA for Mature Audiences only. NSFW.

Sex, Drugs, Alcohol, Gambling, Gun Violence.

NOT COMPLETELY PROOFREAD.

May have a few out of character instances for I wrote this around 3am, so please excuse that.

✨Ship/Pairing✨:

LeoPika (Leorio x Kurapika)

March 3rd, XXXX, En route to World Resorts Casino, around 9:47pm:

The weather in Yorknew hadn’t exactly started to reflect that it’s close to Springtime yet. It’s still cold and snowy but that wasn’t going to stop the event that’s being hosted by some of the biggest names in Underground Crime.

We’re talking about a night full of sex, drugs, alcohol, gambling and music.

It’s also the night of Leorio’s 21st birthday and he’s in town, steaming hot for he’s yet to receive a ‘happy birthday’ call from a certain Mafia Leader with the most gorgeous of light blonde hair. However, that’s not all... In general, Leorio is ultimately tired of trying so hard to be the glue to what’s considered an already unfixable relationship. The point of his visit this time is to give Kurapika a piece of damn mind for what may be the final time.

What a way to spend his birthday, right?

The hot blooded koi fish found himself strolling down the cold streets of Yorknew by his lonesome. His enticing hazel gaze is relative to the weather... Cold and piercing. He wore the meanest of faces with his lips decorated in a sheer pout. Then his face and ears are red from the whipping of the snow and frosty winds. The thoughts that went around his sophisticated skull only ruses him further. With each step he took, the snow crunched beneath his expensive waterproof combat boots. The sound gave him a slight sense of calm—one that managed to steal attention momentarily.

“I forgot the last time I’ve even enjoyed the Winter...”

The words came rolling off his tongue. His eyes slightly softened as he now comes to a brief halt, a soft sigh exhales from the tall doctor-to-be. He finds the dark sky that slowly drops the small white flakes. Being the jovial spirit he knows he could be, he sticks his tongue out and catches a few of them. His handsome features are now graced with a soft smile only to see the lights of his destination illuminate the skyline. With a low growl, he’s reminded of his current goal.

“Bet even YOU won’t see me coming...”

His icy glare returns and the tone of his voice has lost all signs of benevolence. His words came out way darker than they should’ve.

But can you blame him though?

Continuing his traverse through the snowy lands of the busy city, he adjusts his earmuffs while now stuffing his gloved hands back into his long black winter coat. The brunette’s hair is messy and filled with snowflakes, such a look makes him appear rather gentle despite his mood. His trademark circular shades are gently shaded from the current weather but that doesn’t stop him from seeing now does it?

‘When I get there, I promise this time I’m gonna knock his fucking lights out.’

The thought got his adrenaline flowing. Now he yearns to cause physical damage. The question is... will it actually happen? This IS Kurapika here. He’s not gonna sit there and take that shit, UNLESS... he ACTUALLY accepts such a punishment.

Leorio knows how aggressive he can be but he is more angry than sad. He won’t ever come to say it...

But the idea of not being called on his birthday genuinely hurt him.

It felt like a slap in the face, especially for everything he’s done. He’d never miss any birthdays or special occasions and it’s to the point where he feels like it’s only him who thinks that way.

‘I give too fucking much to not get much—better yet, NOTHING in return!’

Being a person with a heart the size of the world this is the curse: to always be dealt a hand that’s never going to win. Knowing him? He wants to break that curse and by default there’s no better way to do it than to throw hands. His actions always spoke louder anyways.

Crossing a few streets and nearly fighting one of the people who almost hit him, he finally makes it to his destination—World Resorts Casino. Entering through the slide open glass doors, the bright slots, signs that point to everything and even the neon-like decor nearly blinded him. The smell of expensive imported cigars, cigarettes, various alcohol and a multitude of different colognes and perfumes filled the air. His nose burned from the mixture of scents all around. A low grunt emits as he now removes his gloves and earmuffs. Stuffing both in his pocket, he proceeds to walk ahead while undoing his silver buckle, his finely seamed gold buttons and his golden zipper. It revealed the finest of outfits!

He’s wearing a sleek black slim fit blazer that fits rather nicely around his muscular arms, a jet black satin button up that’s halfway unbuttoned at the top and neatly tucked in his matching sleek slacks that’s accented with a gold buckle Gucci belt. Tapping his feet to rid of the snow from the bottom, he walks on ahead only to meet one of the Casino Bunnies.

“Welcome to the World Resorts Casino, my fine gentleman! If you’re looking for the event labelled ‘How To Play Russian Roulette With a Criminal Mastermind’, it’s from the second floor on up! Here’s a complimentary welcome drink! May you enjoy your time here~!”

Giving a quick bow, the busty beauty now switches away, her semi-exposed cheeks had a little bit of a wiggle to them much like her makeshift bunny tail. With a smirk as he watches her, he stirs his drink and takes a sip, now charmed by how well it’s mixed.

“Not bad!”

Heading to the stairs that’s decorated in the cutest of roulette wheel numbers, he heads up, his ears are open and listening to the music that’s being played. He hums while trying to figure out what floor Kurapika may be on...

Speaking of him?

Kurapika’s right hand reaches for the roulette wheel, the midnight blue and black ombré nail polish that was still on his hands matched with the blue and purple ambience that is on the 8th floor. In his left, he held a half empty shot glass, now proceeding to spin the wheel. His right leg is crossed over his left, his foot gently swung to the beat, a soft smirk now decorating his face for he’s caught up hosting the Roulette Table.

“What’s your bets?”

He asked the two players, a woman in a black short evening dress that seemed one size too small, her breasts looked as if they were about to pop out of it and her bodacious hips, butt and thighs made the dress rise to the point her black g-string nearly showed. But it’s a good thing she has her legs crossed right?

“I’ll take all even on red, my kind sire~”

Her voice cooed, almost in a flirtatious tone towards him. To be honest, she’s been debating on attempting to charm him since his grand appearance earlier in the night. He knew that just from her gestures and body language alone. Those light grey orbs swished over to the woman beside her, she held herself up, a cigarette now being doused out in an ashtray, she wears a smile on her ruby red lips as she now casually blows smoke into the air.

“Mmm, can luck be a lady tonight~? I think I’ll take all even on black, hun~”

Sipping the little bit of cognac that’s left in his shot glass, he sets it down and looks to the wheel while mentally trying to calculate who’s going to win this round.

“How much?”

The busty lady was quick to answer...

“I’ll put 100 genie on my red~”

The ruby red lipstick lady smirked at her.

“Hmph, I’m a bit of a daredevil, so I’ll do 700 on my black~”

With that being said, he spins the wheel and actually narrows his choice down to who’s going to win.

‘Ruby, otherwise she wouldn’t have bet so much. She’s confident that all black on even will be victorious. And she’s not wrong... Tara’s bet was a safe one so there’s a lack of confidence in her choice. I know I’m the reason why she’s picked red... I have my earring to blame.’

“And the winner is...”

His eyes carefully watched the wheel as it began to slow up. The tiny little ball clicked and clanged until it fell onto...

Black, 26.

“Ruby.”

‘Just as I thought.’

Indeed, he knew it and with a gasp of disbelief, Tara pouts before reaching in between her breasts and pulling out a total of 800 genie. She hands it over to Ruby who takes it and waves it like a fan over her.

“Mmm, I can smell that vanilla perfume with a hint of boob sweat~ You were nervous weren’t you, doll face~?”

Tara gives an eye roll and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Hmph! What’s it to ya? Ya won already!”

She squeaks angrily. Getting up from her chair, Ruby wanders over and stands behind her before leaning down and wrapping her arms around her, she plants a kiss on her cheek before using her alcohol tinged tongue to sensually lick the shell of her ear before nipping at it and tugging on it. She purrs playfully.

“Better behave yourself, kitten~”

A soft squeak emits from Tara who huffs softly. She hates how she plays at one of her many weaknesses.

“Oh fine! But you’re on the couch tonight!”

“As long as my face is between your legs, I’m fine with that.”

The exchange between the two didn’t really surprise the blonde. As a Mafia Leader, he’s come to accept the shit he’s gonna see on a pretty regular basis. Taking his ice cubes and holding them into his cheeks he sets up for the next spin only to receive a call.

“Ugh...”

He knew whose voice it was off the back. He blinks his eyes closed as he slides the answer icon to the right and places it to his ear.

“What...?”

On the other line, that soft voice of Melody’s muttered...

“You have a visitor on his way to you... He seems very pissed...”

But who exactly is SHE referring to?

‘Oh don’t tell me...’

“Who…?”

He was enticed to ask anyways.

“I think it’s Leorio! I-I’m not sure, the only heartbeat I recognise that’s this fast and full of anger is yours though... It doesn’t seem like him at all...”

His eyes found the sky as he worded ‘my dear family, I do apologise, but fuck me gently with a fucking chainsaw, please, speed on low and blades on extra sharp.’ He made Tara and Ruby giggle for they read his lips perfectly. With a gentle sigh, he asks...

“Okay... so is it him or not…? I’m in the middle of hosting the roulette table...”

Her answer would’ve been immediate for she could hear the irritation starting to ruse. But before she could answer, she was spotted by the angry Leorio. His eyes glinted as he knew she was snitching.

“U-Uh!”

“MELODY!! TELL THAT FUCKER I SAID... BE READY TO FUCKING FIGHT!!”

Now leaning to his left hand to pinch his nose bridge a dreaded sigh left Kurapika.

“...Great.”

👀👀👀

I see that you’ve made it this far... This is ONLY part one. I currently have three full parts. So if you’d like to see the rest? Let me know! (EWW I CANNOT WRITE WTF! 🥲) I do apologise if this is all over the place but I knew that I’d get asked to post this some time around!

#hunter x hunter #hxh #hxh 2011 #oneshot #writing #leorio #leorio paladiknight #Kurapika #ask #ask response #anime #hxh imagines #one shot #fanfic #part one #thanks for the ask!#casino

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ddaenghoney · 4 years

Text

chapter seventeen

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): quite a bit of unsettling/paranoia themes around the middle of the chapter (again in regards to stalking from fans). Also, some making out that alludes to more after it !

Word count: 5481

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

Headlines of multiple news sites, trending hashtags, and seemingly hundreds of threads in online forums center around the topic that goes viral the day after. With SoundWave wasting no time to act subtly, choosing to take a blunt rebuttal of the independent release of music, they announce a separation of SUGA from the label. Without offering much other than the central reasoning in the official statement attributing a lack of loyalty, and openly rebellious attitude in the way of involving his personal relationships into his music without consent of the company, Yoongi’s public reputation takes a giant strike.

The primary attitude of his fanbase is startled confusion, as is similarly the feelings of pop culture commenters, who all agree that this action made by SoundCloud seems incredibly rash considering how high of status the title SUGA has in the music industry. A threshold of rumors contaminate social websites, all trying to gauge underlying motivations for the company’s decision to completely drop Min Yoongi from the label, feeling like there has to be more words each side could make but holds back.

With slowly passing weeks of conversation stirring faster from the sensationalized wonder that accumulates in the silence of both involved parties, fandoms grow impatient. A future tour scheduled to begin early next year is obviously squashed, and the subtle hints of new music thrown far from any burner of focus. Worry holds a multitude of loyal fans who are eager for clarification from their favorite idol, but no answers are clearly given. Blurry images of Yoongi to and from SoundWave only serve to prove that there are talks going on, especially when sightings of him and Taehyung begin growing consistent as well as thought to be moving vans relocating assumed sound equipment.

Naturally, frustration builds. Latching in tight grips onto every instance your name or image appears on the internet, angry shouts question your involvement with this entire ordeal. Confused as people are, they have little doubt that you deserve the bulk of blame for this dissent between Yoongi and SoundWave. After all, everything had always seemed steady in growth for SUGA’s career before your public involvement with him.

You realize this isn’t true. So much of the situation still lingers in the darkness, far from cameras and microphones to state the severity of everything that led the sequence of events to this point. You know that this whole problem isn’t entirely your fault, but it feels like it. Words cling to your psyche every time you try to peruse even the filtered social media feed of those you follow on instagram, but the comments still remain and grow on every one of your own posts, making you delete the app after only three days into the chaotic situation.

Apologies become common, though usually squashed within your reply to whenever Yoongi tells you them. Worry brims in his eyes just as well as his chest every time he notices anything off in your expressions that relate to all of the responses online. You’re quick to state that this isn’t his fault either, and not to worry about the silence he’s forced to keep while legal affairs are being handled. You’ve already settled yourself with the high chance that he won’t ever be able to make a statement that gives out the picture, just like you won’t ever be able to without losing every royalty you have.

While the online response does burn on your nerves, you can calm yourself by remembering it will eventually blow over to a new topic. It could take a lot of time, but eventually you’ll be able to not be the villain in every assumed narration of Yoongi being fired from SoundWave. Instead, concern wraps around any thoughts you have towards a new job.

With your work history visibly clean of any ink on your resume, you don’t have much to say to combat the fact. And as such you simply use your degree as well as projects from when you were a college student to talk yourself up. But you aren’t naive-- you realize that the gap of time from you receiving your diploma to the current date unease potential employers.

At this point, you’re no longer surprised. The man sitting across from you sits tapping his pen on papers in front of him. They’re spread in a controlled mess on a folder you brought. His eyes scan the words over, but because of the minute hand on the clock behind him reaching a new number, you’re inclined to believe the silence so far isn’t favorable.

Answering the initial questions isn’t usually difficult. In fact, you believe you win over a few uncertain glances in the way you speak with experience, but any opinion gained usually diminishes at the skinny portfolio you present. Every time you’ve passed it, you also feel underwhelmed by the humble sight of it, garnering none of the weight you should have the thin wings filled with. All of that is within your mind.

All of the tension in your mind fills more and more, contemplating what there is to take away from your meager showings of visible experience. This tension comes to a throbbing disappointment when the majority of those who have looked at the portfolio mention Yoongi’s name under their breath.

A large part of you becomes increasingly defensive from these tiny comments. Controlling your mouth from blurting questions in reply to their intentions is a difficult task, especially when the issues have been consistent. Multiple misinterpretations veil over the actual situation underneath the media’s depictions and what your residual contractual obligations to SoundWave will let you fix.

The man’s eyebrows furrow, his head tilting as something he sees perplexes him. You don’t openly react, simply sitting in the chair, legs not particularly tensely poised on the floor and your back only erect enough to be formal. Posture forgot a few interviews ago in favor of knowing glances at the employers body languages when reading through. This subtle confused realization on his face is familiar, but you smile politely as he gets up stating he needs to step out for a moment. As though he’s the first one to go ask questions about you to other people.

Walking into the lobby from the small meeting room, you do little more than sigh, reaching to rub your shoulder as you contemplate your next action. The man’s voice when he came back to the room and stated you’ll get contact in the future if they’d like to explore job opportunities was entirely monotone, and you can’t even be offended by the fact at this point.

Still, reality weighs on your shoulders, growing uncomfortably nagging, and at quickening paces when televisions like the one hanging on the opposite wall post pop news stations with Yoongi’s pictures and titles of dissention between himself and SoundWave.

“Oh,” A voice from the side disrupts the settling glare in your eyes. Softening your expression to one of surprise you turn your head as a figure comes to you. A smile on her face that seems disingenuous, but fitting when matched with the consistent brand name on each article of clothing apparent. “It was Y/N, right?”

In the medley of companies you set out to try landing jobs at, you didn’t take into consideration their current idols. More interested in just getting a place to continue working. But as Seulgi approached you from the way of the elevators, there’s a piece inside of you somewhat glad you’re likely to be rejected from this one. “Yeah.”

“What a coincidence to run into you here.” She says as she places her phone in her handbag. “Looking for work? Heard that you’ve taken a chance at the music production world.”

For the sake of pleasantry, you don’t irritably sigh from having to deal with this immediately following an unsatisfying industry. Instead just shrug your shoulder, “Something like that.”

“Guess it hasn’t been going well,” You’re unable to stop your eyebrows from narrowing at her, but Seulgi is unhindered from your evidently growing annoyance. “It’s a hard thing getting through scandals, especially when you don’t have anything to show for yourself.”

“Such a hard thing that you didn’t mind shoving your boyfriend into it.” You roll your eyes, head shaking as you start to walk away.

“Well, actually,” She catches up to your pace, overlapping you to cut off your trec to the front doors. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Hoseok could use a hand, right? If you want to try to get some work, why not ask him? Independent work is good to help build a resume-- though, I guess Hoseok’s reputation and Yoongi’s current one don’t make companies feel comfortable-”

“What are you trying for here?” Your tone causes a falter of expression in Seulgi’s face, shifting it into a muted shock. Her smile replaces itself with pursing lips, then eventually the picturesque way she poses her shoulders also deflates. Appearing much less superficial, though now openly tired with frustration from the little act she tried to play with you.

“What? I can’t try and do a nice thing for my ex?”

“Ex that you threw under the bus.” Unhesitant. You cross your arms. “Why in the world would I think you’re not trying to gain something right now too?”

“You’re just like Yoongi--I get the relationship now.” She sighs, playing with her hair as her eyes trail off to nowhere. “Well, the relationship you ended up getting yourself after all.”

Your arms tense over your front, quietly startled that she seems aware of the false beginning with your relationship with Yoongi, and even acknowledging that it’s currently real. Part of you wants to question how she’s found out the tidbit of information, though it’s not a top concern of yours. The small fact that she has methods to get information throughout the industry is odd, but you doubt it needs to be a worrisome issue.

“Anyways, I was just offering a suggestion. Three songs aren’t going to cut it to get top companies like this one to let you in.” As if you needed her to say that when the past week has only been proof of that. Seulgi adjusts the hoodie she wears so that it no longer falls off a shoulder, and her eyes appear introspective for the moment of silence before speaking again. “You’re not going to get anywhere without stepping on a few people along the way. You can’t play along with all the rules and expect to succeed.”

If her tone remained snarky, you would have shot a comment in return, as the instant thought in your brain relates Seulgi’s words to her actions against Hoseok in the past. However, the simplistic way she spoke was calm, almost bordering into a somber timbre hidden beneath the surface. At that moment you feel like you see something inside of that shadow, but you don’t have the liberty of pondering it.

“Seulgi, I thought you were using the big dance studio right now.” A voice enters into the conversation, making Seulgi’s head turn back towards the entrance. Looking beyond her, you see a face you again would have expected if you took any consideration to the companies you were skipping through for interviews. “Oh,” Jeongguk’s eyes widen, catching sight of you, a smile forming as he speaks on in happy surprise, “Y/N! It’s been a while since I’ve seen you.”

“Hi, Jeongguk.” You give a little smile and nod as a greeting.

“Yeah, I’m late.” Seulgi speaks up while she takes a step to begin a smooth leave, eyeing Jeongguk then you in curiosity of how there’s a mutual connection. But her final words have nothing to do with questions. “Sorry about that whole thing at my party, by the way. Taking your date and all. Just getting a conversation Yoongi owed me.”

Her vague insinuation makes your eyes narrow, following her figure as she casually goes. Already knowing the content of the conversation she had with Yoongi, you’re left to assume that she speaks in a way to ingrain seeds of uncertainty or jealousy under your skin, but all the needless comment does is further you from any positive opinions of Seulgi.

“Something about that seemed hostile.” Jeongguk states as the two of you watch Seulgi disappear down a hall. Instead of screaming out intelligibly from the frustration of your day so far, you just exhale a long sigh, turning your head back towards Jeongguk. His mouth curls into a slightly uneasy smile, not sure of what he just stumbled in on, “Everything okay?”

“I can’t wait to go home and sleep, to be honest with you.” You admit, trying to get humor into your voice, but you’re sure your expression betrays any chance of a joking ambiance as Jeongguk slowly nods bouncing his long locks of soft, warm-toned pink. “Your band is going to be performing at the river festival this weekend, right? Saw online.”

“Yeah, we have a set in the late evening. You going?” His demeanor is wholly casual, pronounced further in the relaxation of his shoulders and lazily situated hands in the pockets of his big hoodie.

“I would, but now’s not really the best time for me to be doing much out.” You smile as your eyebrows furrow a bit. For a moment you consider the fact that he may not know anything, as you recall him not being one to peruse comment sections of social media sites. But as Jeongguk’s lips cast into a frown, he recalls the news your words refer to,

“Oh, right; I heard about that all.” He bites his lip, while removing a hand from the confines of his pocket to push back hair from his face. “Actually, I’ve been out of the country with my group for almost six months now, and, it’s not really my place to ask, but have you been okay since,” He pauses, quickly taking a scan around the area like others may be listening in. “Well, you know.”

You nod your head, understanding that he means to inquire about your state of mind since breaking things off from Jimin at the beginning of the year. “For awhile I really wasn’t,” You admit, but find yourself able to smile as you continue on with full assurance, “But I’m more than okay now. My career may be sort of crazy, but I have people that care about me, so I’m fairing a lot better than I would’ve ever thought.”

“That’s good.” Jeongguk smiles, and parts of you are sure that perhaps he’s even the smallest bit sad that there isn’t hesitation in your voice because his friendship with Jimin would likely root for the fact. But he’s not unfair in that regard, always having been a supportive, close friend of Jimin, but not to the extent of harboring ill sentiment about things like this. “If you’re looking for song writing work just let me know; my band liked the three tracks you and Yoongi released, and I always thought it’d be cool to work with you on lyrics anyways.”

“What?” You blurt in surprise, eyes widening from the easygoing proposition, “Wait, really?”

“Yeah,” Jeongguk grins in return, wondering silently if the offer is odd because of your reaction. “I mean, why not, right?”

“Even if I’m not an employee here?” You question, still in disbelief at how simply he’d asked for even bits of collaborative work in the future. Where you have been learning to anticipate a lot of hesitation, and even flat out refusal from all of your interviews so far, Jeongguk breaks the cycle out of nowhere. Perhaps you should not be as excited from the simple prospect as you are, but you’re unable to stop yourself from the little success making you vibrant with joy.

“You don’t need to be an employee of any company, Y/N, your skills already speak for themselves to me.”

When you step outside of the building, Jeongguk’s words remain at the forefront of your mind. You type a location on the map digitally showing on your phone screen, unconsciously setting up a call for a taxi, but you think only of the small piece of hope given to you from the offer. The more you consider it, you believe there exists a deeper lesson from that small interaction. It’s like he said to you; the company isn’t as important as your own skills.

You bite your lip, thinking of any contacts made throughout the years. Frankly, not many people beyond SoundWave met you because of your job, but there were still some small acquaintances you’ve gained. Some friends as well, though fewer than you could count with your fingers perhaps. It’s unlikely many would jump at the opportunity to work with you in light of the current news, but perhaps there’s something to consider down that avenue.

Your spine tightens slightly, and suddenly you feel overly aware of the area around you. You lift your eyes from your phone screen to across the street beyond cars going along to wherever. People walk normally as the beginnings of evening traffic occur as they would any day of the business week. With a small shake of your head, you ignore the suspicion in your nerves, letting yourself check notifications on your phone instead as the taxi descends towards you from a few blocks away.

Alerting Yoongi that you’re going to head to his apartment to help him move around items delivered from the company, you eventually press the lock on your phone screen and turn your attention down the road to see if you can spot your taxi’s license. In the same direction is the stairwell into a subway station with its constant flood of people in and out that never remain in the area longer than it takes them to walk. But perched with their elbows on railings overlooking the descent into the subway is a small group of three similar in age to the ones assumed to follow you to Namjoon’s cafe.

Your eyes linger on their figures for a noticeable amount of time, and you don’t believe them to care that they’ve been spotted. You bite your inner cheek, and look back to the taxi app for the time of arrival. Your stomach knots, but you try not to focus on it, because of this occurrence being more regular in the past couple of weeks. If you kept your mouth shut and thoughts from roaming frantically, it would be over just as soon as you stepped into the taxi.

A bump on your shoulder startles you, shaking your heart around in the ribcage, as your throat assumes the worst by trapping air. A businessperson continues along, however, simply going up the road as they chatter away on their phone, completely unaware of the tiny collision. You swallow the air back down, squeezing your phone tightly as it vibrates a tiny series of beats to signify the taxi is soon to arrive.

As you look on at the back of the random person, you notice more eyes in your direction. These ones from a college-age duo, you think. But they’re clearly focused on you, walking on the sidewalk in your direction. Your leg muscle tightens, becoming highly alert of the phone’s they have clutched close to their chests with the camera lenses evident.

The abrupt stop of brakes in front of you brings you back to your current position as does a quick honk from a car bothered by the stop of your taxi as it drives around. Without hesitation you enter inside, stating an affirmative as the driver asks if you were the one with the given destination on his GPS. You can’t contain the sigh of relief flooding out of your lungs as he merges into the flow of traffic and away from the individuals whose walk stopped to stare at the leave of the taxi.

You have high doubts that if the people were truly fans that they would berate you or angrily yell, but nonetheless you didn’t want the onslaught of questions they more likely had prepared to be said in civil voices. You already had the displeasure of weaning along a forceful and awkward conversation on a subway train days earlier. Leading you to start avoiding that means of transportation entirely now.

Arriving at Yoongi’s front door, your finger presses to ring the bell. Listening to the muted sound on the inside you feel your shoulders jumping ever so slightly at the sound, but you shake your head to rid away the sensitivity. Really no one had been belligerent towards you, you were overthinking any of the things that could have happened. Another twitch in your shoulders induces with the knob twisting and with it the door opens to reveal Hoseok whose face eventually slips into a pout,

“Wow, don’t look so disappointed.” He teases you as you roll your eyes and walk inside. “You should be thanking me since I did most of the heavy lifting before you got here.”

“Thanks,” You smile at him in an overly polite manner that causes Hoseok to scoff and shake his head in amusement. “I’m sure you were more than willing to since Yoongi offered to get you a fancy dinner as payment-”

“Wait, don’t tell him that; I was going to avoid it.” You turn towards the way of the bedrooms as Yoongi walks into the living area from it, hair tousled from moving furniture and a loose t-shirt hanging off his shoulders comfortably. You watch him grin as Hoseok shouts an irritated rebuttle about Yoongi’s deflection of payment for helping. As Yoongi comes to a stop a mere couple of feet from you his eyes look towards you and before you know it the teeth peeking from his joke drift away while his brows furrowed with concern, “Angel, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head, trying to disburse the worry in your shoulders that you apparently had not been successful to not think about. Wordlessly Yoongi steps closer, initiating a hug that you finish by clinging your arms around his torso.

Hoseok frowns in confusion since you had seemed fine when he opened the door, but glancing up at Yoongi whose eyes are just as unsure of the problem Hoseok decides it’s probably the result of some kind of build up. “‘m going to get that last box unpacked.”

“Thanks.” Yoongi says as his hands rub trails on your back, waiting for Hoseok to leave the room before speaking up again, “Baby, do you want to talk about it?”

“No, I’m just overthinking something.” You mumble against the cotton soaked in the familiar scent of laundry detergent. With a small sigh you adjust yourself to look up towards Yoongi whose attentive gaze meets yours. Gently he presses a small kiss against your forehead, settling his hands on your sides to give a little comforting squeeze.

“Was it more people following you around?”

“Yeah,” You hide your face against his chest again as you put the problem in the air. “It really, really wasn’t anything much. I just want a hug. It’s been a long day because of the whole job interview session parade I went on too.”

“I can do hugs,” Yoongi nods before perching his chin atop your head. The moment lingers on, granting a warming comfort as you remain encapsulated in Yoongi’s arms. But he can’t help a final, quiet question that is likely the reason for the rate of his heartbeat in your ear. “Did anyone do anything to you, angel?”

“No.” You squeeze your arms around him. “I doubt any of them really would. They probably just want to get information. It’s just uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, it is.” Yoongi’s chest fills from the breath of an inhale as he thinks of all the other instances since news of him being let go from SoundWave released. “I’m sorry, angel, once all the paperwork is done, I’ll try and figure out something to say to the press about everything.”

“It’s okay, Yoon.” You pull away to press a pecking kiss against his lips. He notes your expression to be considerably calmer than minutes earlier. “Really, it’s okay. It’s not your fault anyways. But besides that all, I do have some good news.”

“Oh, yeah?” He keeps his hands on your waist while your arms drop from their gentle encapture of his frame. Your quick nod matching the beginnings of a smile on your lips give Yoongi more cheerfulness as well, “Tell me then, sweetie.”

“I saw Jeongguk earlier and he said he’d be willing to work on songwriting together sometime.” You explain, allowing the excitement you felt then to take over the bulk of your tone. Inquisitively Yoongi’s head tilts,

“Jeon Jeongguk? Where did you see him at?”

“His company after I got interviewed--oh, right, I don’t think I’ve mentioned to you I know him.” You ramble along earning a chuckle from Yoongi as he nods to that fact as well. “Well, I met him through Jimin a couple of years ago, but he’s really nice. It was just an innocent offer on his part.”

“Yeah, I believe that-- he’s really easygoing.” Yoongi nods, turning his head to the hallway as yours looks in the same direction at the sound of Hoseok cursing as he hops on one foot into view while his other foot stays clenched between his two hands.

“I hit my toe on the corner of the door into the room-” He says with a wincing voice, “Didn’t mean to interrupt the emotional fest-- it just really hurt, and I think I should be owed more than just a fancy dinner because of it-”

“If it keeps you from suing me.” Yoongi shakes his head and refrains from laughter like the kind leaving your mouth as you listen to their conversation. Yoongi goes back to resting his head on yours, this time pressing his cheek on top of your scalp when you hug him once more. “But I’m picking the place to eat at.”

“That doesn’t even make sense if it’s supposed to be a payment to me.” Hoseok scoffs as he dramatically hobbles to the couch where he collapses himself onto it. “Y/N, if you asked your best friend to help you move your heavy equipment and this same friend stubs his toe doing it-- and this best friend and you are also getting into a partnership, would you just give him a dinner as payment?”

“Partnership?” You repeat as your eyes narrow, honing in on the one word that slipped into Hoseok’s monologue. “And no I’d buy my friend at least a house.”

“See!”

“A house,” Yoongi murmurs through pouting lips as Hoseok claps his hands to your method of penance. “He already has a nicer apartment than mine-”

“Wait, what did you mean about a partnership, Hoseok?” You ask, poking Yoongi’s stomach to get him to quiet from the tickling sensation. Hoseok actively twiddles his thumbs instead of a verbal. He glances towards Yoongi who responds to his antics with a sigh as he tugs himself off the comfort of hugging you.

“He and I were thinking we’d start our own label.”

“What!” Your eyes grow wide glancing towards Hoseok then back to Yoongi. “Your own music label? Like an idol company too?”

“Well, yeah.” Yoongi says without a lot of conviction as he shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know how many people would actually want to become an idol through us, but at least for Hoseok and I it would be a good way to keep doing music. And on our own terms.”

You stand looking at him awestruck, not at all anticipating the two of them to come to this type of business plan for the future. Frankly, you weren’t sure at all what Yoongi intended to do without SoundWave, but you would have sooner assumed he would simply relocate to another company. The requests for him to do so would no doubt flock after a month or two of the current news becoming history.

“Hey,” Hoseok gets up from the couch, phone in hand as the two of you look over to him. “I’m meeting a friend in a while, so I’ll get out of here. Don’t forget that you owe me a really fancy meal-”

“I get it, I won’t.” Yoongi rolls his eyes as he follows Hoseok towards the front door to see him off. You simply watch, still in a stupor from their casual way of telling you that their idea is to create their own fucking company. You wave at Hoseok as he shouts out a goodbye to you and walks out the door. Yoongi turns towards you as it shuts with an electronic click, finding you still baffled by the news. He rubs the back of his neck as he returns towards you. “We sound crazy?”

“No,” You shake your head and let it tilt as your imagination takes over to see an outcome where the two of them operate a successful idol company. With their production skills and overall talent with music, it didn’t seem far fetched that they at least make a small company that runs well. “I think you both should do it.”

Yoongi smiles gently at the hopeful gleam in your eyes. His hand falls from toying with the small hairs on the back of his neck to find itself entangling your own appendage with a delicate hold. “You’re free to do anything you want, angel, but I was thinking--and Hoseok agreed-- that you could join us and be a producer if we make a company.”

“Me?” Your voice barely mumbles the response, eyes struck wide in surprise at his offer.

“You don’t have to at all--I really understand if you don’t want to take the risk of it instead of finding a place that’s already settled, but,” Yoongi bites his lip, fiddling with your hand as he holds it. He finds your eyes as he sweetly smiles “It can be an option for you.”

With the two happy surprises of the day swimming in your chest, you stand in a stunned quiet as you take them in. For Yoongi and Hoseok, despite their respective scandals, you don’t have any doubt that they could definitely make something out of this idea for themselves. Especially happy about Yoongi being able to do as he wants for himself if they start a company. He’d be completely in control of his representation in the way that he hasn’t had ever since his debut.

And his offer gives the same freedom for yourself to create songs like you’d always wanted as well.

“Of course, I’m sure there’s a lot we have to do to get everything going, so really don’t feel bad about saying no-”

Interrupting his sentence by pressing your lips onto his chattering mouth, You let your arms wrap around his neck, silently grateful for Yoongi's hands steadying the two of you by finding a firm grip on your hips. “I say yes.”

Anticipation and excitement ricochets throughout your chest, exuding outwardly in your smile that you find Yoongi quickly returning with a growing grin. Running his hips in lips trails along your sides, he keeps silent in favor of kissing you again, practically bruising your lips with his own. Your hands mesh into soft locks of black hair, keeping Yoongi held in place as the kiss deepens into an oxygen depriving attachment.

Allowing time for air only when your mouth gasps as Yoongi’s hands find your backside and with a squeeze pulls your waist against his own, your eyes open along with his as you both take in quick sips of air, momentarily frozen from continuing action. Yoongi’s jaw clenches shut as you very obviously allow your hips to grind friction. He watches the beginnings of a smirk take over your expression, and stops the teasing attitude to dip his lips down to your neck.

There his trails tiny molten kisses along the skin, searching until your fingertips curl against his scalp and a small whimper casts out of your mouth. Attaching to the spot, his mouth blisters in a garden meant to flourish red and purple by next sunrise, and his hands continue to press into your ass riding up the fabric of your skirt as a moan escapes your lips, “Yoongi-”

“Do you want me to stop, angel?” He asks with a rough timbre the contrasts the soft ministrations he trails from the love bite to reach your mouth once more. Kissing the outline of your jaw, he hums against the skin waiting for your reply which comes as your hands remove from his hair to cup his face and bring his lips back to yours,

“Not at all.”

if you enjoy please, please let me know via ask, comment, rb with tags– however ! i’d just really appreciate feedback 🥺 i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

also yes ik this chapter cuts off right before the smut lsjkdfkfdghg it’s also not going to be continued into the next chapter sO lkjdsffgdsfjkfg if it’s something you’d like to read as a blurb on its own lmk while commenting on this chapter hehe shameless incentive and i’ll try to write it as an additive piece to the story!

tag list (send an ask to be added): @jaiuneamesolitaiire @tsvkino-usagi@xionysus @baebyjoonie @honeyoongles @betysotelo18

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dropintomanga · 4 years

Text

Regarding That CODA Anti-Piracy Campaign

So I found out that this is a thing.

CODA (Japan’s Content Overseas Distribution Agency) decided to do a manga campaign featuring 16 manga stories from notable mangaka (list of mangaka can be be found here) about anti-piracy in order to stop readers from reading manga on scanlation and/or unofficial raw sites. The theme of every manga in this campaign is basically read legal manga with lessons featuring each respective mangaka’s series and characters (i.e. Adachitoka and Noragami’s Yato and Yukine).

As of July 3, 2020, all the comics are out. They give off important messages about anti-piracy with humor, anger, and grace. I just don’t know who they are trying to convince at this point.

A big problem is the issue of awareness and education when it comes to topics that no one may care about (yet). I see this in mental health. While we have things like Mental Health Awareness Month, suicide rates continue to rise, people with mental illness continue to be ignored and the mental health system continues to be in shambles. The problem with promoting “awareness” is that it doesn’t point out notable actions one can take after hearing about what they are now aware of. It just doesn’t feel measurable. There are fine people who want to know how to help, but you need to tell them how.

Now there’s one CODA manga story that does tell people to look for legal manga apps/volumes containing an official sign of legitimacy, which is labeled “ABJ - Authorized Books of Japan.” But almost all of these stories don’t really provide useful advice on how to support the Japanese manga industry. They just tell you to do the right thing.

I worry about the hyperbole shouting in some of the manga. One manga has a character going “Do you want manga to be wiped off the face of the earth!?” in an effort to shame someone who read illegal manga on their phone. Another character in another manga said that the industry loses 3.2 billion yen per year (a number I find very hard to believe). There is a big danger to manga in Japan, but piracy is only part of the picture.

There’s also something that bothers me - some mangaka featured in the campaign know that a good number of fans are naive about pirated manga and see the good in people. However, while there are multitudes of legal manga options available in Japan, the same can’t be said for most of the world that’s not America, France, England or any notable first-world country. Region locks are still a thing and Japan is super-notorious for this.

For an organization that’s focused on overseas promotion of content, region-locking shouldn’t be a thing if you do see the good in people who are willing to support manga as best they can.

I wish mangaka didn’t have to resort to drawing stories telling fans to not pirate their works. I know there are fans who wish a service that has everything (Spotify, Crunchyroll, Netflix, etc.) is the perfect solution. I just don’t know if it will make a difference because reading isn’t highly valued as a leisure activity overseas compared to Japan. The number of anime viewers still dwarf over the number of manga readers.

I feel like nothing is going to change. However, I do have one suggestion that probably will never be taken. Train mangaka to be more of a visual online content creator-type a la Twitch streamers. With art streams being more of a thing on Twitch, the timing is perfect. This idea came to me as I listened to a fascinating podcast about the psychology of Twitch donations. Basically, it talked about why do Twitch users donate money and subscribe to streamers.

There was this caveat about research on Twitch donations in that the people who donate/subscribe often make low-to-moderate income. So what compels them to give? Why are they willing to support streamers? While content is still a major reason, another key is an emotional connection that’s experienced via the visual medium that is the stream. There’s some kind of meaningful interaction via Twitch chat as streamers do mention users by name and thanking them for the support.

The researcher in the featured podcast believes the days of “the internet is always free” are becoming a thing of the past. This is true as more industries are figuring out how to make money via the internet that works for them and their consumers. The researcher also argued that having just content isn’t enough to make money on the internet. She said that if you’re not going to make easy all-in-one solutions (i.e. a Netflix-like manga app), then you better deliver added value to the consumer that isn’t just more content and makes them feel appreciative.

Right now, there’s very little-to-no visual emotional connection/community between the manga industry/creators and the fans at all. Everything’s all about content without feeling visual attachment to the manga creator. I see manga publishers promoting special editions with extra goods like OVAs/charms/etc. Those feel more like incentives than rewards as they don’t really change fans’ behavior. There has to be some added value alongside the manga in the form of community (this is one major reason why Crunchyroll has thrived). Maybe overseas fans need to feel that their voices really matter to mangaka or want mangaka on a video platform to acknowledge them in a para-social kind of way in order for them to provide some monetary support.

In Japan, mangaka get letters from fans and they talk about them from time-to-time. Sometimes, those letters do get mentioned online. I would love to see talks of fan letters via video form as a way to reach online audiences.

I do feel that manga publishers outside of Japan are trying their best as they do get mangaka and manga editors to come over to their countries. They are generating community as best they can, but they are still limited in scope since they don’t have control of what the entire Japanese manga industry says. I don’t envy anyone who works in manga because of this.

To be fair, I can’t expect every mangaka to start streaming on platforms like Twitch/Nico due to privacy reasons and general shyness. Sure, there’s Twitter, but how often does social media lead to donations? Rarely. Mangaka also have no time to worry about what overseas readers are into when they have to worry about their own country. Publishers may not also totally understand how streaming works as promotion and the intentions of its users. Look up Atlus Japan and Persona 5 streaming as an example of Japanese companies being unnecessarily wary of streaming. Japanese companies arguably want an absurd amount of control when it comes to promoting their messages to overseas audiences.

I don’t want to bring up Stu Levy, but he once tweeted years ago that the games industry seemed better to work with than the book publishing industry. I hate to admit that there’s a grain of truth in what he said despite whatever you think of him. Seeing Japanese manga publishers continue to struggle with how to handle piracy makes think about Levy’s words.

I think a more reasonable goal at this point is to get fans to pirate less manga over time. You can’t expect every fan to quit pirating 100% right away. It never works that way. There will be relapses and we have to be forgiving of that. Relapse is part of the healing process. Shaming someone who may continue to make mistakes from time-to-time (instead of believing they can still heal via good planning) makes them go more all-in on hiding their “bad” behaviors. I mean, as someone with mental illness, I was afraid of making mistakes as I didn’t want to be yelled at. I was told that failure was awful. It made me feel I would never be loved if I wasn’t perfect despite my best efforts. Is this something we want manga fans to experience?

CODA’s manga website URL has the word “enlightenment” in it. The only enlightening thing right now is that we still haven’t reached a solid middle ground that truly bridges manga fans and the manga industry together and financially rewards both to create a manga ecosystem that’s as good as the anime ecosystem today.

#manga #manga industry #psychology #piracy #anti-piracy

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planetsam · 5 years

Note

can u follow up michael seeing alex in his uniform with the septum ring?

Part 1 is here

Michael has a streak of WD-40 across his nose and Alex can’t take his eyes off it.

Alex has gone through a multitude of distinct looks in his life. Phases, as his father used to call them. Phases was Jesse Manes’ term for anything he didn’t like that he thought should stop. Some phases ended. He didn’t wear fishnets or chokers as often. Some phases had not. He still wanted to rip off every piece of clothing Michael had on. He pushes the urge aside and watches instead as Michael works. He’s taken apart most of the prosthetic, each piece is carefully laid out along the newspaper he’s covered Alex’s table with and most of them are labeled as well. Michael’s bent over the socket, a look of concentration on his face as he works. Alex wishes that he wasn’t so intimately acquainted with Michael concentrating and working on his body.

“Can I get you something?” He asks. Michael glances up. He’s not startled because Michael is always aware of his surroundings. For a multitude of reasons that make Alex ache to think about, “coffee? Tea? Beer?”

“You keep offering,” Michael observes, “I told you, I’m good.”

“Okay,” Alex says, trying to think of the last time he offered.

“Tell me about dinner,” Michael says, refocusing him, “where we going?”

He knows the intention is to keep him from offering Michael yet another round of drinks he doesn’t want. He’s got the combination of nerves and excitement that only Michael seems able to bring up in him. Dinner should be a neutral topic, dinner can be casual and easy. He asked Michael to have dinner but he’s asked him to grab beers before. There’s nothing explicit about it that says date. Or there wouldn’t be if Alex hadn’t set himself up for something truly humiliating. No, he tells himself, he can be casual about this. He can watch Michael rotate the joints of his leg and think about all the things those fingers can do to appendages with nerve endings and he can be casual. Easy.

“I figured I could put a couple steaks on,” he says, “I got a grill.”

It would be easy to mistake the tension that comes into Michael’s broad shoulders for a million other things. The give away is that he stops working on Alex’s leg and looks up at him.

“You’re cooking?” Michael repeats. Alex shrugs.

“It seemed fair,” he says, nodding to the leg.

It would be easy to misconstrue this as another thing he’s doing to avoid being seen with Michael in public. He knows that. Michael could argue and he could explain the thought process behind it. But some force is kind or maybe Michael just knows him really well because he recognizes the gesture for what it is. Michael has a weakness for home cooked food Alex is keenly aware of. Eating at home means he can hide the acetone in anything. It means there’s a kitchen and someone willing to cook in it. It means a lot of things. Most telling is how it takes Michael a full minute and one impossibly long blink to give a quick nod and go back to the leg.

“Sounds good,” he says.

Alex tries not to smile and fails miserably. Michael refocuses on the leg but his body curls over it. Alex knows his retreats, even the small ones. Michael has always had the uncanny ability to make him smile. Even sarcastically. For a man who professes to be angry at everything, this is somewhat of a unique talent. But Michael has always been unaware of the joy he can bring to the people around him. Alex watches him as he frowns at something and reaches for the oil before he relaxes again.

“Can you pass me that screw?” Michael asks, nodding to the screw near Alex’s elbow. Alex picks it up and rolls it across. Michael catches it, “thanks,” he says.

“Why don’t you use your power?” Alex asks.

“Hmm?”

“You’re telekinetic,” Alex points out, “but I never see you slip up with your powers.”

Michael goes red around the ears, but his hand’s don’t stop working.

“Not around you,” he says. Alex waits. Michael sets down the screwdriver, “I’m used to controlling them around you,” he says.

“How come?”

Finally Michael scowls.

“What do you mean ‘how come’?” He says, “I didn’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“Your powers never scared me,” Alex tells him. Michael gives him one of those self deprecating smiles, “I think they’re cool.”

Michael stares at him. Despite how badly he wants to look away and be embarrassed, he finds he can’t. Michael’s moments of true vulnerability have always been few and far between. Usually there’s some kind of barrier between them. Some defense that gets in the way. It’s not Michael being a miserable liar, though God knows he’s that, it’s him letting his guard stay down for more than a fraction of a moment. By choice. He hasn’t chosen to do that in front of Alex for a long time. They came close last night, but seeing it fully in his kitchen with Michael holding his leg and WD-40 on his nose is something Alex finds he’s not expecting. Equally surprising is the warm feeling that curls through him. It’s something he’s managed to bury when it comes to Michael for a long time. Michael looks back at the leg and reaches for the next part before stopping and looking back at him.

“You think they’re cool?” Michael repeats.

“Yes,” he says, seeing no reason to hide it except that Michael doesn’t seem to believe him, “you can move things with your mind. You’re like a Jedi.”

“No,” Michael says, “I’m an alien.”

“Aliens can be Jedi,” Alex starts before realizing that Michael is teasing him, “stop being an asshole. It’s hard to cook on three legs,” he says.

“Well stop distracting me,” Michael says.

“How am I distracting you?” Alex asks.

In his head he almost expects Michael to say he’s always distracting him or some cheesy romantic line like that. No, he’s not expecting. He’s hoping. Kind of. Though truth be told he has no idea what he’ll do if that’s the move Michael is going to pull. But instead of some suave or brutally honest line, Michael sets down the tool he’s using and fixes him with a painfully direct look.

“Is it in?” He asks.

Now it’s his turn to blush. When Michael brought it up last night, Alex hadn’t been expecting it. He’d gotten it rashly, after a particularly heated argument that turned violent. When, half blind with rage, he had decided that if anyone was going to leave marks on his body it was going to be him. Most of the jewelry he’d sported in his youth had been fake in one way or another but not that. Obviously he didn’t put jewelry in it often anymore, but the hole was still there. And he did still have a few rings. Michael looks at his eyes but his gaze keep flicking to his nose. Alex sighs and ducks his head, turning the horseshoe barbell over. He sits up and looks at Michael.

Michael drops the screwdriver.

Michael never drops his tools. For as long as Alex has been watching his hands, which is longer than he cares to admit, he never drops things. But the screwdriver rolls towards him. Alex tears his gaze from Michael’s unfathomable one and catches the screwdriver with his foot before it can roll away. He ducks down and from that angle he watches Michael get up. His mouth goes dry with anticipation. Usually Alex thinks of the horror that happened in the shed. But for the first time he thinks of standing there with Michael in front of him, wanting him. The septum ring and Michael’s healed hand help. But nothing gets him there faster than when he sits up and Michael is standing in front of him. Alex sets the screwdriver down carefully. He could do any number of things and in a moment all are appealing. The WD-40 is dark against the newspaper and Alex thinks of all the marks Michael has left on him. Does he want more?

“It looks good,” Michael says hoarsely, like his voice isn’t used to giving compliments but fuck if he’s not willing to try.

“You seemed curious,” Alex says.

“Alex—“ he heard the hesitation, the doubt, “can you look at me?”

Alex presses his dry lips together. It’s completely irrational how despite all the preparation he’s done in anticipation of this moment, now that he’s here he doesn’t know how to move forward. He forces himself into the pain and turns around. Michael’s in front of him but he’s crouched down, putting them on equal height. He has always told himself that Michael has the ability to run from him and that he needs to go first if he has any chance of surviving this. Michael can run but he doesn’t. Alex can’t but he—he doesn’t know if he wants to. He hates that feeling.

And Michael still has WD-40 on his nose.

“You’ve got,” he motions to his nose, “come here.”

Michael frowns but leans forward. Alex grabs a tissue and wipes at the smudge. He gets most of it but there’s still oil on Michael’s skin. This is the closest they’ve been in months. Michael’s got a hand on the table behind him and this close, Alex can see his eyelashes and his freckles and all the little parts of him he hasn’t been able to see. Michael is trying intently to look at his eyes but the horseshoe keeps distracting him. Of all the Michael’s Alex knows, distracted by shiny things Michael is among his favorites.

“So do you keep it in and like up there the whole time or—“ he trails off, looking at him for an answer.

Alex kisses him instead.

Michael presses into the kiss and Alex winds up with his back against the table. Michael’s arm braces his side, compensating for the fact that he’s got nothing to keep him grounded on that side. Alex grips Michael’s shoulders and neck, pulling him closer and finally hooks his knee around the back of Michael’s things. Michael pulls back just enough to swear like it’s the hottest thing Alex has ever done before surging forward. Alex doesn’t have a name for the sound he makes when Michael licks into his mouth and the reason he’s refused coffee becomes apparent. He tastes like mint. He brushed his teeth. Alex buries his fingers in Michael’s curls, angling his head and kissing him deeper. The smell of grease and tools spikes the adrenaline through him but he uses that to kiss him harder, pulling him closer until they are pressed together and the table and Michael are the only things keeping him upright. The need to leave slips away and getting closer is the only thought that takes his mind.

“Wait wait wait,” Michael pulls back, his lips flushed and swollen as he rocks his forehead against Alex’s, “I gotta—“ his eyes open and drag to the metal in Alex’s nose. A low sound escapes him and Alex decides not to help by rocking his hips forward, “fuck. Alex,” Michael swears and his name is just as much a curse.

“Yes,” he gets out, “you should do that.”

“Shit, come on,” Michael looks around blankly and Alex has never hated the fact that he needs crutches without his leg more. It doesn’t make him less hard but the embarrassment is sharp, “fuck it,” Michael looks at him, “you said my powers were cool?”

No way.

Alex nods.

“Okay hang on,” Michael says and grips his thigh that’s still around the back of his legs. Michael’s brow furrows and there’s a feel of pressure around the stump of his leg. It feels like sinking into a pit of foam, the pressure that surrounds his leg is perfect in a way no sleeve has been able to replicate. Alex pushes himself up and it’s almost seamless with how he can put pressure on it. His lips part as he looks down, the air around his stump is warped slightly but it’s holding, “good?”

“Holy shit,” Alex says faintly, “how long—“

“Long enough,” Michael says.

Alex kisses him in front of the island with the smell of oil and metal and a leg he doesn’t need for the next few minutes behind him. Michael’s body heat spikes with the use of his power. The finite control takes more out of him than the large explosions, or maybe it’s just using it on him. But his kisses turn fevered and softer. Alex drags him over to the couch and pushes him down, following him. The power squeezes his leg and then releases him, but Alex has already taken his weight onto his knees, straddling Michael’s thigh. Michael flattens his foot and pushes up, seeking the friction. Alex flattens his hand on his pelvis, pushing him back down.

“Fuck,” Michael swears again, looking up at him. Alex feels himself smile and Michael full on whimpers, “come on,” He squirms up and it’s hot and sexy and Alex suspects has just as much to do with him and his nose ring as it does with the unfinished project, “Alex,” Michael whines his name and it sends all his blood going south.

“Let me see you,” he gets out and Michael stares back at him.

He nods messily as Alex holds them both there. It’s torture. But it’s torture of the best kind. He said he wanted to know Michael more than just instinctively. More than just dark fucks and stolen moments. They’re in the middle of the open living room, there’s nothing quick or secretive about the fact that he would have to crawl away and Michael is spread underneath him, pinned in a different fashion. He pushes up Michael’s shirt and Michael rocks back and then curls up to help him get it off without having to rearrange themselves. Alex throws his shirt to the side and pushes back into Michael’s heat. He tries to keep some space between them but he feels something invisible tug his belt lightly in a silent request. Alex pulls back and Michael stares up at him, fear starting in his eyes as if he’s unsure of the boundary he may have crossed.

“Can you fuck with your power?” Alex asks.

The fear vanishes.

“You—“ Michael looks up at him, even more wrecked, “you can’t talk about my powers and fucking.”

“How come?” Alex asks, trying to sound as devil may care as Michael usually manages to.

“Because I’m gonna finish before we get our hands on each other,” Michael tells him.

That makes Alex grin.

Michael whimpers.

It’s a good whimper, but Alex still sits back on Michael’s thigh to undo his belt. Michael presses his chin to his chest to watch as Alex undoes his jeans. He’s not surprised Michael isn’t wearing underwear but the notion he’s been bare under his jeans this whole time makes him ache with anticipation. He wraps his hand around Michael who swears messily again reaches for Alex’s belt. Alex rocks forward, matching the motion with his hand and Michael shudders from his very core. He grabs Alex’s belt and shoves everything down to get to his member, his other hand kneading at the small of Alex’s back. Alex is so used to fucking with Michael only having one hand that when he feels all ten fingers he almost loses it right there. He doesn’t, but it’s not long before their movements become stuttered and the only thing they seem able to say are curses and each other’s names.

It takes him a moment to get his baring after he sees white with his face buried in Michael’s neck. His curls are tickling his ear. He pulls back to look at Michael who still has grease on his nose. Though Alex imagines they both do now. Both their pants are half off and he can feel how badly they need showers. It’s messy and wonderful in a way Alex wasn’t sure they ever could be. He braces his weight on his forearms and kisses Michael slower and softer, pulling back to take in the sight of him just living in the moment like he so rarely does. Like they so rarely do. Michael’s hand comes up between them and his fingertips touch the ballbearing. Alex kisses his fingers, and he can feel Michael’s shuddering breath on his face.

“I missed you,” Michael says and the vulnerability makes Alex open his eyes to look at him. Michael’s hand slips over his ear and to the back of his neck as he kisses him with all the gentleness he can.

“I missed you too,” he echoes as Michael pushes up against him.

The sweetness breaks around the moan Michael’s other hand forces from him.

Later he chops vegetables with the cutting board on the stool next to him. Michael still has his leg spread out, but his back is pressed against him. They’re hair is still wet from the shower but it’s not going to be the last one they take if the grease on Michael’s hands is any indication. Nor is it the last load of laundry, but Alex will sacrifice every Air Force shirt he owns if they wind up on Michael’s torso.

“I don’t get it,” Michael complains, “how is it not uncomfortable to have balls up your nose?”

“They aren’t that big,” Alex tells him, “isn’t it uncomfortable to have that massive belt buckle digging into your stomach if you bend over?”

“Leave my belt buckle out of this,” Michael says, twisting to look at him, “it did nothing to you.”

“It absolutely did things to me,” Alex shoots back, twisting to meet his gaze. Michael’s hand automatically comes to make sure he doesn’t topple. Michael turns back and gets the final pieces in, “Okay lets try my second favorite piece of metal on you,” He says, coming around. He pulls on the sleeve and slots his leg into the device. Easing forward, he rocks down to get the air out. The device responds perfectly and instead of any pressure points, it seals against him smoothly, “how’s it feel?”

“This is—“ Alex stops. He has a name for the feeling that hits him, but he doesn’t have the words. What comes out is a shuddering breath that has Michael scrambling to his feet, looking at him anxiously. Alex grips his shoulders and presses their foreheads together, “thank you,” he says. Michael’s relief is immediate but it pales in comparison to what he feels, “thank you, thank you—“ he can’t say anything else.

“That good?” Michael asks. Alex nods, “good because I reverse engineered some things that means the military might not take this back.”

“I’m never taking this leg off,” Alex swears. Michael chuckles but he’s pleased none the less. The hands that are steadying his hips drop just enough so that Michael’s thumbs are against his skin.

“What if we table the steaks,” Michael says, “and order pizza?”

The idea of cooking for Michael is a good one but it’s super hard to think about not having his hands on him while he’s cooking. Michael’s thumbs find his hipbones.

“Pizza sounds great,” he gets out.

“We can eat on the couch?”

Alex thinks about what they did on the couch before and nods.

“Good,” Michael says, turning so he’s pulling him forwards, “i noticed your leg’s waterproof.”

Alex swears.

“Okay, but there’s something I want you to do.”

“Anything,” Michael kisses his neck, “Everything.”

Alex plans on holding him to that.

“What did you say he did?” Colin asks as Michael lays out the tools he needs. Alex hands him a cup of coffee.

“He’s a mechanic,” Alex says, “he can help.”

Michael comes over. He looks nervous but determined, Alex can’t help the pride he feels as Michael sits down. Colin and Alex both have parts of their bodies and their souls rotting in the desert a world away. The body parts, at least, are probably still laying close to each other. Colin looks between them and then shakes his head, undoing his prosthetic. A lot more of his leg comes off and he rolls up his shorts to take off the sleeve.

“The thing keeps coming loose,” he explains, “and the knee sticks, it’s uncomfortable as hell,” he explains as Michael looks and then turns to the leg, “Can you do anything?”

Anything. Everything.

“Yeah,” Michael says after a moment’s consideration, “I can help.”

Colin looks so relieved Alex clasps his shoulder as Michael goes back over. Colin knows about Alex’s struggles to get the right fit for his leg. Colin looks at him gratefully and then his eyes narrow and he cranes his neck.

“What’s in your nose?”

#michael guerin #alex manes #michael x alex #roswell new mexico #roswell nm fanfic #malex #prompts #malex fic

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ladywindrunner · 4 years

Text

@diguerra ( soft and floofy for tyrande ❤︎ )

She was not adept at idling. Having nothing to do. No action taken that would conveniently distract her from thoughts that plagued her mind when she dared to stop. Sylvanas was never particularly fond of doing nothing, Nathanos had always been a bit of a pest to point it out. How she’d fidget if she wasn’t occupied by a task.

Her heart briefly panged, she missed him. Never mind she knew the truth of his fate, she still found herself hoping that somehow he’d turn up alive. That he’d come riding out of the darkness on a horse, smirking. He’d have something smart to say, a few sharp words meant as a joke to make light of a serious situation.

Sylvanas’ gaze, which been fixed on her bow, found itself glancing at the darkened woods. Trees that defied what she thought were possible spired towards the sky, their canopy so thick that the afternoon sun never touched the forest floor. Instead, the light managed to flicker down was muted, and the woods instead were lit by wisps, essence of magic far more attune with nature then anything Quel’Thalas had possessed, and enchanted lanterns.

She waited for a second, eyes scanning the tree line – for a figure she’d recognize.

For her friend to somehow emerge unscathed.

Windrunner found herself ignoring the sting in her eyes as she looked away, burying the pain.

She looked for him in the shadows more-so than she should. She knew he was gone. At best, he was nothing but discarded remains, washed away by the few years that’d past since the Scourge.

At worst…

Sylvanas did not dwell on the thought. Nathanos deserved better, far better than whatever terrible fate had befallen him.

Her gaze reaffirmed itself on the gleaming, enchanted bow in her hands. The incantation that hid it so well had shattered months ago, when she’d somehow conjured abilities she thought she no longer possessed.

Now, the Sunstrider joined her as an outsider amongst the kaldorei. The magic that flowed through the weapon were arcane, powerful and wild, gleaming a vicious green, its design ornate and as specular as the magic her people once possessed.

A thought occurred to her as she picked up the sound of soft laughter. She looked up, across the gentle creek, on the far side of the moss-ridden cobblestone was Tyrande. She was joined by two others, Merisse and Jada. Sentinels who’d ventured with them for a while, along with a number of others.

Perhaps outsider was the wrong term. Surely when the mission began, Sylvanas would not have thought the word was incorrect. But she’d come to call a few of the kaldorei as friends.

She and her bow were guests, then. Welcomed interlopers.

The label amused her.

Her gaze flicked between the three before it settled on Whisperwind.

It was strange to think that she wasn’t royalty. She stood with pride, the same pride that she’d seen in Anasterian and Kael’thas, yet it never turned to arrogance. She moved with a natural grace that spoke of experience and wisdom. Yes, Sylvanas had witnessed the priestess angry, but even then somehow it’d appeared dignified.

Sylvanas blinked, realizing then she’d looked for too long. Her averted her gaze just as Tyrande glanced over, attention once again fixed on her immaculate bow.

Some time ago Windrunner took notice that her respect of the kaldorei woman had aided in admiration taking root. It was such a thing that Sylvanas kept entirely to herself, for a multitude of reasons.

Even if she was not an outsider, she was not a kaldorei. She was a quel’dorei, one that was living in dishonour after her horrendous failure (which she’d only touched upon when she revealed to Tyrande her true name). She imagined Tyrande probably had a hundred suitors far more appropriate than one infatuated high elf with nothing to offer.

On a note of vanity, Tyrande was beautiful. Tall, slender, without a blemish on her. Her dark teal hair always appeared to shimmer in the forest’s dim, magical light. Sylvanas hadn’t forgotten what she now looked like. She did not dare reveal skin, as the Scourge had seen to it that most of her was scarred and ugly. It’d taken a while for Sylvanas to finally reveal her face, to pretend as if the lengthy gash running from under her eye to her chin didn’t infuriate her.

Though there was one curious change to her appearance. Windrunner noticed her eyes were beginning to dimly glow – but not blue. Instead, at times, Sylvanas caught sight of her reflection and swore that there was a silvery-gleam coming from them.

She knew her people readily absorbed magic, she also noticed how her body didn’t ache from withdrawal anymore. The ranger privately pondered over the possibility that she adapting to the foreign influence around her.

Her clothing had certainly changed. Slowly the human influence on her had waned, replaced with garb that resembled the kaldorei archers. Her cloak was a shimmering white, as were her pauldrons and bracers.

Though she would not in any way willingly ride a hippogriff. No, the kaldorei could keep them.

She took a chance and looked to the conversing trio.

Her gaze was met by Tyrande’s.

Oh.

Well there was no way of denying she’d looked this time. A flutter of nervousness danced in Sylvanas’ chest as the priestess took her leave of the conversation and walked towards the ranger.

She glanced at her bow, as if somehow it could save her.

Well unless she planned on shooting Whisperwind, the weapon would do no good.

Tyrande joined her a moment later, Sylvanas offered half a smile.

“This place is beautiful,” she noted, ignoring how she more-so meant the compliment for the priestess but was not brave enough to admit it.

Still, the area was pretty. She wasn’t lying.

She glanced at Jada and Merisse, who’d taken to continue their conversation with one another.

“I apologize if I took you from our companions,” she regarded Tyrande once more, watching as she sat opposite of her. “I was just… thinking.”

The truth, but the reasoning as to why she’d been admiring Tyrande while she’d been thinking was suspect.

#// sylv is useless when she has a crush #// i thought maybe she'd smooth this out by the end but nope #// she really doesn't know how to act around tyrande #// shes too magnificent #// originally there was supposed to be some ancient #// who chuckles at infatuated sylv #// but lets be honest #// if it did that she'd burn that fucker down #✧:: lady moon ( survivor )

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curealkira · 5 years

Text

Be My Princess Headcannon: Halloween Scare Fail? (prince)

Note: The MC is my OC who is a Native (tribal) woman. Her English is not fluent at all. But I added “translation” in parenthesis to understand what she was trying to say. So with that being said...unless its genuine grammar or spelling corrections, please do not comment against the intentional errors when it's she who is speaking. I appreciate the understanding ^^.

Lastly, this theme was suggested by Choi (from a different community)

Links

Non-wattpad users: https://www.fanfiction.net/u/4705210/Kittah-Curechan

Wattpad users: https://www.wattpad.com/user/KiraChan2

____________________________________________________________

October is the month of a special event that the majority of all ages enjoy celebrating. It is none other than Halloween, a term, let alone an event, unknown to our young native lady, Rana. She only learned about it only a few days prior to October 31st. It's enough to say that she still does not understand the concept or purpose of the event. But what caught her attention the most was the idea of dressing up in a costume and scaring people. Rana never scared anyone before and somehow...she wanted to try that out. With the help of her best friend from Charles, Rana managed to have a costume waiting and ready for her to try on and attempt to scare the prince that she works for. Her costume is basically a wolf theme (similar to the picture above) that consists of a black, long-sleeved blouse that was tattered a bit on every edges and collar of the blouse. She wore a plaid skirt with black tights. She wore white furry boots and gloves. Lastly, she wore the accessories of fuzzy ears and tail, heterochromatic contact lens (red and gold), and her necklace that she would never take off.

Excited to attempt to scare the prince, Rana had dressed into her costume and made her way out of her room and stealthily hide at a corner where the Prince would most likely walk near. And the moment he does....!

"BAAH!!! I WOLF! I SCAHR SCAHR!" (translation: "BOOO! I AM WOLF! I SCARE SCARE!")

Wilfred: Calm, composed and collected as he to many, even this young man can get taken aback at times. This day was no exception as he wandered around the hallways to see if a certain young woman has returned back from Charles. Wilfred was, in fact, aware of what kind day October 31st was to most kingdoms. Unfortunately, the concepts of wearing a costume, trick-or-treating, or even scaring people were not traditions of any sort in the kingdom of Philip. The idea would have probably brought amusement to him but it's not something he is putting much care for right now. All he is thinking about is waiting for her so he can show her a new pumpkin dessert recipe that the chefs made. And so, Wilfred continued down the halls, having no idea or expectations of what is soon to come as he approached a corner. And the moment he does....a shadowy figure suddenly jumped in front of him. "BAAAAH! I WOLF! I SCAHR SCAHR!" No doubt this took aback him more than usual and he took a step back with his eyes widened and his mouth drop. Before him was the woman he was looking for. Rana was wearing her costume with a grin of mischief all while trying to be scary. For a moment or two, both sides were quiet until one spoke. "U-um....scahr scahr? You not scahred?" She was anxious and felt she failed. If this was a cartoon, both her ears accessories would drop. However, she felt a hand gently stroking her head and as she looked up, she saw a gentle smile and warm blue eyes looking down on her. "No. You did scare me. My heart was beating fast. Good job my little wolf." Having said that, she smiled happily-victoriously without being aware of the hidden meaning behind his words.

Edward: The very prince of Charles. A romantic, kind-hearted, and thoughtful man. The idea of scaring people did not sit well with him, however, he was fond of the idea of his people of various ages spend time with one another on the festive day of dressing up and going out for trick-or-treating. In fact, he has considered putting together a special event for his people, but most of all, his lovely friend who works alongside the gardeners. Having already known her lack of knowledge of many of what common people would know, he wanted to shower her with as much experience and exposure as possible. He would do this much for her only. Of course, without her having any awareness of this. Knowing that she would be returning from spending quality time with her best friend, Edward had Louis have tea and snacks prepared for the two of them before making his way for his secret place. However, the unexpected is to come as he approached near a corner and a shadowy figure popped out of nowhere. "BAAAAAH! I WOLF! I SCAHR SCAHR!" No doubt, his eyes would be as white as saucers and his mouth would drop as he gazed at the young woman before him. It took him a while to process what happened until he recognized the young lady and came to realize she was dressed as a wolf and attempted to scare him. It would be a lie if he were to say that his heart didn't stop. But to him, rather for the reason of being scared, it was because of just simply how adorable his friend was as he gave a smile, his heart feeling nothing but warmth. "My lovely daisy. My heart nearly stopped. And yet, your smile revived it back. You did a good job scaring me. Now let's go and have rosehip tea and some snacks." Placing his arm gently around her shoulders, he guided them to his secret spot where the two would enjoy a sweet evening snack together.

(A/N: errr yeah I tried with his flowery style of talking....hope it wasn't cringe-worthy..)

Roberto: The fun-loving, playful prince of Altaria, who can be quite the slacker, but can get also serious. Heck, he can be unexpectedly perceptive and hit the nail on the head at times. But enough of that, let's talk about how enthusiastic and excited he is about Halloween. Probably out of all the six princes, Roberto might be the only one who actually would willingly dress up and go out of the palace just to enjoy the thrills of the season. Maybe adding a few pranks here and there, especially towards a particular butler of his. With all that being said and done, this year, to him, is going to be different. Yes, he still wants to go out dressed in a costume and have the time of his life, but not alone. Oh no. Ever since he met Rana and she started working in the gardens, the two became really good friends...well at least that's how she saw it. Roberto has been thinking a multitude of costumes specifically for her to wear. And yet, he can't decide! There was only one solution. Have her decide! And when he got the word that she was coming back from Charles, he was giddy as a little boy who got so much candy. Speeding down the hall while fantasizing about her reaction, Roberto was not aware of the unexpected encounter he will soon face...almost literally as a shadow appeared right in front of him from a corner. "BAAAAAH! I WOLF! SCAHR SCAHR!" "H-huh??" Taken aback, the prince looked at the figure before him with awe before excitement. The person before him was none other than Rana in her wolf theme costume. She was having a mischevious-looking grin as if feeling successful in scaring him...or so she thought when she was suddenly grabbed into a very big hug by Roberto. "EEEEK! My dear Rana is too adorable! And in a cute wolf costume! Oh, now I don't let you go!" "W-Wha!?" Having set her down, Roberto seemed to have been filled with more energy. "Meet me at the outside in front of the palace gates my dear Rana! For we will go out and have the best Halloween ever!" With that, he ran off back to his room to change into his costume, leaving her stunned. "B-But why Robbeh (Robbie) not scahred!?"

Glenn: The prince of Oriens kingdom. He is the youngest prince amongst the six princes and one of the tallest. Two words can describe him as a whole. A blushing tsundere. But most of all, a dedicated-hardworking individual who wants to prove to everyone that he has what it takes to be a responsible prince. That being said, especially because of his upbringing, there have been a number of times and moments where he wants to briefly escape the prince lifestyle just to enjoy a bit of what a normal person would. And yet he can't if he doesn't want to be looked down on. So he tries to at least allow his little brother to have the experiences that he couldn't. Despite all this, Glenn had no regrets about the sacrifices he made for himself. One of them was not being involved in events or activities that he or others could label it as childish. An example of such activity would be dressing up for Halloween. Not even the urgings of from his younger brother or his most trusted butler would change his mind. He was walking down the hallway sighing. "Come to think of it, she was shouting about Halloween and flew straight to Charles. I guess she will be spending time there...well it's her first one...and not like I can give something I never experienced." Sounding a little bit disappointed, he continued walking down the hallway absent-minded until he reached a corner where a figure suddenly jumped right in front of him and shouted. "BAAAAH!! I WOLF! I SCAHR SCAHR!" It would be an understatement to say the prince was not shocked at all. Yes, he was stunned on the sudden appearance but most of all what the woman he was just thinking about was wearing. No doubt this made him involuntarily blush as numerous questions ran through his head until only one came out of his mouth. "Why are you here....you went to Charles not to long ago.." Not aware of his flustered face or his confusion, Rana just grinned as she held his hand with both of hers with a grin. "Hahlohwehn (Halloween)! Lot of fun outside! Ahlan (Alan) and Yu waiting! We go! Gahlen (Glenn) must wear cohstoom (costume). Our first Hahlohwehn!" Those last three words echoed in his head. Normally, he would refuse but somehow he can't. His lack of refusal gave her the impression that he wants to go as she dragged him shouting 'Hahlohwehn!’ while he was smiling inside thinking that celebrating Halloween wasn't bad every once in a while.

(A/N: >_< i struggled with Glenn's! And I might made it a little bit longer...I'm sorry!....but I won't be sorry for the next two....>u> my two favorites are coming up and I may intentionally make them longer #biasedlol)

Joshua: Prince of DresVan, known for strict rules and traditions. Joshua, out of all the other six princes, is known to be VERY law-abiding and conforms to his role as a prince. In fact, he can act like a nagging parent should others not act with conduct. Additionally, he tends to not involve himself with commoners. Of course, that's all changed when he met a certain young woman, who also became a favored gardener. Her presence brought him different perspectives and considerations, a positive influence she didn't know that she brought to him. And thanks to her recent outburst about Halloween, Joshua himself decided to learn more about the event and see what he can do to make her happy. Having his butler, Jan, bring to him every possible material associated with the history of Halloween to the customs of trick-or-treating that people of various ages participate in to the repertoire of costumes that people wear, he read them all. There are still more about the event that a book or two cannot contain or express, but he made sure to get down the basics. There was only one problem that made him cringe, but then give him a shock-filled thought as he slammed his hands on his desk as he stood up, making his butler flinch in shock as well. "Get the car ready! That woman is far too innocent for whatever she might be told!" Not even giving his butler the slightest second to regain himself and get clarification on what just happened, Joshua strode out of the room, down the hallway. Why is the prince reacting like this? It turned out that one of the reference materials of costumes for women included certain kinds that Joshua, in his view, found either not appropriate or something he just doesn't want other men to see her wear. Or worse, her wearing a costume of the creature he just can't stand to be around. Just thinking of it makes him want her back here just for her own safety and for his sanity. Being absolutely tunnel-visioned about the matter, he was unaware of what was to come as a shadowed figure suddenly appeared right at him from a corner with a loud outburst. "BAAAAH!!! I WOLF! I SCAHR SCAHR!" As shocking as this was to him, it was even more for Rana, who was the one who jumped in front of him, causing him to shout in a scream that nearly echoed down the hall. Her eyes was wide cause she's didn't expect that reaction and looked at Joshua, who was now on the ground, with concern. "P-Pahrence (Prince) Johshwa (Joshua)? You ok??? I sorry I scahred you!!" She felt bad, very bad as she bowed. Having regained his composure, he looked at her and his heart was already pounding. To his relief, she wasn't wearing anything he was fearing, but she was also absolutely cute. Far too cute that it might as well be illegal. Just as he was about to say something... "Your Highness! Is everything ok!? I hear screaming!" It was Jan, his butler, who was dashing down the hallway. But knowing he will see Rana, Joshua immediately panicked and got up and stood in front of Rana with the intention to shield her, though that action alone confused her. "D-Don't come any closer Jan! I forbid it! You are not to take another step forward do you hear me!"

Keith: The most arrogant and prideful one of the princes. Stubborn as heck and can really get on your nerves. Hell he can easily talk down on commoners. I bet he thinks he knows everything about commoners as he might boldly claim. Haaaaaah. Well despite my rant about that. He's not all that people may only see on the surface. In fact, he actually does have a soft caring side. You just gotta have patience and tolerance while getting to know him. Who knew he was a total softy and a closet romantic. Of the few people he knows who have such tolerance, there's also one other person who also has those traits, as well as never talking back against the man, even if she desperately wanted to. Additionally, she continued smiling and being herself while trying to find the goodness out of the man, even at the cost of her own sadness. Eventually, after a rough journey, he started softening and warming up to her. Heck, he secretly tries to find ways to make her smile even more without admitting it. As such, he remembers how much excitement Rana had when first hearing about Halloween that he started planning something special for her. A special Halloween theme welcome party. Yes, a VERY late welcome party but one that he believes she deserved. Unfortunately, he wasn't aware that she left for Charles already. "What the hell!? Who does that woman think she is just leaving like that!" It's hard to tell if he's sad or angry, maybe both. Hours have gone by and the prince was so livid that everyone was giving him space as he stomped down the corridor. "Stupid woman....making me go through such efforts all for nothing..." He just couldn't help but sigh feeling more depressed about the situation. However, that feeling would disappear instantly the moment he came close to a corner and a figure jumped right in front of him."BAAAAH!! I WOLF! I SCAHR SCAHR!" This was utterly unexpected that he nearly tripled backward. "Dammit woman! What the hell are yo-!?" Having a better look at her, he was completely speechless. He can't begin to even comprehend what's happening. Rana, on the other hand, was just grinning happily. "Hehe! I gave Liyon (Lion) big scahr!" Ah, forget what's going on. He will ask later. That smile alone was enough to make him forget his anger just earlier ago as he had an amused smile on his face and pinched her cheek. "Silly woman. Bold enough to come and go as you please just to scare me. Just be lucky you didn't come back late." "Eh? Why?" Keith didn't bother to give her a response. Rather he just dragged her along, anticipating her reaction to his surprise for her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Thanks for reading. This was hard to make and I was coming up with all this on the fly as I was typing but I hope I depicted the princes correctly

lastly, below is the picture i found on google image that i used to reference her outfit :)

#Headcannon #BMP #Be My princess #Princes #OC #Rana #Halloween #Cute #Scare Attempt #VoltageInc #Otome

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jui-imouto-chan · 6 years

Text

Part 11 of The Mostly Human AU

Level Select:

Suggestions by @supposedlymatureadult

It’s odd to be in the house without Conan or Collin around.

Even Hank feels a bit off with the lack of the twins’ presence.

He keeps going to their rooms to inform that breakfast is ready, or lunch, or dinner, and he finds himself deflating when he remembers that they’re gone.

He places one shirt on each of their door’s knobs to remind himself to stop when he goes to enter their rooms.

Some nights, he’ll lay on their beds and wear their shirts while going into sleep mode.

Hank takes a few pictures and prints them out without Connor’s knowledge—he has good reasons, and he’s sure he’ll be forgiven.

Hank proposes the idea of a care package, and Connor leaps at the chance to provide for two of his closest people.

Connor prepares a bunch of food that he then freezes for them to heat up after they receive it.

He also packs medicine, some extra school supplies, and puts in some of the money he’d gotten from his detective-ing.

He also recognizes that they’re in college, so he hides something else inside of one of the zippable binders.

Hank slips some extra things into the package just as they’re about to seal it, but Connor doesn’t inspect nor question it—they’re Hank’s sons, not Connor’s. Whatever is in there is from Hank to them, and Connor can respect that.

The twins share an apartment nearby the campus, and find a package had been shipped to them, sitting on their doorstep.

“I hope it’s not a bomb.”

“It’s from dad, it’s probably a gun or something.”

“Let’s open it inside, then; don’t want the neighbors to catch us with a firearm again.”

“Yeah, that was messy.”

They open it and immediately find a note taped to the inside.

‘Hope you’re doing well! It’s weird not seeing you every day, and I’m finding that I miss you two a lot! Please do call me soon, I really want to hear your voices again! Hank’s message for you is, “Fuck shit up and don’t die.” Sumo only says “boof”, but I’m sure what he’s saying is full of affection. -Connor’

The note is cute, the words holding so much warmth and personality despite being written with perfect handwriting—the typeface appears to be specific to androids, from what they understand, after having scanned it with an app.

Conan and Collin fight over who keeps the note, but eventually they agree to stick it to the fridge.

After they get over their appreciation for Connor’s overwhelmingly endearing note, they see that he had labeled everything he packaged with little post-its.

The miscellaneous meals all had instructions for storing and heating. Connor prepared their favorites.

They immediately set about disposing of the dry ice they were packaged with and putting the food away. Conan also puts the medicine in the cabinet near the sink, while Collin places the school supplies on the table. One of the binders is heavier than the other, and he decides to investigate that after they’ve gotten everything out of the package. The money is placed in their savings jar, which they stash in a safe place.

At the bottom of the package is an envelope with the words, ‘From Dad’ on the top in Hank’s semi-neat, semi-sloppy handwriting.

Collin pulls it out and waits for Conan to sit beside him, tearing it open only after the older twin urges him to do so.

He reaches in an pulls up a few pieces of photo paper, though they’re facing away, so he can’t see what images are on them yet. The envelope reads, ‘He misses you two.’ under the cover.

They turn the photos over to see images of Connor sleeping in their clothes and their beds, pillows arranged to replace their bodies so that Connor could hug and cuddle them. There are two copies of each photo, so they can divide them up and take their share without fuss.

Their father knows them well.

Collin mentions the binder after he and Conan put the photos in their rooms.

He and Conan are surprised to find packages of condoms inside.

“Connor what the fuck.” Collin mutters to himself.

There’s an assortment of sizes, Connor got them anything between medium and extra large and they feel an odd sense of pride at that. There are also miscellaneous flavors and colors.

‘College is a place to learn first and foremost, but a search has shown me that there’s a lot of intercourse that occurs during a student’s time there, so I’m making sure you guys are safe! I didn’t know for sure what you’d prefer and your specifications on size, so I’ve taken the liberty of buying you a bunch! Have fun! 😉’

The winky face at the end is what gets Collin to groan into his hands and Conan to blow out a sigh.

“Does Connor really think we prioritize sexual endeavors to our schoolwork? Not to mention that neither of us are really interested in anyone other than him.”

Conan silently places the condoms under the bathroom sink, slamming the cabinet door shut. He vows that he will make it clear to Connor that the only one he’d ever have any sexual intentions for is him.

Collin wonders if he’d even need condoms with Connor, since he’s an android, but that leads into a rabbit hole of thoughts that Collin would rather not dive into while in the living room.

Carl calls Connor after a month of radio silence on the elder’s end.

His health had taken a nose dive, and Markus had been disguising his unease at flitting in and out of the hospital behind a cheery exterior.

Carl’s status was kept under wraps until he got better—even the rest of Jericho were left unaware of the man’s condition.

While he was in the hospital, he took a liking to the android in charge of tending to his needs—he didn’t have a name, but his model number was AP700.

This android doesn’t have a personality, unlike Connor, as it didn’t have a proper AI, just an extensive but not as extensive set of protocols.

Carl had Markus call up Kamski and request for the android to be reprogrammed after buying him from the hospital.

“Connor could use a friend he can relate to.” Carl explained, though Markus didn’t look entirely pleased by that.

When Carl calls, Connor is delighted to speak with him, polite but eager as he asks about how he’s been doing.

“It’s August, isn’t it? How time flies—it feels like it was only yesterday that Hank first called to complain about you.”

“It really doesn’t feel like it was that long ago, despite my system clock telling me it’s been 8 months. Simulatanously, it feels like it has also been a lifetime, which, considering the length of mine so far, is almost true.”

Carl considers for a moment. “How old are you, Connor?”

“It has been approximately one year since I was first activated in Mr. Kamski’s lab.”

“One year? It’s pretty weird that I’m talking to a one year old right now, wouldn’t you say?” Carl teases, chuckling lightly. Then his eyes light up in realization.

“Oh, Connor, we ought to throw you a birthday party!”

“A birthday party? I have been invited to a few before, but they seem to be something humans do to celebrate the life someone was given. Why would I need one?”

“You’re as alive as can be Connor, and you’re reason enough to celebrate.”

Connor eventually relents, and Carl eagerly recruits Kamski and Kara for the party planning.

August 23rd, 2037 was the date Kamski booted up Connor after his AI was finished and installed, so that’s when the party is set.

They didn’t inform Connor of the exact date, hoping that Connor will enjoy a surprise party.

They make sure to tell Hank to keep Connor from having any of his weapons on him. And, just in case, his coin.

Connor is good at improvising; he could wreak havoc with a sunflower seed and a glue stick if he felt the need to. Such precautions are drastic but necessary.

Everyone’s waiting in Carl’s living room, silent in the darkened room when Connor arrives at the mansion, dressed in black slim fitting jeans and with a blue oversized t-shirt. It has cartoonish versions of a multitude of cute animals arranged neatly on the front with hearts placed around them.

Connor is pushing Carl’s wheelchair, the painter and Hank keeping him distracted as they lead him to the living room.

Hank, standing slightly behind Connor, draws his attention with a question just as the doors open, so Connor is extra startled when there’s a shout of “Happy Birthday!” from a large sum of people.

He’s so shocked, in fact, that his system shuts down for a moment.

Hank catches Connor and Connor is left wide eyed, partially limp while his systems start back up, tears slowly coming to his eyes.

Markus runs out of the crowd trying to wipe Connor’s tears while apologizing profusely and telling everyone to cancel everything.

Carl rolls his eyes at Markus being utterly overdramatic.

“I...” Connor begins, eyes slowly focusing as his systems finally start coming back online.

“I’m not upset, or anything... I just...was overwhelmed by emotion and surprise.”

He can see his software instability shooting up and up and up, until it glitches out and vanishes. He’s just so happy now. He has so many friends—So many people who care about him and he can’t help the joyful tears.

They all surround him and reassure him and all comfort him with pats and cooed words.

Hank eventually grows exasperated with the comfort situation and clasps Connor’s hand, yanking him up onto his own feet, telling everyone that it’s time for actual partying, a hand clapped on Connor’s shoulder.

The Jerrys go into the kitchen and pull out an utterly MASSIVE cake, decked with an impressive amount and variety of frosting.

It’s decorated to look like a dog with an LED as a frisbee in its mouth. Candles stick up like the dog’s fur is 3D, and the LED itself is shimmering amongst the flickering firelight.

Connor almost screams in delight, and the Jerrys tell him that Markus used the frosting colors as paint to make the picture.

He throws his arms around Markus’ neck and jumps up and down, shouting out “thank you!!”-s at an alarmingly rapid pace. Markus moves his arms up to Connor’s waist to hug him back and/or hold him down, but Connor’s motions lead to Markus accidentally squeezing Connor’s ass. Markus suddenly finds himself being given a scolding look from Daniel and Josh while Simon gives him a congratulatory pat on the back with North. Rupert, standing nearby, watches him with displeasure in his eyes.

Ralph offers to cut the cake, and Kara warily hands him a knife, though her fear is unfounded—Ralph handles the knife with a certain amount of caution and care that makes her feel guilty for not trusting him as he places it beside the cake.

Meanwhile, Luther goes over to a box at the side and pulls out an excessive amount of party hats.

Everyone puts their hats on, waiting on Connor, who places it on his head.

He’s so cute when he looks up from under his lashes with a shy, delighted smile.

Immediately, Carl has little drones ready for pictures, capturing Connor’s smile as well as the group grinning at said birthday boy.

Another photo is of Connor blowing out the candles, hands holding the edge of the table as he does so, eyes sparkling in the light of the flames.

Ralph meticulously cuts the cake into even pieces. Thankfully, Connor doesn’t pay attention to the fact that the dog in the photo is now separated onto a bunch of plates.

Connor actually doesn’t get his own plate.

Per a suggestion from Kamski, everyone takes turns feeding Connor, who throws his head back and lets out muffled squeals of joy at the taste every time a forkful finds itself in his mouth.

Kara and Chloe teamed up to actually bake it, with Alice giving them tips about what Connor likes and dislikes. They also premade the frosting, before Markus used food coloring and flavoring mixed with the frosting to create his masterpiece on top.

The Jerrys helped with gathering supplies.

As the clock strikes midnight, Connor is laying his head on Hank’s lap, his father figure petting his hair lazily.

“First birthday, eh, Connor?” Hank takes care in messing Connor’s hair up as much as possible. “Did ya have fun, kiddo?”

“Yeah,” Connor says, looking all around the room sleepily.

Luther and Kara had to take Alice home not too long ago, despite the girl’s reluctance. She gave him a big hug and a kiss to the cheek before leaving. After them, people slowly trickled out, having work the next day. Markus set about putting Carl to bed, Jericho having left with the others, and now Connor, Hank, and the twins sluggishly ready themselves to leave. Most of Connor’s gifts were packed into the back of the car by Conan and Collin, so it was just a matter of getting him in the vehicle.

Unfortunately, Connor’s sleep mode overtook him and Hank ended up piggybacking him to the car. The twins agreed on sharing Conan’s bed so that they could both have Connor for the night.

Next Level: Getting Crushed at the Pet Shelter (suggested by @manadrite )

X| Continue to Next Level

O| Save Progress And Quit to Main Menu

————————————- •

Leave suggestions in the comments or my ask! You can also criticize, scream, and/or question in the same places!

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skye-alasnirelan121 · 5 years

Text

Dropped Into Dragon Age

Chapter 1: Famous

“Here to perform her single “Girlfriend,” still number one on the music charts after being released three months back, along with a new song and a few of her older hits-here is Feyre Black!” The host exclaimed to the massive audience gathered at the concert area of the Arizona’s State Fairgrounds, my last stop in my mini-tour to promote the release of my new album.

I am standing in the middle of the stage, my long blonde hair completely straight with the ends dip dyed in hot pink. I am wearing black jeans with the middle slashed horizontally in several areas going from just under my knees and up to my thighs, black boots, a black corset with little spikes, and a leather jacket. I dressed this with a pair of large, golden hooped earrings and a band of bracelets ranging from black to dark purple in color. They jangled when I moved like a personal maraca.

The background behind me is pink and black with my new logo as I begin the song. I am by myself except for my band playing on the multitude of instruments behind me, my dancers having not joined yet. I am standing there confident, strong, and acting like the confident, badass bitch that I’ve become since my breakup and signing with my new record label. My recently made video for this first song is waiting to play on the large screen that is my background.

Two of the male dancers interact with me as I go into the second set of the chorus intro. I push them away and do a small dance that goes with this song. My sound is a lot different than what the world is used to. I still had the pop edge to my music but now I was able to write anything I wished. I had been writing songs for years, a lot of them more rock-pop and some of them on the darker side of rock.

I am singing and dancing, while the band is jamming, and all of us performing my song are loving the energy the audience is pumping back to us as I sing my newest feat of lyrical success. We finish strong, a huge smile on our faces and then launch into a couple of my older well-loved songs, though giving them a more rock edge in order to fit in with my new direction. We continued those with the crowd roaring, making me smile. There wasn’t anything that could top this feeling of exhilaration from performing, I always got such a warm bubbly feeling inside afterwards. This was the reason I hadn’t retired despite the media’s obvious need to tear me down thanks to my ex. The bastard.

“Are you guys having fun so far?” I asked the audience through my microphone once they finally settled down. They cheered back but quickly quieted down waiting for me to finish the chat with them. “So you’ve heard the first single on my new album for three months now, but how would you like to hear a few new ones of the album tonight?”

The small stadium thundered with the impact of the cheers.

“Alright then, this one is called “Since You Been Gone” and it’s about a certain someone who has been spouting untruthful things to the media regarding our former relationship. I wrote this about a year after the break up when he tried to get me to go back with him. At first I had thought about it but then I found out he was only using me to gain more fame. He’d been using me from the get go and it made me think of all that he had done to hurt me. And so this song was born.” I explained as the beat started. “So this is to all the people out there who have been treated this way and can relate.”

Behind me, my dancers left the stage leaving me alone for the moment as the environment for a new song seemed charged with excitement. I begin with intoning the title to the lonely sounds of drums. I strike a pose. This cues in the guitar and I count in my head as I walk towards the audience and grab a few of their hands. As I sang the first verse I switched to a different stage walking into the audience, smacking their hands as I went, feeling not at all alone even as people part like the red sea so that I can move. I reached the other stage just as it was time to sing the chorus. Before I launched into it I screamed to the audience, “Jump!”

I head jammed as the audience jumped, my band members and even some of my dancers joined me in my head banging. My bracelets jangled along. This song showed the powerful voice my former record label didn’t want me to use, them preferring me to use the baby voice that trademarked me for most of my career. This song also told the world I was fierce and angry. It was a fabulous change from a deficient situation.

I finished the song with a climatic finish that showcased why I was still a tough act to diminish. I wrote music not only about love and sex, but also about life situations and stories I’ve experienced or observed. I could only hope that my music would help inspire many young girls out there to become strong and independent, to bow to no man.

I broke into a more pop-sounding song, a message to my fans that I was still the pop princess they all love while at the same time throwing shade about my ex, giving in to a rock edge. I followed that with a song about never growing up and last another song about my break up with Adam.

I’m sweating and aching by the time I finish, but the exhilaration makes my smile brilliant. “Give it up for Feyre Black!” The host chimes in again. “Wasn’t she fantastic!”

The crowd roars and we bow, me in the front.

The band begins packing up while the large screen in the background plays out various snapshots of previous shows. It keeps people entertained while the crowd disperses and I slip away with a sigh. That had been fantastic but it was good to breathe. I am currently walking over to the interview area in a small area covered by multiple tarps for shade in the still ninety degree heat that beat down in the mid-October air. God it was hot!

The host interviews me for a while, asking about the changes in my music, commenting on the fact a lot of them were more edgier than the previous stuff I’d released. I had been changing it a lot over the past three years having it to sound more like who I was now rather than what my former label wanted me to be. Many of them were in answer to Adam’s attempts as painting me as the cheater or vile one in the relationship; even after three years there was still so much gossipy attention paid to that broken relationship. But I also had several questions and remarks about how I had given in to the raunchier side of my music in both sound and dance.

“With all the rumors and such being said about my previous relationship with Adam I wanted more powerful songs to combat his fictional tales about our dead relationship. I also used this time to get to know a little more about myself and I have explored my more rebellious and mischievous side, the side I usually like to keep a bit more private and also enjoying my early twenties. It has been amazingly fun to record and perform them for everyone in this crowd.” One of the reporters at the table smiled at me as I gave her a grin, rolling my eyes at the continuous mention of my ex.

“As you know I was also in a legal battle with my former record label. They wanted me to stay as their innocent sex symbol but that’s not me anymore. I want to be seen in a different light now as a growing artist. I will always be grateful to them for that time but I want to express my voice in more than just that young and innocent voice the world is used to. A lot of people comment that I cannot actually sing. I wanted to prove them wrong as well as break out into different genres. It has been an interesting experience and one my fans are clearly enjoying as much as I am.” I smile confidently at the camera that is broadcasting this to the audience I just performed for as well as the rest of the world.

The host asks me a few more questions about my music and then comes to the one I have been dreading. “Speaking on that breakup… what exactly happened between you two if what you’re saying about his little comments are lies? Here’s your chance to set the record straight.”

I breathe deeply but keep a polite smile, though immensely fake, on my face.

I sigh. This is the one aspect of my career that I have come to hate. I have been a strong role model and the world’s sweetheart since I was thirteen and had busted onto the scene with my best friend Aly. But then I really became something a year and a half after she was killed in a car accident. My solo songs “Baby One More Time” and “Oops! I Did it Again.” The first song was what got me launched to number one in the billboards for a whole year still in the running. It was a song I didn’t write but I chose and it had changed my life forever. The second album single hit number one the moment of its release knocking “Baby One More Time” out of number one, a first in the industry’s history.

After that I was launched into superstardom. That is when I met Adam. He was and is still the lead singer of a major band that I won’t name. We met when I was sixteen and he had just turned eighteen, introduced to each other at an award show where we were told to pose with one another for a red carpet photo. I had already just hit number one with my first hit “Baby One More Time” and he had just released his first single. Both of our names were fresh on peoples lips.

I was instantly drawn to him and he me, or so I’d thought. We dated for four years before we broke up. I’d been keeping everything to myself not spouting anything to the media but Adam had said all sorts of crap-some of it true but most of it not. He’d been butthurt that I refused to take him back. He wanted what my name could do for him but he still wanted to screw others, not something I would ever allow. So to retaliate he’d tried to tarnish my reputation to further his own career but it only made me more interesting and allowed me to be even more creative with my music and the direction I was going in especially after I won the legal battle to switch to another that allowed me my creative freedom. I’ve only gotten more popular much to my amusement.

I stared at the host and said. “I’ll only say this. Both of us are equally responsible for how things turned out but I never touched another person while in that relationship to him, while he cannot say the same thing. Life got in the way our time together and our careers had us apart more than together. I loved him with every fiber of my being but when he stopped answering my calls and images of him with another woman on his arm at events I couldn’t attend were on all the magazines and talk shows, it caused strife between us. With that hurt and uncertainty I began to have feelings for someone else though I never acted on them because I believe that you should end things before pursuing another.”

I smiled at the audience again, a sad but polite smile as I got up and thanked the host. “Well you heard it here folks! Thank you Feyre for your time and honesty.”

I left the set then, my manager following me and staring at me with sad but proud eyes. She knew every detail of what went down between Adam and I. Knew all of his hateful lies but hadn’t been surprised when I wouldn’t try to fight back through the media. Instead, I used my music to fight back and it saved my reputation, giving me the classy and more mature with a hint of naughty title rather than what he had hoped. At first I was called everything he wanted the world to call me but then I hadn’t fought back through pettiness and revenge. My revenge had been my new music which battled his claims and began surpassing his music over and over again on the charts since our breakup earning me three Grammys for best pop, pop-rock, and alternative. It had been at least two years since my last musical album but had released singles on their own from time to time before I came back into the scene in May. I was just now at the end of the mini tour where I just released the second single that I’d just performed with the album to follow in a week and a half.

My bodyguards were waiting by the exit, automatically getting into formation as we left the building. They guided me to the heavily tinted SUV where I felt safe from the assholes that were the paparazzi.

Once inside, I breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed. Thankfully this was my last performance for two months. I was going to get some rest and relaxation before going on my world tour for this new album. The album would be released in two weeks.

We changed cars two times before boarding my private plane and arriving at my hidden mansion in Forks, Washington three hours later. Nobody knew where my home was, at least not this one. This one I purposely made sure nobody but my team knew of it. This was my sanctuary, the place where I could hide out and the town would keep it to themselves.

“I will send you a finalized version of your tour schedule in a few weeks.” My manager says into the phone I am holding to my ear as my driver pulls into my driveway.

“Thank you, Carol. For everything.” I say.

“You are most welcome. Enjoy your vacation.” She hangs up as I exit the vehicle.

Excitement fills me as I enter my home, heading straight for my huge bathroom. I fill the tub with my jasmine and honey scented bubble bath, a custom made brand of products.

I settle in the warm tub of bubbles after removing my clothing and relax with a happy sigh. I close my eyes and lose track of time, enjoying the whirling jets that work on kneading the knots in my back and tired limbs.

I don’t know how much time passes and don’t really care because I am not obligated to leave my home and go anywhere. I open my eyes and dunk my head finally getting my hair wet. I come up and begin my routine of washing my hair, body, and then rinsing it off.

Done, I pull the plug and stand up and get out of the tub, squeezing the water out of my hair with my water-wrinkled hands. I grab the super soft towel off the rack and begin drying off before heading into my adjoining master bedroom and into the walk-in closet of my dreams.

I’m in my comfortable pjs now and decide to let my waist length hair to finish drying naturally.

I make my way into my game room, turning on the lights which illuminates the room in purple. I have a massive wall of games ranging from Playstation games to PC. The rest of the walls are decorated with all sorts of art most of it Dragon Age. In a corner there is a big screen tv with all my game consoles in their designated spots. I head towards it and start up my computer, using it for the mods I could have for the newest DA game. I have never liked the hair they give the females in it, Bioware’s only downfall.

I go into my Origin account and select Inquisition. It takes it a minute to load and when it finally does I inhale with excitement as I move the mouse over the start game option and click it.

The screen explodes and so does my room for a moment making me gasp out in surprise before everything goes black.

#dragon age inquisition #solas x lavellan #dragon age fanfiction

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vaporcleaningxyz-blog · 5 years

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Review: Ladybug Steam Cleaners - Clean My Space Reviews

Some of you may know just how deeply I love steam cleaners, and being a ‘cleaning expert’ certainly has its privileges, because over the past few years, I’ve had the opportunity to try out several of them.

Then, not too long ago, the friendly folks over at LadyBugSteamCleaners.com emailed me and said ‘Melissa, if you love steam cleaning so much, we have something just for you’ so, I replied and said ‘bring it on’ and then, they sent me these..

So, for those of you who have ever wondered – what’s the difference between a $200 steam cleaner and a $2000 steam cleaner, keep reading.

The Ladybug brand is known as the gold standard of professional steam cleaning (or vapour cleaning)– these 4 units may be expensive, but they are worth every penny – let me show you why.

The most exciting part of steam, or vapour cleaning, is that you can clean using nothing more than plain old tap water, yet it’s incredibly powerful and actually disinfects surfaces while you clean.

Because of how hot the Ladybug’s water gets, it produces vapour, which is even hotter than steam, and that draws out the dirt and bacteria and it kills microorganisms which live on the surfaces of your home.

Steam Cleaning vs Vapor Cleaning

So, what’s the difference between steam cleaning and vapor cleaning you might be wondering? Good question. Steam cleaning sounds amazing, and the concept is. It works for general, basic in-home tasks but its efficacy is nowhere near as high as vapour cleaning. Here’s why:

Steam Cleaning

Steam cleaning obviously uses steam to clean; steam being loose, large water droplets formed from hot water contained in the boiler chamber of a steam cleaner. As the water gets hotter in the boiler, the droplets of steam get smaller. So the ability for a steam cleaner to perform depends on how hot the boiler can get. For an average machine, the water boils up (usually to temperatures in the high 100s or low 200s) and then creates steam, which once blasted out of the boiler, immediately drops in temperature and hence, in efficacy to remove buildup and sanitize, let a lone disinfect. The temperature of the boiler water or the temperature of the steam directly at the tip are often the marketed temperatures, not the surface temperature of the steam once expelled onto a surface, which is the true measure of how effective the steam cleaning will be. Further, Because of the bulky size of the steam droplets, the towel used on attachments becomes drenched quickly and often times, is warm to the touch.

Vapour Cleaning

Enter the professional solution. Vapour, as the folks at Ladybugsteamcleaners.com taught me, is superior to steam when it comes to cleaning. Vapour is like a tighter, smaller, drier version of steam and this is why it is so much more effective when it comes to cleaning. What happens is, the boiler temperature in a Ladybug gets so hot (about 305 degrees), that when the vapour blasts out of the tip (about 265 degrees), it’s hotter, therefore drier, smaller and tighter droplets that break down and disinfect with ease. Heat is the functional cleaning agent, not steam which is why these tiny, dry vapour droplets are superior to those of steam. Your cleaning towel will be much drier as well as much hotter (so proceed with caution). The surface temperature of the Ladybug gets up to 230 degrees!

Now that the difference between the two is clarified, it is clear that because the vapor is so hot, it does all the heavy lifting for you. In fact, it kills bacteria (you need to hit 180 degrees to sanitize a surface) as well as dust mites, larvae, eggs, bedbugs and a number of other unwanted household critters. But more about that later.

Why does the Ladybug website use the term ‘steam cleaning’ you may be wondering? Well, it’s such a popular term and essentially defines this style of cleaning, so that is why the name was chosen. However, since vapour is the key player in this cleaning process, it is important that we differentiate between the two and explain why Ladybug uses vapour as opposed to steam.

What’s TANCS?

We didn’t get too into this in the video, but TANCS (that bright yellow label on my unit) is a proprietary feature of the Ladybug, it’s a steam vapour disinfection system which stands for Thermo Accelerated Nano Crystal Sanitation. What that means in English is this machine can now kill bacteria and disinfect almost any surface a thousand times better and quicker than chemical disinfectants applied topically, all with no dwell time.

Basically, a TANCS-equipped boiler creates nano crystals as well as vapour. When vapour is expelled, the nano crystals are carried out via the vapour and when they come into contact with bacteria, they immediately puncture the cell membranes and expose the cell to lethal temperatures, therefore killing them. That’s the why and how behind TANCS’ ability to disinfect.

All you need is plain tap water, nothing special. Without TANCS, the unit can sterilize a surface (essentially, more can be killed with TANCS due to this patented process).

For the past month, I have used the Tekno 2350 with TANCS, so I’ve been cleaning and disinfecting every surface I can and let me tell you, it is a fantastic piece of machinery….wow.

Firing Up the Ladybug Tekno 2350 with TANCS

You have to take the time to learn how this machine works and acclimatize to it’s lights, hums and purrs. Once you know how to make it work, magic happens.

It’s easy to get started. Plug it in, power it up and fill it with plain tap water. It takes around 4 quarts of water; 1 for the boiler and 3 for the reservoir (more on this later). Once the water is in, the machine takes about 6-9 minutes to initially heat up, and you’ll see the second light pop on meaning it’s ready to use. Now, with other steam cleaners, there is no reservoir for cold water, just a boiler. If you open the machine while in use to refill, you can become injured. Because of the reservoir, you can keep the machine powered on and hot and refill with water as needed, which is especially handy for large jobs or cleaning professionals! Ladybug recommends carrying around a refillable water bottle and using that to add water to the machine while you’re on the go, which is a terrific idea and saves time while working.

Before using it, I had to burp the system to get rid of the built-up condensation, which means I pressed the trigger a couple of times and squirted out some water. Once that was done, I held the trigger down and let the dry vapour flow.

Neat Design Features and Build Quality

Before I get into some of the fun we had with the Tekno 2350, I want to discuss some of the features, because every inch of this machine is deliberate and carefully designed.

Materials

The machine has been carefully built with polycarbonate plastic, which is even more costly than stainless steel. I was told the reason this was chosen as the housing material was because of course it is extremely strong and is lighter than stainless steel, not to mention it won’t conduct much heat nor any electricity, which is a safety feature. This was a hand selected plastic which they are quite proud of.

Attachments and Tools

I’ve seen a lot of steam cleaners and their associated tools and extension kits. The Ladybug’s are really something, they are sturdy, well-built, and designed to last. Further, the clips on the brushes are very strong and have great grip for the towels, which is something I didn’t find with some of the other units I’ve tested out. The multitude of brushes, sizes, and brush materials (they even have a horse hair brush for stainless steel appliances!) are also useful for a number of different cleaning applications. I really like the easy lock and twist feature for replacing tools, it made working with the machine a breeze. When you hold the tools and the nozzle, you feel the difference in comparison to the popular consumer options. When I held the machine and started playing around with the nozzle, I got really ramped up to start using it because I just felt it was a stronger, more powerful and sturdier machine.

What I learned is that the tools can last very long, so long as the user understands how to use them. Pushing hard, scrubbing vigorously and bending the bristles will ruin the attachments. The vapour is strong enough to do the work and simply leverage the tool’s feature, not have the tool do all the work. So when a user picks up such a powerful tool when they are used to using a less powerful one, they may feel the need to press really hard. However, this is not the case. The tools are to be gently used and the results are impressive given the lack of effort on the user’s part.

Continuous vapour output

Now one thing I will mention is that there is no lock for continuous vapour output and when I first learned about this, I was somewhat disappointed because I had used other machines and found this to be a particularly helpful feature. When I asked why this wasn’t part of the design, I learned a very important lesson. Vapour is so hot that it is not safe to have a continuous vapour function, in case the user dropped it, or falls unconscious while cleaning to avoid burning the user. I had never thought about this, but once I used it, I was indeed glad to know that if anything did happen to me, the vapour would stop immediately and not harm me.

Other safety features

The machine does come equipped with a safety lock for changing out tools, which allows you to get a great grip on the hose and trigger to change and secure a tool without running the risk of accidentally blasting your hand with vapour. When I learned about this, I felt that a lot of care and consideration went into this design.

Settings

The unit offers 3 settings which allow for various volumes of vapour to pour out. Select setting 1 or the ‘low’ volume setting for most jobs (the driest vapour), setting 2 or the medium volume setting for jobs involving large floor areas and setting 3 for short lived – or intermittent applications, these would be very specific jobs, like cleaning a greasy vent.

Testing the Ladybug Tekno 2350 with TANCS

The kitchen sink

I used the nozzle head with nylon brush to clean inside of the sink, I could have also attached a cloth with an elastic band to ‘wipe’ the sink

The nylon brush did not scratch my sink

The vapour is so strong that it literally lifts soil out of the surface, meaning all I need to do is wipe and shine

The nylon brush scrubbed the crevice between the drain and the basin, removing that difficult brown ring with ease

After getting groceries, I like to soak my vegetables in the sink for 10 minutes and then place them in bags or containers to make them ‘ready to eat’. I always feel a little grossed out because I wonder just how clean I am getting my sink (yes, even me – or at least that’s what my mind tells me), but after doing this, I had no doubt in my mind as to how disinfected and clean my sink was. It sparkled and felt cleaner than ever, I could have eaten out of it!

Cutting board

On the cutting board I used the triangle brush with a thin cotton cloth

Again, this is where the heat is important and the Ladybug gets up to 325 degrees in the boiler and 260 degrees at the tip

Wood cutting boards are porous and can trap bacteria in the board, when using this tool, the vapour pulls out the dirt and bacteria, absorbs it into the towel and leaves the cutting board clean and instantly dry.

I don’t cut meat, poultry or fish on the wood cutting board, but the kitchen counter is a catch-all for everything. I do clean my cutting board with soap and water after each use and leave it upright to dry and clean it with a lemon occasionally. I’m pleased to say no one has gotten food poisoning in my house, but even with that, I felt that I cleaned it better than it’s ever been cleaned before, and it took me about 20 seconds to do.

If this were to be used on countertops (which it is safe for – laminate, granite, marble, etc), the surfaces would be completely void of microorganisms as well as product residue. That’s a truly healthy kitchen in my books. I feel the best cleaning method would be to clean surfaces with the machine every week or two with touch up cleans using soap and water with a good cloth in-between to manage the bacteria count.

Oven & oven racks

These are so hard to clean – awkward size, greasy build up and tiny ridges make this a challenging cleaning job

I use the steel wool pad to clean and I am not scrubbing, just holding and moving slowly over the soiled area

Then, to lift the grease off, I attach a cloth to the steel wool and wipe the grease away; it sticks to the towel

The same process can be repeated for a self-celaning or non self-cleaning oven

Cleaning the oven and greasy oven racks are two of the most challenging cleaning jobs in the kitchen, just look at the chemicals designed to conquer these messes. I was really impressed and actually amused to watch the grease come up off the racks and oven with such ease. It did take time, but it still takes less time to do this than the ‘old’ way of oven cleaning. This task also demonstrated the concept of ‘no scrubbing required’, because I saw how using a gentle back and forth motion was extremely effective which helped me conserve my energy and get the job done without ruining the attachment. I think about the challenges in our cleaning service company and how many times this Ladybug Tekno 2350 would come in handy and make us look like magicians, not to mention how much time it would save my staff.

Dishwasher

The build up around a dishwasher can be downright disgusting – and mine was embarrassing – how’d that even get there?

With the nozzle and a cloth over it, it’s easy to get rid of this build up

The presence of this build up can lead to odours and even mold growth

I used the nylon bristle brush to agitate the gunk and then added a towel to the attachment secured with an elastic to lift up and trap the gunk

I can’t even believe I captured that crustiness on film, it was downright gross. Considering how hot the water gets in a dishwasher, it’s no wonder that once the water and debris cools, it clings to any surface it can find. No one really thinks about it until it’s brought to your attention and then boom, you can’t bare to look at it. This took care of that grime in no time, it was easy and impressive.

Overhead exhaust filter

Mine is so filthy, I haven’t cleaned this in forever

I placed the filter on top of a towel and changed the trigger setting to ‘3’

I blasted the filter section by section with a plain tip and watched the grease splash off

These are so challenging to clean otherwise, the grease makes it difficult and often times it’s easier to replace with a new filter

The Ladybug is used in restaurants to clean their greasy kitchen equipment, so if it can work in an industrial setting, it can work in my kitchen

This was a very impressive demonstration of the power of vapour. I really enjoyed watching this, it was obliterating the grease on that filter. Setting 3 allows for more vapour to pour out therefore creates a wetter vapour. It is only recommended for very particular jobs, like this one. Setting ‘1’ is the most common.

Toilet hinges

Catch-all for urine, which saturates the pores of the plastic and leads to bacteria build-up, discolouration and odours

To clean, place a towel behind hinge (to catch the blow back) and blast clean with a nozzle

I typically recommend using a cleaning toothbrush for this task. However, many folks either don’t do it or can’t get over the thought of using and re-using a cleaning toothbrush on the hinges, even with cleaning the tool. When using the Ladybug to clean a toilet, I know that there will be nothing left on the surface by way of colour, odour or bacteria once the Ladybug has done it’s thing. This is great for under the rim of the toilet bowl as well, it blasts out bacteria and build-up with ease.

Toilet tools

I also used the Ladybug on my bowl brush and the most disgusting thing that is in your home….the bowl brush holder

I used it on my plunger too, I can pretty much disinfect anything in my bathroom by just spraying for a few seconds

Grout lines

Grout can be cleaned with baking soda, hydrogen peroxide and a cleaning toothbrush or sturdy scrub brush but we know this takes time, especially for a large floor area or shower

Grout is porous, meaning it absorbs and hangs on to anything that befalls it

Body oils, dirty water and cleaning tools and ground in debris all contribute to the discolouration of grout over time

The Ladybug makes this easy to clean; for one stain it can be blasted with a small nylon bristle brush, gently agitate and then wiped clean with a cloth

For larger areas, it is recommended to work with the larger floor brush and go over the grout, then wipe area clean with toweled brush attachment

Soap scum

Soap scum can be stubborn and work intensive, that’s why some of the most powerful chemicals are used in bathroom cleaning

The triangle brush and towel made the soap scum on my tiles just melt away

I worked slowly and watched the tiles become spotless, steak and scum-free

This took a very challenging and time consuming job and made it a lot easier. Further, if there is an area that is high up in the shower, the extension poles are available as opposed to the person cleaning having to reach. This also works well on glass shower doors, although I don’t have any to demonstrate it on.

Sinks and Faucets

Cleans sinks and shines faucets with ease

No scrubbing required, just a toweled brush or small nozzle brush to clean the areas and a cloth in your free hand to polish and wipe dirt away

I liked cleaning the bathroom sink with the Ladybug Tekno 2350, because it broke through scum and toothpaste build up that otherwise requires scrubbing. Also, it left a uniform shine to the sink and faucet, which is something you have to work at for a couple of minutes when cleaning without vapour. The results with this were almost instant.

Carpet

Vapour cleaning on carpets is awesome because it not only loosens dirt, but removes soil and most dirt while sanitizing and deodorizing the carpet

Use a towelled floor brush and placed on setting ‘2’

It kills the little critters that may be in the carpet, and the eggs and larvae that may be in the carpet as well, so pet owners should take note of that

Once you are finished you simply vacuum to remove particulate matter

I’ve done several things to my carpets over the years to clean them, and I loved the idea that the vapour was getting hot enough to kill anything my cats and other cleaning equipment has left behind. Even the best vacuums can only get about 80% of the dirt and other carpet dwellers out, and using vapour is a great way to kill the remaining ‘problematic’ 20%. Before vacuuming the carpet, you can use the floor brush on its own to lift the carpet pile, and then vacuum. My carpet was dry within a minute, which is amazing considering that deep cleaning carpets can take up to a day to dry.

Mattress & Pillows

This machine *kills dust mites* – using the toweled triangle brush, keep dust mites, larvae and eggs out for up to 8 weeks. Wow.

I slowly went over the mattress with the attachment

The mattress dried in under a minute and I was able to make up the bed

For people who struggle with dust allergies, there is no better way to deal with it than to treat the mattress and pillow with a Ladybug. I know that these treatments can cost hundreds of dollars if done by a professional, so if you can do it on your own, the machine will pay for itself. It can also kill bed bugs – which is ironic given it’s name!

I also cleaned my diamond rings (wow, do they sparkle), my sunglasses AND I even sanitized my toothbrush – you can also use the Ladybug on hardwood floors, tile floors, wallpaper, windows, clothing, dental instruments, boats, RVs, vinyl flooring, and plenty of other surfaces. It’s very versatile!

Test results and final impressions

What can I say – it’s an amazing machine. It’s like being given the keys to an exotic sports car and being asked how it feels to drive.

It does take some getting used to and there is a learning curve, but I think it’s well worth it. When you experience how well it cleans once you know how to use it, the time spent learning its ins and outs will be a great investment. It’s not difficult by any stretch, but you do have to take the time to understand which attachments are to be used where, how to change the attachments, how to manoeuvre the machine and how to maintain it. The Ladybug Tekno 2350 came with a 45 minute instructional DVD (awesome) as well as a laminated card that explains the tools, techniques and settings to use on virtually any setting in the home. Also, I’ve found the company itself to be extremely dedicated to ensuring customers are educated and completely in love with their machine. It’s nice to deal with a company that cares so much.

The cleaning that the Ladybug does is far beyond superficial cleaning, you clean to make your space look shiny and kill bacteria. This is all accomplished using no chemicals and leaving no chemical residues behind. It’s a healthy way to clean. I also love how there is no ‘wait time’ really, the vapour works almost on contact, not only to break down dirt and grime but even to kill bacteria.

But, there is the elephant in the room..

This is a professional product or at the very least a prosumer product – and it comes with the associated hefty price tag – the Tekno 2350 is a little over $2000 and even though Ladybug have units starting at about $1000 – it’s still a lot of money.

But, we live in a world of you get what you pay for, and that holds very true to Ladybug – if you are willing to spend the money, you’ll get an amazing machine.

For those of you who are professional cleaners – or business owners looking for a quality cleaning solution like me, this is a great option for you. As a cleaning service owner myself, I can see how this can save on product costs, save time for cleaners and create happier clients.

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maevefiction · 6 years

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Your Light in the Mist - Chapter 12

Sleep eluded me after our parking lot conversation. Tom and I had taken a long bath together, during which neither of us were injured, surprisingly, then went down to the beach so we could listen to the waves crashing on the rocks prior to retiring for the night. Luke and Simon had popped out for a quick hello and a late night swim, then disappeared again into the privacy of their suite. I was beginning to think they might have us beat as far as incorrigible went, then quickly stopped myself before my mind wandered into what-has-been-seen-can-never-be-unseen territory.

Tom was out like a light in a matter of minutes, while I tossed and turned like a dog with a bad case of fleas. I knew it was pointless to continue to try and doze off, so I said fuck it and decided to get up and attempt to get some work done. I wormed my way out from under Tom’s leg, climbed out of bed, put on some shorts, grabbed my laptop and headed for the door. He mumbled incoherently in his sleep, and I waited until he was silent again before I opened it, padding in my bare feet through the soundless house and out onto the lanai.

After trying to determine whether to go with a horizontal or a vertical menu on Tom’s site for forty-two minutes, I called it quits and perused Twitter comments instead. Alani’s tweet had amassed the most, and screenshots had spread to Tumblr. Honestly, I was glad of the way she’d mentioned me in such a specific context …there was very little, if any, speculation about whether or not I was, in fact, his girlfriend. Everything was out in the open, which I always thought was the best choice. Though the initial negativity was far worse than if the topic’s legitimacy was in question, it would likely die down much more quickly. That’s how it had worked for clients in the past, anyway. Hopefully my methodology would apply to my own situation as well.

My revelation regarding my weight plagued me…I replayed what I’d said over and over, and I wished I’d gone into greater detail. I hadn’t meant to impose a blanket statement that being overweight was unhealthy, or that it made one unworthy of attention from the opposite sex – or the same sex, or both, whichever was personally preferable, of course. That’s not what I believed, at all. Quite the contrary. Beauty comes in all shapes, colors and sizes and is entirely dependent upon the eye of the beholder, and if said beholder opts to eliminate certain sizes from their pool of eligible candidates, that’s their choice. And their loss.

And as far as health was concerned…illness doesn’t discriminate based upon the number on the scale. It can strike anyone, at any time, and originates from a multitude of factors that are more often than not out of our control entirely. Unfortunately for me, a poor genetic inheritance and horrifically nutritionally deficient diet, combined with an excess of weight and my wickedly sedentary lifestyle had compromised my health considerably. Losing weight seemed to be a better option than medication, though there were many, many days on which I questioned that choice. Usually while sweating my ass off, literally, on the treadmill in some hotel gym. In all honesty, if I hadn’t been diagnosed with early stage diabetes, I probably wouldn’t have changed a thing about the way I lived my life.

“Maude, think about something else, you schmuck. This is a rabbit hole you do NOT want to go down at 2 AM.”

I sighed. Too late.

I’d told Tom there were reasons for me putting on a significant amount of weight, and my sleep deprived brain decided that this was the ideal time to refresh my memory as to what they were. I tapped my finger on the table and quietly ticked them off out loud.

“Let’s see, we’ve got… pain, anger, grief, depression, replacing one addiction with another, self-medicating, a convenient excuse that allowed me to reside in my fortress of solitude without constantly having to justify it to everyone because they’d be inclined to think ‘oh, she’s alone because she’s fat, you know, the poor thing’, and, my favorite, to spite my mother. Okay, maybe that’s not my favorite. Because food is fucking delicious. That’s my favorite. Plus, cardio sucks balls.”

Groaning, I crossed my arms on the table and rested my head on them, intending to collect my thoughts and get back to work. I woke up four hours later in a puddle of drool with Simon yammering in my ear.

“ ‘ello, Polly. Wakie Wakie!”

I raised my head and wiped the saliva off my face with my forearm.

“Ewe, Maude, that is so thoroughly vile. Were you out here all night?”

I nodded. “Don’t you even dare to ask me if I’m doing yoga with you today. I feel like grim death.”

He patted my head. “You look like it, too. But your excuses mean nothing to me. Shut up and go get your mat.”

I lowered my chin to my chest, peeled myself off of the chair and shuffled into the house, nearly smacking right into Tom as I opened our bedroom door. Brows raised, he pulled me inside and into his arms.

“Couldn’t sleep again?” I shook my head. “Want to talk about it?”

I shrugged, wishing I could talk about it, but knowing that anything I’d say would require additional context that I was not willing to supply. “Just another bout of insomnia brought on by chronic over analysis of every minute detail of my existence.”

“Oh, that’s all, is it?”

I feigned surprise. “What, that doesn’t happen to you?”

He grinned. “It does. Quite often, actually. But the sheer physical exhaustion that results from your incessant attentions seems to have solved that particular problem for the time being.” He ground his erection against me. “This problem, however, persists.”

“And it’s such big problem, too.” I bit his shoulder gently, then pulled back to look at his face. That beautiful, talented pink tongue was peeking out just the slightest bit from between his lips and I damn near lost my shit. He winked at me.

I poked him in the chest. “Well, Thomas, since you’re…up…why don’t you join me for some yoga?”

He rolled his eyes. “You mean you and Simon. I abhor doing yoga with Simon.”

I tilted my head. “Seriously? Why?”

He pinched my nose between the knuckles of his index and middle fingers, shaking gently. “Because he’s so much better at it than I am, that’s why.”

It was my turn for eye rolling as I walked to the wardrobe to grab a bra, pulled off my sleeping shirt and slipped the bra straps over my hands, up my arms and backed towards him. “Hook a sister up, wouldja?”

He lifted the cups up over my breasts, tweaked both nipples, then wrestled them back into place and licked my neck as he connected the clasps. I moaned and pulled away. After putting on a fresh shirt, I turned around and walked past him toward the door, slapping him on the ass as I went.

“Nice try, Thomas, but we’re still doing yoga. Now you put on a fucking shirt and get that ass moving.”

He followed me. “Sorry, no.”

“Fine. I’ll just keep my eyes closed.”

“You won’t.”

I sighed. “No. I won’t.”

Simon’s snarkiness was at orange alert status due to Tom’s presence, and watching the two of them compete was wildly amusing. Tom was right, Simon was better, but watching Tom do yoga shirtless was better than any porno I’d ever seen. A light sheen of sweat coated his skin, and when he moved into camel pose I made a…sound. A gasp? A moan? A dying whale noise? I honestly couldn’t label it properly.

Simon turned his head to the side so he could face me without breaking his pose.

“What the hell was THAT, woman?”

“Nothing. Got a cramp. Just a little cramp. I’ll be fine. Carry on.”

He moved his arms above his head, brought them forward and sat on his haunches. He looked over at Tom, then back at me. “Mmm hmm. Cramp. Thomas, if you wouldn’t mind concealing your torso beneath some clothing next time so your girlfriend won’t blow my focus with her inappropriate vocalizations I’d be ever so appreciative.”

Tom chortled. “I’m rather fond of her inappropriate vocalizations, especially when she’s blo…”

Simon put is fingers in his ears and chanted loudly. “LA LA LA LA LA LA LA…”

I grabbed my iPod and put my earbuds in, hoping music would distract me. It was a successful strategy for the most part, and I felt myself shifting into the transcendent space that was the reason for me deciding upon yoga for both physical and mental fitness. Tom almost ruined it when I caught him staring at me during my easy plow pose, but I managed to breathe through it. While doing my cool down stretches, I wondered if the intense sexual chemistry between us and the overwhelming desire it fostered was because we were so new to each other, or if it was always going to be like this. I smiled, recalling Diana Gabaldon’s brilliant prose in Outlander, when Jamie is addressing Claire.

“Does it ever stop? The wanting you?“ "Even when I’ve just left ye. I want you so much my chest feels tight and my fingers ache with wanting to touch ye again.”

When I’d read it years ago, I thought it was beautifully written, but, you know, fictional. Filed under ‘shit that never happens in real life’. For once, I was totally okay with having been wrong about something.

We discussed our options for the holiday over a breakfast of the most mouth-wateringly delicious sausage, egg and cheese burritos I’d ever tasted. I wanted to work for a while, but that was shot down in a chorus of noes and ‘but-it’s-a-holiday’s. Our final destination of the evening would be the Nawiliwili Tavern, which was back on the other side of the island near the Marriott. It so happened that this was the first Saturday of the month, and that’s when Kaua’i’s gay community gathered there to celebrate with drink specials and, much to my wicked delight, karaoke. I needed to see Luke doing karaoke. It was inexplicable, but I just knew I NEEDED it to happen or I couldn’t go on with my life.

Since I’d yet to park my ass on a proper beach after an entire week on the island, I offered it up as my next suggestion. It was well received. Kalapaki Beach was a 14 mile ride from the house, but less than a mile from Nawiliwili Tavern. Available activities included volleyball, surf lessons, catamaran cruises, stand up paddle boarding, kayaking and body and boogie boarding, none of which I was interested in but were certain to keep my companions occupied if sitting on a lounge and reading all day wasn’t their idea of fun.

Simon got to work assembling a picnic lunch, Luke and Tom each had another burrito, and I hit the shower. Afterward, I sat on the bed wrapped in my towel as I waited to air dry enough so I could squeeze into my bathing suit. Tom walked in, bent down to kiss me, rammed his tongue in my mouth, then dropped his shorts and paraded around the corner for his turn under the spray.

I packed a small bag before dressing since we wouldn’t be coming back home…black Birkenstocks, a pair of hiking shorts, a black V-neck tee shirt, underwear, a bra, hair ties, my beach towel, Finders Keepers, Neuromancer, my iPod, my phone and my glasses. Just in case.

My bathing suit was still buried at the bottom of my suitcase, but it didn’t look any worse for wear when I shook it out. It was black, halter style, with cutouts along both sides and a built in strapless bra so I wouldn’t look like Saggytits McSaggerton. Anyone who claims to have natural double D’s with nipples that point anywhere other than down is utterly full of shit. Or maybe that should be udderly. I was still giggling to myself when I heard the shower turn off, and I quickly tossed my gauzy black cover-up over my head and slipped on the pair of flip flops I’d also unearthed from my suitcase.

Tom came out, dripping wet, towel slung low around his hips. I told him I’d meet him in the living room and used the half bath in the hall for my last pee so I wouldn’t have to watch him dress, then helped Simon gather beverages and put them in the cooler. We decided to take the car instead of the Jeep as it had actually room for all our stuff, including the folding lounge chairs we’d found in the garage. Luke volunteered to drive on the way there if I’d be the designated driver on the way back home tonight, which was fine with me since I knew I’d be sober. I figured he did as well and hoped he’d keep it to himself, then wondered how the hell I’d handle it when the subject finally came up. Because it would. It always did.

************************************************** The beach was surprisingly empty…by my standards, anyway. Try the Jersey Shore on July 4th…you’d have to get there at the crack of dawn to get a decent spot, and someone would fucking steal it if you went to get a snack or use the restroom. Perhaps it was because there was a lot more beachfront to choose from here, or maybe everyone was boating or something, but I was thrilled that I wouldn’t be spending the day elbow to elbow with strangers.

We managed to get everything in one trip and set ourselves up about twenty feet back from the shoreline. I unfolded my chair, pulled Neuromancer out of my bag and set it gently on the sand, then relieved myself of my cover-up. Simon whistled loudly when he saw my suit.

“Maude, you look like a 1950’s pin up model in that thing. Those cutouts…va va va VOOM!”

Tom had his back to me, but spun around upon hearing Simon’s comment. He looked me up and down, then again. And again. I made a mental note to do some lingerie shopping ASAP, then plopped down in my chair with all the grace of a drunken hippo on rollerskates as I released a long, triumphant sigh.

“Ass in lounge chair. Goal achieved. Sand trophy awarded. Beach level unlocked.”

Tom leaned down to whisper in my ear. “I have my own goal to achieve, you know…and it also involves that luscious ass of yours. What’s the optimal way for me to go about unlocking it, Maude?”

I closed my eyes, hung my head down, shook it, then looked up and spoke through gritted teeth. “God, do you have any idea how much I hate being beaten at my own game?”

“I do now.” He grinned, then ran down the beach and into the ocean.

Over the course of the day I read most of Neuromancer, and Tom bought a copy for his tablet to read along with me. We paused after each chapter to discuss, noting the parallels between Gibson’s text and modern technology as well as how much the Matrix had liberally borrowed from his work. I was coerced into playing volleyball, despite citing that my bathing suit and my boobs were not meant for such activities. My refusal to jump led to a stunning loss, at which point Luke and Simon decided to go paddle boarding. Tom and I walked the shoreline, quietly enjoying each others company as we left our footprints behind in the wet sand. He ran in front of me, squatted down and drew a heart with an arrow through it and our initials in it. I rolled my eyes, squatted and drew two stick people fucking doggie style. We giggled like ten-year-olds as we ran away from our creations.

Luke was sitting on one of the lounges scrolling through his phone, and Simon was setting up lunch on a blanket he’d spread out when we returned from our walk. His culinary skills were mind-blowing…pesto, tomato and fresh mozzarella sandwiches served on toasted garlic bread, a platter of paper thin prosciutto, and little cups of mascarpone and dark chocolate cream topped with white chocolate shavings for desert. I glared at Luke, who had eaten his entire meal with his phone in his hand.

“Um, are you working over there, Luke?”

He looked up, frowning slightly. “I know, I know. I’m the one who said ‘but it’s a holiday’. We’re still getting lots of queries from prospective clients, though. And I’m not sure how to handle them all.”

“I’ll help you with it, if you want. Tomorrow. Now put that away and enjoy the day.” I laughed at my unintentional rhyme. “Damn, I’m funny when I’m not even trying.”

Simon grunted. “If you say so.”

I flipped him off, got up from my spot on the blanket and returned to my lounge chair, Tom already draped over the one to my left. He took my hand, I closed my eyes, and dozed off straight away, wiped out from my lack of sleep the night before.

My nap was rudely interrupted by Tom, bent over and shaking my shoulder gently.

“Maude, love, wake up.”

My eyelids fluttered open and I smacked his hand away. “Yeah. Fine. Awake. Why?”

He tipped his head back and to the right. “We’ve been spotted. Just fans, probably. No paparazzi yet.”

I yawned, stretching my arms above my head as I sat up to look and take a head count. Five, so far, about twenty feet away, phones raised. Three adults, two children. Adults were women, children a boy and a girl. Luke was in front of them, back to us, holding up his hands, saying something that I couldn’t quite make out over the roar of the waves. Simon was hovering nearby, watching and waiting.

I hoisted myself out of the chair and stood next to Tom. I elbowed him in the side.

“Come on, cowboy. Let’s go do this.” I rooted in my bag, searching for my phone.

I felt his hand grasp my forearm, and I glanced up at him. He was staring at me, eyes wide. “Really? This is all right with you?”

I shrugged. “They’re just people. One smile from you will make their day, and then some. So, why not? Spend a few minutes, they’re happy, they leave, it’s done and we’re back to being beach bums.” He shook his head in disbelief. “What? Is it really so shocking that I practice what I preach?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. Maybe it’s that I’m just not used to…?”

I interjected. “…having someone around who doesn’t think that they’re several rungs higher on the social ladder than the folks who are a huge part of what makes your successful career possible?”

“Oh, I like that. Let’s go with that.”

Twenty minutes later, the crowd had dispersed, Luke had informed me that I was a natural at wrangling fans as well as Tom and that this was my one true calling, and Simon was itching to move on to Nawiliwili Tavern before the crowds hit the beaches in hopes of getting a better view of the fireworks. I’d forgotten that sand was so intrusive and decided to shower before changing in one of the stalls provided, Tom keeping watch for me. I did the same while he rinsed and dressed. Simon and Luke were wearing matching Hawaiian shirts, which I thought was adorable, though the shirts themselves were hideous. Tom emerged wearing a tight white V-neck and tan shorts, and I wondered how in the hell I was going to make it through the evening without spontaneously combusting.

Simon, several yards in front of us with Luke as we all walked back to the car, began chanting, fists in the air. “KARaoke, KARaoke, KARaoke!”

Tom gave me a lopsided grin, eyes alight with mischief. “Care to wager on Luke’s participation again, Maude?”

“What stakes?”

“A late night dalliance of the oral persuasion, underneath the moon and stars? Winner is the receiver.”

“You’re on. Though that’s not really much of an incentive.”

His mouth dropped open. “Why not?”

“Because I’ll enjoy it just as much whether I win or lose.”

He sucked my earlobe into his mouth, then flicked it repeatedly with his tongue. “Are you certain that’s the case?”

“Not anymore.”

“Good.”

“Shut the fuck up, Tom. Terms?”

“Guess how many alcoholic beverages he’ll need to consume before he’s loosened up enough to sing in front of an entire bar. We each pick a number, one closest without going over wins. I choose five. Absolutely NO coercion or interference from either of us.”

“Fine. I’m going with two.”

He laughed. “Luke needs to be intoxicated in order to sing, period. He doesn’t even sing in the car, to the best of my knowledge. So very many drinks would be required for him to perform in public that he’ll likely pass out first. You won’t win.”

“Yes. I will. I’m already plotting all the things I’m going to make you do with that tongue of yours….”

“Damn.”

“Damn right.”

************************************************** From the outside, the Nawiliwili Tavern is an unassuming white building with green and red accents. Inside, it’s a quirky, homey, wood-laden watering hole with televisions everywhere, a horseshoe shaped bar, a Foosball table, a pool table, lots of neon and local artifacts aplenty. Karaoke happened right smack in the middle of all the action, and when we walked in the place was packed, with a grey-haired gentleman in a white tank top and Bermuda shorts belting out Gloria Gaynor’s ‘I Will Survive’. There wasn’t an official dance floor, but that didn’t seem to hamper the crowd’s enthusiasm as they moved and shook in place.

Simon turned to me and grabbed my hands, shouting above the din. “Maude, I have found my people. And if they’re my people, I’m thinking they might just be your people, too. Are they your people?”

I nodded as he dragged me closer to the sound system speakers, still shouting. “LET US DANCE WITH OUR PEOPLE!”

Luke and Tom joined us after the song had ended and things quieted down as the next person browsed the available selections. Luke had two Blue Hawaii drinks, one for himself and the other for Simon, and Tom had something that looked like orange juice in a hurricane glass and what I assumed was a Coke for me.

He smiled widely and handed me the tumbler. “Nice moves there, darling. Since you’re the designated driver I brought you a soda. They don’t have Coke, only Pepsi. Hope that’s acceptable.”

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “I guess I’ll just have to make do.” I kissed his cheek, then pointed to his drink. “Thank you. Now, tell me what the hell that thing is.”

He caressed the side of the glass, running his fingers over its curves. “This is a Tropical Itch. Rum, vodka passion orange juice and orange curacao. Bamboo backscratcher included at no extra charge.” He took a sip, then offered me one.

I shook my head. “I’m driving, remember?”

He pouted. “So there’s no chance of me getting you snockered and having my way with you?”

I snorted. “Riiight. Because you haven’t had your way with me already.” I grabbed his ass and he emitted a low hiss.

“Minx.” His tone seemed…off. I looked up at him, noting that his expression didn’t quite align with his words, either. He met my gaze, then shifted his eyes to the side for a moment, then back to me as he smiled softly. I knew instantly that the topic of my lack of participation in the consumption of alcohol had reared its ugly head while he and Luke were ordering drinks, and that he’d offered me a sip and posed his suggestive question in the hopes that I’d volunteer an answer to another question…the one he’d rather not have to ask.

It wasn’t as if I’d never been down this road before, but that didn’t make it any less awkward. And this time, I actually gave a shit about the reaction I’d get, which was terrifying but I decided it wouldn’t get any less awkward as time went on. And if I was lucky, he wouldn’t press me for too much background information.

Taking a deep breath, I put my hand on his forearm and looked into his eyes. “To answer your question…no, Tom, I don’t drink. Historically, alcohol and I make incredibly poor bedfellows, so I’ve made it a point to abstain. Hope that doesn’t pose a problem.” I swallowed and cast my gaze downward as he put a hand on my shoulder.

“How did you know…I…lord, you…I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to you seemingly reading my thoughts, though I certainly do adore it.” He kissed me briefly, his lips soft and warm, slightly sweet with orange and passionfruit juice. “I’m very sorry, Maude. When we were at the bar I initially ordered two Tropical Itches and Luke looked at me as if I had three heads and said ‘don’t tell me you’re such a dolt that you haven’t noticed that she doesn’t drink’, and apparently I am such a dolt because, I hadn’t. I asked if you told him why and he said you hadn’t even told him you didn’t but unlike me he actually possesses observational skills so he picked up on it and that it wasn’t anyone’s business but yours and if you wanted me to know you’d tell me, but…”

He paused, waiting for a response from me. I met his gaze but remained silent.

“I…Maude…of course it’s not a problem for me, not at all…but…is it a problem for you that I do drink? I suppose if it was you would have mentioned it or run for the hills already…shit, I…please, say something before I make an even bigger arse of myself, won’t you?”

“You aren’t making an arse of yourself, Tom. That’s an odd word, isn’t it? Arse. Doesn’t sit well on the tongue.” He raised his left eyebrow, smirking just the tiniest bit. “Other people’s drinking preferences are of no concern to me as long as they don’t impact my own existence in a seriously detrimental fashion.” I patted his bicep. “For the record, abysmal drunken singing is not automatically considered to be seriously detrimental. That’s a case by case basis kind of thing.”

He crossed his hands at the wrist and put them on his chest, right above his heart. “I am deeply offended that you believe my singing will be…abysmal.”

I shrugged. “I was actually referring to the lovely woman currently butchering ‘We Built This City’, which is bad enough when sung on key. But if you think the shoe fits, prove me wrong, Thomas. Get in the karaoke line.”

He leaned down, frowning as he touched his forehead to mine. “You okay?”

“Good, actually. I’ve been dreading that whole conversation. I always wind up feeling like a freak show because the general consensus is that if you don’t party there must be something really, really wrong with you.’”

“Again, my apologies. If you ever want to talk about it…”

“Someday. Thank you. And no need to apologize. By our own admissions, there’s still a ton of shit we don’t know about each other yet. Please, never be afraid to ask me questions, Tom. I’ll always answer as best I can.” I chuckled.

“What?”

“At least you didn’t ask me if it was because it’s against my religion.”

“You’ve been asked that?”

“Yes. Yes I have.”

“Might I inquire as to what your reply was?”

“Let’s just say the conversation went sideways. And that the person hasn’t spoken to me since.” His brow furrowed. “Turned out they didn’t appreciate being lectured on the impact of religion on personal freedom and how it was engineered from the start as a means of controlling the populous…”

Simon came bounding over and put his arm around my waist. “Time for singing, Maude. Let’s go.”

I raised both eyebrows and handed Tom my soda. “Um, okay…mind telling me WHAT it is we’re singing?”

He poked his index finger at my chest. “We will be performing one of my personal favorites – ‘It’s Raining Men’ by the Weather Girls.”

Tom threw his head back and laughed, then fished his phone out of his pocket and waved it at me.

I stuck my tongue out at him. “Film away, baby. I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back in the habit of tweeting more than once every hundred years.”

We sang, we danced, and by the end of the song most of the bar had joined in. After enjoying a round of applause, Simon and I found Tom and Luke in the crowd and pushed and shoved our way to them. I sucked down my entire soda and set the glass on the nearest table while Luke handed Simon a Tropical Itch. He was still nursing his first Blue Hawaii. Simon kissed his cheek.

“Your turn, love. Come sing with me.”

I grinned evilly at Tom. He shook his head. Luke handed me his drink.

“Watch this for me, will you?” I nodded, and Simon passed off his beverage to Tom. I pulled out my phone since I had a hand free, then realized I was way too fucking short to be able to get anything other than the heads of the people in front of me. Tom had set the rest of the drinks on a table, and took Luke’s from me and put it there as well. He held out his hand, palm up.

“May I do the honors?”

I handed over my phone. “Please do. I can’t see for shit.”

He took my hand and worked his way to the front of the crowd so he was directly in front of Luke and Simon, then moved behind me. When the first notes of the song hit my ears and I realized it was ‘I Got You Babe’ I believe I may have actually squealed with delight. Luke did Sonny’s parts, and Simon did Cher’s. It was adorable, the depth of their feelings for each other so blatantly apparent that it moved me to tears. I felt Tom’s arm slip around my waist, followed by him kissing the back of my neck. Looking around the room, I saw that nearly every other couple was entwined in some way, swaying to the music. Tom managed to capture it all, and as soon as the song ended I grabbed the phone and logged into Twitter.

My boss, Luke. My co-worker (and Luke’s fiancé), Simon. Karaoke USUALLY only makes me cry because the singing is SO very bad. #happytearstonightthough #igotyoubabe #tooadorable #thisjobgetsbetterandbetter

Tom whispered in my ear as he slowly lowered his hand from my waist to my belly. “Well, it appears you’ve won again, Maude. I’m anxiously awaiting the settlement of my debt.”

“You should stop talking, Thomas. Rest that tongue.” He pressed me back against him and I could feel him hard against my ass. I clenched, knowing his hand was in just the right spot to feel everything tighten. His groan almost made me come right there, in the middle of the bar.

“Maaaaauuuuddee.” He bit my neck, and as I turned my head to the side to allow him better access I noticed a woman a few feet away with her camera pointed in our direction. I waved, hearing her gasp as she quickly turned around. I chuckled, and Tom mumbled into my neck. “What’s funny?”

“Prepare yourself, dude. I just caught some woman taking pictures of us…which are totally going to show up on Tumblr any second now.”

“Good. I want the world to know you’re all mine.” He growled and laved the spot he’d bitten with his tongue, then released me as Simon and Luke approached us. “I do believe it’s time for my abysmal performance.”

I rolled my eyes and burst into song. “Let it go, let it GOOOOO…” He blew me a kiss and began perusing the song catalog.

Simon crossed his arms and tapped his foot. “He’ll do Piano Man. I guarantee it.”

I shrugged. “I have no point of reference for his karaoke habits, so I guess I’ll have to take you at your word.”

When Daft Punk’s ‘Get Lucky’ began to play, Simon’s jaw dropped and he patted his pockets frantically as he tried to locate his phone. “Well, fuck me. This is definitely not ‘Piano Man’! Shit, where is my phone?!”

I handed him mine. “Will you film so I can watch him, please?”

He pinched my cheek. “No, let’s make Luke do it. I can’t stand still during this song.”

Luke sighed, but obliged. Since Tom had taken center stage, so to speak, more people began to recognize him. Cameras were raised all around the bar, some patrons standing on tables to get a better view. I heard him singing, and was surprised at how good he sounded, but the majority of my focus was directed upon watching him move. His hips gyrating, pelvis thrusting, spinning with his arms extended, jawline and cheekbones so perfectly shadowed in the dim lighting of the bar. I was sure I heard ‘get Loki’ from somewhere in the crowd a few times, which made me grin like an idiot. It was all over before I could truly process what I’d just witnessed, the sound of the crowd clapping and cheering snapping me back to reality as I watched him bow deeply several times. As he strode toward me, everything else faded in to a blur, and all I saw was Tom. He picked me up and spun me around as if I was as light as a feather, then set me down and dipped me as he kissed me. His smile as he set me upright again nearly made me swoon.

“Well? Was it as terrible as you expected?”

I punched him in the shoulder. “Shut up, asshole. You’re well aware that you were fucking amazing.”

Simon gave my phone back. “Post it, Maude. POST IT.”

Oh look, it’s this guy again. Karaoke. Daft Punk’s ‘Get Lucky’. You’ve never seen it done like this before, trust me. You’re welcome. :) #upallnightforgoodfun? #indeed

Luke’s phone dinged. He checked it, and suddenly his head lolled back, eyes closed, mouth open and tongue protruding.

Simon snorted. “Whoops, I think you finally did him in with that one, honey.”

Tom peeked at the screen over my shoulder and cackled. “Since it’s entirely your fault I expect you’ll be covering all of the funeral expenses?”

I wiggled my fingers and tickled Luke just under his armpit. He tried to maintain his composure but was unable to resist, finally dissolving into a puddle of giggles.

Simon shouted “IT’S ALIVE”, which earned him a huge hug and a rather lengthy kiss. I looked up and Tom, who firmly planted his hand on my back and walked me to the laptop that contained the song list.

“Your turn, my love.”

The left corner of my mouth turned down. “Um, you’re kind of a tough act to follow, you know.”

He shook his head. “I’ve heard you sing. No one will even remember what I did when you’re through.” He kissed my cheek and went to rejoin Luke and Simon, his phone in his hand, ready to record.

I considered Blondie’s ‘One Way or Another’ but decided it was a little too high for me in spots, thought about Adelle’s ‘Skyfall’, which was well within my range but not really a crowd pleaser, and then I found it. Amy Winehouse, ‘Back to Black’. A little raunchy at times, brutally honest and incredibly dark…rather like me. Perfection. It had been at least fifteen years since I’d sung in front of an audience of more than a few people in public, and they were forced to listen to me because we were in the grocery store or on a plane, but I was incredibly calm. I’d sung this one more times than I could remember, and I knew it inside out and upside down. I hit the button and grabbed the microphone, ready to roll.

Halfway through I noticed that the room had gone quiet, not a single sound to be heard other than the music and…me. I knew if I looked at Tom I’d fuck up royally, so I kept my eyes on the screen. When I finished the silence continued for what seemed like an eternity, broken suddenly by thunderous applause, whistles and cat calls. I bowed, then searched the faces around me, trying to find Tom. I saw Luke and Simon, but he wasn’t with them. I made my way over, head tilted, questioning.

Simon pointed to a nearby table. “Honey, you were so good the man had to go sit the fuck down. And I got it all on video. Luke filmed you, and I filmed Tom watching you. Your grandkids will thank me. Or throw up in their mouths a little. Something.”

I followed Simon’s finger, and there was Tom, sitting in a chair, legs spread wide, hands on his thighs, head down and looking at the floor. I approached him slowly, coming to rest between his legs. He wrapped his arms around my waist and buried his face in my stomach. I put one hand on his shoulder and the other on the back of his head, stroking his hair. I heard the first strains of Rick Astley’s ‘Never Gonna Give You Up’ and turned to see Simon, mic in hand, doing his best impression of Rick’s dancing . I gently pried Tom’s arms from around me, slid down and squatted in front of him. His eyes were still directed at the hardwood floor. I leaned my head in and under in an attempt to get him to look at me.

“Hi there.” He raised his head ever so slowly, mouth turned up at the corners almost imperceptibly. His eyes wavered from angry to pained, aroused, and then to adoring as his emotions cycled. He stood, taking my hands and pulling me up with him, then let go so he could place them firmly on my shoulders as he stared at me.

His words came out haltingly, but firm. “I. Love. You.”

I reached out to cup his jaw and ran my thumb along his cheekbone. “And I love you.”

“That was both beautiful and terrible all at once, Maude.”

“Okaaaay…”

“There was so much pain in your voice…raw, naked, real pain.”

“Maybe I’m just a top-notch performer.”

He took two steps towards me, closing the gap between us, his hands still on my shoulders, eyes ablaze. “Is it wrong that I want to decimate whomever is responsible for that pain?”

I shook my head, wishing it was that simple. He let his hands slide down my arms until they were clutching my elbows.

“In addition to that, I’m overwhelmed with pride, joy, and, more than anything else, desire. Everything I’m feeling is a jumbled, incoherent mess and I need you in order to sort it all out. Right now. I need to be inside you, to feel you all around me, your skin against mine, flushed red by the pleasure we’re giving each other, enveloped by your scent…” His hands were shaking, eyes full of desperation. “I…I…just…I need you. I need you, lest I lose my fucking mind, Maude.”

It took all the willpower I possessed to not fuck him senseless right then and there. I felt in my pocket to make sure the car keys Luke had given me when we arrived were still there. Check. The vehicle was roomy enough, I thought, and the windows were darkly tinted to ensure the occupants could remain relatively anonymous. I pulled out my phone and shot off a quick text to Simon, who was just finishing up and basking in the accolades bestowed upon him by the bar’s patrons.

We’re taking a little ride. Won’t be long, about thirty or forty minutes max. Everything’s fine, Tom just needs some air. - XO, M

Talk about uncharted fucking territory. I pushed any negative thoughts aside, telling myself that yes, it is perfectly normal and absolutely possible to grow to love someone so deeply in such a short period of time that you began to need them as much as you needed…well, air. I took Tom by the hand and led him out to the parking lot, and he hesitated when I opened the door for him.

“Maude?”

“Get in the car, Tom.” He complied. I hopped in, put on my seat belt, turned the engine over, put it in reverse and backed out of the parking space. I forgot to brake as I tried to shift it into drive, corrected myself, and headed down the road to find what I was looking for. Two miles down, there it was. A large office complex, dimly lit and completely deserted as it had been when we passed it on the way to the bar. Since it was a holiday, I was reasonably sure it would remain that way. As I pulled into the lot Tom finally realized what I was up to. He unbuckled his seat belt, leaned into me and began licking the hollow between my collarbones as he wriggled his hand under the waistband of my baggy shorts.

“You need to stop that or I’m going to wind up driving the car right through the fucking building.”

He ignored me and began rubbing my mound with the palm of his hand while he slipped three fingers inside me. I drove around to the rear of the property and parked as far back as I could, right next to a privacy fence. He climbed on top of me as soon as I put it park, devouring my mouth, his free hand in my hair as the other worked me into a frenzy. I rode his hand, fingernails raking up and down the back of his white V-neck, screaming his name as I came. He opened the driver side door, rose up off of me and gracefully exited the vehicle, hand extended. I took it, and he helped me up. Neither of us spoke.

I opened the trunk, searched for our beach towels and spread all of them across the back seat, tucking the edges into the space between the top and the bottom of the bench. I didn’t think it was nearly long enough for him to stretch out, but we’d most likely be able to fit without having to leave the door open. I turned around to find him completely naked, cock standing proudly erect. I yanked my T-shirt over my head while he unhooked my bra, taking a breast in each hand, bending to suck on my nipples in turn as I wiggled out of my shorts and underwear. He stood back to look at me in the moonlight, fireworks sounding off in the distance and reflecting in his eyes, then moved closer to touch my face with his fingertips. He pushed me backward gently, motioning for me to lie down on the seat. I squirmed as I did, struggling to find a comfortable position, and when I finally stilled he bent over, entered the car headfirst, closed the door behind him, then crawled between my legs and up my body like a cat. He looked as if he wanted to eat me alive, and I was SO totally fine with that.

I could feel him hard against me, poised at my entrance. He stared at me, unmoving, waiting. For what, I didn’t know. His voice startled me when he spoke.

“Will you let me make love to you, Maude?”

I raised my hips, shifting so the head of his cock slid into me. “Please, Thomas. Fuck me.” He pulled back and out of my reach.

“No. I don’t want to just fuck you. I want to make love to you. Pleasure your body with the reverence it deserves.”

The realization that I had no idea what that actually meant hit me like a freight train. I panicked, then decided to opt for honesty.

“I don’t think I know how that’s supposed to work.”

“You let go and let me love you. That’s how it works.”

I frowned. “Still not getting it.”

He resumed staring at me, and it slowly dawned on me that what he so desperately needed was not just a physical connection, but an emotional one as well, wherein we focused on the way our bodies came together, instead of them just…coming. Two people becoming one. Possessing each other fully, completely. I twined my legs with his.

“Take me, Thomas. Make me yours.”

He thrust his tongue into my mouth as he sank into me, his lips finally closing over mine, our breath mingling. He propped himself up on his elbows, raised my hands so they lay beside my head, then wrapped his fingers around mine as he rested his full weight on me.

Our tongues danced around each other, pulling back, pushing forward, licking, mouths sucking, teeth biting. He lifted his head so he could meet my gaze as he began to move, a fraction of an inch at a time at first, finally pulling nearly all the way out then sheathing himself fully over and over again. I was panting, and the urge to clamp down on him was overwhelming, but I breathed deeply and concentrated on the way our bodies joined, fitting each other so perfectly, the way his cock felt when it was completely buried in my cunt, the way it dragged against my walls as he thrust in and pulled back again and again. This beautiful man above me, looking deep into my soul, making me feel like I was his entire world. And he was mine. There was nothing else, just us, skin on skin, pleasure emanating from where we connected, and I never wanted it to end.

I felt him twitch inside me, and our eyes locked. He sped up, full weight still on me, hips undulating like waves. My breasts moved with him as he rocked us, nipples rubbing against the hair on his chest, his pubic bone pressing deliciously against my clit with every thrust. The tension in my belly rose, setting me alight, the fire spreading throughout my entire body. When I began to shudder, he let go of my hands and slid both arms underneath me, raising my upper body to him, cradling me, one hand buried in my hair and holding my head, my name an invocation on his lips.

I wrapped my arms around him, clinging to him as if I were drowning and he was the only one who could save me, staring into his eyes as I…let go. It was almost an out of body experience, an orgasm that seemed to go on forever, involving every molecule that comprised the shell that housed my spirit. An explosion, bathing me in warm, bright light. And he was right there with me, coming and coming deep inside me, anointing our union with his essence.

I burst into tears, overcome with emotion. He moved his hands to my thighs, lifting me, and shifted us, still joined, to a sitting position so I was on his lap, holding me and rubbing my back as I sobbed against his neck.

“Shh, shh, I’m here, I’m here.”

The minutes ticked by, and as my storm subsided I lifted my head and brushed away my tears with my forearm, then placed my hands on either side of his face, leaning in close.

“I love you, Thomas. Sorry for falling apart. I…it’s…I…I’ve never experienced anything like what just happened before. Ever. Not even close. Thank you. For that. And for loving me.”

He rested his forehead against mine, eyes wet with tears of his own. “And oh, how I do love you. Please don’t be sorry, Maude. The fact that your feelings about me, about us, are so intense means…well, everything. And I’m the one should be thanking you. You gave me what I needed. You let me in. You let go. You gave me you. All of you.”

We held each other until I began tittering softly.

He cocked his head. “What?”

“Nothing.” He raised his brows at me. “Fine. It’s just…we’re having, like, this MOMENT and then I remembered that we’re naked in a fucking rental car in a parking lot on the 4th of July in Hawaii and that we totally ditched Simon and Luke at a bar like we’re a couple of fucking horny teenagers and…” I was laughing so hard that I thought I was going to pee my pants, and then I realized that I wasn’t wearing pants and that pushed me over the edge and I was crying again.

Tom’s laughter began as a low rumble in his chest, then escalated to full on guffawing, and soon enough we were both weeping and clutching at each other.

Once we could look at each other again without losing our shit, he grabbed the towel nearest to us and slipped it under me as I lifted myself off of him, then opened the car door to gather the clothes we’d strewn across the macadam. He dressed me, kissing me everywhere as he went. My ankles, the backs of my knees, my belly button, up and down my spine, my eyelids. When I wanted to return the favor he refused.

“If your lips even so much as graze my skin, we’ll never make it back to Nawiliwili tonight.”

Since he hadn’t even finished his first drink, I let him drive while I checked my phone. There was a text from Simon, sent five minutes ago.

Your forty minutes were up ten minutes ago, girlie. I’m a total slut for karaoke, but I don’t think my voice can take much more. Get your asses back here, please. – XO, S

I texted him back.

We’re on our way. Be there in two minutes. I’d say I’m sorry, but…I’m really not, so… - XO, M

He replied immediately.

Bitch. ;P – XO, S

We parked and walked in, hand in hand. Simon and Luke were chatting away with another couple, and as we approached them I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to see the woman from earlier who’d been taking pictures of us. Tom looked at me, and I nodded and let go of his hand so he could go join Luke and Simon.

“Um, hi. I’m really sorry to bother you but I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about before. It was really wrong for me to take pictures of you guys when you’re just living your lives. That was a totally private moment. I mean, I wouldn’t want a stranger taking a picture of me and my boyfriend like that…anyway, I didn’t post them online or anything, and I deleted them off my phone. I was just really excited because I’m a big fan and…so, yeah. Sorry for being an asshole.”

I patted her arm and smiled. “Thank you for apologizing. And since you didn’t post them, you are absolutely not an asshole as far as I’m concerned. I completely understand how it happened. He’s just so damn beautiful, how could you not, right?” She laughed. “Want to meet him?”

She blushed and held up her hands. “Oh, no, no…I couldn’t, not after what I did, I feel like such a shit.”

“Don’t worry about it. Come on. And sorry, I forgot to ask…what’s your name?”

“Samantha.”

I shook her hand. “Nice to meet you, Samantha. I’m Maude.”

Her blush deepened. “I know.”

I brought her over to Tom, introduced her and took their picture, and when I told her it was fine to post it online she said she’d think about it but would probably have it printed instead. She thanked us and went back to her group of friends across the room. As Luke took a handful of glasses back to the bar, Simon pointed at me accusingly.

“You’ve had your fun, now I want mine. For the love of Christ, let’s get OUT of here already. And please tell me you’re a fast driver. Please.”

I nodded. “I am. But I’m not driving. Tom is.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oy. He drives like my grandpa. We’ll just have to fuck in the backseat on the way there then, I guess.”

Tom snickered, and I pretended to smack the back of his head.

Simon’s face scrunched up in disgust. “You didn’t. Did you?” I shrugged. “You did!”

Luke returned, brow furrowed. “Did what?”

Simon shook his head. “You don’t want to know. All I’m sayin’ is that I’m putting towels down before I sit in that car.”

I held up a finger. “Yeah. About those towels…”

#your light in the mist #chapter 12

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bourgeoisfury · 6 years

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School Daze

14 years ago..

A robin danced in the late morning sun, flitting about without a care. The small bird made the oppressive warmth of the day look inviting, fun even. Aedos cradled her head in her hand, her cheek squishing out against her palm. Being a robin would be so nice. A collage of green leaves outside the classroom window rustled, soaking in a pleasant breeze.

An itch tugged at the back of her mind, trying to get her attention.. reminding her of something. The nagging pulled her away from birdwatching, and her heart sank when she turned to find Sister Gertrude staring at her expectantly from beside the blackboard. Several giggles from the other corners of the classroom cut through the silence, and Aedos found herself wishing she could shrink into her chair.

Whilst watching the girl do her best to disappear, Sister Gertrude chastised, “Pay attention, Miss Valleritignon! Now tell me,” she repeated herself, “what is the reason for Our war with the Dravanian Horde?”

Aedos blinked, her cheeks flushing and her head throbbing. She tugged instinctively at one of her twin braids. How long had everyone been staring? How was she supposed to know the answer to that question anyway? She had to say something though, and with each blink of the multitude of eyes around her she could feel her face burning up redder and redder. “U-uhm…D-...Dragons, Miss?”

Well, duh. She could have said something more clever than that. A chorus of insulting giggles followed, through which the embarrassed girl blinked away tears, deciding she best leave, run away. Be somewhere else, anywhere but here, right now. Just before she could muster the courage to leap for the closed window of the classroom and wrench it open, the teacher cleared her throat, resuming their lesson.

“Well, in a sense, yes.” Sister Gertrude’s voice was pleasant and calm, and with a wave of her robed hand Aedos’s embarrassment was forgotten. “By their very nature, dragons are cruel and fierce. We are lucky that there ever existed a peace-time between ourselves and the Dravanians.” Sister Gertrude gave a dramatic pause, stalking the room, allowing the children who were paying attention to mumble questions of their own.

“...And although there was a peace. The treacherous nature of the dragons reared its head before long, and SNAP.” She stopped suddenly in her tracks and clapped her hands in a faux jaw-bite, and excitement rippled through the classroom.

“They fell upon our ancestors with jaws of steel and breath of hellfire!” The Sister hissed and chuckled, beginning to pace the classroom once more. She winked at Aedos, causing the little girl to grin, the embarrassed glow of her cheeks fading.

“Many Ishgardians perished, and many more fled, for how else were they to survive? Yet outmatched and betrayed by their draconic allies, there were those of our ancestors who did not falter. The strongest, brightest, most righteous Ishgardians came together to protect those who could not protect themselves. Under the ever watchful gaze of the Fury, the order of Our Knights Most Heavenly was formed — and they’ve kept the walls of our city safe for a thousand years since.” The silence that had now overcome the classroom brought a polite grin to Gertrude’s face, knowing she now had all of the children’s attention. “Now, can any of you tell me the names of any of our faithful Knights?”

The lesson continued on — a few offers and the occasional innocent query came from the crowd of children, but the pace and direction of the lesson were single-handedly led by Sister Gertrude. Before long, a bell chimed through the hallways and signalled a close to the morning lessons. Hubbub and excitement coursed through the stone halls of Our Lady of Perpetual Grace, doors clicking open and closed, squeals pealing along corridors as lunches were unpacked and exchanged, bargained and hoarded.

Aedos quickly grabbed up her bag and took the girl seated next to her by the hand, pulling her up “Come on, Marion. We’ll lose our spot!” The two young girls raced up to Debrillont and Elmerique who were already halfway out the door. They made their way to the crowded benches of the cafeteria, the quartet of young elezen ladies carving their own spot out at the end of a bench. Once seated, they all began eyeing up each other’s lunches as pouches and boxes were freed from satchels.

As Debrillont leaned over and snagged a honeyed oat biscuit out of Aedos’s lunchbox, she teased, “We almost thought we’d lost you to the fae again, Valerie.” She darted her hand back, prize captured, in time to dodge Aedos’s gawking face and slower arm.

The nickname grated the girl, How many times do I have to tell Deb just to call me Aedos? She had made it clear she didn’t enjoy attention being called to her already comically long surname.

“Hey!” Aedos shoved her bottom lip out and readjusted her oversized glasses as they wobbled down her nose, with Elmerique taking the opportunity to mimic Debrillont’s maneuver and steal another biscuit.

Aedos’s mouth squirmed and she shielded her lunch from any more thieves. Once things seemed settled, she pulled out a neatly folded crepe and broached, “There was a robin outside the window, didn’t you guys see it?”

Marion, the small, mousy-haired elezen smiled and opened her mouth to reply.

“Hey, we should go to the library! The Sisters said they were getting new tomes in!” Debrillont said, completely ignoring Aedos’s question.

Elmerique pricked up at their blonde pack-leader’s proposal, agreeing quickly. Whilst Marion, not quite as keen, shifted her eyes reluctantly as she closed her mouth from being interrupted and pulled the wicker lid of her lunch basket closed.

“Come on, we can grab a look at the good ones before everyone else barges in after they’ve eaten!” Debrillont continued. Not one to waste time, she got up and left her belongings where they were, marching down the hallway in a commanding, determined fashion. The rest of the troop followed shortly behind, bringing their own belongings as well as Deb’s.

Champlechaun’s Fourth Critique of Modern Readings on The Enchiridion, A Twelve Step Guide on How Best to Hide from Dravanian Invaders, How to Tell if Your Spouse is in League with Heretics, and more than two dozen other tomes decorated a small trolley with the sign ‘New Books’. Whilst the other girls murmured and flipped through a few of the pages, Aedos’s eyes were caught on a simple-looking book that seemed to be squeezed on to the bottom of the shelf. Wedged under The Enchiridion and You: In Halone we Trust, was a thin, leather bound book, its pages a faded, greasy yellow. Turning over the leather binding in her hand, she noted the outside was not labelled like most other books seemed to be. Turning past the blank leaflets of the front, she came across a scrawled title. Removing her glasses, and tucking one of the metal arms around a pocket of her backpack, she began to read Dravanian Shapes and Skins recorded by one ‘Eadric the Chaste’.

The journal seemed to outline a number of encounters the writer had either experienced or heard recounted from knights and travelers. The text itself was dry and meandering, but every second or third page held a detailed sketch, done in ink, of claws, or wings, or jaws. For any other Fury-fearing child of eight winters, this might have been the seed of many a restless night, birthing images of nightmarish monsters. But this particular young girl was gripped with a hunger: she dove into the texts and sketches. Absentmindedly, the girl roamed past bookshelves, eyes glued to the pages of the journal, her fingers turning through the parchment and tracing their tips over the scaley images.

Time quickly faded into obscurity as she grew more and more engrossed, no longer bored of the dreary, analytical recounting of battles and sightings. Aedos’s mind found itself focused, nourished and blooming with the book’s fantastical depictions of creatures that commanded strength and ferocity along with beauty and majesty.

When the belltower chimed its signature din to call an end to lunch, Aedos was pulled back to the present by an insistent nudging at her shoulder. The warm brown of Marion’s eyes greeted her as she finally looked up from the book’s pages. “We’ll be late! Come on!”

The would-be dragon-fangirl’s eyes adjusted and she looked over at the desk where the librarian was sitting by the library entrance. Aedos looked back down at the book, still in her hand. She thought of how much more she yearned to study it. It was far-and-away superior to any of the drab Enchiridion extracts that seemed to flood the bookshelves. She should request to borrow the book from the librarian. She should ask them if they had any more texts similar to this one. She should. But a twinge of doubt pricked at her mind. She was running late for class, and the Sisters wouldn’t want that. If she was late, she would be scolded for her tardiness as well as her inattentiveness. The book swiftly slipped from her hand and in to her backpack.

Marion helped Aedos up and the two quickly mustered themselves from the library, their feet pattering back along the emptying corridors and back to their classroom. The two shuffled back to their desks, seemingly not late enough to be reprimanded or snickered at, crossing past Debrillont and Elmerique who were sitting pretty in the second row.

Marion whispered to the little book-thief, “You shouldn’t steal.” And Aedos just gave her a wide-eyed look, about to reply, when Sister Gertrude cleared her throat and called for everyone to take their seats.

Afternoon classes wrapped up two bells later. Debrillont shot up to the front of the classroom, speaking with the teacher, her movements urgent. The rest of the class packed their pens and books and began chatting. Sister Gertrude nodded to Debrillont, and bid her a good afternoon as the girl turned and waved to Aedos. Standing by the door, Sister Gertrude offered her ritual farewell to each of the children in turn as they left.

Aedos gave a quick, chirpy “See you,” to Marion before making her way to exit the classroom. However, when she approached their teacher at the door, the woman did not wish her well.

Instead, Gertrude reservedly requested that Aedos remain behind for a moment. Blinking in confusion, the young elezen agreed, and bid her classmates off with an embarrassed flick of her hand as they all passed.

Once all of the students had left apart from Aedos, the older woman — dressed in her austere red and white Halonic garb — turned toward the confused girl. Gertrude’s countenance was troubled. Wrinkles creasing around her jowls and brow. “Now, I hate to ask this, dear. But do you mind if I have a look in your bag?”

Dread clutched at Aedos’s chest. She failed to stammer out a response, her tongue drying up in her mouth.

Sister Gertrude gently pried up the canvas backpack in question and opened it. At first, she let out a gentle, reassuring hum of forgiveness and apology, preparing to crack a remark about the almost untouched lunchbox. However, the holy sister’s eyes caught a glimpse of something, riveting her on the spot for a heartbeat. She then fished out an otherwise nondescript leather journal from the satchel.

Wincing at the discovery, Aedos piped up, her guilt immediately revealing itself, “Wait! I c-can explain! You see I was just borr-”

Her explanation was cut-off by the very deep furrowing of Gertrude’s face as she began to read from the book. “Oh dear, oh dear,” the nun muttered, colour fading from her already pale face. With a click of her tongue, the sister shook her head and clapped the book shut, “You’ll be coming with me, missy.”

As Aedos grabbed her bag, her other hand was grasped tightly and the girl was whisked down the hallway and up a flight of stairs. They passed a few concerned teachers, and a couple of students that turned on them in terror, watching Sister Gertrude stalk away with Aedos flailing in-tow.

Aedos found herself finally halted, standing in front of a large, ominous red oak door. One hand still on her backpack, the other grasped in her teacher’s palm. Gertrude knocked on the door. A moment later it opened, a woman clad in the familiar white and red Halonic priest attire stood there. This woman’s face seemed to perpetually sag: the downward turn of her facial features illustrating, in equal parts, a harried and perturbed look to any emotion the woman might show. Atop her head sat a small pointed white cap, a thin red spear emblazoned on the front, flanked by rows of shorter, parallel red lines.

“Mother Superior. Please excuse my interruption, but I’ve an urgent matter to discuss.” Sister Gertrude shook the heretical book in her fist, her voice groaning in something akin to fear.

The mother superior nodded and stared at Aedos as she ushered the two of them in to the pale-toned room of her study. A heavy oak desk rested at one end, with several trolleys of books stacked next to the wide window on the opposite wall to the door. Sister Gertrude passed the offensive piece of literature to the other woman and watched as the latter began to flick through its contents. “Mmhmmmmm,” she hummed.

“I’m not sure where she got this. But everything we are grooming these young women to be will be for nought if we have heretical nonsense like this roaming about.”

“Yes. You are quite right.” The woman with the hat replied, continuing to look briefly through the pages before slapping the tome shut and down on to her desk. She turned to Aedos, “Tell me. Where did you get this book?” Any politeness that the young girl might have expected was completely absent: it felt less like a question, and more a command.

“Th-the library,” Aedos stammered.

“Nonsense. Don’t lie to me. Where did you find it?”

“I-I’m not lying. Miss Agathieux, I’m sorr-”

THWACK.

“Show some respect!” Agathieux roared as she slapped the girl’s cheek.

“Y-yes, Mother Superior, sorry.” Aedos’s eyes bored into the floor as she felt her legs go weak, but stayed standing. She touched her burning cheek lightly, hissing reflexively, and then wrung her hands together, entwining her fingers.

“Don’t fidget,” Agathieux reprimanded.

“Yes, Mother Superior. Sorry, Mother Superior.” She clenched her fists and then relaxed them, eyes still turned down.

“If you don’t tell me where you found this book, or who gave it to you, then you will have to be punished.”

“I-” Aedos began, and then swallowed. “I found it with the new books in the library.” She looked up, “I thought it must have been ordered in with the others.”

“We only keep educational material in these walls, little girl. Does this book seem enlightening to you?” Rhetoric seeped from her voice, and it was all Aedos could do to not answer in the affirmative. “Either you are still lying to me. Or something even more worrisome is afoot. Either way, this book is hereby confiscated. And you — you will be put to daily cathedral polishing for the rest of semester as penance; as well as a full week’s suspension from classes and school grounds. Effective immediately.”

The young girl’s eyes went wide and she shot a pleading look at Sister Gertrude, who averted her gaze. Judgement had been passed.

Upon returning to school after her suspension, Aedos was frightened. When she spoke with her friends, they rebuffed her requests to spend lunch together, telling her they were busy. Several times she did sit with them, disregarding their appeals for her to sit elsewhere, but on these occasions she found they wilfully ignored her, talking over her when she spoke. There weren’t even any attempts to steal her food, either, and somehow Aedos found she missed that, too. So she sat alone, and waited for the day when enough time might have passed that they would forgive her, for whatever she had done wrong.

Days became sennights, and sennights became moons. Eventually the next year of schooling came around and Aedos found herself in a class of entirely new faces, a chance to make new friends. But the damage was done, and she did not find that trust could come to her so easily anymore.

Her studies, having already been prone to bouts of dreaming and inattentiveness, also began to decline. Images and tales of menacing scalekin prowled her mind, and she found it easy to become lost in them when her lessons demanded much less romantic subject matter. She still kept abreast of the required study material in history, geography and martial studies, but only just skated by on the thinnest of ice in mathematics, enchiridion studies, and literature, managing to maintain the bare minimum to pass each subject she did not care for. Students and teachers grew to expect little from the girl, and it was a great surprise to many when several years later she began to devote much of her time to squiring under House Fortemps with some modicum of success.

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pierceson-mapes24 · 3 years

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*Foucault: Rhetoric as Power*

In this entry, I will examine the critical question(s): How does this artifact provide an example of a discursive formation and its elements? How does this discursive formation evoke a certain sense of power, and how is this power limiting/constraining/unproductive?

To investigate these questions, I examined the multifaceted corporation Amazon as my rhetorical artifact. Using Foucault’s notion of discursive formation as a lens to analyze Amazon, it is clear, that a discursive formation and its elements are at play. Two discursive practices create identifiable rules, roles, knowledge, and power possessed by Amazon, in an ultimately productive capacity.

In 1994 Jeff Bezos founded Amazon, what started out as an online marketplace for books quickly grew into a multinational 1.63 trillion-dollar technology corporation. Amazon today is known for a multitude of different things: from its online marketplace (That sells almost anything imaginable), to its innovative subscription service (Amazon Prime), to its AI assistant Alexa, to its live streaming platforms (Amazon music, Amazon prime video, Audible, and Twitch), to its consumer electronics (Kindle e-readers, Fire tablets, Fire Tv, and Echo), and its cloud computing service (Amazon web services). Amazon has revolutionized online retail pushing e-commerce in new directions with there subscription service Amazon Prime, which pairs the convenience of online shopping with the luxury of same day delivery or at the most 2-day delivery. Amazons’ ability to deliver products in a speedy manner with no extra cost to Prime members has made them the one stop shop of the future, leaving competitors in their dust. In just twenty-seven years Amazon has become one of the biggest global retailers, as well as a contender for the most recognizable brand.

Foss and Gill in their 1987 work “Michel Foucault’s Theory of Rhetoric as Epistemic” use Foucault’s notion of discursive formation to create “a middle-level theory that explains the process by which rhetoric is epistemic.” (Foss, pg. 385). Foucault’s term discursive formation focuses on “A framework for knowledge is constituted by a shared body of discourse or given discursive practices.” (Foss, pg.387), from Foucault’s term come five primary units: Discursive practices, Rules, Roles, Power, and Knowledge. Discursive practices as defined by Foucault is discourse that follows a specific set of rules or passes tests, ultimately understood to be true in a culture, discursive practices are not limited to written or spoken discourse but includes non-discursive acts as well. Rules “for Foucault, are principles or procedures that govern a discursive formation; a discursive formation assumes its particular character because of these rules.” (Foss, pg.388) rules dictate what can be included in discourse for a particular discursive formation, who can engage in discourse spoken and written, rules also specify discourse in which knowledge resides. Foucault suggests that roles in a discursive formation “serves as the organizing principle of discourse and thus of knowledge” (Foss, pg.389), he is more concerned with the role that is played or filled than the individual who fills it, as this unit is a tool for analysis of individuals as subject, being that it does not matter the individual who fills the specified role. Power is defined by Foucault “as the overall system, process, or network of force relations spread through the entire discursive formation” (Foss, pg.389), power is also seen not only as negative or repressive but positive and creative in discursive formations. Foucault’s final unit knowledge represents whatever is deemed to be truth in a specific discursive formation, Foss suggests that “knowledge is discourse that comes from individuals' occupation of certain roles, that follows specified rules, and that involves certain power relationships of the discursive formation.” (Foss, pg.390).

With application of Foucault’s first unit of discursive formation, discursive practices, it is clear, that two practices make up the major discursive practices of Amazon. These practices include customer’s role and Amazon prime. The role Amazon’s customers are assigned in purchasing and consumption constitute a discursive practice. Amazon has created a retail space unlike any traditional retailer, Amazon offers an almost endless number of products from recognizable brands to independent creators to Amazons own line of products (Amazon basics). Amazon as of late has become the one stop shop for pretty much everything its customers need, with the culmination of reasonable prices, boundless product offerings, and the ability to purchase products at anytime or location, consumers needs are met creating meaningful and lasting relationships that lead to consistent source of revenue. Furthermore, customers become loyal patrons of Amazon specifically when it comes to routine and quick purchases. It is clear, that Amazon has taken a share of mental real-estate in its customers minds, sitting dormant until it comes time to consume. Amazon employs almost anti-competitive practices when it comes to the role it has assigned to its customers, discourse is centered around the idea that Amazon has everything a consumer needs, so there is no reason to shop anywhere else. Amazon also promotes specific products by labeling some products as “best seller” or “Amazon choice”, this can be seen in two differing ways, first Amazon is making product selection easier, secondly Amazon is forcing the hand of consumers to purchase specific products in an elaborately unconscious way. Discursive practices can also be seen in Amazon’s subscription service Amazon prime. Amazon prime offers a multitude of different services, however the focal point of interest for its members is the delivery incentives that come with the service. With the ability to have a product delivered the same day of purchase or at the longest two days after purchase, it would be crazy not to subscribe to Amazon prime. At least that is what Amazon wants you to think, the subscription-based service creates discourse that implies not ordering a desired product from Amazon is a waste of the subscription. Leaving the consumer with a feeling of guilt that was ultimately desired in efforts to keep prime member consumption high. While the subscription service appeals to the idea of saving money on shipping and other consumption, the reality is the service creates inverse consequences, often pushing consumers to spend more money than they would have initially saved by subscribing to Amazon prime.

The discursive practices evident in the discursive formation that is Amazon exemplify the rules of that formation that allow certain utterances and thus knowledge to emerge. One-time purchases, friction points, minimalism, independence, and traditional retail are clearly not part of the body of discourse and thus the knowledge of Amazon. Equally clear are the objects of discourse; Accessibility is an object of discourse, Convenience is an object of discourse, Speedy delivery is an object of discourse, and Consumption is an object of discourse. Rules of appropriate and acceptable discourse govern Amazon and the knowledge that it illuminates, dictating that customers should be avid consumers, subscribe to Amazon prime, and posses loyalty. On the other hand, Amazon itself reflects consistency, convenience, and speedy delivery (Through prime). Amazon portrays the knowledge of a perfect retailer, anything short of that is considered not an object of discourse.

Amazon’s discursive practices create a clear, consistent role for consumers and its subscription service- one that focuses on consumption, accessibility, speedy delivery, loyalty, and consistency. Consumers exemplify traits of consumption through their purchases made, paired with consistency from regular purchases. Amazon itself exemplifies accessibility through their easy to access website and around the clock service, as well as consistency with its abundant product selection and relatively unchanging interface. Amazon’s prime membership embodies speedy delivery with its same-day, one-day, and two-day delivery model simultaneously providing consistency with its regularly scheduled subscription fees. Prime members themselves exemplify consumption, loyalty, and consistency through regularly made purchases. It is clear, that the roles being portrayed by Amazon prime, and its customers are co-dependent, if customers do not portray their role Amazon revenue and market value drop, on the other hand if Amazon does not portray its role their customers will likely find other mediums of consumption, rendering Amazon’s services obsolete.

Through the identification of discursive practices that follow rules and maintain roles, specific knowledge or truth of Amazon is produced. The highest truth Amazon produces is in consistency, consumption, convenience, loyalty, and of course speedy delivery. Amazon exemplifies these truths through Amazon prime and the roles they assign to customers. The truths do not seem pretty but at the end of the day revenue is the biggest factor in the creation of Amazons truths.

The discursive practices, rules, roles, and knowledge of Amazon all portray the normative power that possess an unconscious and conscious control over its customers and their consumption. The unconscious power aspect that is at play in Amazons discursive function is used to guide and control Amazon’s customers in what on the surface appears to be helpful to consumers. On the other hand, Amazon is conscious of the normative power they posses over its customers, with its ability to influence purchases, create long term customers, and render traditional retailers obsolete. Overall, it does not seem that Amazon is using their power to take advantage or control its customers, it is also clear that their use of power can be deemed productive in that consumer value is at the heart of Amazon.

The discursive formation that is Amazon evokes a normative power over consumers that in some capacities can be seen as limiting and unproductive. It is clear from the perspective of Amazon the power that is evoked from its discursive formation is neither limiting or unproductive, the normative power Amazon has over its customers has not been used in an unethical or unproductive way (Besides data mining... but we all technically agreed to that). When getting down to the brass tacks the whole goal of Amazon is to create revenue while providing a service or product that consumers deem valuable. Amazon is able to successfully provide value to customer and address the needs of consumers while also making a profit, which historically is not easily maintained. Looking from a different perspective, the argument for Amazons use power could be labeled as unproductive. When looking at Amazon it is evident that the argument of anti-competition practices could be made, which is unproductive from a market valuation standpoint being the economic concerns of a monopolistic corporation taking control of e-commerce. Fortunately for other online marketplaces like eBay, and Alibaba, Amazon has decided to infiltrate the brick-and-mortar sector of retail, acquiring Whole Foods, as well as the creation of their Amazon go stores.

In summary it is clear, that Foucault’s notion of discursive formation is evident in Amazon. Amazon as a discursive formation portrays all the elements of discursive formation, in my analysis I identified two discursive practices that are maintained and tested with rules, that create roles, and identify knowledge or truth as well as the evocation of power. Overall, we have deemed the power evoked as productive and unlimiting, but that is not to say with other outside exploration the results will be the same.

Work Cited:

“Amazon (Company).” Wikipedia, Wikimedia Foundation, 15 May 2021, en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amazon_(company).

“Amazon Prime .” Amazon, Goettsche Partners, 2011, www.amazon.com/gp/help/customer/display.html?nodeId=G6LDPN7YJHYKH2J6.

“Amazon.com Print at Home Card.” Amazon , www.amazon.com/Amazon-com-Gift-Cards-Print-Home/dp/BT00DDC7BK.

Foss, Sonja K., and Ann Gill. “Michel Foucault's Theory of Rhetoric as Epistemic.” Western Journal of Speech Communication, vol. 51, no. 4, 1987, pp. 384–401., doi:10.1080/10570318709374280.

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kley-blog · 3 years

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Just for the Record: COVID

This is what any well-trained virologist will tell you:

My advice: Ignore it at your peril. To quote from the Conclusion below:

When one follows the science, and nothing but the science, it becomes extremely difficult to not label ongoing mass vaccination campaigns as a crime, not only to public health but also to individual health.

Thus, it will soon be clear whether “politicians” are taking notice of medical knowledge or have a hidden political agenda driving their behavior.

We must halt all ongoing Covid-19 mass vaccination campaigns as a temporary health benefit to the most vulnerable groups does not justify a public health disaster of international concern.

Geert Vanden Bossche, DVM, PhD virology, independent seasoned vaccine researcher, previous SPO at the Bill & Melinda Gates Foundation and SPM at GAVI is urging WHO and world political leaders to immediately halt all ongoing Covid-19 mass vaccination campaigns as there is compelling evidence that they will soon dramatically worsen the consequences of the current pandemic.

Attached to this letter, you will find a summary of the manuscript I am currently in the process of finalizing. I initially intended to attach the manuscript in full to my letter. However, given the exceptional urgency of my call, I have no choice but to send you the summary (+ conclusion) in advance. I will post the manuscript in full on LinkedIn as soon as I can (presumably in the course of next week).

In the upcoming manuscript I will share my insights on the immune pathogenesis of Coronavirus pandemics. Those are based on an in-depth analysis of Covid-19-relevant scientific literature (key references will be appended) and backed by my deep vaccine knowledge and relentless perseverance in unraveling the host’s immune defense mechanisms and strategies viruses have evolved to escape those. Understanding the interplay between the virus and the host immune system is a prerequisite for designing vaccines able to counter the immune subversive strategy of infectious pathogens. I do not think that it is reasonable for WHO or any other health authority to approve ‘emergency use’ of vaccines aimed at conducting mass vaccination campaigns in the very heat of an infectious pandemic without having gained an in-depth understanding of how this may impact on the outcome of the pandemic.

In particular, lack of understanding of the consequences of immune pressure on highly mutable viruses has now allowed for the approval of a number of Covid-19 vaccines that are completely contraindicated for fighting a pandemic, regardless of the technology used. Although safe and efficacious and providing temporary relief to part of the population and to healthcare facilities, these vaccines will soon come with a heavy toll to be paid by the entire population if mass vaccination campaigns continue.

Again, given the urgency of my call, I will neither allow time for peer-review, nor for English proofreading, nor for fine-tuning the wording or for screening the manuscript for redundancy. As I merely seek to provide enough of compelling scientific proof for sounding this warning bell, I will not deal with relevant matters as exhaustively as I would normally do. Clearly, the upcoming manuscript is not meant to be submitted to a scientific peer-reviewed journal but to explain the scientific rationale behind my cry of distress and urgent wake-up call. May they for God’s sake draw the world’s attention to what I think is now likely to become the biggest and most tragic mistake made in the history of public health in general and in the field of vaccination in particular.

To support my wake-up call and credibility, I am not nearly as much relying on my credentials (which you can find at LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/geertvandenbossche/) as I am on a diversified set of relevant scientific reports from the literature and on the evolution of the pandemic itself. The latter is now featured by the emergence of much more infectious viral variants.

Nevertheless, you may still opt for now to not believe the statements, conclusions and forecasts that will be made in this manuscript and which have already been summarized as attached. However, I have no doubt that in the days and weeks to come ‘doubting Thomas’ will have to admit that he was proven wrong. In the meantime, these disastrous vaccination campaigns will likely be intensified and even extended to younger age groups. Given the power, influence and blind ambition of the stakeholders driving these campaigns, it is going to be incredibly difficult to stop this act of complete madness. When all of them will finally have to admit the catastrophic consequences of this ‘experiment’, precious time and, more importantly, many more lives will have been lost. Eventually, complete lockdowns will likely be imposed for an indefinite period of time as a last resort.

Although largely based on direct or indirect scientific evidence, the views expressed in the manuscript will be my personal views. Of course, I take full accountability of what I am saying and I can only hope that those who’re in charge will be sufficiently convinced to take their responsibility and stop all ongoing Covid-19 vaccination campaigns immediately. There should be no excuse and certainly no complaints about lack of warnings by dedicated experts. I cannot emphasize enough that continuing these vaccination endeavors will dramatically prolong, instead of shorten, the current pandemic and take a much higher toll in terms of disease and fatality rates in all of the population. It goes without saying that a such enhancement of this crisis will come with unbearable socio-economic consequences for many years to come.

The manuscript will provide compelling evidence that – as far as acute self-limiting viral infections are concerned - the natural course (i.e., without human intervention!) of a Coronavirus pandemic is typically featured by 3 waves that ultimately flatten as the infection merges into a seasonal ‘common cold.’ However, it is difficult to predict how long it would take a natural Covid-19 pandemic to ‘downgrade’ to yet another kind of seasonal ‘common cold’ without human intervention. Maybe somewhere between 2 to 4 years, but that’s a personal guess. This is, of course, not to say that in the meantime one should not do whatever is possible to mitigate the disease in those developing severe symptoms. But first, “do no harm” (“primum non nocere”): Given the huge amount of immune escape that will be provoked my mass vaccination campaigns and flanking containment measures, it is difficult to imagine how human interventions would not cause the Covid-19 pandemic to turn into an incredible disaster for global and individual health.

I would have been able to put the appended manuscript together without having dedicated the last 10 years of my career to designing an entirely new vaccine concept that aims at enabling our immune system to kill a multitude of infectious (and even, noninfectious) diseases without allowing the pathogen, or any ‘variant’ editions thereof, to escape the immune response induced. In contrast, all of the current Covid-19 vaccines rely on strengthening adaptive (as opposed to innate) immunity in general, and humoral (i.e. antibodies) in particular. Hence, none of them will prevent immune escape and, for that matter, all will be subject to anti-viral resistance. Adapting the composition to the new circulating variants does not solve the problem as science tells us that this will even accelerate the rate of immune escape (in asymptomatic Covid-19 carriers).

Isn’t it surprising that while we have now become so well aware of all dramatic consequences and threats surrounding microbial resistance to antibiotics, we still don’t believe that fighting viruses in ways

that do not completely kill them opens the door to vaccine resistance? While we have been taught to always take the medication for as long as prescribed, even if we were already feeling much better, we still don’t seem to believe that viruses can escape to specific antibodies if antibody concentrations or affinity are no longer sufficient to neutralize the virus. Widespread use of antibiotics is generally acknowledged to raise a serious global concern about antimicrobial resistance, but nobody seems to bother about resistance to vaccines that are used in mass vaccination campaigns in the context of an ongoing pandemic. Since those are conducted against a huge infectious background, a multitude of vaccinees will be in the process of seroconverting while being exposed to circulating infectious virus. Prophylactic vaccines against viral or other infectious diseases are typically administered well in advance of a likely risk of infectious exposure. While this is ensuring full-fledged protection to the infectious agent, it is also preventing immune escape and hence, resistance to the vaccine. Aren’t we not already witnessing an increasing number of cases of Covid-19 vaccinated people who still shed virus and sometimes even develop mild symptoms? Aren’t these cases compelling enough in proving how easily Covid-19 viruses can escape antibody responses? How can we then be so excited about current Covid- 19 vaccines knowing that they allow immune escape and thus, enable the virus to select more infectious variants? And do we really think that going for a one dose shot (instead of the prescribed 2-dose vaccination schedule), as some propose, is not going to even expedite immune escape?

In our naïve and simplistic attempt to prevent the pandemic from running its natural course, we are in fact providing the beast with an even much better opportunity to escape host immunity than natural infection does. The only way to do better than the natural pandemic is to eradicate Covid-19 right away. To do so, there is probably no other way but to concentrate on vaccination strategies that allow DURABLE priming of innate immune killer cells (i.e., NK cells), the activation of which has already been shown to correlate with full viral clearance in asymptomatically Covid-19-infected subjects. As innate cytotoxic cells enable non-antigen-specific killing of the virus, they don’t drive immune escape.

By implementing immune intervention strategies that capitalize on empowering these innate immune cells to acquire immunologic memory, it must be possible to fully, broadly and durably protect human populations against all Covid-19 editions, and even against Coronaviruses at large. The ‘sterilizing’ immunity they provide would not only protect people who would ‘naturally’ become asymptomatically infected (but, unfortunately, only enjoy natural protection for as long as they keep their innate immune system well-trained through moderate but regular pathogen exposure) but also subjects who would ‘naturally’ develop (severe) symptoms or even succumb to the disease.

In conclusion, fostering the development of NK cell-based vaccines should become a public health priority. As will become obvious from the manuscript, NK-cell based hold great promise for stopping this pandemic at its source while also ensuring future preparedness to emerging pandemic threats at large.

Immediate cancellation of all ongoing Covid-19 mass vaccination campaigns should now become THE most acute health emergency of international concern.

Executive summary

The manuscript, which is in now in the process of being finalized, should shed some light on how the virus and especially its interaction with the host immune system determines the natural course (i.e., without human intervention) of a Coronavirus (CoV) pandemic. The interplay between host immune defense and viral immune escape determines the course of a natural CoV pandemic (including a natural Covid-19 pandemic).

In the clinic, viral immune escape is known to occur when the neutralizing capacity of serum antibodies (Abs) does not suffice to fully eliminate highly mutable viruses (e.g., CoV) for lack of their concentration or affinity. In a CoV pandemic setting, seroconversion occurs against a background of high infectious pressure and is, therefore, prone to promote viral immune escape.

The first wave of disease 1 (and mortality) primarily affects elderly people (or otherwise immunocompromised subjects). Selective (i.e., adaptive) immune escape is expected to cause this wave to transition into a more severe, second wave in younger age groups. Subsequently, non-selective (i.e., innate) as well as selective immune escape operated by increasingly infectious viral variants will trigger a third wave. The latter would primarily affect subjects who recovered from disease they contracted during the first wave as their seroneutralising Abs do no longer properly match the new circulating viral variants. This third wave of disease (and mortality) would come to an end when those who recovered from the disease will have mounted new functional Abs against these immune escape variants. As seroconversion in this population will now occur much faster (due to recall of cross-reactive T helper memory cells) and as the majority of the young and middle-aged population will either be seronegative or have seroconverted already by the time the third wave starts to expand, chances are slim for the virus to escape the host’s Ab response. Asymptomatic 2, seronegative individuals (i.e., the vast majority of young and middle-aged people) may spread virus upon (re-)infection and hence, constitute a relevant source of viral transmission. However, CoV infection in these asymptomatic carriers is abrogated after a short period of viral shedding. Viral clearance in these subjects is likely to occur through activation of NK cells. The latter are capable of recognizing CoV-associated, antigen (Ag)-nonspecific patterns on the surface of CoV-infected epithelial target cells. As killing by NK cells is, therefore, not Ag-specific and as seroconversion

1. For the purpose of the manuscript, ‘disease’ refers to severe Covid-19 disease with involvement of lower respiratory airways 2. For the purpose of the manuscript, ‘asymptomatic’ infection refers to CoV infection which does not cause clinically relevant symptoms or only causes a mild level of disease (i.e., only involving upper respiratory airways) in asymptomatically infected subjects is only short-lived, viral immune escape does not normally occur. Consequently, new, more infectious, variants are unlikely to emerge from this population as long as viral infectiousness does not dramatically increase.

At the point of ‘no immune escape’, the pandemic will be under control and merge into an endemic infection. However, as long as the point of ‘no immune escape’ isn’t reached, any additional immune selection pressure, for example as a result of suboptimal concentration or affinity of Ag-specific (e.g., spike protein-specific) Abs, will allow the virus to rapidly unfold more infectious, immune escape variants. Additional immune selection pressure, especially when exerted during the second wave of a CoV pandemic, is likely to precipitate and amplify viral immune escape. This might even cause the second and third wave to merge into a single huge wave of mortality and disease that affects all layers of the population (possibly, with the exception of small children).

Especially mass vaccination campaigns, particularly when conducted in the midst of a pandemic, are prone to exerting enormous immune pressure on circulating virus strains. This is because the vaccine is used in an increasingly infectious context (as escape variants are more infectious). Mass vaccination campaigns will accelerate the emergence of even more infectious immune escape variants. This because the number of vaccine recipients who seroconvert within a given time period will dramatically increase . In addition, Ag-specific, high affinity Abs induced by any of the current vaccines will outcompete natural, broadly protective mucosal IgM antibodies as the latter only bind with low affinity to the receptor-binding domain of CoV (RBD). This will particularly affect natural resistance of younger age groups which - thanks to a well-trained innate immune system- resisted disease during the first wave. The new circulating CoV variants may now even be able to escape the host’s CoV variant-nonspecific line of immune defense at the mucosal portal of entry. These age groups may, therefore, become more susceptible to symptomatic infection and shedding caused by more infectious variants.

But mass vaccination campaigns will also have severe consequences for those who got vaccinated first (mostly the elderly or people with underlying disease or those who are otherwise immunocompromised). In the highly likely event that mass vaccination will soon result in antiviral resistance (see below), these people will have no single bit of immunity left to rely upon. In contrast to the infectious circulating virus, current vaccines do either not contain any critical killer cell motif or fail to activate dedicated killer cells. It goes, therefore, without saying that vaccine-induced immune responses will inevitably result in a dramatic enhancement of morbidity and mortality rates in all of the human population (except for small children?).

Alike naturally infected subjects, vaccine recipients need time to mount a full-fledged Ag-specific Ab response. Further to all of the above, low exposure to circulating CoV strains (e.g., due to stringent containment measures) will increasingly weaken innate mucosal immunity for lack of training. Again, this is particularly relevant for those who - thanks to their sufficient and adequate innate immune defense – got away with asymptomatic infection during the first wave. Stringent and widespread infection prevention measures are now increasingly compromising their innate immunity and rendering them more susceptible to symptomatic infection. Especially the younger age groups may, therefore, end up with relatively higher morbidity and mortality rates, even regardless of the emergence of more infectious viral variants. This is to say that broadly implemented infection prevention measures will only amplify the already detrimental consequences of ongoing mass vaccination campaigns. It is reasonable to assume that the combination of non-selective and selective immune escape will cause morbidity and mortality rates in younger age groups to explode.

The more Covid-19 vaccination campaigns in the young and middle-age groups will be delayed (i.e., relative to their initiation in the elderly), the more they will enhance morbidity and mortality rates in this group: By the time mass vaccination campaigns are about to start in the young and middle-aged groups, a substantial number of these people will already have been infected with Covid-19. Enhanced rates of infection by highly infectiousness viral variants significantly has now increased the likelihood for them to become re-infected while being in the process of seroconverting. So, by the time vaccinations will be initiated, viral immune escape in this group may already be fueling a vicious circle of enhanced viral infectiousness resulting in more seroconversion and hence, more immune escape. Mass vaccination campaigns in this group will only dramatically deteriorate the situation as they will lead to a fast and massive increase in the number of asymptomatic subjects that are in the process of seroconverting against a highly infectious background. and, therefore, prone to promoting viral immune escape. As there is naturally no reason for them to isolate, there will be plenty of opportunity for the highly infectious circulating strains to replicate in the presence of suboptimal Ab titers and, therefore, to escape the host’s immune control.

Hence, the more vaccination campaigns in this group get delayed, the more selection of even more infectious viral variants will be expedited. The ensuing exponential increase in viral immune escape rates will ultimately enable viral variants to even break through vaccine- mediated protection in the vaccinated elderly. As their Abs increasingly mismatch the ever more infectious emerging variants, they will no longer manage to control viral replication and shedding and rapidly allow for massive viral immune escape. Because seroprotective Abs primarily confer protection through targeting Covid-19’s RBD, the virus will now increasingly select mutations in this particular part of the spike protein as those most readily enable the virus to escape vaccine-induced Abs. This will inevitably precipitate resistance to the vaccine. As a result of mass vaccination, people who got the vaccine first will suddenly no longer be protected and, despite vaccination, fall prey to a wave of catastrophic morbidity and mortality.

There can, therefore, be no doubt that current vaccination strategies are rendering the impact of mass vaccination campaigns even more catastrophic and only adding to the magnitude of a pending global health disaster. However, mass vaccination also harms individual health as vaccine-induced variant-specific Abs will outcompete natural variant-nonspecific mucosal Abs for binding to CoV variants and thereby deprive individuals from their broadly protective natural (life)line of immune defense.

As large scale vaccination campaigns combined with the sustained implementation of several containment measures will only expedite the occurrence of viral escape mutations, the illusory hope that current Covid-19 vaccines could generate herd immunity should once and for all be thrown overboard. Along the same line of reasoning, it is not unthinkable that Covid-19 will, once again, cross species barriers. One can definitely not rule out that with growing immune- mediated selection of virus variants, Covid-19 is ultimately going to be able to jump to other animal species, especially industrial livestock (e.g., intensive pig and poultry farms with high stocking density) as i) these species are already known to host several different Coronaviruses and ii) variability/ mutations in the very same spike protein, and particularly in the RBD, are known to be responsible for shifts in host tropism/ susceptibility. Similar to the situation with influenza virus, these animal species could then constitute a reservoir for SARS-COVID-2 virus. Depending on the prevalence of circulating animal CoVs in those farms (and hence, the level of trained immunity), those animals could now serve as asymptomatic carriers, thereby constituting a serious threat to humans.

Conclusion:

The combination of mass vaccination and infection prevention measures is a recipe for a global health disaster. Following the science, one has to conclude that all age groups (possibly with the exception of small children) will be heavily affected and subject to rates of morbidity and mortality that raise much faster and much higher than those expected to occur during the natural course of a CoV pandemic. This will particularly apply if the sequence of mass vaccinations following the first infectious wave parallels that of natural infection (i.e., immunocompromised people and elderly first, followed by the younger age groups).

No one, for that matter, should be granted a right to implement large-scale pharmaceutic and non-pharmaceutic immune interventions, especially not during a viral pandemic, and certainly not without an in-depth understanding of the immune pathogenesis of a viral pandemic. When one follows the science, and nothing but the science, it becomes extremely difficult to not label ongoing mass vaccination campaigns as a crime, not only to public health but also to individual health.

To substantiate the reasoning above, the manuscript will first explain how components of the innate immune system can protect against Covid-19 and render infections asymptomatic. It will then go on to explain in more detail why and how, in an immunologically Covid-19-naïve population, selective (i.e., adaptive) immune escape shifts the first wave of disease and death from the elderly (and immunocompromised) subjects to those who at the outset of the pandemic got away with asymptomatic infection (i.e., the younger and middle-aged population segment). Similarly, it will be explained how viral immune escape in the asymptomatically infected population finally shifts back the burst of morbidity and mortality to the elderly, and how the population eventually controls the pandemic by controlling viral immune escape. This will already illustrate the critical importance of desiccating the changing contribution of innate and adaptive immunity to the population’s overall immune defense against a viral pandemic. Understanding these dynamics helps to comprehend the sophisticated course of a natural CoV pandemic, how it eventually merges into an endemic infection and why human intervention has a highly detrimental impact on the refined interplay between the virus and its host. In regard of the latter, the devastating global health impact of ongoing mass vaccination campaigns and accompanying stringent and widespread containment measures will be explained in more detail as the global and individual health consequences could simply be unbearable for many years to come.

After the introductory section on innate immune defense mechanisms relevant to Covid-19, other relevant topics will be addressed in form of questions and answers. Last, a section will be dedicated to the scientific rationale for using NK cell-based vaccines that could provide sterilizing immunity and hence, wipe out Covid-19 and related variants all together.

The natural course of a CoV pandemic is controlled by the population’s innate and adaptive immunity and dramatically aggravated by antibody-based vaccines when used in mass vaccination campaigns conducted in the course of the pandemic and flanked by stringent containment measures.

NAC:

Natural asymptomatic carrier : for the purpose of this manuscript, NAC is defined as a subject disposing upon a level of innate immunity high enough to resist disease

nonNAC:

For the purpose of this manuscript, nonNAC is defined as a subject who is not endowed with a level of innate immunity high enough to be able to resist disease when exposed to infectious virus during the first wave

Author: G. Vanden Bossche, DVM, PhD; 26 February 2021

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