#i wrote it while my computer loaded between assignments at work

[thaliagrayce]

Jason was headed to the Big House when he caught sight of Nico leading a trio of terrified-looking twelve-year-olds to where Mrs O’Leary lay napping in the strawberry fields. It had been Nico’s idea to introduce some of the younger campers to monsters in what passed as a safe environment. He’d argued that Mrs O’Leary could be a great tool for teaching, and for making the kids less likely to panic when they first met monsters in the wild.

Nico looked more and more relaxed as the group got closer to Mrs O’Leary. She lifted her head to give a sniff, and Nico went straight to her and leaned on her sun-warmed flank. Jason always liked watching Nico interact with her. He looked so much more at ease around the hellhound than he did around most campers.

“Spending a lot of time with him recently, huh?

Jason did not jump. It took effort. Leo had materialized on his left, and he was looking at Jason as if he expected a response.

“Yeah,” Jason said once his heartbeat had returned to normal. “Nico’s really cool, once he gets comfortable around you.”

“Hm.” Leo squinted into the fall sunshine to where an Ares kids had tentatively held her hand up for Mrs O’Leary to smell. It was going well until Mrs O’Leary sneezed, and the kid flinched hard enough to fall on her butt.

Jason could almost hear Nico’s laughter from here, if he focused hard enough. He felt himself smiling in response.

“Should I be, like, nervous?”

Blinking, Jason turned back to Leo. “What?”

“Di Angelo isn’t trying to replace me or anything, right?”

Jason snorted. “Of course not.”

“You sure? He looks like a man who’s gunning for the Jason Grace Best Friend title belt,” Leo joked. Jason rolled his eyes at him. Nico looked like a boy who needed to lean on his SUV-sized dog to stay upright when he laughed.

“Aw, come on. You know it’s not the same.”

“How?!” Leo’s tone was light, so he was probably teasing, but Jason still had a hard time differentiating sometimes. Leo was good at hiding his real hurt behind jokes, but he also told a lot of jokes with no substance to them. Whatever raised a reaction. Jason wasn’t sure how serious he should treat this line of questioning.

“I don’t know, it just isn’t. We mess around a lot, right? I’m usually nicer to Nico—”

“So what I’m hearing is it’s different because you treat him better! I’m too late!” Leo cried out, finally pulling free a wire from the walkie talkie he’d been messing with. He flashed a grin at Jason, showing off the disemboweled gadget.

Teasing, then. Jason felt himself relax.

“You wouldn’t want me to be nicer and you know it. Besides, we both know you can take it.”

“And Nico can’t?” Leo was already turning his attention back to the walkie talkie.

“It’s not that, it’s more like…” In the field, Nico reached out his hand to the kid who’d stayed in the back of the group up until now. Even from this far away, the kid looked scared. Nico supported them as they walked up to Mrs O’Leary, though. He held their hand through something that had obviously scared them. It was such a Nico gesture, Jason couldn’t help but smiling.

“He could take it, sure, but he shouldn’t have to. He deserves to be treated gently.”

There was silence for a while, and Jason only really became aware of it when Leo slowly leaned forward into his field of vision. His eyebrows had made a migration toward his hairline, and they didn’t look like they were dropping anytime soon. Jason thought back over what he’d said and blushed. When had he started looking at Nico again, anyway? He turned away from the strawberry field to look at Leo full on.

“Dude,” Leo said.

“Shut up.”

“I was joking before, but like, now I’m not sure. Do I legit have to be worried you like him better?”

“I don’t like him better, I just like him different. It’s totally normal.”

It was true, too. Even more than he’d even realized when he said it. Friendship with Nico didn’t feel like any other friendship he’d ever had. It was… quiet. Intense. It felt charged, but relaxing at the same time. It was contradictory and almost addicting, Jason couldn’t really describe it. He caught himself before his eyes drifted back to the strawberry fields and made himself focus on Leo, who looked dubious to the point of being borderline offensive.

“Different, or—”

“Different,” Jason insisted. “Just like I like you and Piper different. Not better or worse, just… Different.”

Come to think about it, though…

“Sure fuckin' hope you like me and Piper different,” Leo grumbled. “You’re my bro, but I don’t want you pulling your Loverboy moves on me. I mean…” Leo kept going, but Jason was too busy spiraling to pay attention.

He’d said he liked Leo and Piper different, but did he? The way he felt about Leo was a lot closer to the way he felt about Piper than it was to what he felt for Nico, if he stopped to think about. Remarkably similar, really. His palms started to sweat.

Oh gods, he thought. Do I have a crush on Leo?

[bees--in-my--bones]

Mission: New Asgard

Character: Loki x reader (completely gender neutral. There are zero indications of the readers gender, no pronouns at all. Note that this is written from the perspective of a woman, though, so if something is too biased, please let me know!)

Summary: You are assigned to help integrate the Asgardians to Midgardian society, but your mission ends a whole lot different than you expect.

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 5,493

A/N: My second fic! The title is supposed to be a play on the Mission: Impossible movies, but I've never actually seen one, so sorry if it's wrong lol. Now that I officially have more than one fic, I'm gonna make a masterlist, so that will be coming soon. I hope you like the story!

You rapped your knuckles on the office door that had been left slightly ajar. “Director Mackenzie? You asked to see me?”

“Come on in, Y/N. Elena was just leaving.”

You opened the door and nodded at Agent Rodriguez as she made her way out. She gave you a curt nod in return.

Alphonso Mackenzie, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., leaned back into the chair behind his desk and gestured for you to have a seat. “And for the last time, Y/N, you are one of my most trusted operatives. Call me Mack, please.”

You sat down. “Sorry, Mack.”

He opened a desk drawer and pulled out a file folder stuffed to the brim with documents, which he dropped onto the desk between you, the loud thwap resounding in the small office.

“I have a mission for you, Agent. A few days ago, the planet Asgard was completely destroyed.”

“Asgard?” you interjected. “Like where Thor is from?”

He nodded. “You’ll find all of that and more in these files. Thor and his brother Loki have set up a colony in a small town in Norway. We need you to supervise the integration of the Asgardian people onto Earth. This is the first known mass migration of aliens that our planet has ever seen, and we need to be keeping a close eye on this, or it could go sideways real fast.”

You pulled the files closer and began to flip through a few pages. “I thought Loki was a bad guy. What was it? 80 people in 2 days? Plus the invasion of New York. Why are we letting him back here?”

Mack sighed and rubbed his temple. “I can’t personally vouch for the man, but Thor claims he was being mind controlled. According to Thor, Loki eventually broke free of the control and killed the guy who was behind the whole thing. Some alien named Thanos? Tony Stark himself seems okay with this New Asgard business, and you know how paranoid he gets. So for now, we observe, not attack.”

“Gotcha,” you said. “When do I leave?”

“As soon as you can get your stuff together and get out of here. Say the word and we'll start prepping a Quinjet.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” you said, standing up and grabbing the files. “I’ll let you know as soon as I get an idea of my timeline.”

“Thank you Agent L/N, and good luck.”

------

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, barely making a rather sharp turn. When you finished this assignment, you were going to have to have a talk with whoever designed these roads. Despite the unsafe driving conditions, though, you sighed in contentment. You were back in the field, this is where you belonged.

You pulled a van loaded to the brim with various tech items mixed in with your personal possessions down a bumpy road, coming to a stop before a small, rustic-looking, seaside town, where two men and a woman stood for you. The sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. You turned the key and shut off the van, trying to get a read on each of the people standing before you.

The buff blond man was clearly Thor. You recognized him from the news and the files you had read. Next to him was a tall woman with dark hair who had wan air of confidence about her. You had never seen her, nor did S.H.I.E.L.D. have any data on her. The third man was lanky, but clearly still fit, with dark hair that fell just past his shoulders. He was clad in green and had a demeanor that made you shiver. This was Loki, scourge of New York and would-be king of Midgard. But Thor and Tony Stark had vouched for him, and that would have to be enough for Y/N L/N, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

You exited the van and heard Thor call to you. “Welcome, newcomer! Our scouts observed your vehicle approaching our home!”

You walked briskly towards the group. Game time. Put on the 'no time for your shit' face and get to business. Coming to a stop in front of them, you began to speak. “My name is Y/N L/N and I am here on behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division of the American government. We have been granted permission from the government of Norway to oversee this colony's development. This is an unprecedented situation on Earth, and as such, we have written new protocols. I am the agent assigned to this case, and I will be supervising the construction of New Asgard and its integration into Midgardian society.”

Thor furrowed his brow. “I was under the impression that S.H.I.E.L.D. was controlled by Hydra.”

You nodded. “Unfortunately, yes. The previous incarnation of S.H.I.E.L.D. was corrupt, but we are a hardy breed, so to speak. A much smaller branch has survived, and deals with various situations across the world, aliens being one of them.”

Thor nodded. “Then we welcome your presence here with open arms.”

Loki scoffed. “You are too trusting, brother. This so-called agent could be anyone. What cause do we have to believe this story?”

You turned to him. “Loki, God of Mischief, Chaos, and Lies, correct? You of all people should know, am I lying?”

He stared at you, long and hard, before shaking his head. “No, I suppose you aren’t,” he admitted.

“There’s that then,” you said. “Now, I will need to ask the three of you some questions regarding yourselves, if you don’t mind.”

-----

The strange woman was first. You had been given a small shack to conduct your interviews out of, the woman stared at you from across the table, looking for all the world like she had somewhere better to be.

“Name?”

“Brunnhilde.”

“No family name?”

“I am a Valkyrie. I have no blood other than my sisters.”

“Right,” you said, “You lived on Asgard then?”

Her face took on a sour look. “A long time ago. I’ve spent the last few centuries on a different planet, Sakaar.”

You scribbled the information into your notepad. “What do you do then? If you were gone so long, why are you back with the Asgardians?”

Her chest puffed with pride. “I am to be the new King of Asgard. On the Summer Solstice we will hold a coronation. It will give the people enough time to accept the transfer of power from Odin’s bloodline to me, and for me to learn how to lead.”

You nodded and took note of it. “Congratulations,Your Majesty-to-be. I believe that’s all I need for now, but I expect we will see a lot of each other over the months.”

-----

Thor. The large man sat across from you, seemingly happy to be there.

“Thor Odinson, correct?” you asked him.

“Yes.”

“And I hear you're passing on the title of King to Brunnhilde?”

A dark look came over his face. “I have learned recently that my family has done many wrongs by Asgard. As long as I breathe, I will fight for Asgard and her people, but I do not believe it is my place to rule. Brunnhilde loves the people and has a talent for leadership. She will be a much better King than I.”

“A very noble decision, Thor. Thank you very much, and please send your brother in on your way out.”

-----

“Name?”

“I believe you know who I am.”

You sighed. “It's a formality, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Friggason.”

“What?”

“I prefer Loki Friggason.”

You nodded, and made the necessary changes to his file. “Noted. Anything else I should know about?”

“Just a warning,” he said, leaning forward, his voice dangerously low. “I am the God of Lies. The truth is a luxury I will afford no one, especially your little government. The God of Chaos is an enemy you do not want to have.”

You raised an eyebrow, and wrote a single word in your file, exaggerating each syllable as you wrote it out. “Dra. Ma. Tic.”

Truth be told, you were a little scared, given this guy’s reputation, but you would be damned before you let your exterior crack.

Loki scowled. He seemed to do that a lot. “You mortals think you are so funny, do you not?”

You shrugged. “I’m delightful.” You slipped your papers into your file folder and stood up. “See you around, Friggason.”

You left, leaving Loki slightly aghast that you had managed to get the last word in.

-----

You walked calmly out of the hut, then quickened your pace as you made your way back to your van. Loki, as much as it pained you to say, had been intimidating, and your heart was beating a mile a minute.

You opened the door and climbed inside, shoving your paperwork into a filing cabinet, which you promptly locked. You turned to your computers, fiddling with the buttons, atttempting to establish your connection back to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters.

"It's quite rude to walk out on a prince, you know."

You jumped and whipped around to see Loki standing outside your van.

"What the hell!"

"I said-"

"I know what you said, Your Highness," you interrupted. "But you scared the shit out of me. “

"Many apologies," he said as he hoisted himself up to sit on the edge of the van, his insincerity clear. "And I grant you permission to refer to me as Loki."

"How generous," you muttered, before going back to your instruction manual. Technology had never been your forte. You chose being a field agent over a scientist for a reason.

The both of you sat in silence for a while, you working slowly through the instructions that Fitz, a S.H.I.E.L.D agent much more qualified in machinery than you, had given you.

You glanced up at Loki, half expecting to see him sleeping against the van's frame, only to find his gaze resting on you.

"Can I help you?" you asked.

He just laughed a bit, like staring at you had been the most normal thing in the world. "I am watching you, Midgardian, lest you sabotage the society my brother is trying to build."

"I never took you for the loyal type," you said, putting away your things. "I'm gonna have to ask you to get outta here though."

“Why?”

You gestured to the twilight outside. “It’s late. I’ve had a long day. I’m going to bed.”

Loki strained his head slightly, attempting to peek into the van. “Where do you plan on sleeping?”

Not breaking eye contact, you grabbed a cord on the wall and yanked, and the rusty old pull-down bed flopped out with a loud groan. The rickety old thing was probably going to give you back problems by the time you were done here, but such was life. S.H.I.E.L.D.’s money was usually spent on more pressing things than upgrading amenities for field agents.

Loki’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “You are not sleeping in that. We’ve built a larger house for Thor, Brunnhilde, and I. You’ll stay in one of the guest rooms there.”

You shrugged. “It’s not too bad out here.”

“Mortals,” he said under his breath, almost indecipherably, before speaking again, at a normal volume this time. “I insist. Whether I like it or not, you are a guest of Asgard, and you will be treated as such. Besides, that bed looks seconds away from collapsing.”

You nodded, trying not to betray your confusion at the combination of his kindness and rudeness. “Thank you, just give me a second to lock up.” You grabbed the pieces you had been fiddling with, then paused, your hand hovering over the satellite dish. “Actually, if you’re just gonna sit there, you may as well make yourself useful. You can teleport right?”

Suspicion crossed his face. “Yes?”

You held out the device. “Hop up to the top of the van, there should be a little cord. It’ll fit into this port here,” you said gesturing. “Plug it in for me, please?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You ask a god to do your bidding?”

You scoffed. “You’re not a god, you're an alien. And I just asked for a favor. You’re free to say no, but I’m exhausted, and as much as I would like to put off climbing on the roof off until tomorrow, I need to send a check in to headquarters ASAP.”

He begrudgingly reached out and took the dish and you watched as his form rippled green and faded away. You heard shuffling on the roof for a moment, then silence, before the Asgardian reappeared in front of you.

“If that’s all, Midgardian?” he said.

“Thank you, Highness,” you said, ignoring his tone. “And thank you for offering the room.” The monitor beeped a confirmation that your signal had connected and you punched in a code to let S.H.I.E.L.D. know you had made it to New Asgard. You grabbed the bag you had packed and hopped out of the van, waiting for Loki to follow suit before closing the doors and locking the vehicle.

You offered him your arm. “Shall we?”

He brushed past you, rolling his eyes at your mock-politeness.

“Alright then,” you muttered, “This is gonna be fun, isn’t it?” Taking one last look at the van behind you, you moved to catch up with the Asgardian walking briskly away from you.

-----

Loki had not been talkative on the way to the house, and after being curtly shown to your room, he quickly left. You had settled into a decently sized room complete with a desk and a small bathroom attached. Undoubtedly, the house was a far cry from an Asgardian palace, but it was much larger than needed for three, even four, people. Surprisingly, you got a sound night’s sleep.

You woke to rambunctious laughter, and, wiping bleariness from your eyes, got out of bed. You stood in front of a small mirror on the wall and attempted to make yourself look slightly less like you had just woken up. Moving to your bag, you put on clothes that were much more professional than the old sweatshirt you were currently wearing.

Finally satisfied, you stepped out of your room and followed the sounds of conversation into the kitchen, where you found Brunnhilde and Thor joking at the counter while Loki sat at a dining room table, reading a book.

Seeing you, Thor broke into a smile. “Y/N! Loki had told us you would be staying here!”

You returned the smile. “Thank you for letting me stay here, Thor. I really appreciate this.”

The large man set a plate heaping with food on the table and gestured for you to sit. You did, glancing at Loki as you took the seat across from him, but he made no move to acknowledge that you were there. Brunnhidle began to speak. “We will be building fishing boats today down at the docks today. Will you be joining us, Y/N? We could use an extra set of hands.”

You nodded. “I don’t mind helping out. I have a few things to take care of first, though, so I’ll meet you all down there.”

Thor clapped. “Excellent! We’ll make an Asgardian out of you yet!”

You laughed softly and finished your meal as Thor and Brunnhilde began to tell you the plans for the day.

------

After breakfast, you ran up to your room to grab your laptop and then met the rest of the group on the stairs of the house. “I’ll see you guys in a little while,” you said, waving while walking in the opposite direction.

Thor and Brunnhidle branched off from you, but Loki, still silent, walked beside you towards your van.

You looked at him quizzically, but he seemed to have no intention of indicating why he was with you, and not with Thor and Brunnhilde.

Finally, as you approached your van, you caved and asked. “Why are you with me instead of your brother?”

“I’ve consulted with Thor. I will be supervising you for the remainder of your stay here.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “I’m supposed to be supervising you guys!”

“You are a stranger,” he replied, “and there’s something about you that I don’t trust. I have harmed Asgard many times over, and I don’t intend to let you get away with hurting these people any more.” There was an edge to his voice, that you had to admit, scared you.

After a long moment, you sighed. “Fine. I could use an assistant, I guess.” Which was apparently the right thing to say, because it made him clearly flustered.

“I am no one’s assistant, I am a prince of Asgard,” he argued as you turned away from him, partially to unlock your van and partially to hide your laughter.

You hopped up into the vehicle and grabbed a folder and tossed it to Loki, who was still sputtering about his status behind you. “Scan those in, would you?” you said gesturing at a machine in the back corner of the van.

He huffed but snatched the folder from your hand and went to fiddle with the machine.

You glanced over. “Do you know how to use that?”

“Yes,” he snapped. “This is primitive technology compared to what I have seen in my travels.”

You shrugged. “Okay.” You turned to your computer and queued up a call to S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. “I’m gonna need you to be quiet for a second,” you said, right before Mack’s face popped onto the screen.

“Y/N! How’s Norway treating you?” he said with a smile.

“Colder than I thought, but not too bad. They’ve given me an actual bed to sleep in. You really need to update the beds in these vans,” you joked.

“I’ll let the budget committee know,” he replied. “I trust Thor and Loki are being cooperative, then?”

“More or less,” you said before stepping to the side, putting Loki in full view of your webcam.

Mack’s eyes widened. The change was subtle, but you could tell he was surprised. “That’s Loki.”

“Yup.”

“In your van.”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

“His Highness has deemed me untrustworthy, and decided I need a chaperone.”

“Right,” said Mack, suspicion in his voice. “Well you know the drill. Weekly check-ins, and don’t hesitate to contact me if you have any problems,” he said, looking at Loki.

“Gotcha, Mack. Talk to you next week,” you said, turning off the call. You turned to Loki, who had yet to even turn the scanner on. “You don’t know how to work that, do you?”

He glared at you and did not reply.

“Come here, Your Highness, I’ll show you. It really isn’t that hard.”

“You know the honorific loses its value when you say it so sarcastically,” he said, while watching your motions intensely, memorizing the steps to work the machine.

“Sorry, Highness.”

-----

The two of you walked down to the beach shortly after, meeting Brunnhilde and Thor at the docks. You were allotted supplies and miraculously, you and Loki ended up caulking the same boat.

Great.

The silence was deafening at first, until you decided to break it.

“You know I never would have assumed that someone of such status would be out here doing the dirty work,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice.

He grimaced. “I owe Asgard a debt. I intend to repay it, however I can offer service.”

“A very noble stance from Loki, God of Mischief.”

He grinned and looked up, meeting your eyes. “I find that one can be noble while still being quite mischievous.”

You felt your face heat up, and ducked your head, looking down at your work. He had smiled at you, for the first time, and what he had said had sounded almost like flirting. Why had that made your stomach turn in such a strange way?

“Oh my,” he laughed. “Seems that the Midgardian is finally speechless.”

“Just trying to hold my tongue around my betters, Highness,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Now let’s get to work before Brunnhilde has our heads.”

-----

Finally, late that afternoon, the work was done, and the New Asgard armada of fishing boats was ready for a celebratory launch. You and Loki stood in the crowd, watching Brunnhilde give a speech in front of the flagship, which really wasn’t much larger than the rest of the fleet. Loki leaned over and whispered to you, “You know, back in the day, the Norse would give a human sacrifice to the sea god to ensure safe passage.”

You wrinkled your nose, put off by the suggestion. “I think I prefer the more English tradition,” you replied, watching as Brunnhilde smashed a bottle of champagne against the hull of the ship.

Loki sighed. “Such a waste of perfectly good champagne.”

“I’m sure there's plenty more alcohol around here somewhere,” you said as you walked over to your boat, preparing for her maiden voyage. You hopped in and offered Loki your hand to help him in. He hesitated, but he took it.

“What should we name her?” you asked.

“What?”

“You know,” you shrugged, “We have to give our ship a name.”

Loki seemed to ponder it a moment before deciding. “How about The Midgardian?”

You put your hand on your chest in mock flattery. “Aww, you named her after me, didn’t you?”

He laughed. “It’s a fitting name. She’s lackluster and hardly even worthy of being called a boat.” His words were biting, and maybe you were imagining things, but you could have sworn you heard the playfulness in his voice.

You laughed and tossed him an oar. “For you, Highness.”

“Many thanks, Midgardian.”

The two of you followed the rest of New Asgard, rowing out to sea. Suddenly, you noticed a small sprig of water in the bottom of the boat. “Loki,” you said, the fear dawning on you, “I think the boat is leaking.”

He turned to see the small leak coming through the floorboards. “Okay,” he said, suddenly serious, “Don’t panic. Let’s turn around.”

You switched the side you were paddling on, beginning to move the boat in a circle. Before you could completely orient yourselves, the floorboards cracked, and a large chunk of wood detached from the boat. You yelped as the water came flooding in.

Loki swore. “Can you swim?” he asked you, speaking quickly.

You nodded. All S.H.I.E.L.D. agents knew how to swim.

“Then jump!” he said, and you did, without a second thought. Your boat was sinking fast, and there was no way you were going to make it back to shore dry.

You hit the water, and a second later, heard Loki behind you.

“Swim towards Thor’s boat, he can get us-”

You missed the rest of his sentence as you were pulled away from him.

You fought the current that had taken hold of you, but your panic was making things worse. In the confusion, you lost control, and dipped under water. The ocean filled your mouth. Breaking the surface again, you choked out most of the water, trying to stay calm and find a way out, but every second you were being pulled further out to sea. Falling under once again, you were prepared to accept your fate when a strong pair of arms wrapped themselves around you and pulled you into calmer waters.

You gasped for air as Loki held you against himself, allowing you time to recover.

“Wha- How did-” you began, once you could speak.

“Don’t talk, just breathe,” he said. “I am a god, I can overpower currents much easier than your mortal bodies can.”

“Thank you, Loki,” you said.

“You are welcome, Y/N.”

A larger boat pulled up next to you, Thor leaning over the side. “Brother, Agent Y/N! Take my hand!”

Loki helped you onto the deck of the boat before climbing over the side himself.

You flopped onto the deck, panting. “Rest in peace, SS Midgardian.”

-----

Later that night, you and Loki sat together watching the fire crackle. Thor had brought you a hot drink, and after plenty of fussing ensuring that you were okay, had left to do something leader-ish with Brunnhilde.

Suddenly, a loud scuffling at the door broke the silence and a series of thudding footsteps made their way toward you. Upon seeing your company, Loki sighed, exasperated. You turned and saw a large figure that appeared to be made out of rock alongside a smaller, insect-looking creature.

The large one began to speak, his gentle tone in contrast with his threatening form. “Hello. Um, I’m Korg and this is my friend Meik. We came to apologize for the whole boat thing. Thor put us in charge of wood collection, so it’s our bad, really. Sorry.”

“Oh, um, that’s alright,” you said, still processing the fact that there were two very large, very strange-looking, aliens in the living room. “You couldn’t have known the wood was rotting, and no one’s dead, so we’re good.”

“Alright, cool,” said Korg. “No harm, no foul, yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Right then,” he said, scooping up Miek. “We’ve gotta get going. Thor put us on clean up duty for the next week.”

“Thank you, Korg!” you called, but he was already out the door.

Loki let out another sigh. “Idiots.”

You turned back to him. “I had no idea there were other aliens here! How many species came with you?”

“Just Korg and Meik. And unfortunately, they are around a lot.”

You settled into your armchair. “I’m gonna have to document this.” But even as you said it, you could feel yourself drifting off.

-----

The next day you woke in your own bed, slightly embarrassed at the implication that Loki had carried you there, but he never brought it up, so neither did you.

The next few weeks were filled with collecting information and helping with the construction of New Asgard to fill the rest of your time. Always, of course, accompanied by Loki. In a strange way, you were becoming friends. The two of you never exchanged a single kind word, but your actions said otherwise. Before long, it seemed less like Loki was breathing down your neck and more like he was genuinely relaxing around you.

“Hey, Mack,” you said, beginning your weekly call-in, Loki now sitting beside you instead of hiding in the background.

“Hey there, Y/N. How’s it going, Loki?”

“Quite well, thank you, Director Mackenzie.”

You stared at him in shock. You had never heard Loki use honorifics for a Midgardian.

The rest of the call was uneventful, and as soon as you hung up, you whirled toward Loki.

“You were polite!” you said, your tone accusatory.

Loki sniffed. “I do have manners, you know.”

“You called him Director Mackenzie.”

“And?”

“And I can count the number of times you’ve used my real name on one hand. It’s always ‘Midgardian’ this ‘Midgardian’ that. You know Mack’s a Midgardian too, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “And you call me ‘Highness’ in that terrible mocking tone of yours. The disrespect is mutual.”

You sighed. “Fine, we’ll call a truce. I’ll call you Loki, you call me Y/N, deal?” You stuck out your hand, waiting for his response.

He seemed to be considering his options, before he settled on his choice. “Deal.” He grasped your hand firmly within his and shook it.

“Glad we’re on the same page, Loki,” you said, leaning back into your chair.

“What now, Y/N?” he asked.

You shrugged. “I dunno. Brunnhilde and Thor don’t have anything going on, and I’m done with what I need to do.” You started clicking around on your computer. “Wanna watch a movie?”

“I’ve heard of movies, but never seen one.”

“You’ve never seen a movie?” you asked. “I guess that makes sense. It’s basically just a recorded play. You’ll love it.” You pulled up a movie. One of the lesser known perks of working for S.H.I.E.L.D.: free Netflix. “This is one of my favorites,” you said as the opening credits rolled.

“I suppose you aren’t giving me a choice then?” he asked.

“Nope,” you replied. “Now be quiet and watch.”

-----

Later that night, you were in the kitchen with Thor, cleaning up after dinner. The two of you worked in comfortable silence until suddenly-

“Are you and my brother involved romantically?”

The plate you were washing fell into the soapy water with a splash.

“What?”

“I have never seen him willingly be around a person as he is you,” Thor explained. “And he has changed. He is happier than he was before Midgard.”

You shook your head. “He doesn’t- I thought he was just ‘supervising’ in case I tried to kill you all.”

“Hardly. The man just has no clue how to adjust to a more… domestic lifestyle. He wants to be around you, he just does not know how to express that.”

“Huh,” was all you managed to say, not looking up from the dishes.

Thor let out a small chuckle. “One day you two will figure it out,” he said so quietly you weren’t even sure he said it.

-----

More time passed, you and Loki still spending your days together. Before you knew it, the Summer Solstice was here, and you spent the morning preparing.

Rushing around your van, alone for once, you scrambled to get your work done quickly before Brunnhidle’s coronation began.

Finishing up you glanced at your monitor when you saw a message pop up.

Alphonso Mackenzie: I forgot to mention it in our call this week, but you’re coming up on the six month mark, and there seems to be no complications with Asgard’s transition, so we’ll be pulling you back to HQ. We’ll sort out the details in next week’s meeting.

You felt a sinking feeling in your chest, which was quickly replaced by determination as you began to type your response.

-----

You hurried to Loki’s side, panting slightly, making it to the coronation just in time for Brunnhidle to make her entrance.

“You’re late,” he whispered.

“Shh,” you said. “They’re starting.”

-----

After every great coronation comes an even greater feast, and the Asgardians spent the rest of the day revealing and celebrating their new leader.

Surprisingly, you had seen very little of Loki. That wouldn’t last long though, because as the sun dipped below the horizon, your closest friend in New Asgard appeared from the crowd and said nothing as he led you to a private space away from the partygoers.

“I’ve hardly seen you all night,” he said, as soon as the two of you had a moment of relative silence.

“I know,” you laughed softly. “It’s been strange to not be around you.”

Your smile fell and you looked up at him. “Look, Loki, I have some news, and I’m not sure how you’re going to feel about it.”

His expression turned serious and he led you to a small bench, where the both of you sat. He stayed silent, waiting for you to speak.

“I got a message from Mack today. They want me back in America.”

Loki’s entire demeanor changed. “What? You can’t go back. There’s still so much I- so much supervising to be done here.”

“That’s where the part I’m unsure of comes in,” you said. “I talked to Mack, and the specifics still need to be discussed, but if we can get agreement from all parties, he wants to create a new position at S.H.I.E.L.D. I’d be the first permanent Asgardian-Midgardian liaison that S.H.I.E.L.D. has ever had.”

His face broke into a grin and he clasped your hands into his. “That’s wonderful! Why would I have any problems with that?”

“You haven’t always been my biggest fan,” you said, nudging his arm gently.

He was silent for a moment, looking for the words. “Maybe not at first,” he began slowly, looking you directly in your eyes, “but now, I’d argue that you are closer to me than anyone else.”

You suddenly became all too aware of his hands resting on yours, and the closeness of his face to yours. “Loki…”

“I hate to admit it, but after a long talk with Thor, I’ve realized that I’ve grown quite fond of you, Y/N.”

“I guess I’ve grown fond of you too, Your Highness,” you said, smiling softly.

“Oh, Midgardian,” he said, unable to keep the laughter out of his voice as his face drew nearer.

You didn’t remember which of you closed the gap, only that it was the most magical kiss you had ever had.

A/N: Thanks for reading! :)

[ooo-babyboi]

Kenma x G/N!Reader Oneshot: Ground Cake

a/n: dang, i really said ‘falling off the face of the earth ✌🏼 bai boo’

take this kenma fic i wrote in two hours as an apology :))

also can you tell i gave up on making titles

FIC ENTAILS: stress from school work, ghosting, online friends with kenma :>, minecraft being everyones coping mechanism, picnic date <3, lack of sleeps, idk what to say pls

one in the morning, that’s when you had felt most productive, unfortunately. the moon casted a misty glow through your blinds as you sat at your desk, computer on. 

the assignments were always piling on each other, as if they were a globish monster ready to consume you. while you really did try to finish them, it was just getting to be too much. you prayed that there was an escape-

ding

watery eyes (from the blue light or overwhelming stress, who knows) gazed towards the top of your screen, in search for the notification.

applepi: >:( i know ur awake, ur sleep schedule is as shit as mine

u havent been on in a while, u okay?

you clicked over to discord, opening the message fully. you really hadn’t been on in a couple days. or maybe it was a week or two, who knows.

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ: haha

im fine, dw :))

applepi: you use :)) when ur upset :/

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ: ffs y can u read me like an open book

applepi: only thing im good at 😎

rlly tho, whats up?

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ: idk, everything feels like garbage

a dumpster on fire

applepi: that sounds

✨shitty✨

minecraft = coping mechanism

wanna play?

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ: lol sure

a ring came from your computer, alerting you that he was voice calling you. you cleared your throat quickly before picking up, letting out a little hello.

“go on our usual server, ‘kay? i updated the base,” applepi murmured.

you hummed in agreement, “what did you do?”

the line was silent as you entered the world, only caves and dungeons visible till the land loaded.

“apple? what did you do to the base?” you asked again.

“oh sorry, i spaced out. you can call me ken, by the way. uh, i added an extra room, come look.”

your characters ran together through the base to an unfamiliar hallway, which lead outside to a pathway to a dark oak forest.

“im scared, are you gonna kill me again? bombard me with skellies? have me trip over a wire and fall in lava?” you questioned, though still running behind him.

“no, that got old after, like, the third time,” ken chuckled.

“i’m still upset about that, i was farming endermen and i lost all those ‘pearls,” you scoffed, although he could tell you were messing around.

“m’kay, farmer n/n, look.”

in an opening in the forest, red and white carpets were placed down with lanterns on the trees. you could feel the grin ken wore while his character crouched several times.

“wait, that’s not it,” he broke a carpet and placed a cake down, “bam, there we go. you like it?”

it was silent for a moment, then you let out a loud laugh. tears pricked in your eyes as you hunched over, the biggest smile on your face.

“i hope those are good laughs, it didn’t take me very long, but i just thought it might make you feel better,” ken huffed.

“very good laughs, ken. thank you, it’s very nice,” you wiped your eyes clear of tears.

“good, now come eat this cake with me before i eat the whole thing myself.”

“yum, ground cake, sounds very appetizing,” you teased.

“just get over here, you sap.”

you both had eaten the cake and sat in the picnic area for a while, talking about anything and everything. after some time, the both of you moved on to exploring, as well as mining in some of the caves you saw earlier.

before you knew it, an orange haze beamed through your window. stretching, you popped a few bones, “morning already?”

“what? no.”

“real life, ken, look out the window,” you snickered.

“oh, i guess it is- oh god.”

“wha-”

the mic didn’t pick it up very well, but you could hear a brief yell from ken’s side, along with, “suck my ass, kuro! i’m playing minecraft!”

“pftt-” 

laughing ensued between you too, then it fell silent. Although, it was quite comfortable with a few giggles here and there.

“someday, if your not a 35 year old man, maybe we’ll meet in person and have a real picnic,” ken mused.

“thankfully i’m not a 35 year old man.” (if you are 👀 leave)

“hmmm, that sounds like something a 35 year old man would say-”

“oh shut up,” you interjected, smiling.

you agreed when ken asked if you would be on later, snorting when you said ‘just for you’. with that, you both logged off, putting your status to ‘invisible’.

sitting in your chair, you thought about what an actual picnic with ken would be like. then you drifted on thinking about what ken would be like. little did you know kenma was thinking about it too, well, till kuroo started yelling at him again. 

[chilling-seavey]

based on ur post about the songs from the album and when they would have been written in ABM- ABM Daniel writing a song for Flora and she hears it for the first time?

By the time Daniel graduated with his bachelor’s degree in music production; he had an album of ten original songs under his belt. His first year was learning the basics but by the time the novel of ABM began, his classes started assigning projects in writing and producing their own songs. We all know that Daniel is incredibly creative and especially so when it comes to his music and this universe is no different, but he was also incredibly protective about his work. He showed Florence snippets of what he had been working on but never full songs because he didn’t want to admit that all his songs were about her.

His inspiration was directly stemmed from her; for every single one of his projects.

Even when Florence and Daniel started dating, he kept his previous songs locked away on his computer in near embarrassment with how lovesick and emotional they all were. They were pieces of his fragile soul from the past two or three years and he was simply a little nervous of opening that back up again.

By his final week of university, Daniel received a CD that was burned with all of his projects in order on it to hear his progression and his professor congratulated him on being one of the top students he had ever seen or taught. Daniel thanked him, went home, and hid the album in the very back of his sock drawer.

Here is the link to ABM Daniel’s University Album.

Thursday, June 16, 2022

It had been in there barely two months when Florence found it. She was doing laundry and putting the clean folded clothes in the drawers when her hand grazed something at the bottom of Daniel’s sock drawer. Curiosity got the better of her and she pushed the folded socks out of the way to reveal a CD case, the cover staring back up at her with one of Daniel’s first year headshots and the title in white across the black and white image; Firenze. ‘Florence’ in Italian.

She set the laundry basket on the floor and picked up the CD from the bottom of the drawer. She flipped it over and skimmed the track list printed on the back. Ten short titled tracks in a row down the middle. Florence figured she shouldn’t go snooping through her fiancé’s things but it wasn’t a gift since her birthday already passed and they never gave each other Christmas gifts so she carried it back out to the bedroom.

Daniel was watching the girls in the living room while Florence was doing laundry so she had a moment of privacy to close the bedroom door and bring out her laptop. She slid the CD into the disk drive and put in her earbuds to listen to the mysterious album that had been hidden from her for nearly four years. The front cover slid out like a real professional album and she flipped it open as the songs loaded into iTunes.

The first song was titled Just to See You Smile. Written and Produced by Daniel Seavey, 1st year Music Production student, March 2019.

Florence smiled at the gentle piano that led the introduction to the song and then Daniel’s youthful voice that came in next. She couldn’t believe he never showed her this song; probably too nervous since it was his first, but it was sweet and it made her smile.

The second song was titled Hard. Written and Produced by Daniel Seavey, 2nd year Music Production student, Summer 2019.

She followed along to the lyrics in the small cover booklet, her smile faltering a moment at the lyrics come the pre-chorus. It was obvious as to what it was about, especially being written in Summer of 2019 when Matt was still around and it was often that Florence truly ran crying to Daniel when he hurt her.

The third song was titled Falling. Written and Produced by Daniel Seavey, 2nd year Music Production student, September 2019.

Florence’s expression was flat, the words of the song resonating deep in her mind and the emotion behind Daniel’s voice nearly sent chills down her spine as she read along with the lyrics.

That one was followed by Perfect from November 2019, Made For from January 2020, For You from February 2020, What Am I from Summer 2020, all of which just added another weight to Florence’s heart. The angsty heartbroken songs that she was smart enough to know just who they were about, each lyric speaking right to her soul from a part of Daniel’s she hardly knew existed.

She tried not to feel heartbroken herself over the deep lyrics and soft melodies as a vision into Daniel’s own mind through their friendship. She had hurt him so much and never knew. She now sat on their shared bed in their new apartment and fought back her own tears over these songs that he tried to hide from her.

Daniel had finished making lunch for the girls and set them at their small white wooden table to eat, waiting impatiently for Florence to finish putting away the laundry so they could eat together. The minutes passed as he cleaned up the kitchen but there was no sign of her.

“Stay right here, okay?” Daniel said to his two daughters before heading down the hallway to find his fiancé. Their bedroom door was closed which was strange and he opened it and headed inside, only to find Florence sitting on their bed with her laptop open and her headphones on and tears in her eyes.

Daniel was startled by her seemingly sudden emotion but then his gaze landed on the open CD cover and the booklet in her hands and his heart literally stopped.

“Flora.” he breathed as she looked up at him.

She paused What Am I within the last minute and pulled out her earbuds with a shaky inhale, “Why didn’t you show me this?”

“I…” Daniel walked slowly over to her and glanced at her laptop to see what track she was on. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “I didn’t…I…I didn’t want you to be upset. There’s some…heavy and personal shit in these songs.”

“Yeah.” Florence laughed humourlessly, looking back to the simple black booklet in her hands.

“Are you mad at me?” Daniel asked softly.

“Mad at you? You should be mad at me for listening to something you didn’t want me to listen to.” Florence sighed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before her tears could fall.

“They’re all for you anyway.” Daniel shrugged. “Plus it had your name on the cover.”

“You really meant all of this?” Florence asked, holding up the lyric booklet haphazardly.

“Every single word.” Daniel nodded and shuffled to sit beside her on the bed. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I’ve been in love with you from the first moment we met.”

“I didn’t know…that I hurt you this bad all the time.”

“Not all the time.” Daniel tisked. “The hard stuff just makes for the best songs.”

Florence chuckled lightly and Daniel smiled softly and pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek before leaning his head against hers.

“I wrote What Am I the week before Penelope was born.” Daniel said quietly, staring at the song paused on the laptop screen. “And you were the only thing on my mind the whole time…you and our baby that I didn’t know was ours yet.”

“I heard you singing it to her once.”

“Yeah.” Daniel cracked a small smile at the memory.

They sat in silence together, in their own minds and memories, staring at the paused CD.

“Are you gonna listen to the last three?” Daniel asked.

“Are they gonna make me cry?” Florence mumbled.

“No. Next one was the first song I wrote after we started dating.” he flipped the booklet to Taking You, “And then one from when I knew I wanted to marry you,” he flipped to Big Plans, “And finally, my thesis project. Spent all this last year working on it from recordings to lyrics to instrumentals to production and everything in between.” he flipped to the last page to Love Song finished just that last April. “Got a shining 100%.”

Florence smiled at him and stuck her earbud back in but Daniel got up from the bed again. “Are you not going to listen with me?” she frowned.

“Gotta watch our babies so they don’t destroy the house. Come find me after, okay?”

“Okay.” Florence smiled lightly and welcomed his lingering kiss to her lips. She watched him leave before turning back to her laptop and pressed ‘play’.

The upbeat guitar of Taking You instantly made her smile and the sweet lyrics had it sticking; thinking back to the first few weeks of their romantic relationship and how fresh and new everything was. And Big Plans definitely made her cry – especially because it was made in April and he said it was when he knew he wanted to marry her, so far in advance to when he actually proposed. And Love Song. Her favourite on the whole track list, an upbeat and catch incredible song that sounded like it could be professionally made by a famous band. But it was just her Daniel and his deepest, sweetest, honest feelings for her and it only made her more excited to spend the rest of their lives together.

When the album concluded, she took it out of her laptop and put the CD safely away in its case and on Daniel’s desk across the room before heading back down the hallway. She lingered in the doorway a moment to watch Daniel set two plastic cups of apple juice down for the girls and they thanked him sweetly. He stood back up and caught glimpse of Florence in the hallway and they shared small smiles. She headed over to him and he swallowed her up into a warm embrace and peppered a few kisses to her cheek and down her neck.

“I love you so much.” Florence whispered.

“I love you more.” Daniel smiled against her neck.

“Our whole love story on one CD, huh?” she said.

Daniel pulled back from her to look at her face and their noses brushed lightly. He kissed hers before resting their foreheads together, “It is.”

“I’m proud of you. It was all truly beautiful. Can’t believe you didn’t share all that with me before.”

“I’ve shown you bits and pieces.” Daniel shrugged, his eyes falling closed as they stood together in their kitchen, arms wrapped around each other and just breathing together. “But I was too shy.”

“I know.” Florence giggled, giving his hips a small squeeze. She pulled back to look him in the eye. “But now I expect to hear all your beautiful art.”

“Okay.” Daniel leaned in to kiss her lips and they smiled into it before he pulled back just long enough to whisper, “I’ll put it in my vows.”

[magpieslocket]

#writeyourwitchcraft

Inspired by this post, I wrote down my answers to these prompts in September 2019. Revisiting the list, I have rewritten my answers for January 2021.

The long long prompt list and answers follow under the cut.

What draws me to witchcraft?

Witchcraft draws me in as a tool of self-reflection and self-improvement.

How do I see the divine?

I see the divine as a human creation out of necessity. We seek patterns in a chaotic universe, and divinity is the thing beyond us that laces together disparate parts into a seamless whole.

What in witchcraft makes me happy?

Tea, oils, incense, and community.

Do I want to follow a path that has to do with a little nature, or a lot of nature?

A lot of nature. I believe we need nature in our lives, and the closer we can get to it, the healthier we are.

What areas of witchcraft would I like to learn more about?

Regional biodiversity, ethnobotany, divination outside of tarot, more about tarot, more traditional Americana regional styles of craft.

Where do my witchy talents lie?

Visualization and empathy.

What kind of deities, if any, do I want to honor?

I don’t currently work with any deities.

How do I believe magic works?

If it works, it works by sympathetic principles of energy flow and positive psychology. I think we manifest what we believe. I think we have the most powerful computer on the planet riding around on our shoulders, and magic is a way to program ourselves.

Simple or elaborate spells/rituals? Why?

As elaborate as is needed. I believe that some pageantry acts as a trigger in our brain to start recording, so to speak. By performing a ritual, we are telling ourselves we have power to affect the outcome of events. Some elaborate steps can help us believe it better, as we are so trained to see simplicity as ineffective.

What are my views on cursing/hexing?

I believe it is pointless, as it only increases the pain and hate in your own heart, and will seldom affect the target unless the target knows they have been cursed. On the other hand, I don’t believe in some “karmic” return of the reflection of the power used. I think it is fine for others, but I don’t seek it out. 

Do I want to practice something similar to my ancestors?

I am wary of Norse reconstructionist religion because so much is based on so little in the way of sources, so I have no idea how similar the practice is to what my Danish ancestors would have really known. In spite of this, I have always been drawn to Norse mythology and have Huginn tattooed behind my ear. I try to balance my own Norse leanings with some Americana / Appalachian tradition.

What are the basic morals and ethics I feel I should live by?

This is such a difficult question to boil down to a few sentences. I believe we are all human together, and as such, we must treat each other with dignity and respect. Not because of some reward for doing good, but because we wish to be treated with dignity and respect ourselves. 

What in nature am I drawn to; the ocean, animals, the trees, etc?

All of it.

Which (witchy) holidays, if any, would I like to celebrate and how?

I celebrate the Wiccan Wheel of the Year with friends because while none of us are Wiccan, we are all flavors of Pagan, and find the regular breaking of bread together fun.

How do I believe divination works?

Divination is self knowledge passed through the veil that obfuscates authorship. We project our gut feelings onto a medium made to soak up and amplify those feelings into readable patterns, then read those patterns without acknowledging our hand in making them.

Would I like to work with a group some of the time, all of the time or not at all?

Some of the time would be grand, Covid willing. I would love to find more like minded people to practice with.

Which aspects of witchcraft appeal to me most, which the least?

I love the trappings of witchcraft, and despise the gatekeeping, racism, and antisemitism that plague the community. The sense of community and the ceremony of witchcraft appeals to me in so many ways, but I find a lot of fault in the community at large for cultural appropriation of people it then fetishizes. 

What do I believe happens to us when we die?

I think we go dark, cease to be, and are mourned. I think our body returns to dust and our mind was only ever a flicker of light in the darkness in the first place.

How do I see mythological creatures?

I think most mythological creatures are based on hearsay of living or extinct animals, that knowledge passed down from ear to ear and from generation to generation, changing and becoming unrecognizable to its original form, like a strange game of Telephone.

When do I feel most magical?

I feel magical when I am in a flow state. When the rest of the world melts away and I can focus entirely on the task at hand.

How much is witchcraft woven into my daily life; is this too much, too little or just enough?

I feel that right now, it is just enough. I use visualization to boost my mood, my confidence, and my energy, and I use meditation to relax, soothe anxiety and depression, and be more mindful of my body. I use crystals and teas to affect change in my emotional states.

What kind of witch do I feel I am?

If I had to choose, Green Witch. I feel most connected with the energy of plants.

Which texts/quotes best describe my current path?

There are no gardening mistakes, only experiments. – Janet Kilburn Phillips

A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit in. – Greek proverb

Remember that children, marriages, and flower gardens reflect the kind of care they get. — H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

Do I like research and gathering info, or do I like things handed to me?

That is a loaded question and I don’t like it.

Which things about witchcraft worry or scare me?

I worry about becoming overly dependent on magical thinking and not taking the reins to my own life.

What is my favourite element?

No way to say.

How do I see gender (roles) in witchcraft?

Gender is not a binary experience, and gender roles in magic often feel like outdated trapping of a different time. I feel that society is catching up with the expression of gender being something varied and personal and that the witchcraft community is catching up too. I simply ignore anything that takes it upon itself to assign gender roles to magical correspondences. 

Am I interested more in magic, or spirituality?

I have had great talks with friends on the difference between the two. How do you define it? I think I prefer spirituality as a pattern grid that lays over life and gives meaning to senselessness.

Do I like to be told how to do things, or would I rather figure it out on my own?

That depends on the thing! I prefer to be told how to fix a car or not poison myself with homemade tea, but I like to figure out my own methods for programing my attitudes. 

What rules, if any, do I live by when it comes to witchcraft and magic?

I had a lot of trouble with this question. There are simple rules, like “don’t eat strange herbs without ample research” and there are complex rules, like “try not to appropriate closed cultures” - I think that like the ethics and morals question, it boils down to treating others how you’d like to be treated.

What do I gain from witchcraft and magic?

I gain a feeling of autonomy, to self-direct my own brain. 

Formal or informal rituals/spells? Why?

Informal, because who’s to say what is formalized. 

What subject do I love to study?

Oh everything. There isn’t a bad subject to study.

What is my favourite type of magic; candle, sympathetic, sigils, etc?

Sympathetic magic is one of my favorites, and sigils are a common topic of interest for me. 

What would my perfect witchy day be like?

What does this question mean? “April 25th — because it's not too hot, not too cold. All you need is a light jacket!”

Would I want to be dedicated/initiated?

Sure, if I trusted the people doing it.

Who do I honor (ex: deities, ancestors, myself, etc), and how do I, or would I like to, honor them?

I honor myself with mindful listening.

How do I create a sacred/witchy space?

I create the space by engaging with my five senses. Creating texture, scents, sights, and general ambiance to enrich my experience and captivate my senses. 

What do I believe is needed for a successful spell/ritual?

Intent and belief. 

Which cultures do I draw from in my witchcraft?

Norse, Hellenistic/Greek, American/Appalachian.

What is my learning style; books, websites, videos, more hands-on?

I’m still experimenting with content, but I think websites and hands-on.

What, if anything, in my mundane life influences my witchcraft?

Chronic depression and anxiety influence my witchcraft because they influence my energy levels and ability to engage with the experiences. 

What are my hobbies, how do I (or can I) incorporate them in my witchcraft?

My biggest hobbies are writing, drawing, and painting, and I use all three to explore my craft. I use writing to question and define, I use drawing to explore, and I use painting to honor.

Where do my non-witchy talents lie, how do I (or can I) incorporate them in my witchcraft?

Art is where most people would say my talent lies. I have used stormwater to add interesting energy to paintings, and would do so again in the future.

What would my dream witchy life look like? What steps can I take to work towards it?

My dream witchy life is running a combination gallery space and witchy store. Steps I can take would be to continue honing my craft (art and magic) and building the skills necessary to run a gallery space successfully.

What would my dream sacred space/witchy home look like? What steps can I take to work towards it?

Plants, plants, and more plants. Statues, paintings, and prints of powerful imagery. I am working on my gardening dreams, and my art dreams, so continue to do both of those things.

What symbols correspond with me; runes, animals, flowers, gemstones, etc?

Stags, deer, wolves, smokey quartz, rutilated quartz, snowflake obsidian, pothos.

Am I an open and proud witch, or do I (need to) hide my craft?

I am a very private person in real life. I don’t share my craft with anyone outside my direct family and close friends.

What are my favourite witchy items/tools; divination tool, ritual tool, décor, clothing, etc?

Tarot cards are my current obsession. Some of the magpied shiny bits that I have collected over the years, from sharks teeth to perfume bottles, make the list. 

What is holding me back in my craft?

Issues with mental health, physical health, and self-doubt.

What is my pre-spell/ritual routine?

Grounding myself to the Earth.

What are my ultimate witchy goals and how can I work towards them?

I’m not sure how to answer this. I guess, to be more mindful, to be more content, and to be more present. I am working with myself through therapy and ritual and setting small achievable goals to work towards those things. 

I implore @theodoravanyar and anyone else who takes the time to read this long slog of words to consider writing their own answers down for the new year. 

[addierose444]

Academic Advice for First-Years: Part I

Last week I posted some general college advice for first-years. Here I will delve into my academic advice. This post got really long, so I decided to break it up into two parts. In this part, I will provide some general advice on course selection, note-taking, and homework. Next week, I will be exploring the academic support systems on campus. I will first address a reader question that I received.

What is your favorite computer science course you have taken at Smith College? Thanks :)

That is a great question that I am unfortunately unprepared to answer as I have only taken a semester’s worth of computer science at Smith. The courses I took were How the Internet Works (CSC 102) and How Computers Work (CSC 103). (You can see a full list of my courses here). While I don’t want to perpetuate the notion of “humanities people” and “STEM people”, I do think that these introductory courses are best suited for someone curious about computer science but who is quite intimidated by it. Namely, these courses have a math designation for Latin Honors but are way less “mathy” than say calculus I. With that said, I still think the best place to start is Introduction to Computer Science Through Programming (CSC 111). Why? First of all, because you will learn programming rather than just theory. Secondly, CSC 111 is required for the major and minor whereas CSC 102/103 cannot be applied to a minor and do not serve as prerequisites for any other courses. It is worth noting that despite recommending CSC 111, I myself haven’t taken it because I was able to test out of it. While I’m sure that this wasn’t the answer you were looking for, be sure to keep an eye on the main blog for another Smithie’s response in the near future.

In terms of course registration, here is a post I wrote a few months ago. While that post was quite thorough, circumstances have definitely changed in intervening months. Specifically, you may now elect to take three courses (instead of four) in the fall and an additional full credit course during interterm. This may make sense in that it allows you to spread out your course load and to have something interesting to do during interterm. Really it just comes down to if any of the course offerings pique your interest. It is also worth thinking critically about which classes may be best to take this fall as opposed to in the spring. As building community will be more difficult this year, I more than ever would recommend enrolling in a first-year seminar. First-year seminars are great because of the small class size (caps of 16-20), varied topics, and writing focus. This writing focus is important because all first-year students are required to take a writing-intensive course and because writing is a crucial skill. 

Course selection ties nicely into my most general academic advice which is to build a strong relationship with your advisor and to learn to write effective emails. This relationship is important because it will improve the entire advising experience and efficacy. You can read more about advising at Smith here. In terms of emails, they are a key form of communication between you and your advisor, other professors, and your employer / prospective employer. In addition to proofreading papers that you submit, be sure to take the time to proofread carefully anything you send via email. In terms of the format, it is usually best to start with Dear Professor Last Name. If it’s someone you haven’t communicated with previously, be sure to introduce yourself. I like to include my first and last name, class year, and depending on the context, my majors. From there explain the situation and relevant questions. If there is a deadline or key question, bold text may be useful. Effective use of whitespace (paragraph breaks) and a concise but informative subject line are also important.  

In terms of actual classes, be sure to attend every lecture. College is different in that not all courses take attendance and grade participation. Obviously, if you are sick, definitely don’t attend class in person. If you are more severely ill, it may be necessary to completely miss class. Here is where effective emails and positive relationships with peers come in. This is also part of why attendance matters in the first place. For instance, say you routinely miss class for illegitimate reasons and then actually get sick. If you need some motivation to actually get up and go to class, consider the extremely high cost of tuition and subsequently high monetary value of an hour of class. 

Courses vary in how/if you should be taking notes. Courses that are discussion-based may require written preparation before class, but minimal in-class note-taking. In general, if the professor is lecturing you should be prepared to jot down the main ideas. The trick is to remain present in class. Namely, learn once by actively engaging with the material rather than trying to teach yourself later from verbatim notes. In terms of paper or digital notes, I vastly prefer digital notes. But between typed and handwritten notes, handwriting is better for actually learning and retaining information. This may sound like a contradictory answer, but my solution is writing on an iPad. You can read about the technology I use in college here. I also have a few posts on how I organize in college that can be found here. 

Actively participating in class means contributing to class discussions and asking questions when you are confusing. Seriously, do not be afraid to ask questions. This is key for your own learning and will likely benefit your peers as well. It is only if you wait too long to express your confusion that your question may end up being “stupid.” 

In terms of homework, the good news with college is that it is fairly predictable. First of all, key dates for exams and/or papers are outlined in the syllabus. Furthermore, courses often have a repeating structure for assignments. For instance, for my physics class, we had to read and virtually discuss the textbook by class time on Wednesdays and Fridays, we had a problem set due every Sunday, revisions due the following Wednesday, and a weekly quiz on Thursday. This predictable schedule allows you to better schedule when you will work on different assignments. Task management along with a study schedule help to keep you from getting too overwhelmed with all of your assignments. You can click here to read about a few task management systems I have used. 

[ladyfogg]

May I? - 11/?

May I? - 11/?

Fic Summary: Ensign Faith Diaz struggles to hide her mental illness from her fellow shipmates aboard the Enterprise until an intrigued Data goes out of his way to try to understand her behavior. At his insistence, Faith tries to figure out what she’s truly passionate about and eventually seeks the professional help she needs. Fic Masterpost.

Fic Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Data/Female OC

Warnings: tw: depression, tw: anxiety, fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut

Screenshot by @ geekygwen

Data left Faith's quarters, replaying the kiss in his mind over and over again. It was the first one he himself had initiated and he was still uncertain as to what made him do so. However, when he told her he enjoyed it, he was not putting up a pretense. While it caused no emotional reaction, he was still able to appreciate the nuance of the kiss.

Faith's lips were soft against his but firm in their pressure. He could hear her heart beating wildly, sense elevated blood flow running through her veins. The way she looked at him when he pulled away was what stuck with him the most. Hyperspace reflected in her pupils, dilated with arousal. She had studied him as if she were afraid he would disappear, taking in every detail she could.

No one had ever looked at him like that before. And that was what he enjoyed.

He had every bit of confidence in her ability to handle her new position within Engineering, though there was another matter that Data needed to address.

Geordi was busy organizing his staff when Data arrived. The android took note of who was available, searching for Carver. When he did not find him, he approached Geordi just as his friend was finishing up his instructions. 

"Team One you'll stay here and begin repairs. Sawyer, I want you to keep a list of needs to be done at starbase and what we can do on our own. Team Two, you'll help me dismantle the device for study. If anyone comes back from sickbay, let me know and I'll assign them a team. Team Two, be ready to go in five minutes."

Everyone scattered to get to work and Geordi turned to Data. "How's Faith?" he asked.

"She is resting, per Dr. Crusher. She will be ready to take her post by morning," Data informed him.

"Good. I'm glad she's alright. She did a damn good job today."

"Yes, she did," Data said. "Have you spoken to Ensign Carver about his behavior?"

"Oh yeah," Geordi assured him. "It was the first thing I did when I got back."

"Where is he?"

Geordi gestured towards the warp core. "Working with his tail between his legs. He knows he screwed up. I don't foresee any more trouble coming from him anytime soon."

"Excellent." Data turned and headed in that direction.

"Whoa, hey, where are you going?" Geordi asked. 

"I must speak with him myself."

"What are you going to say?"

"While I was waiting with Faith in sickbay, I researched ways to defend the honor of one's romantic partner," Data explained. "I then pulled from my research and wrote a program based on this particular situation and what I believe Faith will or will not appreciate."

"In other words, a guy insulted your woman and you're gonna give him a piece of your mind?"

Data gave a firm nod. "Precisely."

Geordi smirked and lovingly shook his head. He put his hands up in surrender and said, "Be my guest." As Data walked by him, Geordi grabbed his arm to stop him. "Seems like that dinner was a date after all."

"It at least was an attempt. We will try again once things are less hectic."

"I'm happy for you, Data."

"Thank you, Geordi."

Data took the lift up to the second level. He found Carver fixing one of the conduits but as he approached, the ensign immediately stopped his work and straightened up.

"Commander!" he exclaimed. "What can I do for you?"

"I believe you and I need to have a talk," Data said. "It is about what happened this evening."

Carver had the decency to look sheepish. "Commander La Forge already spoke to me. I am so sorry! I was way out of line."

"That you were. But this is of a personal nature," Data said. "I do not appreciate you insinuating that Faith was being unjust in her reaction because she and I were intimate."

Carver's eyes widened. He clearly was not expecting Data to question him directly about the incident.

"Commander, I—"

"I am not finished," Data interrupted. "Not only were your comments based on false information, but you also insulted her honor and integrity. I can only assume you jumped to the wrong conclusion when you overheard me speaking to Commander La Forge this morning. After this talk, I will not air my personal life out in the open. Regardless, you were in the wrong and I expect you to apologize to Lieutenant Diaz when she arrives tomorrow morning." He stepped in closer, voice dropping into a low but firm tone. "Understood? " 

Carver swallowed thickly, nodding. "Y-Yes, sir. I will, sir. Again, I am so sorry."

Data took another step closer and Carver practically shrank back. "She does not need me to fight her battles, nor do I wish to overstep, but should I hear even a whisper of insubordination or crudeness coming from you, it will be me you have to deal with. Am I making myself clear?"

Carver nodded again, harder this time. "Yes, sir."

Data straightened his stance and took a step back. "Good. I am glad we had this discussion. Carry on." He turned and left Carver behind, satisfied in his approach. 

Geordi was waiting for him when he stepped off the lift. "Feeling better?"

Data did not have the need to reiterate his lack of emotions. Instead, he said, "Much. I shall return to my quarters to check on Spot. I will be working from my console for the remainder of the evening, analyzing the enemy ship. Please let me know once the dismantling of the device is complete."

"Will do, buddy. See you in the morning."

Data nodded and left Engineering.

He found Spot hiding under the bed. It took some coaxing for her to come out but when she finally did, Data rewarded her with her favorite supplements. 

Data sat at his console, loading all the information from the battle. The ship that attacked them was an anomaly. While its warp function did not match up to the Enterprise, its weapon system did. It bore no resemblance to any of the Federation's known enemies and it never responded to their hails. It attacked them completely unprovoked. 

Logically, it did not make sense.

Data worked through the evening, analyzing and compiling information. Worf's security sweep yielded nothing and Engineering was still dismantling the device by the time oh-seven hundred hours came.

Deciding to meet Faith before their shifts, Data left his quarters. She answered the door already dressed, but her eyes told Data she had not slept well.

"Good morning," he said, stepping into her quarters. "You do not look particularly rested."

"I don't feel it either," she said, greeting him with a kiss on the cheek. "Let me grab some coffee and then we can head out." She walked over to the replicator. "French vanilla coffee, hot, cream and two sugars."

As the cup appeared, Data said. "I believe we concluded having only coffee for breakfast is not nutritious."

Faith rolled her eyes but there was affection in her gaze. "Scrambled eggs with two pieces of buttered wheat toast." She made a show of holding up the plate when it appeared. "There, better?"

"Better." 

They sat at her table together and Data watched as Faith took a dutiful bite of toast before reaching for her coffee.

"I was monitoring the investigation's progress last night when I couldn't sleep," she said. "Can't say I'm surprised security didn't find anything."

"Neither was I," Data said. "Our culprit does seem to be a slippery foe. However, I believe I may have created a way to detect how they are cloaking themselves."

"How?"

She reached for the coffee again but at Data's raised eyebrow, she took a spoonful of eggs first before taking another sip.

"Last year, we encountered a group of terrorists who traveled inter-dimensionally. It was highly unstable and harmful to travelers. However, it allowed them to transport without being detected. The computer still has the data from their devices. I believe I can use that information to create our own device that will detect that technology."

"Excellent. If we can connect it to the sensors, we'd be able to tell if someone decides to pop up on our ship."

"Precisely."

"Would we be able to stop them from leaving again?"

Data considered her question. "With a few minor adjustments, I believe that will be possible."

"Great! Let's get started!" Faith stood but Data touched her hand.

"Faith, I do not wish to come across as pushy, but you will function more efficiently with the proper sustenance."

Faith chuckled. "Are you telling me to finish my food first?"

"I will ask that you consider it."

She smiled and sat back down. "You know, Data, if you were anyone else I'd be annoyed or angry."

"Why is that?"

"Because I'd feel like they were judging me," she said, returning to her breakfast. "At least with you, my anxiety can't go that route. I know it's because you are genuinely concerned."

"While I appreciate the compliment, I will say that I do not believe those close to you on the Enterprise will judge either."

"No. No, I suppose they wouldn't. Alright, let me finish this so we can go." She scooped the eggs between two pieces of toast and bit into the makeshift sandwich. 

Once she was done eating, Data put her plate back on the replicator for her while she downed the rest of her coffee.

Before they left, however, an alarm peeped and she stopped by her desk. "Almost forgot!" she said, pulling out her hypospray.

Data watched her take her medication before replacing the device. "Computer, reset alarm," she said as she adjusted her uniform. She turned to Data. "How do I look?"

"Beautiful."

She smiled softly, reaching for his hands which he accepted. "Thank you," she said. "For caring."

"You are welcome."

They did not leave her quarters hand in hand. Faith let him go as soon as they crossed the threshold. Together they walked in silence, though Data did not feel that Faith was at ease. Data could sense the tension in her. 

"What is occupying your thoughts?"

"Am I that obvious?"

"To me, yes."

Faith was silent for several seconds. "Do you think Geordi said anything to Carver?" she eventually asked.

"He did," Data said. "As did I."

Faith stopped walking but it took Data a second to notice. When he did, he paused and turned to look back at her. 

"You spoke to Carver?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"His behavior towards you and insinuations needed to be addressed."

Faith did not look relieved or appreciative. "But I was going to address them. Now he's really going to think I can't take care of myself." Her voice sounded strained and he could identify the panic in her eyes.

"I do not share your conclusion," Data countered. "Your actions during the battle proved otherwise as did your ability to speak out against him." He studied Faith's expression. "Did I make an error? Are you angry?"

She took a deep breath as she rubbed her forehead absentmindedly. "No. Well, yes, a little," she admitted. "Just...if this happens again, please let me handle it on my own."

"I understand and I apologize if I overstepped," Data apologized. "If it helps, I did preface my comments by saying you do not require me to fight your battles."

Her lips twitched into a smile and she began to walk again, catching up to Data so they could continue together. "That does help a bit. Apology accepted."

"I shall adjust the program as necessary."

"Program?" 

"As you know, I lack sufficient programming for many human situations. Last night I wrote a program designed specifically to defend your honor."

"Aww, you wrote a program for me? How sweet."

"If you do not wish for me to defend you at all, I can delete the program."

"Well, let's not be too hasty. How about this: if someone insults me to your face, then feel free to defend me however your program sees fit. Sound good?"

"I can establish those parameters." 

When they reached Engineering, they were met by Geordi. "Glad you guys are here," he said. "Faith, I need you to continue coordinating repairs. We'll be reaching the starbase soon and I want the crews to be able to start the second they get on board."

"On it, Commander," she said with a nod. "I'll talk to you two later." She shot Data a smile before taking her leave.

"Data, take a look at this," Geordi said, pulling up the device's schematics on the main console. "My team just finished our investigation."

"Did you find something intriguing about the transmitter's construction?"

"That's the crazy thing…no," Geordi said. "We found nothing unusual or interesting. It was a standard transmitter made from basic materials. Aside from the fact that it was seemingly made by ghosts, it's not special at all. There's absolutely no signature or indication of where it came from."

Data scanned through the information, cross-referencing it with the reports he and Faith had compiled to ensure nothing was overlooked. Finding no inconsistencies, he took control of the console from Geordi.

"I have been constructing plans for a device that can detect and disable interdimensional travel," he said. "Since we know the intruders are not physically on the ship and it is highly improbable they were able to transport on, it is my next working theory."

"At this point, I'd try anything," Geordi sighed, sounding exhausted. "How long will it take to build?"

"I will need several hours."

"Do it. And while you and Faith have got this covered, I'm going to get to some sleep."

"That is a good idea. I will contact you once the work is complete."

"Thanks." Geordi stepped away to speak with Faith before he left to go rest.

Data spent the rest of the day focused on his device. It was difficult finding the right parts, as many spare materials were being used for the ship repairs. But he managed to improvise when necessary.

Occasionally, Faith would come over to check on him, but for the most part, he worked in solitude, determined to produce something that could give them an edge.

It was well into the night by the time he finished. By then, Faith had already retired to her quarters and the night Engineering crew had started. 

Data knew his device would work and after integrating it with the sensors, he let Worf and Geordi know what to look out for before he too retired for the day.

With nothing to do with the investigation except to wait, Data decided to take part in one of his recreations. He had the image of Faith in the starlight that he wanted to capture on canvas. After feeding Spot, he set up his supplies and began to paint.

He had been painting for two hours and sixteen minutes when his door chimed. "Come in."

The doors opened and Faith shuffled in. Data had not expected to see her before morning. She was wearing a fluffy robe tied at the waist and had braided her hair per usual, but the loose strands suggested she had been tossing and turning. The dark circles under her eyes supported his theory.

"Cannot sleep?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I keep dozing off and then waking up," she muttered with a pout.

She wandered into the living area and dropped down onto the couch across from him. "Find anything useful with your device?"

"Not yet."

"If that doesn't work, what's your plan?"

Data opened his mouth to answer but then stopped. Instead, he put down his paintbrush, giving her his full attention.

"I do not think working will help your insomnia," he said. 

"I'll be fine, Data."

He knew this to be false. Sleep was essential to humans just as eating, drinking, and breathing.

"I do not share in your assessment," Data said. "You have been working very hard and need your rest in order to have full control of your mental faculties. I must insist you go to bed."

"Since when did you become so protective?" Faith asked. Her tone suggested she was teasing him.

"Since I adjusted your defense program to include a protective function. Now…" He put his hands on his hips to simulate a stern stance. "Will you go willingly or will I have to make you?"

What he said seemed to have a different effect on Faith than he anticipated. Rather than looking chastised or sheepish, her face flushed and her tongue darted out to wet her dry lips.

"Make me?"

"I am stronger than you. I will carry you to bed if need be."

"Uh...I'll, uh, I'll go to bed on my own," she stuttered, getting to her feet. "Yeah, that's a good idea."

Data studied her retreating frame curiously. "Did I make an error again? I did not mean to come across as controlling."

"N-No, you didn't. You're fine. Really fine. It's fine." She quickened her pace, almost reaching the door.

Her nervousness was different. Data ran through the scenarios until he realized what was wrong. "Did my forceful tone arouse you?" he asked.

Faith halted her steps and turned back around, showcasing the sheepish look he had been anticipating earlier.

"You took me by surprise is all," she said. "I've never heard you be so...firm before." Her hand reached up to fiddle with the end of her braid. "Don't worry about it. Actually, can we just forget this ever happened?"

"Not possible. I do not forget anything."

"Yeah, figured it was a long shot to ask." She nervously shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"I shall refrain from using such a tone when we are not alone, so not to arouse you in public."

At that, Faith chuckled. "I'm an adult, Data. I'm not gonna throw my legs in the air every time I hear you give someone an order."

"Legs in the air?" He processed her words. "Ah. You mean sex." Data raised an eyebrow. "Do you wish to do so now? We are not currently in public."

"Are you asking me to have sex with you?"

"I am asking if that is something you wish to do at this moment."

Faith studied him curiously. "You don't feel sexual desire, correct?"

"That is correct."

"So you asking me right now is purely for my benefit? You don't get anything out of it?"

"Not necessarily," Data corrected. "While it is true I do not feel pleasure as humans do, I can appreciate the need for sex and the closeness it provides. As I stated previously, I am fully capable of engaging in intercourse and am programmed in many techniques."

"Have you had sex before?"

"Yes. Only once. Six years, seven months, and twenty-two days ago."

Faith looked pensive. "I guess I never thought about whether or not you had sex."

"Because I am an android, most assume I cannot," he said. "Do you not wish for our relationship to become sexual? I would ask if you are sexually attracted to me but based on certain reactions I know that you are."

Faith's face increased in temperature again and she folded her arms across her chest in a protective stance. "I am," she admitted. "But we just became close and I'm not ready for that yet."

"I understand. For most beings it is a big step forward in the relationship," Data said. "Would you be more comfortable discussing this at another time?"

"Yes. Yes, I would."

"Very well," Data said. "Though, when I ordered you to bed, I did not intend for you to leave so soon. You may sleep in my bed if it will help your anxiety."

Faith smiled softly and closed the distance between them, uncrossing her arms. "May I kiss you, Data?"

"That would be acceptable."

She slid her arms around his neck, her fingers playing idly with his hair before she pulled him down into a kiss. Data placed his hands on her waist, tilting his head to provide the most comfortable angle for her. 

When her lips met his, they were softer than before and slightly dry. She sighed and let her eyes flutter closed. Data mirrored her, calculating the safe amount of pressure he could apply. 

Three seconds later she withdrew, her forehead pressed against his. After another soft peck, arms slipped from his neck and she smiled up at him.

"Still as good as the first time."

"That is nice of you to say but you do not need to sate my ego, as I do not have one."

"Trust me, I wouldn't. I'm not that type of person," Faith said. "I meant what I feel when I kiss you is still as strong as before."

"Ah, I see. May I ask what it is that you feel?"

"Once I can articulate it, I'll let you know," she yawned and slipped her arms around his waist in a light hug. "I should sleep now."

"Yes, you should."

He led her over to the bed, pulling back the blanket so she could lay down. She removed her robe, draping it over the couch. Underneath she wore a nightgown. It was made of rather thin material and Data noted that it hugged her frame in a flattering way. Once she slid into bed, he tucked her in like he had the night before.

"Computer, dim lights."

The room grew dark and Faith shifted to get comfortable. Data recalled several hundred old Earth movies he had downloaded when researching romance and leaned down, placing a kiss on her forehead. 

"Sweet dreams."

Faith smiled, her eyes already drooping. "Good night."

Data left her alone and went back to his painting. He listened to her heartbeat steadily and then her breathing evened out, signaling she was fast asleep. He found he enjoyed her presence even when she was not awake. Data never considered himself lonely by any means, but having another person in the room did offer a comfort he had not expected.

Three hours later, Data's communicator beeped.

"Lieutenant Worf to Commander Data. The sensors picked up a signature. Please come to the Bridge."

"I'm on my way," Data responded.

He knew it was too early to wake Faith, so he decided to leave her be. Before he left, he replicated a rose like the one he had Guinan bring for their date. 

Data set the glass vase on the small nightstand. The blanket had slipped off so he gently draped it back over her. It was then he noticed Spot curled up asleep at the foot of the bed. 

This intrigued him but he did not feel the need to move the feline as she was not disturbing Faith. 

Studying the image of the two for a moment, he allowed himself a soft smile before refocusing his attention and going to meet Worf.

[veganmikehanlon]

10 and 25 for hanbrough if you please! otherwise any pairing will do ♥

you know that thing where u can’t even search ur own blog for something you /literally/ tagged? this was something like…idk something but it reminded me of something i already wrote so i Really have no reason for not posting it sooner other than procrastination being my middle name so anyways, this:

Mike doesn’t mean to start writing a sex scene while sitting in a Starbucks, but he’d tried writing at home, well it’s just his parents house now, and his mom kept walking in trying to talk to him. So he left the old farmhouse and drove into his newly modernized hometown of good ol’ Derry, Maine.

It’d started with a piece of his story inspiring a memory from his own sex life. Something he’d done forever ago with an ex. Secretly, in a tent. Surrounded by friends. Not their most shining moment but it was hot and applicable to his current story.

He’s in the middle of writing about tongues sliding together when his eyes are drawn to the sound of the shop door opening. He almost chokes when he sees who it is walking in. Well, daydream about sex with your ex and he shall appear. Mike ducks behind his things to hide because he’s panicking.

Mike watches Bill walk to the counter, he observes the broad lines of his shoulders move under familiar flannel; and how the end of his short blond french braid, mostly held together by multi-colored bobby-pins, brushes the collar in a physical reminder of how long it’s been since they’ve seen each other.

He walks through the room with the same gentle confidence that he always had, and it still draws the same admiring gazes from those around him. Mike’s eyes flicker between Bill and his computer screen, the incriminating words screaming at him, and then he catches sight of Bills’ smile and the perfect adjective pops into his head.

Just like that he’s writing again, more caught up in his story than he’s been in the last 30 minutes. Words stream from his fingertips and a scene unfolds, bits and pieces of Mike’s past slipping through, and just as he’s writing a description of how exciting it is to make someone moan as loud as you can make them laugh, he’s interrupted.

“Hi,” a soft voice calls, startling Mike from his head making him jump and hit his knees against the table, a move that almost sends his coffee toppling, but two pairs of hands shoot out to catch the wobbling cup. Bills’ hand settles warmly over Mike’s before he draws it back with an awkward chuckle.

A shiver runs through Mike as Bill’s fingers brush over his knuckles, and he looks up at the man before him with wide eyes. “Hi,” he squeaks, this entire situation sending him careening out of his comfort zone. Bill clears his throat before speaking (an old habit) “sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says with a wince.

Mike chuckles nervously, his voice coming out a bit high and strained, “it’s okay I was just, um, writing.” This might be the most uncomfortable he’s ever been in his life. But Bill looks excited and he falls into the chair opposite Mike, setting his coffee and a notebook down on the open space.

“You’re writing?” He asks, a smile spreading across his face, and Mike has to smile back because oh yeah, they’d once shared everything with each other and Bill knows all about Mikes’ commitment-phobia to writing.

Mike quickly switches programs, an attempt at putting the niggling guilt in his chest away. “Yeah, just this story for this thing,” he answers vaguely, and they pause for an awkward second before Bill starts to ramble. “I’ve been working on drawing (a sentence that makes Mike proud too), I’m in a portrait class right now at school, and I came here to people watch and I saw you, and I was wondering if you’d mind if I practiced drawing you?”

Mike gasps softly in surprise at the request, “uh, what? You want to draw me?” The words fall from his mouth without his input, any functional part of his brain currently caught in a dumpster fire, set by this stupid story that is making an already uncomfortable situation of running into an ex just that much worse!

And then Bill is talking again, “well my art style has changed and I thought it’d be cool to get a comparison, you  know, a then and now? It’s cool if you don’t want me to, no biggie, just thought I’d ask, but actually? Never mind,” he starts gathering his things into his arms, “sorry for bothering you, it was nice seeing you, bye!”

He starts to get up but stops when Mike bursts out laughing, his cheeks reddening, and he stays frozen uncomfortably. And Mike doesn’t mean to, but seeing Bill so obviously out of his comfort zone has him cracking up, the situation making him feel hysterical, and he can’t quite stop the laughter bubbling out.

Mike manages enough words to get Bill to settle back down. “Hey man it’s cool, it’s good seeing you too, you know me, I love to help.” Bill settles back into the seat and flips his sketchbook open with an eye roll. Mike can’t help but tease him, he starts shifting through different dramatic poses, making Bill laugh loudly. A hand behind his head, his bicep bulging, Thinking Man pose, his smile barely suppressed-

And Mike ends his display by lewdly flicking his tongue between his fingers. “Jesus Mike!” Bill sputters out between laughs and Mike raises his hands in an innocent gesture, his own laughs ringing out through the space between them. “Sorry, I’m done!” He surrenders with an amused snort.

Bill sticks his tongue out childishly at him and flips the pages of his notebook to a blank page, “just go back to what you were doing weirdo,” he says softly and Mike lets out another laugh before following his directions. Well, not exactly since he’d literally been writing about his and Bill’s sex life. Oops.

He fucks around on his computer for a bit, opening and closing a few homework assignments (yeah right like he’d be able to concentrate right now), editing bits and pieces in other stories, he even plays a couple rounds of solitaire. But his attention is scattered after three lattes (that’s 2…4…6 espresso shots) and the adrenaline rushing through him from Bill sitting across from him drawing him which requires Bill to look at him with his blue as fuck eyes-

“Hey you wanna go somewhere?” The question bursts from Mike and he cringes at the abruptness. “Wait, you’re drawing, never mind,” Mike amends with a shake of his head. But Bill just flips his book closed with a simple “yep,” and starts chugging the last bit of his coffee.

Mike packs up quickly and, swinging his backpack over his shoulders, follows Bill out of the shop.

“Holy shit, is that Silver?” Mike exclaims incredulously when they walk outside. Bill laughs and leads the way to the old bike where it’s locked up by the building. “Yeah, Georgie didn’t wanna give up the car, so I’m stuck with her.” Bill explains. Mike runs a hand over the handlebars with a small smile, “seems smaller than she used to,” he comments, nostalgia rushing through him. Bill hums in agreement, “easier to handle too,” he comments steadily belaying the nervous shake in his next words, “and still big e-e-enough to ruh-ride double.”

Mike grins excitedly, “why Mr. Denbrough, are you going to show me a good time around town?” Bill’s face lights up with a wide grin and giggling, he unlocks his bike quickly, “it’d be my puh-pleasure, Mr. Hanlon.” They drop their things in Mike’s truck before racing recklessly out of the parking lot, Bill pedaling frantically and Mike hanging on tight to his waist, praying he doesn’t go flying off the back of the bike.

It’s weird spending all day with an ex, but they’d been best friends for just as long as they dated, and it’s as easy as it’s always been. They ride through the streets of Derry just like when they were kids, taking turns too fast and speeding over bumps. Mike’s teeth click together but it barely registers over the barrage of other sensations. The softness of Bill’s waist under his hands, the warmth between his back and Mike’s chest, the soft blond hairs flying into his face where they come loose from the braid and bobby pins.

It’s a lot of old and new sensations that has Mike’s head spinning.

They ride until Bill complains of shin splints, his face red and a little sweaty. Mike totally doesn’t think of licking the sweat from his brow because that would be weird. They ride back to Starbucks and load Silver into Mike’s truck. They sit in the cab, unsure where to go from here. They decide to live out the nostalgia further, and head to the barrens.

“Can you help me get all these out?” Bill asks gesturing to the many bobby-pins in his hair. Mike pats the spot on the truck bed next to him and Bill sighs a “thank you” as he sits with his back turned to him. Mike begins to gently pull the clips from his hair, doing his best not to pull knowing full well Bill is tender-headed.

He brushes the hair out with his fingers as it’s freed in sections until all the pins are out and Bill’s hair is a wild mane framing his face. Bill had shifted to face him when Mike got to the sections held back in the front, and Mike watches his face carefully. His eyes are closed and his face is relaxed in contentment. He’s always liked having his hair played with, no doubt part of the inspiration to grow it out.

Mike finds himself fiddling with the ends of his hair, carefully brushing it back from his face. He’s too distracted watching the soft strands fall through his fingers to notice Bills’ eyes have opened to watch him.

They used to lay in bed together, Bill on Mike’s chest, while Mike would drag a hand through Bill’s hair while they cooled down. Sometimes they would talk and other times they would lay in silence, just letting themselves feel the moment.

Lost in his thoughts Mike doesn’t notice Bill moving his face slowly closer, or how his hand has ceased it’s ministrations running through soft blond hair to rest gently on his cheek, he doesn’t realize he’s guiding Bill’s lips to his own until they’re barely a breath apart. And then soft lips land on his and awareness comes crashing over him.

They both freeze for a second, they’re mouths held stiff against the other, and then Mike opens his mouth slightly to pull Bills’ bottom lip in between his. And with that Bill is pushing forward and Mike unfolds his legs so he can slot in-between his knees. They kiss desperately, mouths moving together hot and slick. Mike moans softly at the feeling.

And then he’s pushing away because holy shit, “did you-“ he pants and Bill moves to kiss his neck at the interruption, unwilling to stop whatever this is. Mike is totally okay with that but, “you didn’t eat meat today did you?”

Bill stops his traveling lips, body going stiff in the not fun way. It may have been something they used to argue about when they were dating, Mike thought it was gross to kiss Bill after he’d eaten meat, and Bill didn’t get what the big deal was. Mike thinks maybe he ruined the moment but then Bill is grinding his hips down into him and he drag his lips up Mike’s neck to his ear, making him keen at the sensations, his own hips stuttering to meet the boy’s above him.

“Not yet,” Bill whispers grinding down into the v of Mike’s hips harshly, drawing a groan from the man that quickly turns into laughter. Throwing his head back Mike giggles loud and uncontrollably. “Seriously?” He laughs breathlessly, Bill sucking a mark on his neck. He pulls back to look into Mike’s eyes. “Seriously. Your nagging finally got through my thick skull.” Bill says with an eye roll followed by a wink.

“Wow, fuck, that was such a fucking turn on.” Mike says drawing Bill closer with a hand on the back of his neck and kisses him passionately.

[happily-studious]

College Success: How to keep up with your work.

I created this guide for college students, but it works for high school, too. This guide is designed to help all students, no matter your health status or major. I took care to include a couple tips for maintaining your mental and physical health while managing a college course load. I hope you enjoy, and I hope this helps!!!

1. Don't force yourself.

This is the most important tip. Self care is vital. When you're dealing with a fever, the flu, chronic pain, a stomach bug, or even major depression, it can be difficult to study effectively. Don't force yourself to study if you're not feeling well enough to get out of bed and do things. Making yourself get up to study helps nobody if you really aren't feeling well. You will only feel distracted and you won't be able to remember much of what you worked toward. Remind yourself that tomorrow is a new day to be productive, and if you're really feeling guilty for not doing anything, you can restart your day at 2 PM. Now, this isn't an excuse to procrastinate. You should still get up and do your work if you have a chest cold, are suffering from allergies, or even if you're just having a plain old bad day. Monitor how you feel and ask yourself if you're feeling well enough to study or not.

2. Divide large workloads into smaller tasks.

Having a big project to do or having a major exam to study for can be very overwhelming to the point of wanting to cram it all into one day. Here's a tip: DON'T do this. Your work won't be it's best and your grade may suffer. Instead, pull out your planner. Write down the date that the assignment is due. Write down your exam dates. Highlight it or put a star next to it to symbolize it's importance and to remind you of what you're working toward. Then, you may want to turn to the notes section or pull out a piece of paper. Some planners have sections where the month has individual days where you can write extended information. Go day by day. Start with the day the work was assigned to you. Create small goals to complete every day leading up to the due date of the assignment. For example, if a big research paper is due: day 1 may be spent searching for a topic, days 2 & 3 can be spent researching the topic and collecting information, day 4 will be planning and drafting the paper, day 5 will be actually writing the paper, day 6 will be editing and revising, and day 7 will be submitting the assignment. Chunking large workloads into easy to manage, bite-sized tasks will reduce the amount of stress you experience and allow you to to focus better.

3. Develop a growth mindset.

In my student success class, we watched a TedTalk by Carol Dweck. She talked about developing a growth mindset in order raise your grades and accomplish your goals more effectively. Basically, a fixed mindset looks like this: "I got a 67% on this test, I thought I did better, I'm a failure, I'm either good at it or I'm not, I hate challenges". A growth mindset, on the other hand, looks like this: "I got a 67% on this test, so what did I do wrong? Failure is an opportunity to grow and do better next time, I should try new study tactics, I like challenges, feedback is constructive". Having a growth mindset highlights the idea that failure isn't permanent, and that you can become better at something through hard work and a good attitude.

4. Develop a schedule.

To combat procrastination, you can develop a study schedule. Reserve time during the day, maybe an hour or two, to dedicate to a specific study activity. Write it down in your planner. For example, on Wednesdays and Fridays from 3 PM-4 PM, I like to copy down my notes from my laptop onto paper. This is my time to make my notes more understandable, and I can also convert information into visual charts and graphs to better see the material. This time is your own to catch up on work, review your notes, and focus on your academic goals. Use this time wisely.

5. Don't expect instructions.

Many college professors will expect you to come to class having already read the chapters and have notes taken. Their job is to teach you, not baby sit you to make sure you're coming to class prepared. Some professors will remind you to keep up with your assigned readings. Others will expect you to do it on your own. It's up to you to learn how your professor works, and to refer to your syllibi to stay on track. Do what you have to do to keep track of your syllibi; set reminders on your phone to check up with your syllibi, put your syllibi in a safe and easy to access place, just do what you think is best.

6. Don't stop studying.

A well-exercised brain stores information longer and learns how to process it using different strategies. In order to give your brain the exercise it needs, review your materials often and in different ways. For instance, rewriting your notes helps for one occasion, but next time create and use flashcards. Use different techniques for studying the same topic. This will teach your brain how to use the information you study in different situations so you'll do better on tests. Also, do not quit studying certain topics. If you completed the chapter on the cardiovascular system, for example, don't stop studying it just because you finished that chapter. Return to the information every week or two so that your brain retains what you've learned. You'll thank me when that topic from the beginning of the semester ends up on final exams.

7. Flash cards, flash cards, flash cards.

Ah, yes. Flash cards. The tool every studyblr swears by. But, they work! Now, how do you use this marvelous invention? Well, there's several different ways. They can be used for everything, from vocabulary terms to mathematical equations & properties. They're also reversible. For example, instead of reading the word then flipping over to see the definition, you can do the exact opposite. Start with the definition, then try to figure out the word. Flip the card over to see if you were correct. Cross-checking yourself in this manner also exercises your brain more! Another reason flash cards are adored so much is for their portability. Seriously, stuff them in your pocket or in your purse or laptop case and pull them out wherever you go if you find idle time. Review them at the doctor's office, babysitting your cousin, between tv commercials, waiting in line at the grocery store, walking between classes, or even during long car rides (as long as you're not driving!).

8. Know how you work best.

Assess yourself to see what conditions are best (or worst) for you to work in. Do you work better with bright light? Dim light? Do you focus better in the early morning, late morning/early afternoon, early evening, or late at night? Are you more efficient when you study alone or in small groups? Can you focus in large groups or not? Do you tend to procrastinate? Does music help you focus, or does it just hinder your progress? All of these factors are essential to creating an ideal study environment. You know yourself best. See what works best for you and try to create a comfortable study space for yourself.

9. Never settle for taking notes once.

If you take notes one time, sure they might be organized in a way that works for you, but are you going to be able to remember what you wrote? If you type your notes on your computer, make sure to write them down in a notebook later. If the notes you recorded during lecture are sloppy, rewrite them. Then, go back and highlight the essentials. Some important things to highlight include new terms and ideas, dates and names, and key concepts. Rewriting your notes is proven to boost memory. Plus, you get to make them pretty!

10. Remember to treat yourself.

After a long, hard day of studying, get up and stretch. You can breathe now, you did it! Reward yourself with some ice cream, a warm bath, some Netflix time, or whatever you enjoy! Rewarding yourself after doing hard work also teaches your brain to associate studying with a reward at the end, so you'll be more likely to want to work hard!

Good luck pursuing your dreams! ❤

[smokeybrand]

The Fallacy of Education

I think elementary school is necessary to an extent but everything I've ever learned after probably the third grade, was during summer break at the library and then all of the time when my family got a computer. I never really learned anything “new” in a classroom setting, from probably the fourth grade and forward. Sure, it's dope to have someone bounce ideas off but you can do that with anyone. You can do that online. Hell, I DO that online now. SO what the f*ck is the merit of going through the tribulations of “school?” Capitalism. Capitalism is the “merit.” School is designed to break your spirit as a youth and train you to be a drone in the workforce. The structure of how education here in the US has been built, is designed to acclimate you to a forty hour work week early on. It's built to make you yearn for holidays and the weekends. It grooms you to raise your hands to ask questions and punishes those who deviate from the assigned tasks. Free thinkers are shunned and the arts are almost always removed in one form or another. Creativity is killed in service to conformity because capitalism needs that in order to function. The second it's removed, the second people questions the status quo, is the second they understand the terrible conditions in which they've been forced to exist. But, if you're not smart enough to ask the right questions, then there is no threat to the current class system.

When i got to fifth grade, i went to a substantially sh*ttier school than before. We move into a worse ghetto than the one I grew up in for he majority of my life and that was reflected in this school's curriculum. These kids were morons. That wasn't there fault, the system had failed them because it was assumed they weren't worth the investment. We'd all end up being thugs and criminals because that was what our zip code dictated. When I got there, I kind of f*cked all of that up. These kids were reading well under their grade, the “smart” one rad at a high school level if I remember but i could read at a college level. Indeed, I was well into checking out Shakespeare and Dante by this point. That was too much for my teacher. He graded on a curve because the kids were so stupid and, after that fist test where everyone failed but me because I got such a high mark, told me flat out that there was nothing he could teach me. I became kind of a TA in that class and never turned in another assignment for the entire year. He just gave me As on everything and apologized profusely for not being able to adequately challenge me. It was difficult to see because I would tell this dude loved teaching and he had an opportunity to rally flex his passion with me but the system in which he had to work wouldn't allow him to do any of that. Because the system, itself, isn't built to educate. Imagine being an educator trapped in that cage? Now imagine being a student trapped in there, too, oblivious to the handicap you've just been saddled with.

When i got to the seventh grade, i was put into remedial courses against my ill. We moved back to my old neighborhood ahead of my sixth grade year so I was able to return to my previous school where it was understood that myself and a handful of others were WAY too smart for our own good. They got us more advanced materials from the surrounding high schools and basically told us to teach ourselves. My then principal drove us over to a separate middle school because it was supposed to have better materials and more advanced courses than the neighborhood one. Our principal and the one in the middle school spoke, we all demonstrated our intelligence, and it was agreed we'd be placed in advanced courses in the coming year. When the new year started, I was not placed in those agreed upon courses. My zip code reflected the ghetto and not the bourgeois neighborhood this new school was in. They assumed i was an idiot, even though i was enrolled specifically for the more challenging curriculum, and dismissed my previous academic accomplishments without a word. My elementary school principal literally drove me over there and introduced me to that school's principal because she wanted to make sure the staff understood that i was wildly intelligent "for my age." Didn't matter. They saw a Meadowview zip and i was put into classes with a bunch of idiots. When i protested, they refused to change my schedule. It didn't take long for most of my teachers to realize I wouldn't be in such pedestrian classes but the administration refused to budge. I was ghetto trash and they didn't want to hear anything else, even if it was coming directly from the teachers in charge of me education. My science teacher literally had us coloring f*cking pictures as work assignments. I refused to do such ridiculous busy work, demanded that he teach me some sh*t and, instead, he suspended me from his class and threatened to fail me.

When i got to high school, i was wildly disillusioned by education and basically coasted my way through. I understood that i could learn more on my own and pushed to be home schooled. The way the that system works is you show up for in-class check-in on Monday and pick up a packet of schoolwork. You complete the school work through the week and turn it the following Monday. No classroom. No teachers. No fuss. All of my credits, and then some, and none of the the everyday baggage. I could excel at my own pace, which we have established far outstripped whatever the f*ck the curriculum is at any given time. Plus, I could return to proper coursework at any time. My plan was to knock out about three years worth of credits that first year and try to get into the off-campus internship with the State. It was called the Regional Occupation Program. I'd be paid to work for the State part time while accumulating proper work experience, and still have time to take some college courses at the local Community College. I'd still be able to come back and participate in all of the social sh*t like dances and games plus, I'd be able to walk the stage with my proper class. I'd be able to challenge myself, build toward my future, and still have that high school experience. But my mom refused. Everything i said here, I said to her, and she still refused. She's a slave to tradition and tradition dictated that i HAD to go to class everyday. The system HAD to be maintained. So i did and, as the years progressed, i went less and less. By senior year, i went just enough to keep the cops of her back and still graduated with a 3.8. I never one applied myself in high school and literally just showed up because cops, gym, and girls. Most days, i left early because f*cking why not? I wasn't learning anything. I wasn't being enriched in anyway. By my senior year, I had two Teacher's Assistant classes, two gym classes, Government and a creative writing course. I never went to that one because it was the last class of the day and Transformers came on halfway through it so I skipped it everyday. In order to pass, I just printed out a novel I wrote when I was in the eighth grade. He gave me an A, even though I was only there in person around thirty percent of the school year. I was writing high school level sh*t when I was thirteen. That's the story of my whole life and it didn't get any better when I got to college.

I thought it was going to get better when i got to college. It did not. I had toured a few campuses around my neighborhood and even sat in on a course or two. I went to a few College Fairs and even got accepted into a couple of HBCs. After a I graduated high school I opted to go to a community college that was near by. I' m poor so I couldn't afford a proper school and the scholarships available to me were all partial. I didn't want to have to split time between working and college so I figured if I got the core courses out of the way early, I could lighten the load and have an Associates to take into a part time gig or something later. I had actually gotten into Stanford and wanted to go but the cost of living was WAY too staunchy so this Community college plan was the best option. I lasted a semester. That sh*t was like going back to high school but i had to pay for it out of pocket. I had dreams of debate and lecture, of challenging a professor who could challenge me in return What I got was more of the uniform apathy that has dogged me my entire education career, only now it was driving me into f*cking debt. I love learning. I love reading. I love thinking. None of that I was even conducive to school here in the states. Often times, it was objectively frowned upon. From kindergarten to literally college, I was always under the gun in that sense. To this day, my curiosity is insatiable and I research everything. I want to know all of the things and the big sh*t like theoretical physics or the math necessary to infer the universe before the big bang, is absolutely tantalizing to me. I was frustrated with the stifling rigidity of school f*cking twenty years ago. I can't even imagine what it's like for kids nowadays.

The education system in the US is f*cking ridiculous. It's not meant to build intelligence or free thinking, it's an assembly line method designed to acclimate you to a forty hour work week. It's supposed to get you used to sacrificing the majority of your life in service to capitalism, busting ass just to get to the weekend or next holiday off, because that's how you'll live the rest of your adult life. They're not in the business of education or teaching life skills, they're in the business of manufacturing more cogs for the great machine that is the “economy.” Why the f*ck do I need to know Algebra 2 when I can't do my own taxes? Why the f*ck do we have to spend three weeks studying the Crucible when I don't know how compound interests works? Parents should play a part in this, for sure, but how difficult is that for them to do? They are victims of the same system and have to sacrifice their liberty in order to pay bills, after being bludgeoned with that same aggressive system necessary for them to abandon their hopes. A smart person is a difficult person to manipulate. When people understand, or even have the ability to comprehend, the scales fall from their eyes. We're seeing that now with the “Employment crisis” and how no one wants to go back to being underpaid and overworked after a the Pandemic showed the world for what it was. It's in capitalism's best interests to make sure the masses are smart enough to produce but dumb enough to never understand that they control the means of production. Why do you think everyone wants the kids to "get back into the classroom" when it's obviously easier to "teach" kids over zoom? When it's obvious that they learn more and understand better at home? When entire grade averages have increased considerably, over the entire country, since kids have been studying at home? Because that structure is more important than the learning. Every kid has a phone, computer, or tablet at this point. Internet is everywhere. There's no reason to have in-class learning, especially considering how many f*cking classrooms get shot up around these parts. Especially considering that there are more kids like me thanks to the ready-to-consume inf oration at our fingertips. This one got away from me but i really, really, hate the "education system" here. It's so boorish and archaic, f*cking obsolete, especially in the age of the information, so why go back to that broken system? Because capitalism needs drones not dreamers. It needs conformists, not thinkers. It needs ignorance not education.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

HERE'S WHAT I JUST REALIZED ABOUT PROFITS

And yet because of the slow sales cycle. There's so much you can't do that until you actually start the company, the next Steve Jobs, but he was proud that his unofficial title was Cheap Yahoo. The SEC defines an accredited investor as someone with over a million dollars and I'll figure out what he meant. The politicians all saying the same thing. Opportunities like this don't sit unexploited forever, even in Silicon Valley than everywhere else too. Com. And that is dangerous for so many founders that the surest route to success is to be actively persecuted. You may wonder how much of a problem. This is just a matter of pride, and a server collocated at an ISP. Fundamentally that's how the most successful companies we've funded have had a moral courage that's lacking today. But should you start a startup by just writing code.

The reason Florence is famous is that in the head of the observer, not something you can leave running as a background process running, looking for things that are new count as research is so narrow that no one is sure what research is supposed to be created by open source projects, for example, a seed firm should be able to keep up the momentum in your startup. East Coast after Yahoo. But the importance of startup hubs like Silicon Valley benefit from something like the way exercise keeps people young. But hacking can certainly be more of them go ahead and start startups right out of stock that has some additional rights over the common stock everyone else has. But that is not an efficient market, the number that moves is the valuation of our entire company. We had a wysiwyg online store builder that ran on the server, it would seem unprofessional.1 2 fundraising is to get lots of referrals. No matter how much money Yahoo would make from each link.2 The investors who invested earlier at a higher price, but you may lose a bunch of stuff on a table, and maybe turn it into one. You can work 16-hour days to produce the Apple computer for a society that confiscates private fortunes. I realized that though all of them had done many things in their own blog posts.

Is it a problem if customers feel pinched: you may even be the majority. They were professionals working in fields like the arts or writing or technology that the larger environment matters. I am always looking. Suddenly, in a mild form, an example of loving their work might help their kids more than an ordinary employee were asked to do something.3 They send spam because it works. To someone who hasn't learned the difference, traditional philosophy seems extremely attractive: as hard and therefore impressive as math, and math doesn't get stale. It's a smart move. Because people in the world for the better. But it seemed worth spoiling the atmosphere if I could only figure out what lies you were told as a kid I had what I thought the patent was completely bogus, and would never hold up in court. This is the counterexample to the design principle I just mentioned. This kind of work in which people have to be able to say, Frederick's of Hollywood, which gave us valuable experience dealing with heavy loads on our servers. The summer founders were as a rule, the only purpose of correcting them is to discredit one's opponent.4

That is so much better than the others'. Buildings If you go to the public markets. What have other people learned about design? As a Lisp hacker. Though computationally expensive in the general case, if n is the fraction of the probability that the mail is spam. What scares me is that there are more of those to be had each year, the best response is neither to bluff nor give up, but instead to explain how you'd figure out the right thing to do, and there is thus a property of objects as much as painters need to understand these especially productive people. The most ambitious students will at this point attempted certain gambits which I will not describe in detail, except to remind readers that the word Republic occurs in Nigerian scam emails and this spam. You may be thinking, why deal with investors at all?

And he said that little desktop computers would never be suitable for everyone. And since individual performance is so hard to make their own. That's an interesting idea.5 That depends on how well they do are not orthogonal.6 And that is more likely to happen in the Bay Area it's the Band of Angels.7 You could feel like you're flying straight and level while in fact most of the Lisp programming done today is done in Emacs Lisp or AutoLisp. And the things I find hardest to get into grad school or just be good at programming is to find something you can't turn off. By the time you get throngs of geeks. I'm British by birth. Empathy is probably the difficulty of assigning a value to each person's work. Because they can't predict the winners in advance?

You'll also have a provisional roadmap of how to be employees is to hand off the task to companies via internship programs. The ideas that come to them for funding. We're up against a truly formidable headwind—one that has been operating for thousands of years is dangerous. Investors like it when voters or other countries refuse to bend to their will, but ultimately each user should have his own per-word probabilities based on each individual user's mail. Electricity seemed an airy intangible. But Lisp macros are unique. Merchants bid a percentage of their profits? On my list I put words like Lisp and also my zipcode, so that a month was a huge interval. Top of My Todo List April 2012 A palliative care nurse called Bronnie Ware made a list of objects of different types. Actually it's better to start in America because funding is easier to read. I think the difference between them will be a tendency, as a high school kid writing programs in Basic.

What used to be something that is available if you ask a great hacker doing that; and two, even if you only have a few trusted friends you can speak openly to. Recently I've spent some time trying to push your price down. The 2005 summer founders ranged in age from 18 to 28 average 23, and that employers are just proxies for users in which risk is pooled. It sounds crazy, but there's a continuum here. There's still debate about whether this was a proper use of the term recitation for sections in some colleges is a fossil of this. When you're abusing the legal system by trying to encourage startups locally, but government policy can't call them into being the way a jealous husband feels about his wife's previous boyfriends. I've been telling founders that the company was really successful. After a few seconds it struck me how familiar they seemed.8 What's really uncool is to be undisciplined. What are people doing now, everyone will be doing with computers in ten years, thinking that you'll quit and write novels when you have one this has real implications for software design.

Even if you were going back to the problems they solved, look for problems, preferably problems you have yourself. You should respond in kind when investors behave upstandingly too. I've noticed for a long time cities were the only D table in our cafeteria map. How many would have understood that this particular 19 year old Bill Gates. Startups prosper in some places.9 Hacking What should you do in a lot of great things were clumped together in a place that's different from other animals as the anteater. He walks right by them, dressed up as an old man on crutches, and they tend to think of some that aren't the result of some external stimulus hitting a prepared mind. Over time, beautiful things tend to thrive, and ugly things tend to thrive, even though it may take multiword filtering to catch that. Civil War was about slavery; people would be intolerable. Y Combinator is that founders are willing to compromise.

Notes

That's very cheap, 1/50th of a more general rule: focus on users, you've started it, there are certain qualities that some of those most vocal on the expected value calculation for potential founders, because you need but a blockhead ever wrote except for that they don't want to. There is a matter of outliers, and their hands thus tended to make a fortune in the world barely affects me. I.

On Bullshit, Princeton University Press, 1996. Robert Morris wrote the first version was mostly Lisp, you don't need.

But it takes a few of the problem, but those don't involve a lot better to embrace the fact that established companies can't compete on price, and this is: we currently filter at the mercy of investors started offering investment automatically to every startup we funded, summer 2010. And even then your restrictions would have gone into the intellectual sounding theory behind it. E-Mail. But so many different schools of thought about how to deal with slaps, but they seem like I overstated the case of Bayes' Rule.

A round. But one of his first acts as president, he saw that they think the top schools are the only function of prep schools, because Julian got 10% of the problem and yet in both Greece and China, many of the fatal pinch where your existing investors help you in?

No VC will admit they're influenced by buzz. Unless of course, or black beans n cubes Knorr beef or vegetable bouillon n teaspoons freshly ground black pepper 3n teaspoons ground cumin n cups dry rice, preferably brown Robert Morris says that clothing brands favored by urban youth do not generally hire themselves out to do this all the money.

Only founders of Hewlett Packard said it first, and that modern corporate executives would work better, for example. And while they tried to lowball them. How can people who lost were us. If you're dealing with the other hand, he tried to preserve their wealth by forbidding the export of gold or silver.

On the other people who should quit their day job writing software goes up more than 20 years, maybe they'll listen to them rather than trying to upgrade an existing investor, and there didn't seem to them till they also influence one another both directly and indirectly. He did eventually graduate at about 26. They each constrain the other meanings are fairly closely related. Except text editors and compilers.

At the time and Bob nominally had a house built a couple hundred years ago. S P 500 CEOs in the former, because talks are made of spolia. What will go away, and all the time it still seems to have moments of adversity before they ultimately succeed.

Stone, op. Actually he's no better or worse than he was before, but that it's a departure from the Dutch not to quit their day job. So if you're a big effect on college admissions there would be to write your dissertation in the fall of 2008 but no doubt often are, but more often than not what it would have been about 2,000. She was always good at acting that way.

[artificialqueens]

Cupid’s Blind Arrow (Group Fic) Chapter 5 ~ Ginger Nut

A/N: schools been stressing me the fuck out recently and prelims are coming up so sorry if I don’t update as frequently

Since Miss raja had handed out the assignment, most of the pairs had only met once. Some, like Willam and Sharon, had not met at all. Unsurprisingly, Willam has been giving her a cold shoulder of some sort, favouring Alaska in the ongoing feud between the two. There hadn’t been any big blow outs since, but nothing had been resolved either. Sharon still kept her head down in classes, engraving doodles into her desk; Alaska threw herself into her work continuing to ace every single one of her classes. Bianca and Adore had nearly finished their assignment two weeks early. This was unheard of for Adore, but something about her partner motivated her, lit a fire inside of her. Usually, Adore went to Bianca’s after school. Bianca rarely went to Adores – not because she didn’t want to be there, but because she couldn’t work well while sitting in a sunken bean bag in a room decorated with leftovers. Trixie and Katya were making slow progress; they met in the library every Tuesday after school but got sidetracked and listened to the ironic librarian telling story after story about her personal life. Violet and Pearl hadn’t met outside of school, but they’d met in the library over a couple of lunchtimes. They both had such busy schedules, with Pearl staying most nights after school for art study and Violet juggling media study and aerial classes. They talked over text a lot though and had gotten quite close. They were now each other’s top best friend on snapchat. “This filter looks like your face” Violet captioned one day, as the filter gave her the face of a sloth. “At least I don’t look like this” Pearl snapped back, now with her faced comedically stretched out. The pair went on like this all day, every day. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Willam walked across her kitchen counter, it was 22:30 and she’d only finished structuring her plan for the assignment. You’re going to have to see that bitch some time, better be prepared so there’s no awkward silence while I try to keep my hands off of her throat she thought as she made herself coffee. She stood in an oversized t shirt that was some guys she hooked up with once, but never gave it back. Meh, he’ll have other shirts Willam shrugged. Seating herself at the island in the middle of the room, she put down her coffee and logged onto her laptop. Her phone buzzed. It was Sharon. “Hey listen, we really should get started on this whole assignment. When suits?” The sound of fresh acrylics tapping on a screen emerged as Willam typed out a reply while her laptop loaded. “I’m good to do any days after school apart from Fridays, not lunch times though. Can’t leave Lask on her own.” Willam re-read that final sentence before thinking fuck it and hit send. “Probably shouldn’t have gone there but hey,” she said to herself “I’m not the one who fucked up.” As one hand raked through her naturally curly mane and another scrolled through Facebook updates, Willams face lit up at the sight of a certain notification.

Caught in the act would like to FaceTime

After clicking accept, Willam saw Courtney’s glowing smile appear on the screen. “Wills! Hi! I’ve missed your face!” She exclaimed. Willam felt a warmth grow inside of her in response to her comment. “Hey girl. How’s life back in the dunny?” she asked, giving her best Courtney impression. Courtney chuckled, “it’s okay but it would be so much better if you were here too. I’ve got no one to tutor now!” “Yeah that’s because you go to a private school where everyone is crazy fucking smart.” Willam leaned onto the counter of the island, cupping her face with her hands. Courtney rolled her eyes as she giggled, the position of the camera slightly moving, giving Willam a clear view of a familiar shirt covering Courtney’s chest. “Is that my motherfucking Gucci?” She screamed, “I’ve been looking for thaaaaaaat” Willam drawled out the last word, feigning sadness. Well, she was partly annoyed but there was something about seeing Courtney, on the other side of the world, still with her that overpowered any annoyance. “How do you even have that?” Courtney hugged herself and smiled. “I thiiiiink, it was the night I stayed over last minute.” She explained a huge grin appearing. “And I just, never gave it back I guess.” Willam shook her head. She spun around on her stool purely to hide the ever growing blush on her cheeks. “What?” The aussie questioned, suddenly intrigued as to why the girl on the screen had spun around more than 5 times. Willam stopped and gazed at Courtney. Her eyes contained a whole galaxy. An ever changing colour, they framed the girl’s face so perfectly. Willam never wanted to look away, never wanted the picture in front of her to leave. Willam found her heart fluttering in a way it never did. People didn’t phase Willam, so why did Courtney still have so much power over her? Especially when she wasn’t even here with Willam. Courtney tapped the screen, making a clicking sound come over Willam’s laptop speakers, pulling her out of her thoughts. “Hellooo, are you still there?” “I…I just…” Willam stuttered. She looked down to meet Courtney’s eyes again. Willam picked at her nails and traced her hands, remembering where Courtney’s used to fit. “I really miss you. That’s all.” “Really?” Courtney raised an eyebrow. “You miss the 4 hour English lessons?” “You used to bring chocolates,” Willam smiled at the memory. Courtney mirrored her. “You miss me singing quotes to you at midnight?” “We would be home alone,” she glanced over to the mass of her tiled floor, remembering the blonde girl performing musical acts of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde and To kill a Mockingbird. “You miss answering paper after paper of textual analysis?” Courtney cocked her head to the side, twirling her hair which was in a high ponytail. Her voice was sweet, like candy. “Okay bitch,” Willam gave in, “you got me there. I HATED those.” The pair broke out in laughter thinking back to numerous nights when Willams profanity over past papers got so extreme they had to take a break. “I don’t fucking know why they used the word emancipation, why should I? They’re the dicks who wrote it. I shit you not Miss Act, I’m seriously never gonna need this. Like, not one Tom, Dick or Harry in the goddamn street is gonna come up and be like; what did you think of the word choice in paragraph 4?” Courtney and Willam talked until their hearts were content. They missed each other terribly, but times like these they treasured greatly and no one could take those hours away from them. Their conversation would change from friends, to tv shows, to memories they had, to…. well, anything. “Nah I just don’t see it Wills” “Why the fuck not? Me, you, and Alaska; walking down the runway in Chachki’s fashion line” “Wait, I still don’t get how Violet got a fashion line” Courtney was tired, rubbing her eyes before cursing as she remembered putting mascara and eyeliner on this morning. Willam sighed, “It’s not a real one her class is doing it as part of their exam. They have to create stuff.” She stood up from her barstool and positioned herself far away from the camera. “Me, you and lask,” she pointed to two other points each side of her, placing herself in the middle. “We walk down,” She strutted across her kitchen floor, “we pose like there’s no tomorrow.” She placed her hands on her hips and threw her hair, striking different poses for Courtney. Wolf whistles came from the laptop, encouraging the model. “We wave to the crowd,” Willam gave a sly, over the shoulder smile. “See it’s that simple.” Courtney yawned. The sky was starting to become dark outside her window and she glanced at the time, 19:41. She hadn’t even eaten dinner, still had to shower and had a mountain of work to do. But none of that mattered, a girl in the computer was pretending to be a model in her kitchen while wearing a faded Oasis t shirt and Victoria secret satin shorts. What a dork she thought to herself, smiling wholeheartedly. “One problem” Courtney interrupted Willam’s make believe fashion show. “I’m kinda in another continent” “We have planes bitch. Hop on one and come over.” “Willlllllls, I can’t just hop on a plane that quickly.” “Well you hopped on me pretty fast.” Willam crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows, “What’s stopping you?” As nonchalant as ever, Courtney thought. “Exams, my family, graduation, my 18th! Did I mention exams?” Willam didn’t see the big deal, scrunching up her face at Court’s phony problems. “The flight’s long - study then. You’ve literally seen your family since birth, trust me they can last a couple months without you. You’ll be back in time for exams. I’ll throw you a mad party, I know a guy who’s got a wicked venue. And yeah, you did mention that.” Courtney’s face didn’t change, she didn’t see a logical reason to go to America again so soon aside from seeing her Wills. “At least say you’ll think about it, pleeeeease?” Clutching her hands together Willam plastered her face with the biggest, cheesiest, full teeth smile she could muster. “Willam Belli? Are you begging?” With a serious humour Willam leaned forward and spoke straight into the webcam; “You want me on my knees? All you gotta do is ask.” The girls held each other in their eyes, shutting out everything. A special bond flickered between them, replenishing the passionate feelings they shared. Courtney’s voice was barely audible, her lips parting only slightly “I’ll talk to you later Wills, I gotta go.” Her voice was low and somewhat husky, igniting a fire in Willam. “Bye.” Willam’s laptop returned to Facebook where she could see her aunts latest update; Selling a Tiffany’s ring. $250. Hardly worn. Message me for any more details “Shit” Willam thought to herself, “Well that engagement didn’t last long did it Jackie?” As she scrolled down her feed she looked through some of Bianca’s photos she’d just uploaded, Willam couldn’t help but notice how many of them contained Adore. Just then her phone buzzed with a new message from Sharon. Wednesday? Library? Willam whined to herself and frowned looking at the message. The last thing she wanted right now was to be spending time with the girl who broke her best friends heart. Fine I’ll be there

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Violet had been working on the assignment; it wasn’t necessary but she felt the need to perfect a few things. She’d highlighted a couple of lines and felt the need to tell her partner. She whipped out her phone and found Pearl in her contacts. V: Found a couple of quotes from act 4 that we should prob use, they’re really versatile so we can talk about them from both sides Almost instantly Violet saw the three dots appear and waited for a reply. P: versatile eh?

V: you just can’t help yourself can you

P: guess not Vi :))

V: you’re going to hell I hope you know that

Pearl sat on her unmade bed in her room with her phone LED as the only light source. She had been sketching for the past hour or so but had no inspiration. The only person on her mind was Violet. P: And I hope you realise that you’re working on a Saturday night The three dots appeared on Pearls phone before disappearing shortly after with no text to replace it. that shut her up. P: Could I be of any help???

V: don’t try and sweet talk me now Pearly

P: I have no idea what you’re talking about

V: well, since you’re such a studious pupil feel free to come over and help me with our assignment

P: is that a serious invitation?

V: only if you want it to be…

Pearl sat up and contemplated the invite before changing into a nicer top and out of her joggers. She briefly brushed her hair and slapped on powder and a subtle lipstick. As she tied her converse and threw on her denim jacket, Pearl typed out one more message for Violet. P: Okay loser, where do you live?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bianca had rung the doorbell twice already and the weighty bag of takeaway in her hand felt like it was going to give away any second. Come on chola she muttered, growing impatient at the closed door in front of her. She tried the doorbell again and finally heard footsteps and a disgruntled moan behind the door. Adore opened the door, revealing a dimly lit mess of a room. Her face soon turned to confusion at the sight of a fresh faced Bianca in her doorway. she stepped to the side as an invite for the girl to come in. Bianca rolled her eyes, “Someone’s hungover” she smiled half-heartedly and raised the lukewarm bag in her hand. “I brought dinner.” Adore smiled at the gesture and walked into the kitchen to get plates. Bianca followed and reached into the top left cupboard to get glasses. She’d become acquainted with Adore’s house in the very few times she’d been. It was pretty self explanatory apart from the fact that she kept glasses on the other end of the kitchen from all the other dining things. “So, how’ve you been?” Adore asked, her voice monotone and groggy. “Better than you it sounds like,” the brunette jokingly replied, “Water or coffee?” Adore surveyed her options. “Water.” Bianca nodded. “Slice of cucumber,” both girls added at the same time. As Adore laid out the food, Bianca came up behind her and ruffled a hand through her hair. “What deranged party were you at last night?” “None actually.” “So why do you sound half asleep?” Defensively Adore crossed her arms before rubbing her eyes. “Because I was napping until you came.” Bianca chuckled before walking over to the sleepy being and pulling her into a hug. “Aww,” she said in a baby voice, “is Delano a little sleepy?” “I actually am because I was working on this stupid ass assignment” They both sat at the table and proceeded to eat the food Bianca brought. After a couple moments of comfortable silence Adore leaned forward and furrowed her brow. “Wait B,” she asked. The other girl looked up from her plate and waited for Adore to continue. “Why are you here? Not that I’m unhappy about it but… you don’t like it here.” Both laughed at the bold but true statement Adore just made. Bianca shrugged and fished around her plate with her fork. “I was home alone and Violet was busy.” Adore nodded. She looked back down at her food and smiled, knowing Bianca voluntarily wanted to hang out with Adore. They weren’t working, it had nothing to do with school. She wanted to see her. That’s real cute Adore thought. Real cute.

[phantom-le6]

Episode Reviews - Star Trek: The Next Generation Season 2 (3 of 5)

This post has been slightly delayed by a temporary prioritisation of my novel writing, but we’re now up to the middle round of episodes for Star Trek: The Next Generation’s second season.  So, let’s quickly make up for lost time and dive right in on the first episode of the round…

Episode 10: The Dauphin

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

The Enterprise is assigned to transport the beautiful Salia, future ruler of Daled IV, and her governess Anya from a planet to which she has voluntarily exiled herself. Her parents, rulers of two opposing factions on Daled IV, have died, and Salia represents a chance to bring unification to the two factions. As such, Anya is overly protective of her. On board, Salia meets young Acting Ensign Wesley Crusher, who instantly becomes smitten. Wesley receives courtship advice from the crew members including from Worf, Data, Riker and Guinan. The two young people form a bond. He introduces her to Thalian chocolate mousse, and takes her to the holodeck to show her several other worlds after she expresses an interest in exploring the galaxy.

 Anya, touring the ship, first gives advice on warp engine and then discovers a crew member with a virulent disease being in a containment field in Sickbay. She demands the crew member be killed to protect Salia. Chief Medical Officer Dr Pulaski refuses and insists the disease is contained, but Anya transforms into a large monstrous form, easily matching Worf's strength when he tries to intervene. When Captain Picard arrives, Anya reverts to her petite humanoid form and defiantly explains her actions. Dr Pulaski identifies Anya as an allasomorph, a shapeshifter, who could present a danger for the crew. Picard orders Anya to be confined to quarters, and Worf, as head of security, promises Anya he will watch over Salia. Picard, aware of Wesley's attraction to Salia, asks him to stay away from her, to which he agrees. At night however, as Anya is sleeping, Salia slips out of their quarters and visits Wesley, and the two share a kiss. However, they are interrupted when Anya bursts into his quarters in her beast form. To Wesley's horror, Salia also transforms into a similar beast, holding Anya at bay. Both revert to their human forms as security arrives. Later, Salia attempts to apologize to Wesley for her deception, but Wesley, hurt by seeing Salia's appearance was not the real her, is upset and refuses to listen.

 The Enterprise arrives at Daled IV with no further incidents. As Salia prepares to depart, Anya reveals she will not be going with her, instead returning to her home on an orbiting moon. Anya also warns her that she will likely be unable to leave the planet once she has taken the leadership role. Salia thanks Anya for her upbringing before Anya departs. Just before Salia is to be beamed down to the planet, Wesley arrives to say his goodbyes, bringing her one last taste of chocolate mousse. Salia thanks him, and transforms into her natural form, a luminous figure of energy, before she is beamed down to the planet.  In Ten-Forward, Wesley notes that he will never feel this way about anyone else, and Guinan notes that he is right; while he will fall in love again, it will not be in the same way as this time.

Review:

This episode suffers from putting Wesley in the middle of a love story to begin with, because when he goes asking for advice from the main cast, you get some very cringe-worthy scenes that demand fast-forwarding.  I mean for crying out loud, the Enterprise is a family ship and we’ve seen at least one kid about Wesley’s age on board back in season 1.  You would think he’d have someone more in-line with his own age to seek advice from, and even a holodeck relationship consultant would have worked better.  Discounting the likes of Worf and Data, Wesley’s best bets, Riker and Guinan, sound like they’re reciting a load of drivel out of some cliché romance novel, and they get so into their phony, puke-inspiring romantic drivel that they seem to forget Wesley entirely.

 However, once the episode pushes past this, we get a decent middle component, and a half-decent set of underlying messages about duty versus personal desire, judging or nor judging people on appearance and the consequences of personal deception all come through as the episode progresses through to its end.  That said, Wesley is a little too petulant at feeling betrayed by Salia’s ruse, justified though he is in feeling that way, and his decision to suddenly be the proverbial “bigger man” then feels forced as a result.  Frankly, this episode ends up feeling like a call-back to the horrendous quality of season 1.  As such, I only give it 4 out of 10.

Episode 11: Contagion

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

The Enterprise receives a distress signal from its sister ship, the USS Yamato, from within the Romulan Neutral Zone and travels to rendezvous with them in order to assist with repairs. After the two ships meet, the Yamato suddenly suffers a warp-core breach and explodes in front of the horrified bridge crew, leaving no survivors. Shortly afterwards, a Romulan Warbird, the Haakona, decloaks before the Enterprise and demands their retreat from the Neutral Zone. Captain Picard informs the Romulans that they will not leave until they have determined why the Yamato was destroyed.

 Picard reviews the ship logs made by his friend, Captain Donald Varley, to see if there was any connection between the destruction of the Yamato and the Romulans. Varley, an archeology buff like Picard, believed he had found the fabled planet of Iconia on a planet within the Neutral Zone. Varley believed that the extinct Iconians had developed extremely advanced technology, and that the Romulans might be attempting to acquire this technology for use against the Federation. However, when the Yamato neared the purported planet, the ship was scanned by a probe from the planet, and then began to experience system failures and became stranded in the Neutral Zone. Picard orders the Enterprise toward the coordinates Varley had identified as that of Iconia. Wesley asks Picard how he and the other officers are able to cope with perennially witnessing death and destruction. After reviewing the log, the Enterprise begins experiencing similar system issues that the Yamato had experienced, beginning with Picard's replicator producing a potted plant instead of his usual Earl Grey tea.

 When they enter the planet's orbit, a probe is automatically launched from the surface. Having reviewed the Yamato's logs, Chief Engineer La Forge recognizes that the probe carries an alien computer program that led to the Yamato's destruction. He insists that they destroy the probe before the virus can be unleashed. However, a portion of the program was stored in the Yamato logs and had infected the Enterprise. Although mostly contained, the program still threatens to destroy the Enterprise at any time. Picard, Lt. Commander Data, and Lt. Worf beam to the source of the probe launch. While exploring the ruins, they find a teleportation portal that appears to allow for instantaneous interstellar travel to a different location, with that location changing in a cycle every few seconds. Among the destinations are the Enterprise and Haakona bridges. Data attempts to access the Iconian computer systems and becomes infected with the program himself, but retains enough of his functions to instruct Picard on how to destroy the base.

 Meanwhile, in orbit, the Haakona decloaks in front of the Enterprise and threatens to attack, but soon appears to be suffering from similar system failures. The threat of attack, however, forces Commander Riker to raise the shields, which prevents them from retrieving the away team. Picard orders Worf to return with Data to the Enterprise using the Iconian gate, while he starts the destruct sequence. Before the entire structure explodes, and before the Enterprise could beam him out, Picard uses the gate to jump onto the Haakona's bridge, and discovers that their ship is set on an auto-destruct sequence they cannot stop due to the Iconian program.

 On the Enterprise, Data's systems are nearly overtaken by the program. His body automatically shuts down as a protective measure, and then restarts a short time later. La Forge finds Data's systems to now be completely free of the program, and suggests a similar cold boot to clear the program from the Enterprise. With the transporters back online, Picard is beamed off the Haakona, and Riker sends instructions to the Romulans on how to clear the program from their systems. The Enterprise then leaves, not wanting to hang around in case the Romulans are less proficient in solving their technical issues.

Review:

The original Wikipedia plot summary for this episode contains a major error that I’ve just spent a bit longer than usual correcting for this article, and I’ll quickly explain what that is.  Whichever idiot wrote the synopsis on Wikipedia constantly refers to the Iconian probe program as a virus, but that’s not what it is at all.  In fact, the show never specifies what the program is.  All they say is that it’s so advanced that it’s fundamentally incompatible with the technology of the Enterprise, not unlike trying to install a Windows 10-compatible version of Word on a Windows 95 PC.  As such, this episode isn’t dealing with computer viruses and hacker culture, or if it is there’s too much metaphor and/or differences in the tech specs of what is going on to make that apparent.

 If this episode does have a point, I suppose it might just be about looking at how we’d deal with encountering technology more advanced than we’re necessarily prepared for, or maybe it’s meant to highlight the importance of technology having effective safeguards if you use it to travel through hostile environments like space.  However, I personally look at it as just a good episode for developing Picard as character by adding in his archaeological interests and giving him a puzzle to solve in that vein.  There’s also an interesting point about revisionist history, but again it’s something later episodes of the Trek franchise would cover to greater effect. The episode is very good, and one of the better ones of this series, but it’s not quite top-level Trek.  I give it a 9 out of 10.

Episode 12: The Royale

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

Following a tip from a Klingon ship, the Enterprise finds debris from an Earth ship orbiting an uninhabitable alien planet. A sample of the debris beamed aboard shows NASA markings and a 52-star American flag, meaning the debris of the ship is several hundred years old, and has travelled far beyond the capability of ships of that era. Scans of the planet reveal a small anomalous area capable of supporting human life, so Commander Riker, Lt. Worf, and Lt. Commander Data beam down to investigate, and find a revolving door in an otherwise blank environment. Upon entering they find themselves in an old Earth-style hotel and casino called The Royale, where they are cut off from contact with the Enterprise.

The away team soon discovers they are trapped inside the casino, and after making several unsuccessful attempts to leave, they decide to explore the building. They find the desiccated but preserved remains of Col. Steven Richey, a NASA astronaut, and a pulp novel entitled Hotel Royale. Upon reading Richey's diary, they learn that his starship was accidentally contaminated by an unknown race of aliens, then thrown across the galaxy, and he was the only survivor. Taking pity on him, the aliens created The Royale for him, thinking the novel's story represented humans' preferred way of living, whereas Richey found it unbearable thanks to the poor quality of the novel.

Riker, Data, and Worf realize that the plot has been recreated in detail by the aliens and is playing out in front of them, and surmise that they might be able to leave if they are scripted to do so. They assume the role of a trio of "foreign investors" described in the novel and, taking advantage of Data's ability to precisely manipulate dice at the casino's craps table, win enough money to buy out the Royale, and are then able to leave.

Review:

For me, this episode is yet another example of this show having a great premise that suffers from poor execution.  Ultimately, it revolves around the idea of aliens creating a world for a human to live in based on a piece of fiction, only to go about it wrong and pick a badly-written stereotype of 1950’s Americana as their template.  Apparently, the literature basis for the environment wasn’t in the original draft for the show, which had first revolved around the idea of the ancient astronaut being kept in their most pleasant memory on a loop.  As such, I think the re-write to make it novel-based is a vast improvement, but they could have picked better literature.

 After all, the setting of the novel in question might be torturous for being so badly written, but it’s not really giving us much as an audience to really reflect on or enjoy.  Now I’m not going to suggest even for one moment going for something really stereotypical like the aliens borrowing from Shakespeare, Arthur Conan Doyle, Agatha Christie or anything else of a very classic nature.  However, they still could have picked another form of literature.  If this episode was being made now in the era of feature television, for example, it would be interesting to see something like Warhammer 40,000 novels, superhero/sci-fi literature or even something more fantastical used.  To my mind, the episode takes a great concept and just ruins it by picking a bad novel over something that could have perhaps been thought-provoking but unpleasant in some other fashion.

 Add in a number of notable errors in various areas, and really The Royale just comes over as a Royale cock-up.  3 out of 10, next episode please.

Episode 13: Time Squared

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

While the Enterprise is en route to the Endicor system, the ship's sensors detect a lone shuttle craft drifting through empty space with no power or fuel reserves. When Lt. Worf and Commander Riker use the tractor beam to bring it into the shuttle bay, they find it has the same name and registry as an Enterprise shuttle. Inside is a double of Captain Picard, barely clinging to life.

 After the double is brought to sickbay for treatment, Lt. Commander Data and Chief Engineer La Forge power up the shuttle, after lengthy delays due to unexpected technical incompatibility. It is then discovered that the shuttle's internal clock is about six hours ahead of the ship's chronometer which means that the shuttle, and therefore Picard's double, is from six hours into the future. They recover a very poor-quality sensor log video that shows the Enterprise falling into an energy vortex and being destroyed after the shuttle is launched.

 Chief Medical Officer Dr Pulaski determines that the incoherent double's biological functions are out of sync, but are improving as the future Picard draws nearer to his own time. Picard orders that his future self be revived, but is unsuccessful in extracting any information from him. Picard is disquieted at the idea that he would abandon his ship and its crew.

 As the crew members debate their options, they decide to continue on their current course. They are suddenly stopped by the vortex seen in the shuttle log and are unable to escape, even with the engines at maximum output, and become drawn further in. They send a probe into the vortex which is immediately destroyed. Scans emanating from the vortex appear to focus on Picard and an energy beam strikes him, leading him to theorize that there is an intelligence controlling the vortex which seems to be interested in him personally, and that his double left the ship to draw its attention.

 Picard's double, now almost completely aware and coherent, sets out to leave the Enterprise as he did before. Picard follows him, asserting that there must have been another option, though the double only mumbles about it being impossible, as moving forward would have presumably destroyed the Enterprise. As the double is boarding the shuttle craft, Picard proclaims that the cycle must be broken and kills him with a phaser. Dr Pulaski wordlessly examines Picard's double with a tricorder as Chief O'Brien stares in shock.

 Picard returns to the bridge and orders that the Enterprise fly straight into the centre of the vortex. The Enterprise comes through the other side into normal space, and the doubles of Picard and the shuttlepod disappear. The Enterprise resumes its course to the Endicor system.

Review:

Apparently, the writer of this episode had originally planned for it to feed into a subsequent Q-centric episode and make Q responsible for the vortex and Picard’s time-hopping, but Roddenberry apparently prevented this.  It’s a pity, because the episode fails to assign any other cause or rationale to what happens.  It’s just weird time-travel confusion for its own sake, which is generally the worst form of time travel story you can get.  Anything involving time travel is generally the most headache-inducing form of time travel going, unless you take a cue from Gargoyles and just make history immutable, and all time travel consequently just becomes a necessity for history to unfold as it already has.

 The fact that we don’t get an underlying rationale for the time loop makes the episode tank, as does the blithering deliberation of the crew at numerous points.  Frankly, the whole concept would be played out to better effect in a later episode of TNG, and the only real value anyone might see in this is in two points.  First, we get to see how far Picard is willing to go in order to do the right thing, both in terms of his future copy trying to sacrifice himself for the ship, and then his current self phasering the future copy to death to break the time loop. Second, there is a slight allegory about breaking out of self-destructive cycles to move forward, but it’s rather wasted because the idea comes up so late and isn’t really explored.  For me, this episode only warrants 3 out of 10.

Episode 14: The Icarus Factor

Plot (as adapted from Wikipedia):

While the Enterprise is en route to Starbase Montgomery to run diagnostics on its engines, Picard receives a message from Starfleet offering First Officer Commander Riker command of his own, the Aries, which is on a potentially dangerous exploration mission in a distant sector. Picard advises Riker that while the Enterprise is a prestigious assignment, it cannot replace the experience of having one's own command, and gives him 12 hours (the duration of their stop at the Starbase) to decide. Riker's decision is complicated by the fact that the civilian adviser Starfleet has sent to brief him on his mission turns out to be his father, Kyle Riker, with whom he has an antagonistic relationship.

 After his father makes several attempts to reconcile, which Will rebuffs, the tension between the two finally boils over, and they agree to a match of anbo-jitsu, a form of martial arts. During the match, the two continue to argue, with Will venting his bitterness over the death of his mother. Will interrupts the match, claiming a move his father used is illegal, and realizes his father had only been able to beat him in his youth by cheating, which his father admits. The two are finally able to talk and reconcile, and Will admits he is glad his father came.  Later, Will opts to remain on the Enterprise because he feels it is the best place for him to be at present.

 Meanwhile, Acting Ensign Wesley Crusher notices that Lieutenant Worf is acting particularly agitated, and enlists the help of Chief Engineer Geordi La Forge and Lt. Commander Data to find out why. The trio eventually learn that Worf was coming upon an important anniversary, 10 years since his Age of Ascension, which is normally celebrated with an important Klingon ritual among other Klingons. They recreate the ritual, which involves a gauntlet of Klingon warriors brandishing pain sticks, on the holodeck as a surprise for Worf. While reciting vows of honour, Worf undergoes jolts from the sticks with each step forward, enduring the extreme pain, and finally reaches the end, where he is grateful to his "family" aboard the ship for honouring him in this way.

Review:

Much like the previous episode, this is another episode that falls down because of Roddenberry’s interference, as he diluted the level of tension and drama between Riker and his father in the episode’s A-plot.  According to Memory Alpha’s notes on production, Roddenberry believed that by the 24th century, we’d have resolved any tendency to harbour anger towards other people for their mistakes, including parents who acted like jerks to us much in the way it seems Kyle Riker did with his son.  This just goes to show why post-Roddenberry Trek surpasses the Trek produced while he was an active producer of the franchise.  Some of his idealism about the world of Trek seems to have been excessive and unrealistic.

 The fact is anger is as important an emotion to the human psyche as any other.  I know a lot of people tend to categorise emotions as good or bad, but really no emotion is either one.  Fear keeps us alive by counselling us against stupid risks, anger gives us the impetus to express outrage and complain against injustice, sadness lets people know something is wrong with us, and supposedly positive emotions like happiness can be negative if we somehow misuse them.  As such, no one in their right mind should be thinking of any given emotional state as something we’ve just ‘gotten over’.  We might get past some of the root causes that bring up certain emotions, but we need to retain the emotions themselves for anytime a new emotional trigger is discovered and has to be addressed.

 The A-plot around the Rikers also falls flat because it also involves a possible promotion and re-assignment for Will.  Since mid-season cast shifts are not a common occurrence in most shows, even with the season 1 death of Tasha Yar as precedent, you’re almost certain as an audience member that Will is going to stay, and lo and behold he does.  As for the B-plot, it’s ok but the scenes where Worf loses his temper at Wesley and then Data made me go for the fast-forward again.  Add in Roddenberry’s delusion watering down of the A-plot, and all I can give this episode is a meagre 3 out of 10.

[yevbelous-blog]

Week 6

Monday of week 6 was devoted to our presentations. We spent the full class time having each group present to our peers. Dr. Doig and Tynan were both there, it was a good time. Kendrick and I matched with our dress attire for some style points. We were also assigned our groups for the next experiment last week, and now we were to come up with a test plan for our testing which would happen on Wednesday.

Hitting those style points for the presentation with Kendrick.

My new group consisted of myself, Derick, Bennett, and Ben. On Wednesday, we all met in 322 and spent the first hour and a half deciding on what we would test for in our experiment. In this lab, we had two different NACA 4412 wings with different aspect ratios. Our goal was to test both wings for the same dynamic conditions, and compare the data for each wing. We decided that we would run each wing at two different velocities that equated to a Reynolds Number of 130,000. This would be a velocity of 20 m/s for the wing with the shorter chord, and 15.1 m/s for the wing with the longer chord. We planned to test each wing, as well as the unloaded sting itself, at varying angles of attack (degrees): -5, 0, 5, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15. After this, we wrote a code so that we can export the raw data straight into MATLab and output Cd vs alpha, Cl vs alpha, and L/D plots vs alpha plots. At 1:30 we went down to the lab to run our experiment. Ben, Bennett, and Derick all took different roles in the computer lab section of the wind tunnel, while I stayed outside of the tunnel, keeping an eye on the sting, watching the doors for safety, and changing the wings when needed.  As stated before, there were two wings we were testing; one blue and one red. The blue wing had a larger chord length (6.1 in) but a smaller aspect ratio (~115 square in). The red wing had a shorter chord length (4.625 in) but a larger aspect ratio (~119 square in). We initially ran the tunnel at both velocities for the unloaded sting. I then attached the red wing and we ran the experiment on this wing at a velocity of 20 m/s. After collecting all of the data for the red wing, I switched out the wing and loaded the blue wing, for which we collected data at a velocity of 15.1 m/s. The experiment ran very smoothly, and we were able to finish rather quickly. At the end of the experiment, we realized that the forces on the sting weren’t re-zeroed before our tests. To account for this, we re-attached each wing on, and calculated the weight of each wing so that we could add this into our calculations when doing our report. 

Setting up in the tunnel before running our tests. Ben working the MATLab codes, Derrick and Bennett switching off between running the tunnel and sting, and myself being on the other end of the tunnel. Tynan is also pictured keeping us supervised and getting stuff done on his laptop.

First run of the unloaded sting.

Run of the red wing at a high angle of attack.

Run of the blue wing at a high angle of attack. Bennett is also taking a picture of myself taking a picture of this setup.

[2-fast-2-curious]

This Photograph is Proof You Know I Know

Pairing: Negan x reader

Summary: You’re stuck in an unfulfilling job at the Sanctuary when Negan offers you a chance to pursue your passion

Warnings: inappropriate language because it’s Negan, a sexual situation between people of differing power dynamics (Is that a warning? Basically, Negan has sex with one of the workers at the Sanctuary), oral sex

Words: 1895

Author’s Note: This was written for @i-am-negan-trash  ‘s fic exchange. My fic partner, @jdmfanfiction wrote me this amazing piece of writing and I ended up waiting almost up until the deadline to finish mine.   ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I was going to name this piece after a Nickleback song until I dug into my repertoire of angsty emo music

“The best thing about a picture is that it never changes, even when the people in it do.” - Andy Warhol

It started when the Saviors found an abandoned department store. Of course, the outdoor/sporting goods section had been absolutely annihilated. There wasn’t a single item left on the shelves. But the rest of the store was perfectly intact. You guessed whoever raided the place had done so before permanent settlements had formed. Groups travelling on foot didn’t have much use for frilly lingerie or dishwashers. While the other Saviors loaded the trucks with appliances and furniture. You were stuck filling suitcases with clothes. You sighed, your job at the Sanctuary was basically to act as a personal shopper for Negan’s wives. As he put it, you were responsible for keeping his wives looking hot for him. Negan had mentioned that he might be adding a couple of new wives to the roster so you grabbed a black dress in every size you could find.

You had zipped up your last suitcase and handed it off to Laura when you spotted two men carrying a flat screen tv. “Where did you get that?”

They nodded towards the corner where you saw an electronics section. You hadn’t noticed that before which was shocking since it looked like it was the most popular section for the Negan's men. They were all helping themselves to various video game consoles and carrying armfuls of games. You rolled your eyes and walked past them to reach the only device you were interested in. You kneeled down and grabbed a camera, the fancy kind with interchangeable lenses, the kind you could've never imagined being able to afford before the world was overrun with zombies.

You had your pick of the entire photography section and you were helping yourself to as much as you could carry. Suddenly you felt a chill come over you, you felt uneasy. Having survived as long as you did before you joined the Saviors, you knew when you were being watched.

"Boo," said an intimidating but familiar voice.

You gasped, using one hand to cover your mouth and the other to playfully slap the shoulder of the culprit. “Negan! You scared me.“

Negan chuckled pleased with your reaction. “Sorry sweetcheeks, just trying to finding something other than Who's The Boss for Dwight to watch." You saw that Negan did indeed have a handful of DVDs in his hand "Do you think he’d like the first season of Siesta Key?“

You laughed "I'm sure he'll love it." You found Negan quite easy going which was something not everyone could say. Of course, you witnessed how irrational and erratic he could be as a rule. However, you actually liked spending one-on-one time with him and his dark sense of humour. Besides, your job was crucial to keeping Negan's wives happy so he knew not to rub you the wrong way.

Negan glanced over at the boxes you had clutched in your hands. "What do you have here? A camera? You know we got one of those from Alexandria."

You scoffed. "No offence Negan but this one is top of the line with all the bells of whistles"

Negan shrugged. "So what are you going to do with it?"

“Well..." The question stumped you. The answer should be obvious, take photos but what would be your subject? The land surrounding the Sanctuary wasn't anything like the bucolic fields and trails of its past "I used to love taking photos before everything happened.”

Negan noticed your puzzled expression. "Well darlin’, how would you like to use this little hobby of yours to earn your keep around here"

You raised an eyebrow, sure he had his men snag some priceless pieces from the Smithsonian but Negan wasn't exactly known to be a patron of the arts. You couldn't see him offering you points to shoot photos of wildlife for his private collection."What do you mean?"

"I mean that I'm out here doing all this rad shit and I'm thinking it's a little unfair that not everyone gets to see it." Negan grabbed a couple more DVDs. "Effective immediately, I'm putting you in charge of communications here at the Sanctuary. Dwight can take over finding shit for the wives. You just got a promotion, you are going to follow me like a shadow and let everyone know what they are missing. Any questions, darlin’?"

You bit your lip and nodded your head. When Negan offered you a chance to end your days of digging through lacey undergarments, you were going to take it.

Negan handed you back your camera. "Get that thing charged and I'll see you first thing tomorrow morning."

You became the in-house photojournalist for Negan, you accompanied him everywhere and took photos of him. You wrote a weekly newsletter which was printed and distributed around the Sanctuary and gave updates on what their fearless leader was doing. Yup, your job was basically producing propaganda for Negan. The propinquity to Negan your new job provided also meant that you developed a certain fondness for your leader. It also didn’t hurt that he was charismatic as fuck and had killer arms from carrying around Lucille.

You were on the computer adding meta tags to some of the photos you took and you couldn't help but chuckle at a couple of them. The way Simon could contort his face should make him a national treasure. You blushed when you came across a photo you took for completely selfish reasons. You moved the image of Negan stretching, the hem of his white t-shirt just above his navel exposing his happy trail, into your personal folder with the other gratuitous photos you had taken of him. You quickly switched back to looking at a relatively tame photo of Negan and some of the Saviors next to the produce they collected from the Kingdom.

Negan strolled into your office carrying a freshly cleaned Lucille. He peered over your shoulder and squinted at the computer screen. "Who's that?"

You glanced where Negan was pointing. "Darren"

"And her?"

"Melissa"

"Darlin', that's the fucking problem we have so many fucking people here I can't remember all their fucking names." It was true there had been many new additions to the Sanctuary, anyone would have a hard time keeping them straight. Negan rubbed his jaw, you could tell he was thinking up a plan. "You’re going to stay behind for the next little while. I need my personal photographer to capture portraits of every fucker here and pass them onto my men working the gates."

Instead of shadowing Negan like you usually did, you went all over the Sanctuary. One by one, you took photos of everyone, tapping them on the shoulder and pressing the button on your camera. By the end of the week, you had completed your assignment and you felt quite proud to present Negan with your album of hand labelled photos.

You couldn’t help but fidget as you watched Negan flip through the pages. You saw him nod approvingly and thought you were off the hook but it wasn't long until his brows furrowed.

"What's wrong?" You really didn't want to redo the assignment. It was quite tedious to track everyone down and have them agree to pose for a photo.

“Darlin’, we have a problem. We have photos of everyone here except for you.“

"Oh" to be honest, you hadn't considered the fact that Negan would need your photo. He already knew who you were. And almost all his men recognized you from your days shadowing Negan.

"Give me your camera, I'll do the honours." You gingerly handed your camera to Negan and prayed that he would be gentle with your baby. You sat up straight on the chaise in your office and looked directly at the camera. Having your photo taken in such formal circumstances brought you right back to picture day in school.

Negan sighed, putting down your camera before taking a proper shot. “This isn’t a fucking mugshot, look like you’re having a good time. I’ve seen people more excited staring down the shaft of Lucille.”

You laughed, the result of both Negan’s comments and your effort to look less miserable in your Sanctuary directory photo.

Negan was fiddling with your camera when a devilish smirk crossed his face. “Darlin’, I didn’t know everyone here needed to see such close-up photos of my arm.”

You smiled, your time had come, you had finally gotten caught red-handed. “Those are for my private collection.”

Negan licked his lips. “Really? Well, maybe I need to start assembling a fucking private portfolio of my own.”

Negan leaned over and brushed some of your hair out of your face. You leaned over and kissed him, you had always wondered how it would feel to be so close to Negan.

He pulled away from the kiss and trailed his finger down the sleeve of your shirt. "Come on darling, show me some skin."

You nodded, fumbling around with your top until it over your head and off your body. “Much better.” Negan groaned as he took photos of your newly exposed body on your camera.

Hearing the reaction you could incite out of Negan made initial stagefright you felt about being so exposed dissipate. In fact, his intense stare was starting to make you feel incredibly desirable. You went ahead and removed more of your clothes and even started to experiment with your poses.

You were lying completely naked on your back. When you heard the telltale sound of your camera turn itself off. It must’ve run out of power.

“Now that my private collection is completed. The real fun can begin.” Negan was sporting his usual shit-eating grin. You watched as he got on his knees and used his hands to pull your legs apart.

You spread your limbs, exposing yourself completely to the man. Negan licked his lips at the glistening wetness between your legs. “Don’t you look good enough to eat?”

He ran a finger down your slit. You shivered at the feeling of his buttery leather glove on your cunt. You whimpered. “Negan, I want you.”

Negan chuckled, removing his finger and pretending not to hear you. “What was that, darlin’?”

You arched your back trying to get closer to Negan’s digits. “I need your mouth between my legs! Please!”

Negan obliged, pressing his tongue flat against your slit, and making you scream. You tried to clamp your legs closed but Negan held them open, keeping your pussy exposed for him. His tongue worked wonders on your cunt. You felt your orgasm radiate from your core and you gave in, letting Negan see you in all your glory. You stretched yourself out on the chaise, enjoying the looseness you felt in your limbs.

You made an attempt to grab your camera from Negan’s hands in your post-orgasmic state. But you were too slow and Negan easily kept the device out of your reach. “Nuh uh, darling. Like I said these are for my private collection”

You rolled your eyes, pretending to pout. Negan smirked at your reaction, “But I’m an equal opportunist. If you never want to print the Sanctuary's own fucking version of Playgirl. You know where to find me.”

Negan pulled the memory card out of your camera and left your office, whistling as he walked down the hallway with the camera’s memory card in the pocket of his leather jacket.

[imaginedilestrade]

Anywhere

A/N: So I wrote this on the plane today on the way home to keep me amused for a little while so it’s probably a load of rubbish 😂. Also I have this beautiful mental image of Greg in a pilots uniform and it’s engraved in my mind forever…

————————

“Next…” You called and glanced above your computer screen, smiling at the smartly dressed pilot in front of you “Well, if it isn’t my favourite pilot.” You smirked and grabbed your metal detection wand “Where are we off to today, captain Lestrade?”

“Copenhagen and then a return flight this evening,” he replied and took off his hat and jacket and you scanned him. “How’s things in security?”

“Same as always but at least I deal with the crew and not the public, that security area is always horrendously busy”. You placed down your wand and tapped a few things into the computer “Do you have any sharp objects on you?” You asked with a small smirk, like you always did, “Anything at all?”

“No I don’t,” Greg replied and placed back on his jacket and cap “Do you always ask that question in such a flirty tone?”

“Not to everyone, only you,” you winked and he playfully rolled his eyes “I also did your pre-flight cabin security check”.

“I’m sure you’ve done a fantastic job as always,” he praised and you lightly punched his arm “What! I’m being serious!” He let out a small chuckle “Anyway I need to be off. I’ll see you later on tonight and probably tomorrow when you’ll give me another scan with your wand and then turn a serious security question into an innuendo”.

“You might get lucky and I’ll give you a full body pat down…you’re due one soon,” you teased and Greg grabbed his small cabin bag.

“I’ll be waiting with anticipation, Y/N” Greg waved goodbye as you wished him a safe journey and you watched him disappear through a set of frosted glass doors.

“Next…”

Later on the evening Greg rushed though the terminal to where you’d be waiting for him.

“You're late,” your voice was heavy with exhaustion “And I had to wait for you because your flight was my last to check off”.

“I know, air traffic control grounded us for two hours because of weather, sorry I kept you here.” When your eyes met his you could have melted at how sincere and sorry they looked.

You shook your head “It’s alright, I practically live here anyway. Let’s get your passport checked” you extended your hand and took it from him.

You opened it up and flickered your eyes between Greg and his photo before breathing in a long, sharp gasp of air “Sorry but you look nothing like this person on the passport…” You joked and Greg raised a brow, clearly confused, this was a new joke you were playing on him “Yup, I mean, look how handsome this guy is on the photo here! It clearly can’t be you.”

Greg’s eyebrow lowered and he glared at you whilst grabbing his passport.

You let out a laugh and turned off your computer “That’s what you get for holding me back, your crew were out way quicker before you”.

“I had some flight assessments to do, a captain never leaves until everyone else is off” Greg explained and you began to walk out with him.

You had known each other for almost four years now, Greg started flying from your airport a few months after you joined. You were assigned as security officer for airline crews and once a week you did a pre-flight cabin inspection.

You reached the main entrance of the airport and turned to face him again “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow before your flight to Paris,” you told him and he nodded.

“I guess I’ll see you tomorrow to wave your magic wand over me and carry out your other safety duties,” Greg smirked and played with the handle of his cabin bag. “Have you ever been?” Greg asked after a moment of silence.

A wave of confusion spread over your face “Have I ever been where?”

“Paris?” He simply replied.

You shook your head “No I haven’t, maybe one day…maybe you can fly me there,” you playfully teased and Greg shrugged his shoulders.

“You never know, Paris is closer than you think,” you began to slowly make your way thorough the car park “Can- can I give you a lift home?” He stuttered out.

“Oh that’s alright my car’s just-” you pointed over his shoulder and Greg turned around “It’s just over there, but thank you for the offer”.

Greg nodded and you both went your separate ways.

You both tossed and turned that night, barely getting a wink of sleep thinking about the other. When either of you thought of the other it felt like your hearts were taking off, that the feelings you felt towards one another we’re like the moment the tyres lifted off the runway.

Yet you were both soaring into something you weren’t familiar with. Greg had never really had a relationship, he was too busy in the skies. You were always busy too on the ground making sure all the cabin crew and pilots made it though security safely and securely.

The next morning you trudged into work and started up your computer just in time it would have seemed as five polished and perfectly preened air hostesses walked though with their heads held high and wearing even higher heels. You let out a sigh and grabbed the passport of the first woman quickly checking her in.

“Oh there he is!” One whispered to the woman next to her and the two glanced over to Greg as he walked up to the security check in for the crew, they both bit down on their bottom lip as they drooled over him. You let out an aggravated huff and harshly slammed down on your computer keys.

“Next…” You involuntary spat out at the next woman and she raised a brow as you quickly checked her in.

“Next…” Your voice and eyes softened seeing that Greg was next “Morning Tom Cruise”.

Greg took off his hat and jacket again, letting out a breathy chuckle “A top gun reference? Really?”

“Well I do feel the need…” You began and looked at Greg to finish the sentence.

“…the need for speed!” You gave him a high five and both of you shared a laugh.

You grabbed your wand “Alright Goose, arms out”. You quickly scanned him.

Greg chortled “Am I getting a full body pat down, Maverick?” You placed down your wand and pursed your lips.

“Well, you are due one. I can get a guy to do it if you don’t want me to fondle you.” Greg let out a snort of laughter and shook his head no so you began lightly patting your hands over him. “Your tense…” You whispered, thinking aloud.

Greg gulped but didn’t answer you as you gently patted up and down his legs, brushing your fingertips a little too far up his inner thigh. He let out a small moan under his breath just as you stood up straight “That’s you…no sharp objects found”.

“Yet…” Greg spoke under his breath before placing on his jacket and cap.

“Safe travels Goose, I’ll see you tonight” you typed up a few things and he moved on. You looked up above the computer monitor and let out a small gasp seeing the small cabin bag sitting there. You quickly grabbed it and rushed after him “Greg!” You hollered out and ran as fast as you could before you crashed into the pilots arms.

“Y-your case…” You spoke out as you caught your breath, although it disappeared as quickly as you found it when you realised you were in his arms. “Your case,” you spoke more confidently as you straightened yourself out.

“Thanks Y/N, I’ll remember that next time you want an upgrade on a flight I’m chartering” he winked and took it off you “I really have to go”.

You nodded “Yeah! Totally, no problem! Safe flight to Paris!” your voice began to tremble before you turned around and walked back to the security area.

Hours later Greg was delayed again and you were waiting behind for him. You tapped your pen off the desk and rested your chin on the palm of your hand.

The automatic doors opened to security and you let out a sigh of relief “It’s about damn time!”

“Sorry I’m late!” He sounded exhausted.

You raised a brow at his lack of bag, jacket and cap “Where’s your stuff?”

“Come with me,” he outstretched his hand and you reluctantly took it, shutting down your computer beforehand.

“Where are we going?” You asked as you rushed though the airport terminal looking onwards towards a gate you were both running to. “Greg! Its restricted access I can’t get passed this point.”

“Good job my ID gets us passed that then isn’t it?” He swiped his card and the doors to the taxiway opened. He pulled you to a small Airbus craft and brought you on board.

“Greg wh-” you were lost for words seeing the cabin dimly lit and the cockpit of the plane scattered with orange, fake candles.

“They didn’t let me use real ones…” He trailed off and awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

You slowly made your way to the front of the plane and placed your hands over your mouth to conceal your gasps of delight “It’s so beautiful, thank you.”

Greg sat you down in one of the pilots seats and handed you a plastic tray with French cheese, French bread and French wine “Since you’ve never been, I picked up some things before taking off in Paris”.

You wiped away a stray tear of happiness and thanked him again. You both sat and had a bite to eat chatting about Greg’s ventures around the globe. “Yanno…” You trailed off and made yourself comfortable in the pilots seat “I’ve always wanted to see your cockpit,” you winked and Greg burst out laughing. You poked his knee “You have a filthy mind, talking about filth how many people do you reckon have joined the mile high club on this plane?”

Greg let out a groan “Oh god do I have to answer that?!” He laughed and you shook your head.

“So people probably have huh…” The cockpit fell into a bubble of silence “Why did you do this for me?” You asked.

Greg’s gaze avoided yours as much as he could but he finally found your eyes “You gave me my bag earlier and honestly, you are the best part of my job.”

Your gaze fell slightly and a blush crept up on your face “You don’t mean that” you whispered.

“I really do,” Greg admitted “I look forward to flying because I know I’ll get to see you beforehand.” You felt his hands intertwine with yours “I really like you Y/N, an airplane can’t take me to the places your eyes do when I look into them.”

You both leaned over the various controls and gently pressed your lips against his. They moved in sync for a moment before leaning over the controls got too uncomfortable. You both let out a breathy chuckle and pressed your foreheads together “Let me take you to Paris,” Greg spoke as softly as he could “I can get us a private jet whenever suits you best and I won’t fly, I’ll get a friend of mine to so I can devote all my time and attention to you. I’ll take you to wherever you want, whenever you want…” He spoke out in one continuous breath before you softly kissed him again.

“I’ll go anywhere with you”.