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arionawrites · 1 year

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— carina jeane: the spark (working title)

the cj series, part one

GENRE: fiction, modern fantasy, coming of age-esque, some action, some drama - and, of course, very queer.

SETTING: in a little town called harlstone, washington, where foggy mornings make every day start like it's the end of the world and where there's enough forest to swallow the town whole.

TROPES: found family, childhood friends to enemies to lovers, forced proximity and also the exact opposite of forced proximity, dark secrets, redemption, emotional scars, and more!

TAGLINE: seven people, some strangers and some not, have no choice but to work together when something sparks within them.

— the characters

carina jeane castillo

a seventeen year old senior in high school, struggling with her academics and on the brink of not being able to graduate. she lives with her parents, who don't give her the time of day, and she has two older siblings - alrick, who is eight years older than her, and mariella, who is eleven years older than her. she was ten when alrick moved out, and she hasn't heard from either of them in years.

carina is empathetic and compassionate. she overthinks, she's timid, and she struggles with an obsessive, addictive kind of personality. she has no friends, no family that seems to care about her, not even a teacher that sticks up for her from time to time. despite being surrounded by people, she is horrifyingly alone.

alfred "alfie" alexander farwell

a twenty two year old who keeps debating if he should seek out his passions, of which he admittedly has none, or if he should apply for med school like his father wants him to. a people pleaser with anxiety, he works as a data entry clerk at a local dry cleaners and lives by himself in a small, scrappy apartment in the run down part of town.

he lost his mom when he was fourteen, and, in the same month, his childhood best friend, theo, switched school and moved to the other side of town. despite harlstone being so small, it was like theo moved out of state, the two of them growing distant and losing contact almost instantaneously. alfie's father is a kind, hard working man, who became distant in his grief and unknowingly put a strain on his relationship with his son, who now is willing to do almost anything to get his dad's approval. even, maybe, applying for med school.

theodore "theo" james davis

a twenty two year old gas station employee who lives in the apartment above his mom's garage. gay and not totally okay with it, theo tends to lean towards anger and frustration rather than addressing his emotions properly or communicating how he really feels. his mom, who raised him as a single mother, is a wonderful lady who tries her best to help her son despite his constant insistence towards being able to take care of himself.

after making a lot of questionable financial decisions when he was nineteen and twenty, theo is currently struggling with digging himself out of this hole he put himself in and keeps making more mistake along the way. including getting arrested for petty theft. something that he can never let his mom know about, of course, which is why, when asked to give a name and number in order to get him bailed out, he said the first person that came to mind. his old best friend that he purposefully abandoned, alfie farwell.

elena rylie ashford

one of the ashford twins, elena is freshly twenty one years old and runs the social media pages for a local, yet fairly popular, bakery. the same bakery, actually, that both her twin sister and her boyfriend, nick, works at. the only worries that elena has are what trend to incorporate into her next post and how much more she needs to save up before her and her boyfriend can get an apartment together.

elena is an optimist, but she's also a bit self righteous. in contrast, though, she's also very soft hearted and takes things very personally, and she's easily squeamish - a combo that ultimately makes her very sensitive to the world around her and the people in it, often leading her to be extra emotional about things that probably don't warrant it.

evelyn rose ashford

one of the ashford twins, evelyn is freshly twenty one years old and works in the same bakery that her twin sister runs the social media accounts for. despite hanging out with her sister and nick every day, evelyn can't help but to feel as if she's being left behind - elena is in a pretty serious relationship with someone she's saving up to move in together with and is trending weekly online for her well crafted posts, but the only thing evelyn seems to be doing right is making baked goods.

evelyn is very self deprecating, looking down on herself and comparing herself to the people around her, especially her twin. she gets jealous of the lives that other people live because she feels like she's incapable of having the happiness that they have. she's also impatient with everything other than baking - she wants things to be better and she wants them to be better now, but she also believes she doesn't deserve better at all. a restless pessimist.

walker oakleigh truett

the second youngest out of five, twenty year old walker struggles every day with standing out amongst the crowd. his family owns a local bed and breakfast called Truett Trails and he happily works as a clerk, housekeeper, and anything else they need him as. however, his siblings are all moving up and out of harlstone, accomplishing incredible things and making their parents proud. even his little sister, who just graduated high school a year early and has a full ride scholarship to the college of her dreams.

walker is a shadow in his family, the one that doesn't do much, who doesn't even really know what his own interests are because he's always tried living up to what his siblings were interested in. he's awkward and meek and almost boring in a way, not having the sense of self that one usually needs to be interesting to others.

wrenley mylah crawford

a nearly twenty three year old who lives with her friend, eleanor dulley, wrenley stays on the safe side to say the least. ever since she was little, her family was a bit unstable, losing jobs and getting evicted and starting fights at every corner of the road. the instability made her scared of the unexpected in life - she never knew what might happen next, but she knew that it wouldn't be good.

wrenley keeps herself in a bubble to avoid getting hurt, never going out unless it's to her jobs at the coffee shop across the street or the bookstore around the corner. she's paranoid and anxious, and her fear of the world leaves her ignorant to all the good things out there, convinced after a rough childhood that nothing can ever be as good as the movies make it seem.

— the story

nothing big ever happens in harlstone.

it's a small town on the coast of washington state, one often overlooked by their neighboring villages and cities. the people are quaint and quiet and peaceful, content to live their lives as they always have, as they always will. carina jeane's been here her whole life, and, unlike her older siblings, she's fairly sure she'll never get to leave. she'll be here forever, living the same day to day, until she dies.

but then, for the first time since her brother moved out when she was ten, something happens. something changes.

it starts as a spark beneath her skin - barely noticeable, but still undoubtedly there - and then it grows stronger, grows restless, grows angry and bitter and violent, until it explodes out of her.

and carina creates a storm.

status

3/6/23: outlining and developing in preparation for camp nano

taglist (ask to be added or taken off please!)

@sarah-sandwich @themugglemudperson @wildswrites

#ariwrites #writeblr story intro #writeblr #writblr #writeblr intro #writeblr introduction #cj series #carina jeane series #working title: the spark

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banannabethchase · 1 year

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Nobody told Kenny that Adam would be back for Dynamite. Nobody warned him.

That one episode apparently has an unending hold on me. But, also, Kenny's reaction to Adam being back is something I need and if they won't give it to me, I'll just write it. Title from Always by Panic at the Disco.

I used to be known for my exclusively smluff fics. Apparently I've graduated to smut/fluff/angst. Smlungst? I'll workshop it.

Kenny is…not pleased. He’s just won a match, closed out Dynamite, put on two fantastic shows behind the scenes, and he’s not pleased.

“He shouldn’t be back!” he says, pacing the Elite’s locker room. “It’s too soon.”

“Yeah,” Matt says, and, from the tone, he’s about to be insufferable, “because that medical degree of yours is so credible.”

Kenny whips a shirt at him. “Shut up. You don’t get to be bitchy.”

“Why not?” Matt asks. “I got the pin.”

Kenny gives up on words and simply shoves Matt off the bench, and he tumbles to the floor like a rag doll.

“You’re a dick,” Matt grumbles.

“Well, you’re the one who keeps bringing out a hammer and licking it, so you seem to like dicks,” Kenny fires back.

Nick comes out of the shower, rubbing at his hair. “What is going on with the two of you?” He whips Kenny with the towel then throws it at Matt.

“Why hasn’t he come to see us?” Kenny asks. “We’re EVPs, somebody should have told us he was coming.”

Nick raises an eyebrow, pausing as he ties his sneakers. “Who?”

Kenny groans. “Hangman, obviously!” He sits hard on the bench. “A month ago he got knocked out on TV, and now he’s back? That’s ridiculous. Who cleared him?” He stands again, restless. “He should be at home still.”

He can feel more than see Matt and Nick exchange a look to the side of him as Matt pulls himself back up to standing. “Dude,” Matt says, “are you good?”

“I’m fine,” Kenny says. It doesn’t sound particularly convincing to even his own ears. “Whatever. If nobody else in this company is going to give a shit, I’m checking on him.” Before he even stands, though, Nick is blocking the door.

“Oh, no,” Nick says, hands out in front of him. “No way. We are not doing this again.”

“Doing what?”

Matt sighs. “Kenny, the last time you two imploded, you worked through about a dozen injuries without stopping.” He stands and walks toward Kenny, and it’s only then that he realizes the Bucks think he’s fragile. Him, Kenny Omega. Fragile. “You tried to destroy yourself because you couldn’t destroy him.”

“I tried to win,” Kenny says back, voice as hard as he can make it. “He was the one being precious about all of it.”

“I think precious is the wrong word,” Nick says from behind him. “You signed the contract with his blood, man. Neither of you handled it well.”

“Which is why,” Matt says, gathering his things and shoving them in Kenny’s hands, “we are leaving with you.”

Kenny protests the whole way, but, with one Buck on either side of him, he doesn’t have a damned chance of escaping. Well, unless he tried to legitimately kill them. But that feels excessive.

Kenny goes to press the number for his floor, but Nick slaps his hand out of the way. “What the fuck?”

“You’re coming with us,” Nick says. “We’re going to Matt’s room.”

Kenny stares at them, barely feeling the elevator as it stops at the eighth floor. “You’re got to be shitting me.”

Nick shakes his head. “Nope. Come on, Cleaner.”

Kenny looks between the two of them as they practically frog march him to a hotel room that is definitely not his own. “What – why?”

“Sleepover,” Matt says, as he unlocks his door. “You, me, Nick. Come on.”

“You guys are treating me like a cheerleader who got dumped at the prom,” Kenny says, but he lets Nick push him into the hotel room. There’s two beds. Kenny wonders who’s going to be the lucky one to sleep alone. He doubts it’ll be him. “Leave me alone.”

“Nope,” Matt says, a little too chipper. “What do you want to watch? Tony said Star Wars’ll be on after one of the shows, but I can’t remember if that’s tonight or Friday.”

“I want,” Kenny says, “to go back and sleep in my own room.”

“Nope,” Nick says, plopping down on the other bed, stretching out to take up the whole thing. “Want room service? Maybe they have brownies.”

“I am not some sad sixteen year old who got dumped by her ex!” Kenny says, standing.

“No,” Matt says, “you’re a sad thirty something man who saw his ex today and is reckless about it.” He pats Kenny’s cheek. “Ooh! We can sign into Disney Plus!”

Kenny is wide awake. Matt, to his surprise, is snoring to his left. He’s usually a silent sleeper. Nick’s curled up in the middle of the other bed, muttering to himself. And Kenny is wide awake. He waited until it was clear they were both asleep, and waited, and waited, but now’s his shot.

He rolls out of bed, grateful for the noise of television in the background masking his steps, and snatches his bag as he steps toward the door. There’s a creak, just loud enough to maybe be too loud, so Kenny has to turn to slide out of the door, squeezing through it and, for the first time ever, regretting how much muscle he’s put on.

He turns as he closes the door. And almost loses his mind.

Adam Page is standing there, bottle of water in hand, looking almost unfairly cozy with his hair in a bun, a hoodie, and a pair of grey sweatpants.

Stupid grey sweatpants season, Kenny finds himself thinking. Then he rips his eyes away and goes back up to Adam’s face.

“Um,” is his miserable attempt at a greeting.

Adam, those soft blue eyes kind, blinks at him. “Hi.” His voice sounds low, gruff. “I, uh,” he nods down the hallway, “just getting some ice.” He holds up the bottle, shakes it.

“Yeah, of course,” Kenny says. “Right.”

“Your room?” Adam asks.

“No,” Kenny answers before thinking.

Adam’s eyes go wide, just for a second, then they settle to careful neutrality. “Right,” he says. “Uh. Don’t let me disturb you.” He turns to walk away.

“It’s just Matt and Nick,” Kenny says, and when Adam looks back, looking even more baffled, he continues, “not, no, not like that, ew. They, uh. Kidnapped me. For a sleepover.”

Adam’s clearly fighting a smile. “A sleepover?”

Kenny nods. “They, uh. I wanted to go after you. Earlier.”

“Me?” Adam’s face is soft, shocked. Like it could be anyone other than him.

Kenny laughs, not unkindly. “Hangman, you got pulled out on a stretcher a few weeks back, and today, you came out to lock horns with the person who knocked you out.” His voice is too gentle, too fond. He can’t make it stop. “If course I was going after you.”

Adam makes a strange, aborted motion with his hand, and it takes a second before Kenny realizes he’s reaching for him. “I thought you hated me,” Adam murmurs. When did he get so close?

“No,” Kenny says. “Never.”

Kenny doesn’t want to admit that he’s the one who moves first. The one who steps closer, the one who closes the space. It would feel too much like an apology, like he’s admitting he’s the one who did something wrong. But they’re close, and Kenny can smell whatever hotel soap Adam used, and he can feel wisps of Adam’s curly hair brush against his face and, well, who could blame him? He tilts his head, just enough, and their noses brush. He wants Adam to know he could pull away. He wants Adam to stay right here.

“We shouldn’t,” Adam breathes, and Kenny feels it more than hears it. “It’s been so long.”

Kenny moves to leave, but then there’s a hand on his waist and Adam is pulling him in. “I’m down the hall,” he says breathing ragged, “if you want me-“

“I always want you,” Kenny says, and it’s stolen from somewhere deep inside him, dragged from a place he didn’t know existed.

Adam closes the final space, kissing Kenny. It’s familiar and foreign, home and a cheap motel. It’s all Kenny’s wanted and everything he’s tried to run from for nearly two years.

They stumble over each other, Adam’s water bottle banging into his hip at every step, until they reach a door down the hallway.

It strikes Kenny, briefly, that they never would have run into each other had the Bucks just let him stay on his floor, three below.

Adam won’t let go of his waist as he pulls out the card, turning them and pressing Kenny against the door as he swipes it. When he pushes the door open, he pushes a leg between Kenny’s legs, and grins against his lips.

“Always easy for me, aren’t you,” he murmurs, and Kenny’s too dazed to respond. He tilts his head again, desperate for those lips.

They stumble over to the bed, and Kenny pushes Adam down, looming over him for just a second before crawling over him and straddling his hips, pressing their bodies together against the sheets, like they’ve done so many times before. Adam’s making little pleased noises as Kenny’s hands yank up the hoodie, getting his hands all over his body. There’s scars Kenny doesn’t recognize.

“I want you,” Adam whines, “I’ve wanted you for so long.”

Kenny murmurs something in assent against Adam’s forehead, and then kisses gently down to his cheekbone, to his jaw, gentle touches.

“’M not gonna break,” Adam says, arching up against Kenny.

“You did, though,” Kenny says, and he pulls away enough to be able to look Adam in those deep, blue eyes. “You – you have no idea what it was like to see you, on the ground.” He tries to reign in the agony in his chest. “I was,” he pauses, trying to get it together, “Adam, I thought you were gone.”

“Hey,” Adam says, and he reaches a hand up to Kenny’s face, “I’m right here.” He takes Kenny’s hand, presses it to his jaw, harder than Kenny would have done. “I’m okay. Not even bruised anymore. Nothing broken.”

“Your head, though,” Kenny says. “I could – I…” He realizes there’s guilt here, so much guilt, and he can’t hold it back. “Adam, did I make this possible?”

“What? No!” Adam grabs Kenny’s face in his hands. “You didn’t do this. This was a fluke, Kenny. Hey,” he says, when Kenny closes his eyes. “You, you did hurt me. In, god, so many ways. But you weren’t responsible for this.” He touches at his jaw. “This wasn’t you.”

Kenny forces himself to nod, but can’t find words. He kisses Adam again, deep and relentless and weighed with all the mistakes and heartaches and love in their past. Adam’s hands ruck up his shirt, and Kenny pulls away just enough to get it off over his head. Adam’s fingers stutter over his shoulder.

“This where they did the surgery?” he murmurs, still against Kenny’s lips.

“Uhuh,” Kenny says, kissing down Adam’s neck. “All fixed, though.”

The words fail them for the next couple minutes as they get more frantic, more desperate, as their clothes scatter across the room in favor of miles of skin their mouths have traveled a million times. Kenny gets his hand between the two of them, and the sigh that comes out of Adam’s mouth when Kenny gets his hand around him could have been a prayer.

“Please,” Adam whines, hips twitching up, cock moving in the circle of Kenny’s hand. “Wanna feel you.”

“’Kay,” Kenny says, and he lines up against him. The way the heads of their cocks catch against each other, the way Adam reaches down to pull with him, it’s more than Kenny can bear. He moves his hand and then slides down the bed, mouth on Adam before Adam can even react.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” Adam moans, and Kenny swallows him down, getting as much of him in his mouth as he can and it’s like riding a bike. Kenny wraps his hands around Adam’s hips, encouraging him to push into Kenny’s mouth, move a little rougher. “Don’t wanna hurt you,” Adam says, a little desperate.

Kenny pulls off, just long enough to say, “You won’t.”

Adam’s response is a garbled mess of Kenny’s name and whines, and he allows himself gentle thrusts as Kenny covers him, mouth and hand. The movements are shallow and soft, and Kenny would encourage more, but he’s worried it’ll scare Adam off. And that’s the last thing Kenny wants.

Adam’s hand is resting gently on the back of Kenny’s hair, playing with his curls almost absentmindedly, like he always used to. “So good,” Adam says, voice barely more than a whimper, “so good at this.”

Kenny laughs around him, pulling back slightly to grin up at him. Adam drops his head back on the pillow with a breathy, “Fucking hell.”

Adam hasn’t changed a bit. The words he babbles, the noises he makes, the way he moves his legs around while Kenny works. It breaks Kenny’s heart, just a little, because it means they could have been doing this the whole time, and it’s his fault, it’s Kenny’s fault, he didn’t.

“Close,” Adam gasps, “baby, I’m close.”

Hearing Adam call him baby again is all it takes for Kenny to keep up the work, and the way Adam says his name when he comes is reward enough. He swallows it down, not moving until Adam pushes at him with his foot, just like he always used to do.

“C’mere,” Adam says, hands grabbing at Kenny’s shoulders and practically hauling him back up. Kenny’s only now realizing he’s painfully hard as he collapses onto Adam’s chest, as Adam sits up to kiss him, almost too hard. Their teeth clack together a little bit, and Kenny laughs.

“Eager,” he says.

“Yeah,” Adam agrees, “flip over. I gotta do you.” He pulls away, eyes pleading. “Please?”

“Yeah, totally, why the hell would I say no?” Kenny flips onto his back, cock straining up against his belly, and he’s realizing now just how desperate he is for this.

Adam wastes no time, diving onto Kenny’s cock like it’s air and he’s a drowning man. Kenny can already tell this won’t last long, but he’s desperate to hold onto it, to keep this going as long as possible. He doesn’t know what will happen when all of this is over.

“You’re pretty like this,” Kenny says, voice barely a whisper, “forgot how pretty you are like this.”

Adam tilts his head just a little, so the head of Kenny’s cock bumps against the top of his mouth, and winks at Kenny with a smile in his eyes.

“God damnit,” Kenny laughs, collapsing back on the bed. “You’re – you’re such a little shit. I love you.”

Adam freezes, then pops off of Kenny’s dick. “What?”

Kenny processes it. “Oh, fuck.”

“You love me?” Adam asks. “Since – since when?!” There’s panic in his eyes, even as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“No, please, I don’t want to…” Kenny feels desperate with it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

Adam shakes his head. “I just – of all the times to say it. You fucking asshole.” He dives back toward Kenny, kissing him with an open mouth and fire. “You have to know,” he growls against Kenny’s lips, “you have to know I’ve always loved you. I’ve just waited for you to say it first.”

This is too much and not enough all at once for Kenny, who just today hadn’t thought about Adam in months, who just today remembered how powerful a hold this man had on him. But he started it, didn’t he? “I love you,” he finds himself saying against Adam’s lips, “I love you.”

Adam gets a hand between them and frantically slides it along Kenny’s cock, still spit slick from earlier. It takes seconds before Kenny is coming between the two of them, coating Adam’s hand and both of their bellies. “Adam,” he moans, and it’s the only word he really knows, isn’t it.

They’re silent, unmoving for a few moments, Adam slumped on top of Kenny. Kenny’s mind is far too clear, and he finds himself desperate for a distraction, some sort of fog.

Slowly, Adam pushes himself up, hands on either side of Kenny’s arms. “So,” he says, because he always needs to talk it out, “what is this?”

Kenny, inexplicably, finds himself laughing. “The best goddamn day of my life, that’s all I know.”

Adam laughs, ducking his head, curls framing his face. “Yeah, pretty good for me, too.” He looks at Kenny. “Seriously, though. What…” He trails off. “What does this mean?”

He won’t move his eyes from Kenny’s, locked in, trying to know what Kenny’s thinking without a single word. He’s always been good at that.

Kenny opens his mouth to speak.

That’s when the phone goes off. The song is strangely familiar.

“I’m sorry,” Kenny says, pushing himself up so he’s sitting, “is that Dolly Parton?”

“She’s an icon and a philanthropist and the artist of a generation,” Adam replies, and he winces when he sees the screen. “Oh, we’re fucked.” He turns the phone to Kenny. It’s Matt Jackson’s photo.

“Real fucked,” Kenny says.

With a long suffering sigh, Adam answers the phone. Matt is immediately screaming. “Page! Where is he? What have you done to Kenny!?”

“That’s a rather personal question,” Adam says, almost automatically, and Kenny lets out a bark of a laugh.

“What – are you two together?” Matt asks. He sounds mildly hysterical. “What the – it’s two in the morning, I wake up, and he – where are you?”

Kenny shakes his head frantically but, Adam caves. “We’re in room 409.”

The phone goes dark.

“Oh, now you’ve done it,” Kenny says, flopping back onto the bedsheets. “They’ll be here in three, two, o-“

That’s when the banging on the door begins. “Open the door, Page!”

Kenny, who is painfully away they are both still naked, shakes his head again. “Dude. This is not a good idea.”

“And them calling the cops on me because they think I’m torturing you in here?” Adam asks, chucking Kenny’s shorts at him and pulling on his own sweatpants. “Worse.”

Kenny doesn’t move as Adam pulls open the door. “Hi, guys.”

“Where is he?” Matt says, pushing past Adam, and then he freezes when he sees Kenny, stretched out on the bed. “Oh, for the love of God, not again.”

Kenny waves at him. “Hi.”

Matt and Nick, like a cartoon, look between Kenny and Adam, lingering on Kenny’s chest. He looks down. There’s a handful of hickeys. Great. Adam’s neck is covered in them too.

“Oh, for the love of God,” Matt says again. He sounds a little dazed. “Not again.”

Nick moves to sit, but freezes. “I – is there anywhere you two haven’t been naked in this room? I need to sit down.”

“Chair,” Adam says. He points to the cramped office area.

Nick sits down hard. “Is this – are – why?” He drops his head into his hands. “Guys.”

“Honestly, this is your fault,” Kenny says, sitting against the headboard. He crosses his legs, getting comfortable.

“How?” Matt deadpans, arms crossed as he leans against the wall. “How is this possibly our fault?”

“If I’d been on my own floor, I never would have run into him,” Kenny says. “So, like. Your fault.” He points to Nick. “Both of you.”

“I hate the two of you so much,” Matt groans, “so much.”

#Kenny Omega #Hangman Adam Page #Adam Page #in which Sara writes #aew #wtf i like wrestling now???#Kenny Omega x Adam Page #Ooohhhh my god this one happened involuntarily

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j-graysonlibrary · 3 months

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Heartbeats; Paradise VI

Title: Heartbeats; Paradise

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 112K

Genres: Psychological thriller, drama, sci-fi, LGBT+

Available on: Kobo and my website

Synopsis: Melvin Hardy and Kade Axel appear to be a match made in heaven. After a meet-cute in the rain, the two quickly find themselves in a burgeoning, wholesome relationship.

Yet, things feel…off. It isn’t the ghosts of their pasts that resurface to test the strength of their partnership—no—it’s something nebulous. Something indescribable. Melvin can’t put his finger on it but, the more time he spends with Kade, the more he starts to wonder what’s real and what’s pure fiction.

VI:

The move into my apartment is a lot more complicated than either of us expects it to be. Taking from Oz’s apartment what he needs as well as the heaps of his conspiracy material was supposed to be a quick, painless switch. We decided that, since my place is cleaner and I’m, all around, a little more comfortable working there, that it was best to pack up and go.

But Oswald’s boards and stacks of papers are stronger in number than I anticipate.

We have to make several trips with my car to take it all. Mostly, it’s the large cork boards that take up too much space in my trunk.

“I think that’s everything,” I huff as I roll in the last board into my living room.

Oswald walks in behind me with his arms full of binders and loose pages. He looks around at the disorganized mess I now have in my home and he nods tersely.

“Time to try and collect everything with some sense of cohesion.”

“Any clue where to start?” I ask and rest my hands on my hips. “I’ll help you.”

I can hope Oz has a method to his madness but I’m not yet convinced. I can see some connection between the large boards on wheels—the strings at least connect so they can be reassembled in a puzzle like fashion.

“It’s probably best you stick to those,” Oz says when I touch the nearest board; “I’ll focus on categorizing the papers and books I have.”

With a nod, I continue but I do, occasionally, glance over at him as I roll the boards around. After a few moments I decide to ask, “So, what kind of books do you have?”

I can’t imagine our specific scenario has been written about before—at least not in any helpful way. I’m not even sure what our scenario is, to be honest.

Oz holds up a small paperback. “This one is about different possibilities about the true nature of the universe.”

“Is that where some of your theories came from?”

“A few—or at least it helped me fill in the gaps with preexisting theories.”

I finish arranging the boards, making sure they are in the correct order and also out of the way and not blocking us into the room.

“Yeah?” I walk over to him and kneel at his side. “Like what?”

He reaches his hand out, pointing past me “Hand me that one, would you?”

I grab the book he’s gesturing to and pass it over. The cover reads: In A Simulation. I suspect he’s going to elaborate and I catch myself holding my breath.

As he takes it from me, he shakes it a little. “There are a lot of great insights in this one though I don’t buy everything in it…”

“It was the theory you were the most comfortable with before, right?” That and the Kade theory, I add mentally. Though, at this point, I feel like that can finally be ruled out.

“More or less.” Oz cracks it open to a random page and I lean over his shoulder. The text is still too small for me to read, however. He flips through a few pages before landing where he wants. “Here we are. ‘As we progress as a society in avenues such as technical programming and computer graphics we have to stop and think if we’re the only beings out there capable of such a thing. If we can make photorealistic imagery out of code then what is to say we, ourselves, are not code?’”

I frown a little, instinctively. “I’m not sure I get it. Because we can make simulations, that means we are one?”

To be fair, us living in a simulation would make the most sense given what’s happened but I simply don’t follow the logic presented in the book. But, then again, maybe I’m missing something.

“That’s the thing,” Oswald says as he turns closer toward me, “We aren’t in the reality who uses this framing—we are the simulation they’ve created.”

I blink a couple of times but I can’t respond. Is he saying what I think he’s saying?

“This world we’re in is a recreation of the ‘real world’ and maybe the people in it are copies of ‘real people’ too—I haven’t decided that far into it but!” He holds his hands out as he explains, “Our world is wrong. You and I have both noticed that it isn’t convincing or…whole. The people in these books all point to the creation of lifelike simulations as their proof—not that their world feels fake. They also claim that, while their technology is impressive, they have yet to make a reality that is fully and infallibly immersive. There are always differences, even small ones, that make it obvious to those in the real world that the simulation is fake.”

It’s beginning to sink in. “So…that sounds like our world…”

“Precisely!” Oz smiles despite how frightening his words actually are. He’s probably so caught up in the euphoria of figuring things out that he’s blind to what’s been revealed in doing so.

Our reality being fake—us being stuck in a simulation is bad enough but now the idea that there is a bigger, real world outside of us that’s responsible for our existence is…I can’t even think about it without getting lightheaded. I’m terrified by what is actually out there and what the real world might look and feel like. And, when I think on it too hard, I start to get angry too.

If this is true then someone did this to us. On purpose. While I had already considered that with the presence of “her”, this theory really cements it.

We could very well just be someone’s playthings.

“That woman in our head who watched us and controlled us…do you think she’s made this place?” I ask after a beat of silence. My head is still spinning but I manage to focus enough to carry on conversation.

“It makes the most sense, I’d say.” Oz nods. “We can assume she is from the real world, that she created this world, and she created us. She made this entire storyline we were supposed to follow though I doubt she intended for us to gain our own sentience.”

“Well that’s what happens when you play God,” I snap but then quickly calm down. I take a deep breath and sigh out my exhale. “Sorry for yelling…”

He smiles and shakes his head, letting me know he’s not bothered by it. “It’s alright. I’m pissed too—assuming this is the truth of things.”

“There’s still room for error?” I guess.

“Always.” Oz chuckles under his breath. “It’s just the most likely answer at this point.”

“Especially now that she’s gone. Everyone is acting like a computer program left running on autopilot.” Though there had been instances of it before, it’s inescapable now. I chew on my lip as I consider how to word my next question. It’s something that’s been on my mind a lot since the blackout. “Why do you think it’s just us and so few others who are conscious here?”

Oswald doesn’t answer me right away and scratches his chin as if it’ll help him think. It’s unlikely he’s not considered it yet because I’m sure he’s considered everything at this point. This just tells me he doesn’t have an answer he’s confident in.

Finally, he speaks, “Could be one of two things. One, we are A.I. just like everyone else but more advanced. Potentially, because of our major character status.”

“Kade would have been the first to break free then,” I argue, “I’d go out on a limb and say that, if this is a simulated story, Kade’s the main character. He’d have the best A.I., right?”

Oz tilts his head to the side and half shrugs. “Possibly. But his program could be more closely monitored because he’s the main character.”

It’s possible but it definitely feels like just speculation. “Okay, what’s the other option you mentioned?”

He sighs, sounding even less sure of this one. “This is all a simulation but…what if real people—as in, their souls—can get…sucked in, for lack of a better term?”

“So we…died and got yanked into a fake world?” My brow furrows as I try to reverse engineer that one to see where he got it from. I have no luck. I’m kind of baffled, honestly.

“Just hear me out,” Oz carries on in spite of my confused face or, maybe, because of it, “We can tell something is wrong about this place. It feels incorrect to us, right?”

“…Yeah,” I agree, still not sure where he’s going with this.

“Would A.I. that’s been invented for this purpose feel that way?”

His deep brown eyes stare into me and I stare back. I…don’t think I have a rebuttal to that. It actually does make sense in that light and I fight for words.

Oz goes on, “Even advanced A.I. would probably just adjust to the environment or break the programming itself so…I think it makes more sense that we actually are real and just weren’t supposed to end up here.”

I honestly don’t know if that’s better or worse than learning I’m an A.I. I don’t know which I prefer.

Oswald takes my silence as if I need further convincing. He reaches over the pile in front of him and grabs another book. This one is about computer programming.

“This was a bit of a chore to get through but I haven’t had much else to do this past month,” he snickers a little before saying, “In this book, there is a section about building programs on top of each other and how to code when multiple different programs are linked.”

“This might be above me, Oz,” I warn with a crooked smile.

“Just bear with me,” he responds with a reassuring grin. “Basically, this says you can’t have programs that aren’t compatible running together. So anything that’s hyper advanced can’t connect with something that’s just…standard or below. But then, of course, there are emulators for old programs but only for certain tech.”

I raise one eyebrow, showing that he’s lost me already.

Oz readjusts himself and tries again. “Think of an old video game. You don’t have the original system to play it on so you emulate it and play it on your fancy new computer. THAT works but the scale is small and the technology isn’t too far off. Plus, it’s working in reverse of our situation.”

I’m still not there but I trust he’ll break it down more.

“We would be the old video game in this scenario and our world would be the new computer. But, our world is actually older than we are—less advanced in this case—so that would be like trying to play a new game on an old console. It doesn’t work. It shouldn’t work yet here we are.”

“Okay…” I take it slow as I hope to parse it out correctly. My head already aches from the surplus of information. “So what you’re saying is that our A.I. has to be the same as the people lifelessly walking around or else this program wouldn’t function?”

“Basically, yes.”

I nod. “And so we have to be more than just A.I. because there aren’t other options.”

“Unless we really are advanced and our creator managed this feat of technology.”

It feels like we’ve talked ourselves into a circle—I’m tired. Though I can’t deny that the idea that we’re souls trapped in this simulation is starting to grow on me (though not necessarily in a good way). I keep coming back to it and I think about those strange dreams I’ve had for the past two nights.

In those, I don’t feel like I’m in a lifeless world at all. I may not have seen much of the outside in them (save a few glimpses out a window in passing) but there is a distinct difference in the air.

“What is it?” Oz asks me and shakes my shoulder.

I must have zoned out. “Oh, I was just…thinking of something.”

He blinks and leans closer. “What? Have you come up with a new theory?”

“Not particularly…” I do wonder if knowledge of my dreams would help in any way. I can’t see how but I also do feel inclined to share. Maybe I can’t make a connection but Oz is far smarter than I am. If there is importance to these scenes, he’d be the one to figure it out.

“Something bugging you?”

I glance down to the floor. A lot of the papers are still scattered about but it doesn’t look nearly as bad as it did when we first brought everything in. If I were to get more binders and folders, I might even be able to make it look nice.

“Melvin,” Oz calls out.

I jump and then meet his eyes. “Yeah, sorry…I’m not sure how to tell you. It’s a bit strange.”

“All of this is strange. I think I can take it,” he assures me with a lopsided smile.

That’s fair, I think. So I nod and start to recount the dreams, making sure to include every detail that I can. There hasn’t been much in terms of actual substance, I realize. Really, it’s just been a couple of scenes cut out from a normal, average existence. There is no drama, especially, in any of the events I describe and I find myself relaying, mostly, my feelings on the scenes.

When it comes down to it, it’s the way the dreams make me feel that’s the most important part. If I was simply seeing these random moments every time my head hit the pillow at night that would be strange, sure, but if I had felt apathetic toward those dreams, I probably wouldn’t be giving them a second thought. It’s the lingering emotion that’s really getting to me; it’s the incessant nagging feeling in the back of my mind that won’t allow me to just forget about it.

Oswald, of course, sits and listens patiently though I can tell he’s having a hard time understanding how any of it fits into our conversation. But he doesn’t interrupt me and he doesn’t reprimand me for bringing up something off topic once I’m done.

“I wonder what that’s about…” he mumbles.

I shrug. “I have no idea. I’ve never had dreams like this before…or dreams at all, I don’t think.”

Oz scratches his beard in thought again. “Well, I can’t say whether this relates to our situation or not but…” As he trails off, he catches my eye and smiles. “Let me know if you have another one. There’s no reason for you to be bogged down and confused by these dreams all alone.”

I can’t fight the grin that tugs at my lips. I’m glad I shared everything now—even if it doesn’t help us any.

#heartbeats paradise #my novel #my writing

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canvasspeedsite · 2 years

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Donkey kong country 2 hd

Some integrated graphics chips work but it depends on the model (and only with DirectX 9). Skyward Sword Dolphin 1080p 60 Fps Pcl 25 Octobre 2019 skyward sword dolphin, skyward sword dolphin download, skyward sword dolphin android, skyward sword dolphin The Dolphin core's library name is 'Dolphin' TODO/FIXME. Playing a game in Dolphin instead of the GameCube or Wii can make a huge difference in visual quality.

Nintendo Life found an amazing video that showed footage of Ocarina of Time 3D in 4K at 60 frames per second.

In this page some Dolphin Configurations are explained. The CPU clock override is REQUIRED for the game to actually maintain 60 FPS. This makes the game look and run smoother than the original.

Super Mario Sunshine reaches 60fps with new Dolphin hacks.As emulating specific hardware is not easy, there are always games that use specific fe Given this, there isn’t really much reason to limit the fps in dolphin emulator. Disabeling VSync, waiting for the Estimated Screen Framerate to go back to 60 Hz again and re-enabling VSync solves this issue as described in my 1st post.The current standard for consoles is around 60 FPS, with some games clocking in at only 30 FPS. after altering all of my settings i managed to get and maintain 60 fps. The game runs smoother and cleaner when compared to other emulators for gaming. The Dolphin Emulator Wiki needs your help! Dolphin can play thousands of games, and changes are happening all the time. In Dolphin, low FPS issues may be solved by tweaking graphical settings. two dolphins in a blue water - dolphin stock pictures, royalty-free photos & images.

Dolphin, the popular GameCube and Wii emulator, now includes an integrated Game Boy Advance.

About Press Copyright Contact us Creators Advertise Developers Terms Privacy Policy & Safety How YouTube works Test new features Press Copyright Contact us Creators shows 60 and the number of frames dropped is 0 or very minimal. But fans have skirted around this lock via the Dolphin emulator, which runs GameCube and Wii titles on PC. About Press Copyright Contact us Creators Advertise Developers Terms Privacy Policy & Safety How YouTube works Test new features Press Copyright Contact us Creators 6,824 Best 4k 60fps Free Video Clip Downloads from the Videezy community. Now extract the dolphin emulator (setting and save data) file. This particular YouTuber Brian Tate uploaded footage running from the Citra emulator, which takes Dolphin being (in many ways) a better way to play Sonic Colors than Sonic Colors Ultimate has motivated me to mess around with Dolphin texture packs. top 10 gamecube games,nitendo gamecube, . a) Go to View > Statistic under Media Player Classic (or press Ctrl+4). Dolphin 60 fps Screenshots showing what it is supposed to look like from either console or older builds of Dolphin will help too.

#Donkey kong country 2 hd

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greatestvillianinthegalaxy · 2 years

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Things to Do Before You Sell Your Junk Car

If you're thinking to sell your junk car or clunker car, there are a few things you should do first. For starters, get an estimate of the car's value from a reliable appraisal service. Once you have that number, start planning out how and when you want to sell the car.

Get an estimate of what your car is worth

To junk my car for cash there are a few things you can do to get an estimate of what your car is worth. You can either contact a certified appraisal company or go online and use a car value estimator. The estimator will take into account the make, model, and year of your car, as well as the condition it is in.

Remove your personal property from the car

1. Remove any personal property from the car that you don't need or want. This includes items like seats, consoles, and storage areas.

2. Remove any loose parts from the car, including the wheels and tires.

3. Wash the car inside and out using a mild detergent if it's possible. Use a hose if necessary to remove all the dirt and debris.

4. Vacuum the car clean using a powerful vacuum cleaner with a crevice tool attachment. Be sure to go under the seats and in between the carpets.

5. Locate and remove any odors or smells that may be present in the car. Use an air freshener or scented candles if necessary.

6. Prepare your paperwork by organizing everything into piles according to what needs to be filed with the state or locality where you live or work: title, registration, proof of insurance, etc.

7. Remove any stickers or labels from the car that may have to identify information about it (make sure to keep these for later).

8. Cover the car with plastic wrap if possible so that it doesn't get scratched or damaged during transport.

9. Towel dry the car before packing it up and taking it to your car wash.

Sell your junk car online

Before you sell your junk car online, there are a few things you should do to make the process as smooth and easy as possible. By following these steps, you'll be able to get the best deal on your car and avoid any potential hassles or surprises.

1. Get an estimate.

Before selling your car, it's important to have an accurate estimate of what it's worth. This can be done by checking online classifieds or contacting local dealerships. Be sure to include information such as the make, model, year, and condition of the car.

2. Prepare the car for sale.

If your car is in good condition, it may not need much preparation before being sold. However, if the car has been damaged in some way, you'll need to take specific steps to make it look better on the market. This includes cleaning any exterior scratches or dents and fixing any broken lights or windows.

3. Upload pictures of the car for sale.

Once you have an estimate of your car's value, it's time to take photos of it for use on online listings and auction websites. Make sure to include clear shots of the inside and outside of the car, as well as any equipment or accessories that are included.

4. Set a sale date and time.

Once you have all of the photos and information ready, it's time to set a date and time for the sale. This will give potential buyers a time frame in which to make an offer.

5. Start the auction.

Once the sale date has passed, it's time to start the auction process by posting the car online and reaching out to potential buyers. Be sure to include detailed information about the car, including its condition and estimated value. Keep in mind that auctions can be competitive, so be prepared to offer a high price for your car.

Sell your junk car in person

If you're considering selling your junk car, there are a few things you should do beforehand.

First, make sure the car is in good condition.

Second, find a buyer who is interested in buying the car.

And finally, prepare the car for sale.

Here are some tips to get started:

1) Make sure the car is in good condition. If the car has mechanical issues or major cosmetic damage, it will not be sold.

2) Find a buyer who is interested in buying the car. If you have a lot of junk cars to sell, it may be easier to find buyers who attend car auctions or swap meets.

3) Prepare the car for sale. Remove any personal items from the car and clean them up if necessary. Make sure the car is parked in a visible area so that potential buyers can see it easily.

Use a junk car removal service

Before you sell your junk car, it's important to make sure that the car is taken care of. One option is to use a junk car removal service. These companies will take care of everything from getting the car towed away to being crushed for scrap. This is a great way to get your car out of your life and on to the next one in a safe and professional manner.

Conclusion

Before you sell your old, junk car, there are a few things you should do to make the process as smooth and painless as possible. Here are four tips for getting the most out of your junk car sale:

1. Clean It Out - Start by cleaning out the inside and outside of the car. This will help reduce the amount of time and money you spend fixing it up later on.

2. Get Pre-Approved - If you're looking to get a quick sale, it's important to get pre-approved for a cash offer from a certified buyer. This will put less pressure on you during negotiations and speed up the process.

3. Prepare Your Vehicle - Make sure all of its mechanical parts are in working order before hitting the market so that potential buyers know that it's worth their time to look at your car.

4. Price It Right - Don’t overprice your vehicle just because you want to get top dollar; instead, set a reasonable price that reflects both its condition and mileage.

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no-1-partyanthem · 2 years

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happy birthday AM album here are some thoughts i've had about it over the years

For me, AM tells a story of learning to be vulnerable, and it does it so flawlessly. You get all these sneaky question songs (DIWK, RUM, WYOCMWYH) which are all steeped in many layers of indirection--- DIWK isn’t asking “how do you feel?” it’s “I’m so hung up on you i’m losing my mind but I can’t bring myself to ask you the question because I’m scared of what you’ll say either way”; RUM isn’t the narrator asking the object of his affection “Are you mine?” the lyric is “All I want to hear her say is, ‘Are you mine?’” as in, “I want to play the game just right so that she has to ask me how I feel rather than the other way around so I don’t have to be the one to start that conversation.”

Then you’ve got “One For The Road” in which the central question is: “I’ve been wondering whether later when you tell everybody to go will you pour me one for the road?” which is just the narrator trying to manifest her asking him to stay after everyone else leaves.

“Arabella” and “I Want It All” are less question centered, but IWIA is important to contrast with IWBY — the former is saying he wants “blind faith, heartache, mind games, mistakes” and her “sweet rigamarole,” he wants this cat and mouse game they’re playing, while IWBY is saying he wants every single mundane moment of hers; he wants to be at her mercy; he’s learned to be completely vulnerable with her.

“No. 1 Party Anthem” is an infinitely interesting song to me, from the title (their first hit was a literal number one party anthem... idk what it means but i think about it a lot) to the imagery (leather jacket collar popped like antennae...sunglasses indoors...lights in the floor and sweat on the walls... and so on and so on) to the vocal delivery (especially on the bridge) it’s just so rich. In terms of the vulnerability theme, for me it’s an inverse and opposite reaction to the complicated feelings he has with the main object of his affections — he’s going out to find a one night stand to take his mind off the whole thing; he’s retreating into this cool guy persona to avoid being emotionally vulnerable.

The back half of the album represents more growth than the first half, with “Mad Sounds” as a little intermission between the two. “Fireside” is honestly the one I have the hardest time with but the general gist is pretty straight forward: I still love you deeply, deeply. In a lot of ways it’s calling back to DIWK — “All these secrets I can’t keep” is a progression from “How many secrets can you keep?” and then there’s “I just cannot manage to make it through the day without thinking of you lately” which is basically the whole plot of DIWK. Except this song comes across as a lot more tender, a lot less slick and cool.

WYOCMWYH is a clear progression of more directness, more open communication, as the story goes on, if only on her end. “Snap Out of It” is even more direct, but there are still levels of obfuscation. I think of it as saying, “Hey that guy’s all wrong for you but like i’m not going to do anything about it.” Which is getting a lot closer to a real romantic confession but not quite there yet.

And then you’ve got “Knee Socks” which is mostly just very slinky memories of what this relationship used to be, but there is one moment of vulnerability: “You and me could have been a team.” Wanting to be a team is a lot more sincere than wanting mind games and mistakes.

And then, of course, all the sexy, slinky, tough guy imagery melts away in IWBY in possibly the least sexy opening line possible: “I wanna be your vacuum cleaner.” This song puts the narrator completely at the mercy of his love and puts all the power in her hands; he says he wants to be hers because he’s giving up control. He doesn’t want “4 in some velvet morning” or a “helter skelter ‘round her little finger” or any of the alcohol-soaked antics of the rest of the album; he wants the utterly unsexy, completely mundane moments of a life together. Her vacuum cleaner, her car, her coffee pot, her heater. Secrets come back again on the closing track, and he’s giving them up completely: “Secrets I have held in my heart are harder to hide than I thought. Maybe I just wanna be yours.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

One day in the middle of summer 2019, I got a song stuck in my head. Well, it was less of a song and more of a fragment, a shard, half a line. It was, “crawling back to you.” That’s it. Over and over and over, my last two brain cells screamed those four words at each other.

I had no idea why it was stuck in my head, what song it was from, who sang it, or even what decade the song was released. For some reason I briefly thought it was maybe a Black Keys song. Sifting through their discography was a dead end, and I resigned myself to never knowing what song had burrowed itself into my poor little brain.

That is, until a Hozier video popped up in my YouTube recommended. He’d changed the key of the song he was covering, so I didn’t recognize it right away, but then he got to the chorus. “Crawling back to you,” he sang, and it was like lightning zinging down my spine.

He was covering “Do I Wanna Know?” by some band called Arctic Monkeys. I knew nothing about them, and I still had no idea how that song had gotten stuck in my head, but at least I knew what it was now.

That moment ended up changing my life.

Looking up “Do I Wanna Know?” on Spotify slowly snowballed into me listening to the AM album every single day for months, and then diving into all their other albums, and then branching out into other rock and rock-adjacent music, and then picking up the guitar to learn the “Do I Wanna Know?” riff.

I’ve watched and enjoyed other artists playing guitar for my whole life, but it was the Arctic Monkeys and rock music that made me need to pick up a guitar, that gave me the motivation to go from guitar admirer to guitar player.

That switch happened in 2020, which was also one of the darkest years of my life. It had been a downward spiral of a year since February, but things took a sharp turn for the worse when I lost my job in September. After that, I mostly just slept all day. There were many, many days where I did not want to shower or eat or get dressed or get out of bed.

But I always wanted to play guitar.

With the weight of my beat-up old Yamaha in my lap, things seemed a little less bleak. It was a way of communing with the music that meant so much to me — it was no longer enough to just listen to it. Earbuds were not close enough. Until they figure out a way for me to drink music or to inject it directly into my veins, the only way to get the music into my body was to learn to play it. So that’s what I did.

After around ten months of practicing that old acoustic for an hour every day, my 24th birthday rolled around. That night, my parents presented me with my very own Squire Stratocaster, and I cried. To me, an electric guitar is power. An electric guitar is joy. And staring power and joy in the face after feeling helpless and hopeless for a whole year moved me to tears.

Keep in mind, though, that none of this is to say I’m any good at guitar. I struggle with my barre chords, and every riff I know is clunky and stuttering in my tiny hands. But I am so looking forward to sticking around long enough to improve.

That’s not something I would have said in September 2020, and you can trace that seismic shift in mindset all the way back to a song getting randomly stuck in my head almost two years ago. I still have no idea what sparked it, and at this point I have no choice but to believe it was some kind of divine intervention.

I’m forever grateful.

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advicerlaara · 2 years

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How to Fade Your Beard, According to Experts

Your barber is probably better at beard shaping than a do-it-yourself cut. One of the most important reasons is that, whether you ask for it or not, a professional beard trim nearly usually includes a beard fade. “You can’t leave a barbershop without your sideburns faded; a hard-line looks like a half-cut, so everyone blends the top of the beard or the sideburns,” says Mark Marrero, owner of Blurry Fades Barbershop in Lake Worth, FL.

Even the most skilled home beard trimmer, however, is unlikely to consider fading their beard. It’s a more sophisticated move than simply trimming your beard with a trimmer and calling it a day. However, mastering this subtle art can quickly make any beard look more appealing and put together, regardless of length. Yes, with a little practice, you can do it yourself.

♦️ What Exactly Is A Beard Fade? A beard fade is the same concept as a head fade but applied to your face. It’s a gradual transition from longer to shorter hair that creates a smooth length transition. “A person’s beard may be faded in a few different ways,” says barber Josh Periera, proprietor of Title City Barbers in Boston, MA. “You can do the sideburns and fade under the neck as well as the cheeks,” says the stylist. A fade occurs when a firm line is present and you want to soften it to give a more natural look rather than a defined line.

♦ ️How to Fade Your Beard in 5 Easy Steps

1️⃣ Gather your equipment You’ll need the necessary tools to try a beard fade, which includes a beard trimmer with adjustable length combs. You may have seen your barber use a hair clipper without guards, but keep in mind that he’s a pro, so don’t do a DIY fade without them. In this situation, length guards are your best friend, and before you start cutting, lay them out in number order on your sink or counter so you can simply identify the proper length as you go. Aside from the clipper, you’ll probably want to have a beard comb on hand to keep things tidy.

2️⃣Start by cleaning up. You must first establish a baseline before attempting to fade a beard. This entails following your normal beard-trimming routine (if you have one). If you don’t have one, Marrero recommends starting with a nice wash and then detangling it using a beard comb. “Comb it in a downward direction, following the growth trend of your hair,” he advises. “If you use the comb to go up, you’ll be pulling the hair out instead of laying it down, which will make it difficult to run the clipper through.” This leads us to the following stage, which is to create a single length. Trim the entire beard with your clipper to the desired overall length.f you’re not sure what length you want, start with the longest comb and work your way down until you reach the length you want. To attain the most consistent length, Marrero recommends cutting against the grain and working upward. After you’ve finished trimming, comb it down again.

3️⃣ Arrange It After you’ve trimmed your beard to a uniform length, define your lines, particularly the neck and cheek lines. Congratulations if you’ve been doing this while your beard grows out — all you have to do now is make them crisp. If you’re starting from scratch, Marrero suggests trimming the neckline with your trimmer’s bare blade (no comb) or a dedicated outliner, which will give you a cleaner line. “Pull your head up, hold the trimmer inverted (pointing down), and start immediately above Adam’s apple,” he explains. Shave anything below the line that connects the middle of your neck to your ears on either side using the clipper. Then work your way up to the cheeks. “Use your mouth corners as a guideline and follow your natural cheek line all the way up to your sideburns,” Marrero suggests. Everything over that line should be shaved. Follow with a clean shave gel and a razor to ensure there are no stray hairs or stubble on the neck and cheeks for extra-crisp lines.

4️⃣Get Your Beard Ready to Fade You’re ready to fade now that your beard is trimmed and your lines are tight. This is where the rest of the guards enter. When it comes to fading your beard, the golden rule is to start high and fade low (as in guard numbers). “The most common mistake I see men make when fading their beards is starting with the lowest guard first,” explains Periera. “Then, when they try to merge, they just keep going lower and lower,” says the author. This is how you should go about it.

♦️ How to Make a Neckline That Fades A fading neckline looks more natural than a firm line and visually blends the beard into the skin. Begin by subtracting one guard from your entire beard length; for example, if your beard is a three, you’ll need a two. Raise your chin to reveal your neckline. Periera recommends using your finger as a measuring tool. Place your finger on the line and shave just an inch or so of hair with the two guards. Place the clipper blades up against your chin and cut the length of your neckline with a scooping motion. “Scooping does not leave a hard line and blends in well,” says the author. he declares Switch your guard to a one once you’ve sliced the entire length of the line. Gently flick the clipper along the hair-to-skin line, but not as far as you did with the two. According to Periera, “you simply kiss the bottom of the line” with the clipper. Use the same method to create a gradual, natural-looking fade throughout the whole neckline.

♦️ How to Fade Your Beard’s Sides Working your way down from the highest to the lowest guard while fading the sides of your beard, notably the sideburns, follows the same idea. Grab your two if your beard is a three. Periera recommends starting from the center of the ear and flicking upward to clip everything above that line. Cut against the grain in an upward motion, using the same scooping technique you did on your neck. After that, go over the same area again, but this time with the trimmer pointing down (with the grain). “You don’t want a hard line, so sliding downwards gives the beard a nice mix,” he explains. Then move the guard to the next lowest position. In this example, a number one, then flick it upward a little above where you began with the last guard. To smooth the line even further, use the same upward/downward technique.

Once you’ve perfected the sideburn fade, you can reduce the fade’s beginning point if desired. By keeping the sides of your beard tight and most of the volume toward your jawline, fading your beard downward, near the bottom of your ears, you may help make your face seem longer and slimmer. You may also freehand a side fade if your beard is too long to utilize guards, as Periera points out. Pick or comb the hair on the sides outward, then cut in a diagonal line from the broadest portion of your beard to the ears with scissors or your trimmer.

♦️ How to Make Your Cheeks Disappear Creating a modest fade on your cheeks, similar to fading your neckline, will give your beard a natural appearance rather than a clean line across your face. The same high guard too low guard principle applies, but you should always cut with the grain on the cheeks (in the direction the hair is growing). According to Periera, cutting across the grain results in a more dramatic fading, which is too harsh for the cheeks. “It’s the most natural-looking approach to obtain a clean fade,” he explains.

5️⃣ Preserve Your Fade The last aspect of beard fading is maintaining its freshness. Bear in mind that facial hair grows quicker than the hair on your head, so although your haircut may only require trimming every month or so, your beard will necessitate more maintenance. Periera recommends trimming your beard (and fading it) “every two days” to keep it fresh and to make the fading process smoother. “If you stay much longer, you’ll forget where you started.” You won’t have to start from the beginning each time. Also, keep in mind that practice makes perfect.

♦️ What’s the Point of Fading Your Beard? Okay, but why go through the trouble of fading your own beard? Because a fade may add a little something more to your beard. “With a fading beard, anyone can look fantastic,” Periera adds. “It looks amazing on the beard for any texture of hair, much like a fade on a haircut.” Another reason barbers often fade beards, and why you should consider it as well, is that when done correctly, it may instantly make a beard more pleasing to your face — which is why you wear a beard, right? “It might make your face appear smaller,” Marrero explains. “For example, if a man is heavier set, Sculpting their beard into a box shape will make their face appear longer.”

Fading your own beard is more difficult than having your barber do it for you, but if you can’t afford a professional beard trim, you can learn how to do it yourself. And, like with anything else, practice makes perfect. “If you keep doing what you’re doing, you’ll only grow better and better,” Periera adds. You’ll have it down in no time if you follow these guidelines.

♦️♦️♦️ Recommended Productions for the Beard Man ♦️♦️♦️

01.Home Doctor Hand-Book for all 02.Primal Grow Pro — Top Male Enhancement Solution 03.Dominate The Male Enhancement Niche Today with Aizen Power 04.The Ultimate Neckline Beard Shaping Template — Beard Trimmer Tool — Lineup Stencil Kit (White) 05.The Ultimate Beard/Hair Lineup (US Patent) — Beard Stencil Guide Template Outliner 05.Beard Shaping and Haircut Tool Kit, 07.AMULISS Professional Mens Hair Clippers 08.Beard Kit for Men Grooming & Care W/Beard Wash/Shampoo,2 Packs Beard Growth Oil,Beard Balm Leave-in Conditioner,Beard Comb,Beard Brush,Beard Scissor 100% Pure & Organic Beard Growth Kit 09.Isner Mile Beard Kit for Men, Grooming & Trimming Tool Complete Set with Shampoo Wash, Beard Care Growth Oil, Balm, Brush, Comb, Scissors & Storage Bag, Perfect Gifts for Him Man Dad Father Boyfriend 10. Soonsell Hair Clippers for Men T-Blade Trimmer Set 11. 8 Pcs The Family Of Hair Comb set for men's hair & Beard 12. Beard Comb for Men 13. 8 Pieces Handmade Wooden Beard Comb for Men 14. Gillette Mach3 Razors for Men, 1 Gillette Razor, 4 Razor Blade Refills 15. Electric Shaver Razor for Men Rechargeable 16. SATINIOR 3 Pieces Waterproof Salon Apron

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bts-weverse-trans · 4 years

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201127 Weverse Magazine ‘BE’ Comeback Interview - Jungkook

Jung Kook: “I hope this feeling never fades” BTS BE comeback interview 2020.11.27

I had a chance to interview BTS before, when they debuted. During that interview, Jung Kook had one small habit; when I met him again a while later, he had corrected it. He makes a conscious effort to change himself. And after seven years, I met Jung Kook again.

You directed the music video for “Life Goes On,” BE’s title song. Jung Kook: I was really eager to direct the music video from the outset. My plan was to organize the synopsis, discuss it with the music video director I was working with, shoot and edit them, but we were short on time. So I worked on it while sharing ideas with the director. Originally there were a lot of scenes with lip synching in them, but we took some of them out and put in more scenes that conveyed the members’ emotions better. It wasn’t easy to combine scenes, but I think now I know more about how much of everything is needed when shooting a music video.

You had shot the Golden Closet Films and uploaded them to the BTS YouTube channel, and now you shot a music video. Jung Kook: Once we were on location, we had directions for everything we needed to shoot prepared in advance, so I took candid shots of the members here and there with a camera during the shoot. We were filming in a beautiful place so when they asked me to take pictures of them as they wanted to be presented, I did.

What kind of pictures did you take of yourself? Jung Kook: I was just, in them. (laughs) I’m not in the shot for the Golden Closet Films either. I kind of take a back seat. The director had to shoot my parts for the music video, since I couldn’t film myself, so I relaxed a bit. I tried to make the other members look really good when I recorded them. Since this was a BTS music video and not my own, I wanted to show what was happening with every member and the team, not just one individual’s thoughts. Each person who watches the video might feel different, but I wanted to show that we feel what other people feel, that we’re in the same situation.

You get your picture taken a lot, but you don’t pay much attention to the ones you’re in. Jung Kook: I never really liked having my picture taken. (laughs) And I’m usually with the others when we’re working, obviously, but it’s hard to take a camera and take selfies. So I take pictures and videos of the other members every chance I get.

Do you still find it difficult to have your picture taken? Jung Kook: I put my best face forward when it’s for something I have to do, like for photo books, but it’s still not easy. Videos are okay, though. And even though I’m not nervous at all when I sing in front of tens of thousands of people, if I have to sing or talk in front of a small group, I get super nervous. I never feel that way on stage, but maybe I have a hard time doing things that are a little bit awkward for me.

It seems like you draw a distinction between work you enjoy and work you find difficult. Jung Kook: Work related to music, like recording, composing, writing lyrics, filming music videos and things like that, are all fine. But anything outside of that is probably a challenge for me.

On BE, you each explained your feelings about work in the song “Dis-ease.” You must have experienced a cycle of enjoyable and difficult work over seven years, so how did you get through the hard times? Jung Kook: I actually understand my own problems well, so most of the time it’s okay. I can figure things out one at a time through experience instead of just looking for answers. I’m always growing and my personality changes, depending on my environment. I think I’ve learned to do things I used to find difficult by experiencing it little by little.

Speaking of growth, “Skit” was very memorable. You recorded it the day after “Dynamite” reached number one on the Billboard Hot 100 chart and you, who talked about what you did before you became trainees in “Skit” in your debut album,talked about being first place on the Billboard Hot 100 this time around. Jung Kook: When I was a trainee, I saw the older members rapping and thought, “Wow, they’re so cool!” But now, after having spent everyday together, I’ve forgotten about all that. (laughs) Sometimes I see the lyrics they wrote, see them dancing and hearing the things they say on stage, and think, “Oh, right. That is the kind of person they are. They’re a lot different now.” You know how you don’t feel it when you live with your family, but if you can’t see them for a long time, you miss them. You might even cry. We’re a real family. Like, legit! (laughs)

Your “legit family” (laughs) each put their own songs on BE and came up with units spontaneously. What was it like making the album that way? Jung Kook: We talked with the company over the outline of the album and organized our ideas together. That was our process for making songs. Then we’d listen to them together, and if we thought they weren’t great, we’d go back and work on them some more. The members would get together and say, “Hey, how about so and so do a unit song this time?” or, “What should it be about?” and share a lot of ideas that way.

How did the others respond to your song, “Stay”? Jung Kook: That song was originally meant to be on my mixtape. We planned to put a different song on the album, but after V heard it, he said, “This song that Jung Kook wrote is really good,” and then the other members all listened, said it was better than the other one, and somehow (laughs) “Stay” made it into the album. The message for the other song was also, “Even though we’re far apart, stay just where you are.” I wrote my song with the same theme so I loved that it was included in BE. At first, I wanted to talk about how we’re always together, using the English word “wherever.” I wanted to express how we’re always together no matter where we are, but Namjoon heard that and said “Stay” might be better. I liked his suggestion, so I changed it. He really helped me to organize my thoughts, since I’m not always good at writing everything I want to express.

One might go as far as to say the lyrics sound heartbreaking, but it’s arranged in EDM. Jung Kook: We imagined we were performing for the fans while we made it, jumping up and down with them.

It sounds like you really miss your fans. Jung Kook: This album really hit us in a different way, with this situation being what it is. Because the world is struggling with COVID-19, we have to keep our heads up and convey our messages to our fans.

What can your fans expect from you when you finally meet again? Jung Kook: There’s nothing specific, but when I watched our old performances, my facial expressions were awkward and my dance moves weren’t always perfect. I keep working to improve myself, so I hope when the fans see me, they think my performance is amazing and that my aura fills the stage.

Are you happy with how you look in your latest work? Jung Kook: I’m not 100% satisfied, no. When we did performances for “Dynamite” recently I kept seeing my imperfections.

Your acting in the intro to your “Dynamite” performance was really impressive. Even in COVID-19 times, you captured a feeling of liveliness and being cool, as though to explain what the song is all about. Jung Kook: Actually, on the first day of filming the music video, I was supposed to film my parts first, but I was so bad that it had to be pushed to the end of the shoot. So,I was a bit more relaxed when the camera rolled.

So that’s what you get when you’re relaxed! (laughs) Jung Kook: Yes, I relaxed, and something went “pop!” and “boom!” inside me, and then I did it however I wanted. (laughs)

It’s fascinating how someone who performs the way you do during stadium tours can feel nervous while filming and yet still do so well in it. Jung Kook: I can be a shy person. When people used to ask me to sing, I couldn’t always do it—like in front of adults or teachers. And I’m still a bit like that. If I start thinking, “Oh, I can’t do this,” then I really end up not being able to do it. Even when I could have done well.

Why do you think that is? Jung Kook: I feel the same way about my dancing and my singing, and I can’t compose a really amazing melody either. I feel like I’m always somewhere in the middle. But then I also think I have my own colors, so I like to quietly, slowly open up to people, and let them know what kind of person I am. Yeah, something like that. (laughs)

But, when you review your songs and performances objectively, you see all of your changes, don’t you? Jung Kook: There’s a lot of change. My voice has changed a lot; I grew taller and my frame and facial structure have changed, too. I could tell how awkward I looked at the beginning, but after a while, I think, “My gestures look better now, but I feel like my dance is too rigid.” And again after a while, “Now my dance is fine and my gestures are good, but I’m making awkward facial expressions.” And later, I say, “Now I got the facial expressions down, but, hmm, there’s no killer move.” (laughs) That’s how I slowly changed. And then my actions, thoughts, dreams, goals, what I value, what I want to do—all these things will change depending on the situation.

You had some changes in BE, too. Throughout “Life Goes On,” you lightly carry your voice and tone throughout the whole song, like they’re flowing. Jung Kook: Right. I think that’s very important. My general feeling was my voice should be woven into the song, rather than bringing out my individual voice. The lyrics say the world stopped, but I can’t keep on being sad, and life continues and flows on. I wanted to mix a little bit of my own colors into that complex, subtle sadness. I listened to how the other members recorded their parts for the song, and I sang while thinking about how I could do it in a way that it would all blend together well. I kept changing my voice exploring how to make it sound better, cleaner. I kept trying new things while I was recording, performing, and practicing.

When you look back after all that change, don’t you feel like you accomplished a lot? Jung Kook: I don’t really pay attention to things that have already happened. I think more about what it is I need right now, so I rarely think, “I got a lot better from how I used to be,” or, “I did a good job.”

You sound insatiable, in a good way. Jung Kook: Yes. This is how I want to keep living, and I hope this feeling never fades.

You’ve found immense success with BTS. What makes you want to keep doing more and keep improving yourself? Jung Kook: I want to show people who I am: how I talk, how I act, how I sing, and so on. And after that, I want to be acknowledged for doing what I like to do, and for people to see what an amazing guy I am. I want to do these things step by step. I want to be appreciated as Jung Kook, as the real me.

What do you think is the source of that energy—the energy to keep proving yourself, even though you’ve already achieved so much with BTS? Jung Kook: I think my heart’s telling me to. BTS was able to climb this high thanks to the group members, the company and our fans. But there’s always the question of whether I could receive that kind of recognition by myself, so I have this feeling of wanting to throw myself at some challenge alone. There’s a lot I want to do, and a lot I want to achieve.

By gradually improving yourself, what kind of person would you ideally want to become? Jung Kook: A person who’s crazy awesome in their field. (laughs) Those kinds of people look cool even when they do something different. I still have a long way to go. I feel like I could be more captivating and draw more out of people by improving any number of things, by trying hard to be confident about my singing, or the way I dance and perform. BTS is way more important and meaningful to me than I am to myself, so I’m not saying I want to do anything alone. But I hope I get to the point where I can perform alone for three or four hours in a venue full of people.

It’s clear that your job, music, is very important to you. Jung Kook: I must never let it go. That’s what I always think. I have to keep it close to me, even if I get bored, or I don’t want to hear it, or it feels like a hassle. I want to keep on making music. It may be a long ways down the road, but I want to prove myself with my music.

You said before that your MBTI is ISFP, so I looked it up. Obviously, MBTI can’t sum up a person perfectly, but it says ISFPs tend to be “curious artists.” Your answer reminds me of that. Jung Kook: That sounds about right. I looked up the personality traits for ISFP too, and it was interesting. (laughs)

Maybe that’s the reason you set your goals so high. You seem like you have high standards and want to keep growing. Jung Kook: It’s like a foggy mountain top. (laughs) I can’t even see it yet.

You’ve been climbing for seven years, staying curious. Is there anything you want to say to the people who have been watching you all this time? Jung Kook: Umm … Well, there are seven of us, and the seven of us keep running ahead. So it’s possible we could get tired, one by one, and drop out, right? But if more people join us, one by one, and run with us, we can support each other and pull each other up if someone falls down. That’s kind of how I feel. There are people who supported us from the beginning who have been watching us the whole time since, and because of them our follower count keeps going up, and they all keep us on track. So the only thing I can say is—thank you. We were nothing special, really (laughs) but they keep on liking us and supporting us, and the best way we can repay them is to give them our all through our music and our performances. They push me to work hard, even on things I find difficult. (laughs) I’m eternally grateful.

Just like in the last line of “Stay.” Jung Kook: “We are together.”

Trans © Weverse

#bangtan #jungkook #weverse #weverse magazine #be album #comeback interview #201127 #2020

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hb-writes · 3 years

Text

Tidy Sums

Summary: Sophie Mason (OC) was John Shelby’s first friend and his first kiss. They’d never been in love, not in the way he’d been in love with Martha. Their relationship wasn’t quite so tidy, but that had never stopped them from loving one another in their own way and finding their own happiness in the mayhem.

Characters: John Shelby and Sophie (OC)

Warnings: canon-content, mention of a sexual relationship, kissing/ touching.

If Sophie was being honest, and honest was something she usually was, the problem was quite simple.

The numbers no longer made sense.

They hadn't for some time now, the figures blurring together with the lines meant to keep each transaction separate, the columns and neat symbols representing the company's wins and losses jumbled in her mind although the tidy sums were somehow still accumulating on the bottom of every page.

Sophie had been working with the betting shop's books for years now, more familiar with the content of the ledgers than she was with any other book she’d come across—the bible or the latest popular novel she’d taken out from the central library. She supposed the only other pages she knew as well as the ledgers were those of the children’s book John’s kids begged after anytime she sat for them, refusing sleep until they heard a tale from the old, worn tome that was so well-loved it was missing the cover page. Sophie could probably recite the story from memory, but she had no ideas about its proper title, not with the kids referring to it exclusively as “daddy’s story.”

Sophie had worked for the Shelby family in a somewhat official capacity since leaving school almost a decade earlier, but she had had her nose in their books for longer than that, ever since Polly realized the girl had a penchant for numbers. And it was Sophie who encouraged John to get involved with this side of the business when they were only fourteen, convincing him easily enough that the pair of them could get up to the same amount of fun in the betting shop as they got up to out on the lane. It was Sophie who had known, despite what his school records had to say on the matter, that John Shelby was good with numbers.

But numbers were cleaner, less bloody, less exciting, and certainly more mentally taxing than playing at peaky boy, or at least mentally taxing in a different way. They had to generate their own sources of amusement within the walls of the betting shop. She and John had always been good at sourcing their own amusement though.

Sophie sat back from the books, taking a moment to rub her eyes with the heels of her palms. It was late. Scudboat and the twins had already gone, and John had locked her in when he went home to check on his lot, saying he’d be back to let her out and lock up once he got his kids down for the night.

That was their routine these days. She’d spend an extra couple of hours each night with the books while John stole an extra couple of hours with his kids before putting them down for bed and coming back to number six to wrap things up for the night.

She startled a bit when John’s hands found her arms, his rough palms pinching and rubbing against the delicate fabric of her shirt. She settled as the warmth of his hands came through her thin sleeves and sunk into her skin, finally leaning her head back to rest against his stomach, tilting her eyes up to him briefly as the left side of her mouth pulled up.

“Devils went down early tonight,” she said.

He’d been gone for less than an hour. It was usually twice that before he made his way back and his return was usually accompanied with some sort of complaint about the kids’ behavior, about their refusal to go to sleep or eat the dinner he made them, something Sophie was always quick to remind him was simple coded behavior for them wanting more time with their father and being uncertain of a better way to go about it.

“Finn’s on devil duty for the night.” John shrugged. “Says he’s saving up for something, so he’s eager for the pocket money.”

Sophie hummed, tilting her head back down to the books as she picked up her pen once more. “A little devil put on devil duty,” she mused. “I’m sure that will turn out well.”

“I think you’ll find most of us Shelbys are devils,” John said.

“I don’t...” she started, pausing both her hand and her mouth as John’s fingers traveled up her arm, fingertips slipping across the smooth skin of her exposed collarbone and then her neck as he pushed her hair aside.

She tried again. “I don’t intend...”

Sophie gulped, stilling for a moment as John’s lips found her neck. A deep breath came from her in a nearly involuntary capacity and her shoulders relaxed back. She was overcome by his slow focus, overcome by the simple way John could tease her. Despite his leisurely wandering, they both knew he was venturing towards the one spot he knew could have her entirely undone, have her forgetting her words and how to properly breathe, obliterating from memory the notion of responsibility and the company books entirely.

“Don’t intend to what?” John mumbled the words against her skin as she tilted her head, exposing her neck as his fingers wound in her hair.

“Fuck,” she breathed as his lips found her earlobe, his warm breath melting any remaining resolve as her back arched away from the chair.

“No, John, stop.”

John released her from his lips, straightening his back, and turning her face to his with the hand still entwined in her hair, the guidance gentle yet resolute.

“You really want me to stop?”

Her skin burned hot and her breaths had started to come a bit quicker, more shallow and less gratifying in meeting her need for air, her need for calm and control and the mysterious power she knew a steady cadence of breaths could hold. Sophie forced herself to deepen her inhale and pause before the exhale, forced herself to calm her racing heart and quell the more instinctual desire stirring inside of her, willing her mind and body to focus...on anything other than John.

“I want,” she started after a barely sufficient cycle of inhales and exhales, reaching up to wrap her hand around John’s forearm, “for you to let me finish these ledgers so your aunt doesn’t issue me a death warrant.”

John sighed and rolled his eyes at the protest but removed his hand from her hair at the gentle nudge.

“Or a boot. Or a smack upside the head,” Sophie continued, pulling a hair comb from her desk drawer and initiating some attempt at getting the hair out of her face, “or whatever retribution it is she’s offering us these days.”

“Pol won’t come after you like that,” John said.

“She’s done it before.”

“That woman hit you once, almost fifteen years ago, and we both deserved it that day. Scared the shit out of her playing in the Cut like that.” John rocked on the balls of his feet for a moment, thinking on the whiskey and cigars tucked away in his office before deciding to forgo both vices for now. “Anyway, we’re not kids anymore.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Pretty sure Aunt Polly smacked you upside the head just last week.”

“Well, that’s me, not you,” he said. “She’s got a soft spot for you.”

“All the more reason not to chance it, then. One go around with her was more than enough for me,” she answered, finally succeeding at securing the bulk of her hair up, the loose bits falling back into her face just a few seconds after she tucked them away.

John laughed as he moved to sit against the desk, crossing his arms across his chest. “Well, what if—”

“No, John. No what-ifs…What-ifs and…” Sophie glanced up at him, regretting it even before she met his mischievous eyes, lamenting the decision as soon as she caught sight of his lips, swollen and reddened from his previous endeavors. “What-ifs and that fucking smirk are what made me fall behind to begin with.”

John chuckled. “You’re behind because you like doing me more than you like doing the books.”

She sat back in her chair, arms folding across her chest as she looked at John, his body shaking slightly with the laughter he only half-heartedly tried to contain. “You think so?”

“Seems like it. You were very diligent back when you were stepping out with that dim bloke. The one with the sweaty hands?”

Sophie leaned forward just an inch and John held up a hand. “Now, don’t you go smacking me, too. You can’t dispute it because you told me yourself.”

“This has nothing to do with Phillip’s sweaty hands,” she said, smirking back at John. “Maybe I’m behind because my boss is a hard ass who has put too much on my plate and not enough on theirs?”

John nodded like he was considering her words. “You know, I wouldn’t let Aunt Pol hear you speaking ill of her like that if I was you.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “I'm talking about you and you know it. I’m here late every night and you leave early every day to go home to those kids.”

John shrugged. “If you don’t want to be here every night with the books, you’re more than welcome to go mother my lot and make us dinner.”

She frowned as he said it, sighing as his playful demeanor didn’t quite stick, the note of his words far too hopeful and desperate and longing.

“I don’t want to be a mother, John,” she said. “And you know I’m a shit cook.”

Sophie had made that much clear to him over the last year, both the bit about the mothering and the bit about the cooking. She was good with the kids, and would gladly watch them for a few hours or so when he needed, but she had no desire to raise a hoard of children, or even one child. Not someone else’s, and not one of her own either. She had other aspirations and they didn’t involve being tied to a home and a child, or even to a man.

“I’m perfectly content being an almost auntie. I’m good with children so long as they go back to their parents when all is said and done.”

“And the cooking?”

“You really want me cooking for you?”

“No, you’re right. You’re rubbish in a kitchen,” he said before picking up the tube of lipstick set on her desk. “You’re their favorite auntie though,” John continued, fidgeting with the tube as he spoke. The thing went unused nearly every day now that she was working late, passing the bulk of her evenings at the shop with John instead of out at a pub or dance hall, but the thing still sat on her desk just in case, a gentle reminder of the types of nights she used to have.

“They’re always fucking asking after you,” he said.

Sophie pulled her eyes away from his hands to observe his face. “Well, they take after their father then because you can’t seem to get enough of me either.”

Sophie pushed some strands of hair from her face, only causing more to come loose from the hair comb. She pulled the whole thing out and began twisting her tresses up again as she continued speaking. “Constantly bothering me… keeping me from my work… never ending nonsense and devilment.”

John snorted and pushed himself off the desk, taking the hair from her hands.

“What are you doing?”

Sophie turned towards him and John planted his hands on her shoulders, twisting her so she faced away from him once again.

“Fixing your hair so you can focus on your work, so do us both a favor and sit still,” he said, combing his fingers through her hair to release the knots, the nails of his fingers grazing her scalp as he swept the hair back from her face.

“That’s not going to help me focus on my work,” she muttered as he began weaving her hair, the ritual a calming one, nostalgic even, reminding her of her youth, reminding her of when she had someone to plait her hair. Sophie hadn’t worn a braid in years. She was skilled at braiding other people’s hair, but she had never learned how to manage her own.

“No?” John asked. “You’ve got two free hands and two working eyes while I’m doing this. No reason you can’t be adding and subtracting right now.”

She shook her head and John tugged the strands between his fingers tight, eliciting a howl as she reached her hand back.

“What the hell?”

“Sit still,” John said, smiling into the words as he continued with his work.

“Don’t pull my fucking hair.”

He pulled the strands tight once again, laughter spilling from his lips before she even had a chance to react.

“I told you to sit still. You’re worse than Katie. Never have to tug on her braid more than once to get her to settle.”

Sophie huffed but followed his directive, knowing there was less than a minute left of John’s undertaking, and knowing he would have no qualms about tugging her hair again.

“Remember how we said we’d get married if we both weren’t married by the time one of us turned twenty-five?”

A part of Sophie wanted to look at him, wanted to turn her head and meet his eye, to see what kind of expression graced his face while he brought up the pact from almost fifteen years ago, a silly agreement made between two kids who knew absolutely nothing of life, but John had told her to sit still, so while she felt his hands still winding in her hair, she did just that.

“You’re turning twenty-five next month,” he said, finally tying off the braid. John stepped to the side, resuming his seat on her desk.

“You’re very good at that,” she commented.

“Good at what?”

She pulled the braid over her shoulder, admiring its neatness. “The braid. You’ve gotten good. You used to be quite abysmal with it.”

“You taught me well, I guess.” John rolled his eyes. “You had more patience with me than Martha did.”

“Well, could you really blame her? You were a horrible student, all fumbling hands and that fucking cheeky mouth running the whole time for no good reason.”

John smiled. “And you’ve gotten quite good at that,” he said.

“Good at what?” she asked.

“Changing the fucking subject.”

She sighed as she dropped the braid and looked at him. “We’re not getting married, John. Not because of some silly pact and not because your kids need a mother.”

“What if it’s because we like each other?” he asked, tugging her up to stand between his legs. “What if it’s because we love each other, eh?”

She chewed on her bottom lip and looked away, fighting only a bit when his hand caught her chin and tilted it towards his face.

“You do love me, don’t you?”

“You know I do,” she said, “but not like you’re asking. And you don’t love me like that either.”

“Love is love.”

She shook her head. “We love like friends.”

“Friends love like this?” John glanced down and Sophie’s eyes followed his gaze to see how their bodies were wrapped up together. Her hand had settled on his thigh, his on her hip, with both of their fingers idly caressing clothing seams while they were each thinking of caressing the skin beneath.

“Attraction and romantic love are different things, John.”

Sophie was always saying it, and he liked to argue with her even though he knew it was at least a bit true. John knew they were friends who happened to be physically attracted to one another, and maybe, if he’d never fallen in love with Martha, or maybe if he’d never had kids, or if Sophie had not gotten so close with Martha in the years he’d been away, things could be different, but as it was, Sophie was right and John knew it. Because he didn’t feel about her the same way he’d felt about Martha and she didn’t feel that way about him either.

Their relationship was a combination of friendly care and sexual attraction and the type of love that came from knowing someone for as long as it was possible to know another person who wasn’t truly family, but there wasn’t a true bit of romantic desire between them.

“And I don’t want to be what you need your woman to be. You and the kids deserve someone who wants that life.”

“And what happens when I find someone who wants that life?”

“What always happens,” she said with a shrug, “we stop this and I catch up on the books.”

“Is that what you want?”

Sophie was telling the truth, but she hesitated anyway. This was the longest stretch they’d done this, the longest stretch during which she’d not bothered with dates, and if nothing else, it was habit now, their ritual. It was a comfort. But if John found someone he wanted to settle down with, Sophie knew they’d put a stop to things, same as they’d done all those years ago when he fell in love with Martha and same as they’d done earlier this year when she’d decided to go on a few dates with Harvey Johnson or a few months later when she’d agreed to see Phillip Miller a few times.

It hadn’t bothered Sophie when he was with Martha, and though John had teased her about the men she’d chosen to step out with over the last year, he hadn’t seemed too bothered by it either, more concerned with expressing what he’d do to the men if she came out of it hurt. Sophie knew from experience they could simply stop.

Stop the flirting.

Stop the kissing and the sex and the nonsensical talk of being anything more than friends.

They could stop with the rest of it and still be friends.

John wrapped his hand around Sophie’s braid, giving it a small tug to pull her attention back to him.

“Quit pulling my fucking hair.”

“It’s the only thing that ever makes you listen,” he said, tightening his hold a bit. “And I know you like it.”

“And the only thing that ever makes you listen—”

John caught her hand before she could reach high enough to smack him upside the head. “I’m listening. Answer the question.”

“I already told you what I want,” she said, nodding towards the open ledger beside him. “To spare myself a lecture, hell, probably two lectures if Polly decides to let Tom know we’re behind, too. Your brother’s in a right fucking mood lately.”

“Is that what you want? The end of this?” John asked, glazing over her chastising him about pulling her hair and her concerns about lectures and the hand she’d raised to smack him upside the head.

Sophie shrugged, pulling her hand loose from his hold and absently rubbing at her wrist as she leaned against his leg.

“C’mon Soph, I’m being serious.”

She pushed her finger into the corner of John’s frowning mouth, forcing a half smile. “John Shelby doesn’t do serious.”

John moved her hand away from his face. “I’m doing serious right now.”

“Fine, John. I want to be happy. And I want you and the kids to be happy,” she said, turning towards him straight on and resting both hands on his thighs. “And someday that may mean you have someone to go home to, and those babies won’t be looked after by another baby, but for now, that means we do this whenever we can.

“I have to finish this work first though.”

Sophie kissed him on the cheek then, squeezing his thighs once before she moved to sit back down, but John caught her at the elbow, holding her there in front of him.

“What about you?”

She tried to pull out of his grasp, but John only gripped tighter and drew her closer.

Sophie rolled her eyes. “What about me?”

“I didn’t hear anything about getting you your happiness.”

“I’m plenty happy, John,” she said.

He raised an eyebrow.

“You want the truth?”

John nodded, his hands slipping down her arms to hold her hands. She sighed, looking down at their hands entwined there together.

The truth was Sophie was happy. The truth was she had always been happy with what they were and what they weren’t, content with the sum of things though it was by no means tidy like the lines of the ledger books they spent their days looking over.

“The truth is I think if you don’t let me finish these books I might not know happiness ever again,” she said, slipping her hands from his and stepping out from between his legs.

John pulled her back to him before she could slip into the chair though, reaching his arms around her body and wrapping his legs around hers, trapping her against him. “Well, if that’s the case, we’d better make sure you get your fill of happiness now then, eh?”

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders fanfiction #john shelby #john shelby fanfiction #john shelby x oc

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fyeah-bangtan7 · 4 years

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Jung Kook: “I hope this feeling never fades”

One might go as far as to say the lyrics sound heartbreaking, but it’s arranged in EDM. Jung Kook: We imagined we were performing for the fans while we made it, jumping up and down with them.

Are you happy with how you look in your latest work? Jung Kook: I’m not 100% satisfied, no. When we did performances for “Dynamite” recently I kept seeing my imperfections.

So that’s what you get when you’re relaxed! (laughs) Jung Kook: Yes, I relaxed, and something went “pop!” and “boom!” inside me, and then I did it however I wanted. (laughs)

You sound insatiable, in a good way. Jung Kook: Yes. This is how I want to keep living, and I hope this feeling never fades.

Maybe that’s the reason you set your goals so high. You seem like you have high standards and want to keep growing. Jung Kook: It’s like a foggy mountain top. (laughs) I can’t even see it yet.

Just like in the last line of “Stay.” Jung Kook: “We are together.”

#bangtan #jungkook #m:weverse magazine #o:interview #201127

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sailorbadger · 3 years

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Sometimes I get hit with these impulses that tell me to start a new crafting project, and a while back I for some reason thought it would be a good idea to try bookbinding (before this I had done it once almost 10 years ago). Since I own too many empty notebooks to begin with, I decided to bind a fanfic, and since none of my own fics are long enough, I chose to bind A Life Less Ordinary by @jadelotusflower (ff.net / Ao3). I was encouraged to share this project here so under the cut are more pictures and a lot of oversharing about why this project took me several weeks.

(don’t try this but here’s a drinking game: take a shot every time I mention a website, a program or just something going wrong)

I started out by choosing first the fic I wanted to bind. I had a few different options but went with this one because “it’s only 35 chapters so it won’t be that long”. (spoiler alert: it ended up being the longest one of my options) I used FanFiction Downloader to get the text as a pdf, because at the time I didn’t remember that this fic is also up on Ao3.

From the pdf I copied all the text to a Word-document. I had to do it chapter by chapter because the file was formatted in a way where it didn’t have any paragraph breaks. I had to edit them in manually, which is why this part of the project took over a week. (I later found out that if I had just gone on Ao3 and used the HTML-file the whole thing would have been a lot faster)

Instead of using a simple line break, I put in this leaf design, which I got from this website and used Inkscape to make a cleaner version. (Most of the images used on this project are from that same site.) Once I was done, I went in to edit the chapter titles. This was where Word decided that I did not need to see the last third of the file. Luckily I got the whole thing to open in LibreOffice so I could copy the text back to a new Word-file and avoid having to separate the paragraphs again.

Once I had finally done all the formatting and added the title and “copyright” pages, index, page numbers and summary plus done some math to figure out the right page count, I finally could print the whole thing. It sounds easy but it wasn’t.

I tried to print using one of the printers at my university, but I realized that neither of the printers in that building had enough paper for this (I think I needed 113 sheets of paper for this). I took half of the papers I found there and went to another building to find a third printer. This one didn’t have enough paper either. At this point I decided to just walk to the nearest store and buy the paper myself. (I returned the paper I “stole” when I was done.) Then as I was about two thirds of the way through printing, the printer decided to just stop and I had to edit the file to print out the rest of the pages.

Once I finally had all the pages, I started folding them into signatures, with 6 sheets (24 pages) in each one. After that I began the actual binding, using some of Sea Lemon’s tutorials. There was a lot of glue involved, and finally after many months of sitting on my desk the books for my thesis finally got to be useful by acting as a book press. I took a short visit to the local craft store to buy some more supplies and added in the cover pages and a bookmark (see picture above) plus headbands. I covered the actual covers in two layers of fabric because the fabric I wanted on the outside was quite thin. And to top it all off, I accidentally glued the covers on slightly crooked.

Below are more images on the details. I went with a nature-theme to go with the forest-vibes appropriate for the Robin Hood -theme.

This is what the title page looks like. The picture is from the same website I got the line break from.

On the left is what would normally be the copyright page. I decided to put in there the rating of the fic (along with a theme-appropriate symbol I found on Word), the link to the original fic, the word count, final update date and fandom. On the right page I added the summary of the fic. The forest image is from Unsplash; I again used Inkscape to crop it into a circle and make it into a simple vector image.

On the index page it’s very obvious that I forgot to change the font on all the page numbers.

Since the cover of the book is plain, I plan on making it a dust jacket. I tried to use GIMP and Inkscape to make it but in the end I found that LibreOffice Draw frustrated me the least at the moment. I already made the design, but the printing will have to wait until I find a place where I can easily print this in the right size for a reasonable price.

Anyway, thanks to @jadelotusflower for writing this fic. This project was fun to make because I got to learn a lot of new tricks.

#shoutout to the followers who have been here since my cosplaying days #I am once again making bad crafting posts #jadelotusflower #idk how to tag this??#my post #robin hood bbc #I guess so I can find this later??#not tagging this with any bookbinding tags #because I don't need any actually skilled people judging me

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writingblock101 · 4 years

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White Flag (Jason Todd x Reader)

I’ve never written for DC before, but I’m a big fan of the Robins, especially Red Hood and Nightwing. This is long, so I broke it into two parts. The title comes from White Flag by Bishop Briggs. Rough sex is cool and all but you know what else is cool? Laughing during sex. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk.

Summary: One night, while staking out the Joker who’s making moves in Gotham, you get captured.

Word count: 5,000

Warnings: Unprotected sex, violence

There are defining moments in one’s life: falling in love, getting married, graduating from college, having a child, but unfortunately, they aren’t always happy memories. You experienced your first defining moment when your brother was murdered.

Gotham was an infamously dangerous city, crawling with thugs, thieves, and criminals. Murders, rapes, and bombings were a common staple on the news, but despite the well-known danger, no one ever expects them or a loved one to be the next victim.

As you stood over the grave of your beloved older brother, your parents made plans to leave this forsaken, wretched city, but you knew you couldn’t leave. This city owned a piece of your soul and buried it six feet underground in a coffin. You stared at your brother's headstone and made a silent promise: You would do everything in your power to prevent this tragedy from happening to anyone else.

Your parents left years ago, but you stayed and finished your college degree. In the wake of your brother’s death and your parents' departure, you withdrew from everyone. Your world paused, stuck in one spot while the rest of the world, the real world, continued to move. Your friends graduated, your parents left Gotham, and your brother’s body decomposed in a pine box six feet under, leaving you as an empty husk of a person.

Then you discovered your powers.

Ironically, in one of your lowest moments, you discovered your ability to emit a blinding light from your whole body. The initial discovery was an accident that left you temporarily blind for two days, but then you learned control and slowly began to crawl your way out of the six-foot hole you dug yourself into.

You took fighting classes, graduated from college, and bought a gun. You had watched your life pass by for two years where you played an inactive role and passively watched murders, robberies, and rapes continue to plague the news, but now, you had a promise to keep.

The Lightning Strike was born.

Although the Lightning Strike filled your life with new purpose, it didn’t chase away your demons, but things got better after you met Jason.

You’d just finished loading your car with groceries and was going to return your cart when a thug snuck up behind you and held a knife to your throat.

“Give me your money, lady!” The man demanded.

You sighed with an eye roll but raised your hands in surrender. I should’ve just waited to go grocery shopping until the morning.

You grabbed his wrist, yanking the knife down and away from your throat, then stepped backwards and flung the thug over your shoulder. He slammed against the ground with a grunt then you pulled out your handgun, pointing it in the man’s face. His eyes widened at the sight of the gun and he froze in place.

“Fuck off,” You growled.

The thug nodded frantically and stumbled to his feet then sprinted away in the opposite direction.

“Well,” A voice interrupted. “I was going to offer to help, but you don’t seem like the damsel in distress type.”

You turned to see a handsome man smirking at you with dark hair, deep blue eyes, and tall broad shoulders wearing a worn leather jacket. You chuckled, clicking the safety on your gun.

“I always hated those stories as a kid, besides, there’s no such thing as damsels in distress in Gotham, only dead bodies.”

The man raised his eyebrows.

“You’re not wrong. It’s always nice to see when someone fights back.”

“I can’t let Batman have all the fun.”

He chuckled.

“That would certainly be a crime. I would hate for that Glock to get dusty.”

You raised your eyebrows, impressed.

“You a gun guy?”

He shrugs.

“I know my way around. What’s a pretty girl like you doing out late in Gotham?”

You glanced over at the grocery store with a smirk.

“Oh you know, doing what anybody else would be doing at a grocery store… Hunting for elephants.”

The man laughed with a shake of his head.

“I guess I set myself up for that one, didn’t I?”

You shrugged with a smile.

“A little bit, but you’re cute enough that I can let it slide.”

His eyebrows shot up at the compliment and another confident smirk crosses his face.

“Yeah? Well, I am cute enough to get your number?”

“I don’t know, I don’t usually give my number to random strangers in grocery store parking lots,” You trailed off with a coy smile.

“Stranger danger,” He agreed then held out his hand. “My name is Jason.”

“I’m Y/N,” You introduced, shaking his hand.

“Well, Y/N, now that we aren’t strangers, how about that number?”

You tossed your head back laughing, a blush crossing your face.

“Sure, Jason.”

Giving Jason your number was one of the best decisions you ever made. While your relationship isn’t perfect, you make it work. Jason helped you reform who you once were and you taught Jason he is worthy of love. It seemed almost like fate when you two discovered both of your shared “hobby”.

For a long time, you did the vigilante thing by yourself, then a close friend, Mia offered to join the operation as a second set of eyes from behind a computer screen. While the addition of Mia was nice, having Red Hood as an extra layer of protection set your mind at ease. Despite handling crime in Gotham with different methods, the other is always there to help in a pinch.

. . .

You wake up on Jason’s chest, morning light filtering through your curtains. You lift your head to check the time (9:45 am), then sighed and lay back on Jason’s chest. He shifts, his arm curling tighter around your back. Your thoughts drift to your mental list of errands to complete before either of you patrol tonight.

We definitely need more groceries, I’ve got to drop my mom’s birthday present off at the post office, and I need to pick up my dress and Jason’s suit from the dry cleaners… Maybe Jason can do that and drop the package off for me then I’ll get groceries. Ugh, our apartment is a wreck, we need to clean.

Jason’s arm flexes, pulling you closer to him as he takes a deep breath then opens his eyes with a groan. He looks down to see you lying awake on his chest and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Good morning,” You smile, tracing your fingers across Jason’s autopsy scar.

“Good morning,” He whispers back in his hoarse morning voice.

Jason catches your hand tracing across his scar and presses a kiss to the back of it.

“How long have you been up?” He asks, linking your fingers together and running his other hand up your spine.

“Not long, I was just thinking about what we need to do before going on patrol tonight.”

He hums in acknowledgment, trailing his hand under your shirt and kissing the top of your head. He tilts your chin up and kisses you softly.

“Is that my shirt?” Jason asks.

“Maybe,” You tease.

“Hm, looks good on you,” He whispers, and leans in for a long kiss.

You kiss back then Jason releases your hand to run his calloused hands up your thighs, pulling your body flush against his. You run your hands down his chest, your thumbs pressing into his pecks then one hand slides down his body and begins rubbing his morning wood, trapped in his boxers.

Jason groans into your mouth, his grip on your thighs tightening and his hips pressing into your hand. You smirk through the kiss then feels Jason’s tongue running along your lower lip. You open your mouth, deepening the kiss then Jason pulls you on top of him, your legs straddling his waist. His hands slip under your shirt, following the curves of your sides before finding your breasts and gently kneading them.

You pull your head back, your eyes closing with bliss and a soft sigh falls from your lips as Jason continues to rub your breasts, his fingers playing with your nipples. He uses one hand to guide your neck to his mouth and begins sucking a hickey on your soft skin. You sigh again, tangling your fingers into Jason’s thick hair and grinding your hips down on Jason.

He smirks against your neck, and slides his hands down to your hips, guiding your thrusts, breathy sighs falling from both your lips. You push back against him hard, the head of Jason’s dick brushing against your clit through the fabric of his boxers.

You sit up, bracing your hands on his chest and press against Jason harder. He groans, running his hands up your muscular thighs.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He asks.

You smile with a light blush, continuing to push down on Jason. Jason drags your hips against him, adding his own thrusts. One particularly hard thrust causes your body to jolt and you let out a breathy moan.

“Oh, Jay,” You breathe out.

He grins in satisfaction, pulling you down for a kiss.

“Absolutely gorgeous,” He mutters against your lips.

You giggle, kissing him deeply.

“Thank you, handsome.”

Jason’s eyebrows rise as a cocky smirk graces his features and you sit up again, continuing to roll your hips.

“Handsome, huh?” He asks, driving another hard thrust against you that causes both of your breaths to catch in your throats.

“You-you heard me,” You sigh, your voice stuttering.

“I don’t know about all that,” Jason trails off.

“Well, I do” You hum, laying on top of him and pressing kisses down Jason’s jawline. “I think you’re gorgeous,” You press a kiss to a scar on his eyebrow, staring into his pretty dark blue eyes.

“Thank you,” He whispers back, kissing you on the nose. “Let me up.”

You roll off him for a moment, allowing Jason to sit up with his back against the headboard and push the covers down to his knees, revealing his boxers before pulling you back onto his lap. You cradle his face then presses a long kiss against his lips. Jason’s hands slip under your shirt again, stroking your sides and breasts then drags a hand down your body, his fingers finding your clit.

You gasp into his mouth, bracing your hands on his shoulders and grinding against his hand as he rubbed small circles against the sensitive nub. Your hips twitch, pressing down hard against Jason who presses against you equally as hard.

“Fuck, Jay,” You moan, tossing your head back.

Jason takes the opportunity to suck another hickey onto your neck continuing to rub your clit then his hand slides down to your entrance, pushing a finger into you. He strokes your walls, just barely swirling his finger around.

“Mm, so wet, who got you like that, baby?” Jason asks into your neck.

“Some guy,” You smirk, sitting back to look Jason in the eye. “Really sexy.”

“Really?” Jason hums then leans in and drags his teeth down your earlobe. “Tell me about him,” He whispers then sits back with a cocky smirk.

“He’s got a jaw that could cut glass,” You run your finger down Jason’s sharp jaw. “And the body of a Greek god,” You press your hands against Jason’s chest. “The dark, brooding type, you know?”

Jason chuckles kissing you.

“You’re a dork,” He grins.

“And you’re my angsty teenager,” You boop him on the nose. “Did I mention he’s got a stubborn streak a mile--” Jason crooks his finger inside you, rubbing your G-Spot causing you to choke on your words and gasp loudly.

“What was that, princess?” Jason asks, kissing your jaw and adding another finger.

You moan, digging your nails into his shoulders.

“You seem to have choked on your words there,” He murmurs, speeding up his fingers.

You moan again, your eyes squeezing shut before Jason slows his fingers and pulls out.

“You’re an ass,” You breath, resting your forehead against his.

“And your ass,” Jason slides his hands to the back of your thighs to squeeze your ass. “Is spectacular.”

You grin.

“Must be all the jumping off buildings,” Your hands find Jason’s muscular thighs. “It’s probably where you got these bad boys.”

Jason chuckles.

“You know, I never expected you to have a thing for my thighs,” He admits.

“With thighs like these,” You squeeze his legs. “It’s hard not too.”

Jason grins then kisses you again.

“Sit up, baby,” He murmurs against your lips, helping pull you to your knees.

You comply, sitting up on your knees long enough for Jason to pull his boxers off, freeing his erection. He squeezes your thighs again and gives you a long kiss as he guides you down. You slowly sink down him, both of you gasping once you reach the base.

“Shit, baby,” He moans. “You feel amazing.”

You pant for a moment then Jason pushes up into you, causing your eyes to fly open and dig your nails into Jason’s shoulders. Your mouth falls open as Jason does it again, staring you in the eye, the eye contact turning you on more.

You push down on him, smirking when Jason’s mouth falls open, cursing quietly. He presses a searing kiss to your lips as he thrust into you again, you pushing down equally as hard.

“Fuck, Y/N,” He groans, bitting your shoulder.

You let out your own moan, bracing your hands on Jason’s shoulders and slowly bouncing. He pushes into you, the two of you working in slow tandem. One of Jason’s hands trails down your stomach, finding your clit again and rubbing slow circles on it. You curse, grinding down harder against Jason. Your hips jolt with each circle and your forehead rests against his shoulder as you continue grinding down against Jason.

“God, baby, you feel so fucking good, so tight.”

You lean back again, your movements getting shorter. Jason speeds up his fingers and thrust into you harder, knowing you’re getting close.

“Ah, fuck, Jason,” You moan, your hips moving in their own accord.

Then you pause, your nose itching. You stop, sinking all the way down on Jason again and pushes his hand away from your clit. Jason frowns.

“You okay?” He asks, running his hands up your sides.

You frown, your nose twitching and eyebrows furrowing.

“This is going to be an interesting sensation,” You comment, feeling your face scrunching up.

“What?” Jason asks then you sneeze into your elbow, causing your whole body to clench around Jason. “Holy shit!” He curses, digging his fingers into your sides.

He pants for a moment, leaning his forehead to rest against your shoulder, his fingers still digging into your skin.

“Sorry,” You giggle, running your fingers through Jason’s hair.

He takes another breath, loosening his grip on you then chuckles and leans against the headboard.

“Bless you, I guess.”

You giggle.

“Gotta say, that was a first,” You chuckle.

“Me too,” Jason agrees. “Holy shit. I almost busted my load. How lame would that have been?”

You grin, biting your lip.

“You’re sexy enough that I think I could let it slide.”

“Good to know my looks are good for something,” He rolls his eyes with a smile.

You grin.

“How’s that for keeping things interesting in the bedroom?”

Jason throws his head back laughing, smacking a hand against his forehead. He straightens up, still grinning.

“I don’t think there is anyone I could enjoy sex with more.”

You lean in and kiss him, long and sensually. Jason slides his tongue into your mouth again, pulling your hips forward. You moan into his mouth, rolling your hips again. His fingers found your clit, rubbing it again and the two of you found your rhythm one more.

Your kisses morphed into bumping teeth as you both grinned through your kisses then Jason catches your bottom lip, tugging on it playfully. He pulls your thighs up and thrusts into you at a new angle, brushing against you G-Spot causing your breath to hitch.

“Fuck, right there,” You breath, digging your nails into the back of his neck.

Jason complies, moving his lips to your neck, and thrusting at the same angle. You push down, feeling Jason’s fingers move faster on your clit as your organsm rapidly builds.

“I’m close,” You say, gasping again.

“Me too,” Jason groans against your neck.

He pulls back from your neck and pulls you in for a long kiss. Your hips stutter and your back arches, pressing your chest to chest with Jason as his thrusts become sloppier. You gasp into Jason’s mouth then moan as you cum, your forehead against his.

“Ah fuck, Jason,” You curl your fingers into Jason’s hair.

He bites down on your shoulder and thrusts hard into you before cumming as well. He presses a weak kiss to your lips to which you reciprocate with an equally blissed-out kiss. Jason pulls away from you, leaning his head back against the headboard as he pants, coming down from his organsm. You, also breathing heavily, lean forward and rest your head against Jason’s chest. He wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss to your forehead before barely lifting you to let his rapidly softening dick slip out of you.

You two lay against each other, Jason running his fingers through your hair while you trace Jason’s autopsy scar. He leans down and kisses you, then reaches for the covers, and pulls it over the two of you. You shift your legs to drape over one side of Jason’s legs, one of his hands resting on your thigh, the other wrapped around your back. He rests his chin on your head, occasionally pressing kisses to the top of your head.

“I need to go grocery shopping,” You say. “Can you pick up our dry cleaning?”

“Yeah,” Jason’s chest vibrates as he talks. “What about that present for your mom?”

“Do you mind dropping that off at the post office for me?”

“Does it have the address on it?”

“Yeah, it’s good to go.”

“Then consider it done,” He turns to his cheek on top of your head. “You patrolling tonight?”

“Mhm,” You hum.

“You still watching the Joker?”

“Mhm,” You say again and feel Jason’s jaw tighten.

You turn so your straddling Jason again and look him in the eye as his hands find your hips.

“I’m not going after him tonight, just gathering intel,” You clarify.

“Why bother? Let’s just take him down.”

“I’m waiting to see if he’s working with anyone else.”

“He doesn’t usually play well with others.”

“Yeah, but since getting out, he hasn’t been making any noise which is weird because he always wants to make sure we’re the first to know he’s running around again. I’m making sure I’m not about to go in unprepared.”

“Why don’t I go with you? Just in case.”

“There’s no need,” You reassure him, running your fingers through his hair. “You’d just be wasting your time.”

“I wouldn’t be wasting my time if it meant I knew you were safe,” He tightens his grip on your hips.

“I’m not going after Joker tonight,” You slide your hands down to settle on Jason’s waist.

“Not until I’m there with you,” Jason stares you down. “I’m serious, Y/N.”

“I won’t,” You promise, brushing his hair out of his face.

“Good, because I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you,” He pulls you into a tight hug, kissing the top of your head.

“I’m going to be okay, Jay,” You tell him, kissing his ear. “I’m going to be careful, just like I always am,” You sit back, cradling his face. “Okay?”

His hands come up, holding your wrists, and staring at you for a long moment. He finally sighs, giving in.

“Okay. But if anything starts to go even slightly off-plan, you call me.”

“I promise I will call you.”

Despite your promise, Jason still looks unsure, but you know he will never be fully on board with your plan. It’s the Joker, he’s always extra cautious when it comes to that deranged clown. You lean in and kiss him sweetly.

“I love you,” You smile.

“I love you too,” Jason smiles back, giving you another kiss.

“Come on, let’s go take a shower,” You say, swinging off Jason’s lap.

He tosses his legs over the bed as you stand up then smacks your ass as you walk by. You jump then roll your eyes.

“Come on horndog, we got shit to do,” You call over your shoulder.

. . .

After stopping a few muggings, car robberies, and preventing the rape of an extremely grateful teenage boy, you make your way to Joker’s warehouse. Once arriving at the warehouse, you scale the building to reach the long row of windows that run along the perimeter of the warehouse.

“M, you copy?” You double-check your comms.

“Loud and clear,” Mia responds. “Any movement?”

“Nothing I can see yet.”

Despite the lights being on, there appears to be no one inside, then the west side doors burst open and the Joker skips in, followed by two armed men dragging someone between them.

“Shit,” You curse. “He’s got a hostage.”

They drag the rather small hostage further into the room, but your breath catches in your throat once catching sight of the hostage’s face.

“Fuck! It’s a kid!”

“What?!”

The little girl the two men are dragging can’t be any older than five. They toss her on a chair positioned in the middle of the room and tie off her hands and ankles, her head slumping forward. One of the men says something to the Joker that you don’t catch, but it causes the Joker to clap his hands together with delight and leave the room.

“M, find me a way in,” You order, climbing to the roof.

“Don’t you think you should call Red—”

“I’m not going after Joker, I’m just grabbing the kid.”

“But the Joker is in there! You know what he’ll do to you!”

“Yeah, and I know what he’ll do to that kid the longer we argue!”

“I don’t want you to get killed!”

“I can handle myself!” You argue. “Geeze, you’re worse than Jason!”

Mia sighs but you hear her typing in the background.

“On the right corner of the roof, there’s a row of grates. The third one is the ventilation shaft that’ll take you directly to the room she’s in.”

“Got it,” You confirm.

“Be careful.”

You jog over to the grates then lift the covering off the ventilation shaft before carefully lowering yourself down.

At first, it’s a tight squeeze and awkward angle, but you manage to maneuver yourself into a crawling position and follow Mia’s directions to the main space of the warehouse. A few turns later and you are staring down at the top of the little girl’s head through another grate. The two armed men that brought the little girl in stand nearby on guard.

You lift the grate off the opening as quietly as possible then set it aside and reach for your gun in your thigh holster. You dig into one of your jacket pockets and pull out a silencer. The silencer won’t completely quiet the gun, but it’ll hopefully quiet it down enough to not alert the Joker.

Once screwing the silencer on, you quickly shoot both men then gracefully swing down so you are dangling from the edge of the vent. You swing your legs then release and catch one of the iron support beams along the ceiling. You then fire your grappling hook and swing to the floor.

You rush to the little girl, squatting in front of her and cradling her face.

“Are you hurt?” You ask, but the little girl doesn’t lookup.

You frown, figuring she may be in shock, then use your other hand to lift the little girl’s head to check for injuries but your eyes widen at the maniacal grin on her face.

“Joker Toxin!” Mia yells in your ear.

“Shit!” You curse, as the little girl starts giggling and slowly stands up, seeming to have never been tied to the chair.

You jump to your feet and yanked your Joker Toxin antidote out of your jacket. Once you started staking out the Joker, you were sure to stock up on the antidote, knowing it’s one of his deadliest weapons, but any plans to injected the little girl go flying out the door when she pulls her hands out from behind her back to reveal a large revolver and pulls the trigger.

“Oh fuck!” You curse, diving out of the way of the shot.

The little girl shoots again, but you dodge it again, your mind racing about how to disarm the little girl without hurting her. She tries to shoot again, but luckily for you, the little girl isn’t a good shot and misses, probably because she’s five.

“This is so fucked up,” You mutter to yourself as you dodge another shot then rush forward and yanked the girl’s arm holding the gun into the air.

She fires another shot at the ceiling, but you snatch the gun from her before she can shoot again. Now unarmed, the little girl giggles wildly then bites your arm.

“Ow!” You yell, not used to your opponents trying to bite you.

You nearly smack the girl but remember she’s five and instead yank your arm out from the little girl’s mouth and inject her with the antidote. The girl stumbles away for a moment, becoming disoriented from the antidote then a shot rings out, hitting the girl in the stomach.

“No!” You yell, grabbing your own gun from its holster and shooting the armed man who just entered the room, but another man appears behind him and shoots, this time hitting the little girl in the head.

The little girl hits the ground, blood leaking from her head as more men wearing tactical helmets flooding the room. You shoot one of them with your gun then try to fire the revolver, but it seems to be out of bullets, so you instead pistol whips the next closest man and toss the gun to the ground. You take a running jump and kick two men simultaneously in midair then emit a blinding light, attempting to blind the men, but their helmets seem to protect their eyes.

You growl to yourself, shooting two men. One tries to tackle you, but you flip him over your shoulder and shoot him in the arm. Another tries running toward you but you jump up and drive a powerful kick to his collarbone, sending the man to the ground.

“M!” You yell. “Find me a way out!”

You throw four explosives that stick to four of the men then it blows up, taking out a few surrounding men with them. One man throws a strange gadget at you. You raise an arm to shield your face, but the gadget buzzes and pops then falls to the ground before hitting you. You lower your arm, confused by the gadget but then the comm in your ear starts to sizzle and pop. You yank it out of your ear and throw it to the ground, watching as it self destructs.

“Son of a bitch,” You curse, searching for an exit yourself.

You spot a door that none of the men seem to be entering through on the opposite side of the room, of course. You roundhouse kick a man in the face then pull out your grappling hook, but before you can fire it, someone shoots your hand.

You drop the hook in pain and use your other hand to shoot the man that shot you. You holster your handgun then fire your grappling hook with your opposite hand and swing to the other side of the room. Before you can open the door, it flies open, revealing two gigantic men.

You grit your teeth and spring up to jump over the men but one of the men moves faster and catches you midair, holding you up by your neck then slams you into the wall. You claw his hand with your nails and kick your feet out, attempting to kick the man, but he’s too big. He tightens his grip on your neck, cutting off your airway. You cough but manage to get both your legs around his arm. Before you can finish the move, the other man slammed his elbow down on your knee.

You cry out, hearing a loud snap then the man slams you into the floor and pins your arms down under his heavy boots before you can grab your gun and begins repeatedly punching you in the face. Your head slammed against the floor repeatedly with more force each time then you hear a loud crack along with an explosion of pain along your nose after a particularly hard hit. You struggle under the man, attempting to free your arms, but he presses down harder, grinding your elbows into the floor.

You emit another light, blinding the man, then bring your legs up to your chest and kick the man as hard as you can. He goes flying backward and you stumble to your feet, your head now ringing, your version blurry, and your knee throbbing. The other huge man dives at you but you easily duck under him, but you don’t duck in time for another person to tackle you to the ground.

You try to free yourself again then your eyes widen when you look up to see the Joker had you pinned to the ground, holding a crowbar and grinning maniacally. He lifts the bar and you try to duck out of the way, but you’re pinned and the bar comes slamming down on your face. Your vision blurs again, your face burning, but the Joker swings again. You feel skin tear off your cheekbone, everything getting darker. It only takes one more hit for your world to go black.

We love a good cliff hanger, hope you enjoyed! I apologize for any grammtical errors, I originally wrote this with an OC but I think I changed everything.

Part 2 will be posted tomorrow! Let me know if you would like to be tagged!

Part 2

#Jason Todd #Red Hood #Jason Todd x Reader #Red Hood x Reader #Jason Todd imagine #Red Hood imagine #jason todd headcanon #red hood headcanons #DC #DC comics #Batman #Batfam #Joker #Smut #fluffy smut #nightwing #don't worry he'll be here soon #dick grayson

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alindae-anne · 3 years

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What Makes a Book?

I want to take a break from my novel and dive into a history lesson of books themselves. Why? Well first of all, I will be honest, this blog is for an assignment. But also because the way books have evolved over the last 5,000+ years is fascinating!

Of course no one ever really thinks about THE book, just the fact that the story within its pages--the mystery, the romance, whatever they happen to be enjoying--is a great read (or maybe not so great), but have they ever wondered what materials the book is made from? Who invented it? How the book has become one of the most common and most used items of all time?

No. Of course they didn't wonder any of those things. And if they did, they probably didn't take the time to research any of these burning questions, either.

How great, then, that I wrote this post?! Today is your lucky day! (Also, it is a good thing that Keith Houston, author of Shady Characters, decided to write a whole book about it (1).) I'm going to use the pages of a classic tale to explain some cool things you probably never noticed while reading a book before.

Gulliver’s Travels was originally published in London in 1726 by Benjamin Motte. The author, Jonathan Swift, used it to satirize London society and culture, poking holes at the social hierarchies and systems, basically making out everyone living in the 18th century to be fools--but mostly the wealthy and those who were obsessed with scientific progression (2). If you have not read it, I highly encourage adding it to your reading list, or at the very least there is a 2010 movie, featuring Jack Black as Gulliver, that you could watch. (It’s Jack Black, okay?)

This 2 page spread of Gulliver's Travels pictured above is actually found in The Franklin Library edition from Franklin Center, Pennsylvania, published in 1979. This is the first printing of this edition, and its pages, the way it is printed, and the way it is bound and presented, are all features of the modern 20-21st century book, plus some extra bells and whistles. The most interesting qualities come from the publishers themselves who specifically design their books to be very snazzy--meant for collectors’ editions! They include different kinds of leather binding, exclusive illustrations, and may be signed or part of a particular series specific to a certain author or genre (3). This makes the books published here very valuable and sought after.

Gulliver’s Travels is hardcover. Specifically, “fine leather in boards.” This means the spine and front and back boards (or cover) of the book are bound in leather. The leather is fine and and delicate and able to be decorated and engraved upon.4 Above you can see how fancy it looks with the gilt gold engravements. Even its pages are gilt!

This picture shows more clearly the binding, and of course the spine, which is “hubbed,” or ridged, for added texture.

At this point you may have notice that this version is much different than the original published in 1726. That is because over time, the materials involved in making books have changed slightly or the processes have become more efficient or cost worthy, etc. Either way, the anatomy of the book has not wavered. Keith Houston has dissected the book into certain components and we can see them in each book we read:

I have attempted to label it as best as I can, so hopefully you can follow along:

Chapter Number

a) this seems to be a description, more or less of the chapter, or the Chapter Title. b) “A Voyage to Lilliput” seems much more title-like to me, although this is technically called the “Recto Running Head.” The recto running head is a condensed or abbreviated chapter title, repeating on every right-side page to the end of the chapter.

Drop Cap. This would be the first letter of the first word of a chapter, which is usually exaggerated or embellished in some way.

Opener Text

Head Margin - the space between the top of the page and text

Foot Margin - the space between the bottom of the page and text

Folio - page number

It has taken quite a while for books to become so sophisticated. Because it was published in 1726, Gulliver's Travels is technically what you could call "modern" in terms of how long ago books began their journey to what they are today, but even between 1726 and 1979 the quality has improved. This edition published by Franklin Library is a perfect model for the modern book of today.

The 2 page spread we analyzed above is made from paper. But books were not always made with paper, or even in the book form, bound with anything at all, and they were not printed either. They were written by hand on papyrus.

Papyrus was the first material used as "paper" beginning in Egypt. The reeds were stripped, strung side by side and pressed together. Papyrus was durable and sturdy, and the water of the Nile was abundant in aluminum sulfate, which brightened it so that writing and scribbles could be seen better. There is no particular origin of when Papyrus had first been invented but it must have been around the end of the 4th millenium BCE (Houston 4).

Parchment is made from animal skin that has been soaked, scrubbed, dried, and stretched for days and days, creating a more flexible, yet still durable, material for writing. It was also thinner and could be made "cleaner" and brighter by chemical means. Religion heavily influenced its distribution; some parchment use was literally banned because the type of animal skin used to make it wasn't considered "holy" or "good." For example, the lamb or a calf was acceptable, but how dare you use parchment made from goat skin? What is wrong with you?

Besides the fact that parchment is kind of gross if you think about it (although to be fair, you can’t be too choosy in times right before the common era), it was also expensive to keep certain cattle only for paper making, and the reliability of having new cattle at the time you may need more paper was not very high.

Paper was first introduced in China. It is made from bits of cloth and rags soaked in water, and after breaking down into pulp, strained through a wire grate and pressed to dry. Fun fact-- the Rhar West Art Museum in Manitowoc, Wisconsin has held classes showing how to make paper using this exact process.

There is a trend here: the materials used to make paper (and papyrus and parchment before it) become scarce or too expensive, or they are just not “good enough.” People want their paper thin and smooth, but still strong and durable; crisp and bright, but still able to last years and years without crumbling. There have been times that processes used to ensure these preferred qualities of paper included using chemicals that ended up negatively affecting some other quality. For example, the paper would be white as snow, yet the chemical that did this broke down the natural adhesives which kept the paper intact.

Have you heard that paper grows on trees? Well, that is partly true since after rags and cloths were nowhere to be found (unless people were about to start donating the shirts off their backs), wood pulp has now since been used... the higher the demand for paper, the greater demand for those materials used for its creation.

This brings us to printing side of things. The first ways of printing weren’t of how we think of it now. Even before papyrus, people were still writing and making inscriptions on pretty much anything they could get their hands on. The earliest forms of writing were rather indentations or markings on clay tablets. Found across the Middle East, it is a cuneiform script of the Sumerian people from 3300 BCE (Houston 79).

Similarly, the Egyptians were also keen on developing their own writing system which today we recognize as hieroglyphs. A lot of these were found carved on the walls of tombs but also began to be used on papyrus in 2600 BCE (Houston 82-83).

The Egyptians celebrated their scribes and believed those who wrote with brush and ink on papyrus to be channeling power--that it was a gift from the gods--”wielded with respect and humility” (Houston 87). The hieroglyphs not only showed the intention of the writer, visually, but often the picture would be associated with or connected to certain sounds which emerged more formal use of letters as time went on.

The alphabet we use today can be traced back to the Phoenician alphabet (used by the Egyptians) which had evolved into the Greek and then Roman alphabets (Houston 91-92). At this point in time, scribes were using water based ink which was fine for papyrus, but during the transition to parchment they realized that ink smudges quite a bit. This led to the creation of iron gall ink that would darken and adhere to the parchment as it dried due to its chemical makeup in contact with oxygen in the air.

Jump ahead to 1400s and we are with Johannes Gutenberg and the printing press! One thing Keith Houston make sure to mention is that although Gutenberg invented the printing press itself, to help moveable type and mass printing, the idea of printing had not been new. Clay pieces used as stamps and similar objects had been excavated and dated back thousands of years before the clay inscribed cuneiform tablets were made. And a primitive version of a sort of printing press is mentioned being made by a man named Bi Sheng during the reign of Qingli from 1041-1048 AD (Houston 110). Obviously nothing great came from it, most likely because he was of unofficial position. Even so, movable type was still possible, although painstakingly slow with wooden blocks used as stamps. This was common for the next few hundred years in China.

Even though Gutenberg's press completely revolutionized the transmission of knowledge, it was still quite slow in comparison to the versions which came after, only being able to print 600 characters a day (Houston 118). From Gutenberg's printing press came other types of presses that improved the speed or efficiency of movable type immensely. These all came after the original publication of Guliver's Travels, starting in the early 1800s with the Columbian press, eventually the Linotype, and then lack of precision called for the Monotype, which could produce 140 wpm (Houston 149).

The 2 page spread above then, could possibly have been printed by the Linotype, but most likely, however, the Monotype, which is the more accurate of the two. Another possibility could be "sophisticated photographic and 'lithographic' techniques" or "'phototypsetting'" (Houston 151). Houston mentions that the printing press age has died and now faces a digital future.

I'm at my 10 image limit which means I better wrap this up with some interesting facts about bookbinding. On BIBLIO.com I was trying to see exactly what "fine leather in boards" meant which is apparently how Gulliver's Travels is bound. I didn't find any phrase that matched, but from my understanding, the leather is very supple and pliable, which is why it was able to be gilt with gold, and it was able to form nicely to the hubbing on the spine.

The website also explains that the first "book binding" was technically just putting the pieces of paper or parchment together and pressing them between two boards. Literally. Like just setting them on a board and putting another board on top of that. Eventually leather was introduced, first as a cord wrapped around the book to keep the boards in place. As time progressed, the practice was improved and perfected so it was less crude. This involved the creation of the "spine" where the pages meet together and can therefore open and close in a v shape without flying away.

This website helped explain some of the other embellishments and extra flair that can be added to a book's binding. It mostly goes over leather binding which is from most animal skin but there is a unique leather bound book that can be bound with seal skin. Some of the books on the website are so expensive because of the materials they are bound with and the effects that have been created in the cover, for example, Benjamin Franklin's observations on electricity, which has had acid added to the page, discoloring it for a lightning strike effect, and includes a key to represent his famous experiment.

Gulliver's Travels, although not quite so fancy, is still a very beautifully bound book with decorated endpapers, meaning the inside cover is laden with designed paper rather than boring white or some other neutral color.

I hope you found this journey of the book as interesting and as exciting as I did while writing this post! You must really love books because even my attention span isn't this long. I will admit I took at least 3 different breaks.

I'm back to my novel for now, thanks for listening😎

Bibliography

Houston, Keith--Author of Shady Characters, which I used extensively in my TikTok “history of punctuation” project--also wrote -> The BOOK - a cover-to-cover exploration of the most powerful object of our time, 2016.

British Library Website -> works -> “Gulliver’s Travels overview”

Masters, Kristin. “Franklin Library Editions: Ideal for Book Collectors?” Books Tell You Why, 2017 (blog).

BIBLIO.com -> “Leather Binding Terminology and Techniques”

#bookbinding #papermaking #printing #book history #keith houston

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goldiesugar · 4 years

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Jobs for Sugar Babies: Part Two

If you didn’t read the first part of these series, this is about the jobs especially made for people who love the luxury life like us, so I felt the need to write about the best suiting jobs for sugar babies, either aspiring or veterans, or whatever.

This time I’m going to be talking about working as a private jet flight attendant.

Let’s start by saying private flight attendants earn from 2 to 8 times more than commercial flight attendants. Basically, salary for commercial flight attendants is roughly $48,500 annually, while corporate air stewardesses earnings are much higher at $57,000 or $60,000 for those who know languages.

Other benefits may include health and life insurance, uniform and laundry expenses as well as internet service. Accommodation and transport are provided down-route and sometimes also at base, depending on where the aircraft is primarily based. Contracts may be short-term from 6 months to one or two years. But they tip very well. Very very well.

Let’s get into the interesting parts.

Every successful VIP Flight Attendant should possess the following skills and qualities:

A can-do attitude and pleasant disposition

Excellent personal presentation

Cultural awareness

Flexibility and diplomacy

Strong work ethic

Good interpersonal and communication skills

Ability to work independently and under pressure

Corporate flight attendants are required to sign confidentiality agreements, meaning you are unable to discuss current and former clients by name. Careful with social media and what you share.

Working as a private jet flight attendant is stressful due to the incredible amount of uncertainty and unknowns— always. The hours in the corporate sector are long, and you could work anything from 3 to 21 hours a day. You need to be very adaptable because many flights are last minute. Time off may be down-route or at base, but it is usually limited and dependent on the VIP’s schedule.

Time is a luxury that private jet flight attendants do NOT have— especially when it comes to planning for an upcoming trip. More than two days notice for a contract corporate flight attendant is a gift and detailed passenger preferences or requests makes the job so much more simple. With everything always changing and so many unknowns always occurring, the stress is real.

“The stress never goes away, you just become better at managing the stress.”

But being a private jet flight attendant is definitely more fun. You work on a one-on-one basis with the passengers, and you usually get to know them and their needs pretty well. The job is also a lot less mundane than that on a commercial flight. You never know what requests you’ll need to accommodate or where you’ll be flying off to next.

A private flight attendant’s ‘uniform’ usually consists of a blue or black chic suit with a blue or white dress shirt.

Some VIP Flight Attendants work on rotation, where they are scheduled 2 weeks on and 2 weeks off or a month on and a month off, but this arrangement is rare. Freelance VIP Flight Attendants do not work to a schedule and work on demand on a daily basis.

In addition to travelling around the world and dining in nice restaurants, some employers reward their flight attendants with gifts. Cash tips are also common.

The qualification you’ll be required to have are a high school education and a minimum of 2 years working as cabin crew in a business class or first class cabin. A degree in hospitality management, languages, leisure and tourism management or travel can help, but it’s not compulsory. Culinary training or work experience in a 5-star environment is desirable or the person must be skilful in culinary arts.

After all, not only are you responsible for serving Michelin star plates, but also commonly in charge of finding, arranging and transporting food to the take-off airport. Such skills as the one of a sommelier are also highly appreciated in the industry.

Apart from that, VIP crew must be acquainted with food safety and correct food handling techniques. No travellers, including CEOs, multibillionaires or pop stars, want to get sick because their beluga caviar wasn’t opened or stored the right way.

To be fully eligible to work as a private flight attendant, you are required to pass a medical and be fully vaccinated. You may have to provide 2 copies of your passport and apply for the appropriate visas. References from previous corporate operators will also be required and proof of initial cabin crew training.

Private jet flight attendants have more in common— job wise— with yacht stewardesses than with commercial flight attendants.

Be aware that requirements may vary depending on the preferences of the jet owner/ passenger. These may include additional language skills, specific age range and passport/visas. For example, a passenger or owner may specifically ask for female flight attendants aged between 25-35, of a specific nationality that speak English and Russian. Languages count as an extra advantage with English, Mandarin and Russian being the most in demand. Nevertheless, the truly crucial traits are versatility, knowledge and just shier devotion of a person.

Sadly having such strict requirements is very common in the industry and can lead to a certain amount of age and gender discrimination.

Being a private jet flight attendant allows your creativity to flourish. At the airlines, you are boxed in by rules on what your nail color is supposed to be and how you should wear your hair. Doing the bare minimum to get by receives the same compensation as delivering exceptional service; with no probability of changing that.

As a corporate flight attendant, your job is never secure. Also be aware that a million other girls would kill for a private flight, and you are lucky to be there. Treat the job like it’s a gift and that if the flight you’re on was your last ever, ‘How do I want to remember it?’ Do I want to walk away from my job, knowing that every day I ALWAYS invested my best or do I want to just show up to earn a wage? The choice of how you live, and thus how you are compensated, is up to you.

To find a job, you will need to visit the plane operator’s career website directly via email as advertised on a careers website or through personal recommendation. A complete job application will need to include a copy of your most recent and up-to-date CV, one full length and one head and shoulders photo.

Keep in mind the owner may be a high flying tycoon, celebrity, politician or a VIP family. You may work on a state of the art Global Express, Gulfstream G650 or much older model. It is an unusual role because you are the chef/personal assistant/safety specialist/waitress and cleaner, but this is also what makes it exciting because there is never a dull moment in the job.

Depending on the company, social media can be an absolute no-no and photos shared with aircraft tail numbers— as this is essentially the equivalent to a client’s home address— are never allowed. It’s a secretive industry, but for those who are in it, many have flown the same celebs, with the same pilots, and have juicy gossip or passenger details that no one would know unless you were “in it.” It’s kind of funny the way it works. Private aviation is an incredibly small world. Know how to live in it well.

So the road to becoming a VIP flight attendant could be basically summed up in three words – learn, learn and learn. And if you work hard enough you are more than likely to get a call from a private jet operator offering you your fantasy spot.

It’s part of the flight attendant’s job to set-up the cabin to the exact specifications of the client, while also anticipating what the client might want. Oh— did I mention that private jet cabin attendants also strive to exceed clients expectations by adding thoughtful touches to the in-flight experience? Yep— it’s an entirely different world than commercial aviation.

If you wanna know more about the perks and disadvantages of this job, Saskia Swann documented her experiences in a book titled Gulfstream Girl: Confessions of a Private Jet Stewardess.

To your success,

~ Bleuet 💸💖

#bleuet chats #jobs for sugar babies #private jet attendant #private jet #luxury lifestyle #luxury life #spoiled heaux

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needtherapy · 4 years

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to be human is a haunting, Part 1

A love story for Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen

In a modern world, in a modern city that still has need for cultivators, Song Lan

(war hero, rogue cultivator, orphan)

goes for a run in the park, kills a dankang, makes a friend, and meets a beautiful man with a dog, all before he has to go to therapy. It's the best day he's had in ten years.