#I don't have a marketing degree but I do have experience

[dchan87]

You cannot replicate or recreate Barbenheimer. Barbenheimer was organic, spontaneous because people saw that these two movies--bright, colorful, comedic Barbie and dark, moody Oppenheimer--were being released on the same day and ran with it. Barbenheimer was lightning in a bottle.

Execs will try to replicate it because money. But it won't work. Consumers will see right through the astroturfed marketing, and whatever the execs try will fail. We must let Barbenheimer be a one-and-done for the sake of the movie industry.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

re: Somerton

Not for nothing, but I think we should remember that James Somerton's fans and subscribers are normal people, just like you. They are people who received his output in good faith, and extended to him a normal amount of grace and benefit of the doubt, which he took advantage of.

I don't think it's helpful to respond to the exposé on Somerton with sentiments along the lines of "wow, how could anyone ever think THIS GUY'S videos were any good, ha ha ha, how did he ever get subscribers?" because 1) you have the substantial benefit of hindsight and a disengaged outsider perspective, and 2) it's a rhetoric that creates a divide between you (refined, savvy, smart, sophisticated) and Somerton's audience (gullible, unrefined, easily taken advantage of, terrible taste), which is a false divide, with a false sense of security.

Somerton's success happened because he stole good writing. He found interesting, insightful, in-depth work done by other people, applied the one skill he actually has which is marketing, and re-packaged it as his own. He targeted a market which is starving for the exact kind of writing he was stealing, and pushed his audience to disengage from sources that conflicted with him.

Hbomberguy makes this point in his exposé video: good queer writing is hard to find and incredibly easy to lose. The writers Somerton stole from were often poor or precarious, writing freelance work for small circles under shitty conditions, without the means or the reach or the privileges necessary to find bigger markets. And, as Hbomb demonstrated, when people did discover Somerton's plagiarism, he used his substantial audience to hound them away and dissuade anyone else from trying to hold him accountable.

He stole queer writing by marginalized people, about experiences and perspectives that people are desperate to hear more about, and even if his delivery and aesthetics were naff, his words resonated with people because the original writers who actually wrote them poured their goddamn hearts and souls into it.

Somerton also maintained a consistent narrative of persecution and marginalization about himself. He took the plain truth, which is that queer people and perspectives are discriminated against, and worked that into a story about himself as a lone, brave truth-teller, daring to voice an authentic queer perspective, constantly beset by bigots and adversaries who sought to tear him down. As @aranock, who works with some of the people he targeted, writes in this post, Somerton weaponized whatever casual bias and bigotry he could find in his audience to reinforce his me vs them narrative (usually misogyny and various forms of transphobia), which is what grifters do. They find a vulnerable thread in a community and pull on it. And while you may not have the particular vulnerability that he exploited, you do have vulnerabilities, and they can be exploited too.

People felt compelled to support him, even if his work was sometimes shoddy, because he presented himself as a vulnerable, marginalized person in need of help, he pulled on that vulnerable thread.

Again, he has a degree in marketing, and just like propaganda, nobody is immune to marketing.

YouTube as a system is set up to push for more, constantly more. More content, more videos, more output, more more more more, and part of Somerton and Illuminaughty's success was their ability to push out large amounts of content to the hungry algorithm, even if it was of inferior quality. The algorithm rewarded their volume of output with more eyeballs and attention, and therefore more opportunities to find people who were vulnerable to their grift.

It is a system which quite literally rewards the exact kind of plagiarism that they do, because watch-time and engagement are easily measurable metrics for a corporation, and academic rigor is not. There is pressure to deliver, and a lot of rewards to gain from cutting corners to do it.

Somerton and Illuminaughty and Internet Historian are extreme and very obvious cases, so blatant that you can make a four hour video essay exposing what they've done, but the vast majority of this kind of plagiarism isn't going to be obvious - sometimes it might not even be obvious to the people who are doing it. Casual plagiarism is endemic to the modern internet, and most people don't get educated on what the exact boundaries are between proper sourcing and quoting vs plagiarizing. We had an entire course module at my university aimed at teaching students the exact differences and definitions, and people still made good faith mistakes in their essays and papers that they had to learn to correct during their education.

All of this to say: it is extremely easy in hindsight to call Somerton's work shitty and shoddy, his aesthetics flat and uninspired, and to imagine that as a sophisticated person with good taste and critical faculties, you would never be taken in by this kind of grifter. It is extremely easy to distance yourself from the people he preyed on, and imagine that you will never have to worry about your fave doing your dirty like that.

But part of the point of Hbomberguy's video is that plagiarism is extremely easy to get away with, and often difficult for the average person to spot and call out, and with the rise of AI tools blurring the lines even further, it is not going to get any easier.

So I think we should resist the temptation to think of Somerton's audience as people with bad taste and poor faculties. We should resist the temptation to distance ourselves from the perfectly normal people he preyed on. Many times in your life, a modestly clever man with a marketing degree has fooled you too.

On a personal note, by the same token, I am resisting the temptation to assume that I am too good to be vulnerable to the systemic pressures that produced Somerton and Illuminaughty. No, I've never made a video by word-for-word reciting someone else's work, but I know for a fact that I could do a better job of double-checking my work and citing my sources. I feel the exact same pressure to get a video out as fast as possible, I have the exact same rewards dangled in front of me by YouTube as a platform, and I can't pretend it doesn't affect my work. To me, Hbomb's video felt like a wake-up call to do better.

[cryptotheism]

I'm actually a white cis girl in my mid 30s named Kayla Dunch. I have several hundred thousand followers on Instagram where I post gym selfies and images of novel mixed drinks. I actually have a passion for independent restauranteurship and regularly collaborate with local bars and family-owned restaurants to do what I can to boost their sales. It's something I'm passionate about. I've seen too many of my favorite mom and pop Mexican places close down because of poor foot traffic. I'm even considering going back to college to det a degree in marketing so I can use my social media experience to start a bilingual ad firm that specializes in food and hospitality. I don't talk about that much on Instagram though.

I have a rare sleep disorder that causes intense and rapid movement of the fingers and toes during REM sleep. Every night for the past seven years, completely unbeknownst to me, I have been unconsciously downloading the Tumblr app to my phone, and the random spasms of my body have been maintaining a persona as a transgender 20 something with a mildly famous blog focused on humorously discussing historical occultism and oddball short fiction. By the end of the night, my entirely random hypnagogic twitching will write several 3/10 jokes about historical magic, queue the posts, and then delete Tumblr entirely from my phone before I wake. Even the words you are reading now were not truly written by me, and are only the unimaginably unlikely result of random neurons firing into my sleeping muscles. I would be horrified to learn any of this, as in my waking life I am extremely and virulently homophobic and transphobic. Just an absolutely dogshit person.

[ymechi]

Who is the real Creator?

I had to edit and remove some parts for this to make sense, I hope it is coherent if not please tell me so I can fix it and explain everything better. I did not expect people to be interested in this au so I was surprised! I hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

-TW: cult au, yandere, impostor au, mentions of being hunted down, mentions of trauma, mentions of character injuring themselves (nothing major)

-Gn reader and darling (please tell me if I mess this up message me and I will fix it)

Part 1, This is part 2, part 3, part 4

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Reader ushered Darling inside giving them the blanket which they used to dry their wet self. They sort of reminded Reader of what a wet sad cat one of their neighbors used to own looked like after a rainy day. Darling sat on the kitchen table as Reader once again prepared some tea. Reader really should get a nice tea set soon, they mentally put that on their shopping list the next time they are going to the market.

Darling sat quietly at the table sniffing and not saying much, Reader had no idea what to say before it would have been so easy they knew each other in and out. Yet now. . . it was as if a hundred years had passed, a million things had happened. Reader was now not sure what to say.

They weren't sure if they even wanted to comfort Darling. Shouldn't Darling be comforting Reader? All they got was that half-assed hospital meeting.

If Darling is upset wasn't there a league of followers, acolytes, servants heck even Archons who would comfort them why come to them now out of all times and alone? Clearly something serious happened that they had to runaway alone to them out of all people.

Reader inwardly sighed.

They bought out a pan. One thing they knew how to lighten the mood up was pancakes, it was easy and they knew how to do that . In fact, they might get a master's degree in making pancakes, Reader should ask Nahida if that is possible.

(They tried not to think that it was Darling's favourite meal to eat after being sad.)

"So. . . What happened?" Reader tried to start.

Darling did not respond for a while just quietly staring at them. Their eyes were a bit dull and exhaustion was evident on their face. They seemed to contemplate what to say before they started.

"I. . . I asked to wield a sword, at first they were against it but I wanted to try y'know?"

There was no question who they were, the crazy cultist acolytes. Reader shuddered at some of their past interactions with them, they were good weapon wielders reader would give them that. . . Reader had first-hand experience after all.

Yet Darling was alone with the trigger-happy acolytes all this time.

Although Darling was the supposed Creator, they should have been fine, Reader looked over at them and they lacked any surface wounds.

They should have been fine right?

"It was fine at first they taught me proper stances but then I got a bit touchy with the sword, you know me how I get with stuff like that and then I," she sighed, "I cut myself like an idiot."

Reader rubbed their head and thought about it, they would not be here for a cut something else went on and they waited for Darling to finish.

"Then I bled," Darling was quiet for a moment, "it was red."

Hey, it rhymed Reader wanted to say to break the tension but Reader refrained. They did not get it at all. What was so wrong with red blood? Wasn't blood supposed to be red.

Darling must have caught on and they looked like they finally understood something. It was they who wanted to understand what was going on!

"Uhm yeah you maybe don't know but the Creator is supposed to bleed gold."

Oh.

"Oh."

That is all they could say really. They felt dumb for a second there they had been actively avoiding taking any religious classes or any mention of religion for their own mental health's sake. Perhaps if they did not avoid it as much they would have understood what was going on much easier but for now the single religious book they owned remained hidden and untouched in their drawer.

Now that they finally understood the problem it was quite the conundrum. Darling was supposed to be the Creator yet now they were not because of some gold blood requirement. What would happen to Darling? Would they accuse them of harming the "real Creator"? Hunt them down like they did to Reader? Would they come and hunt down Reader again?

Although they doubted they would be hunted down again as the "blessings of the Creator" thing, whatever that meant, Nahida told everyone else seemed to work and placate them.

"Now what?" A reader asked tiredly.

"I don't know I managed to sneak out while they were distracted but I guess they will find out soon to come and get me."

Reader grimaced and turned around to prepare to finally whisk the ingredients they were too distracted to do while they listened to Darling.

"So like did they hurt you after they found out or something?" Reader cringed at their wording. They could have said that better considering it was a serious topic.

"No they didn't they just healed me and left me in my room," Darling paused, "You should have seen some of the looks on their faces, like I killed their puppy or something. . ."

Reader tried to imagine what it was like worshipping someone only for that person not to be the god they worshiped. It must have gone bad for both parties involved. Darling was told she was a god only to be looked at in disappointment. The followers who eagerly awaited for their beloved Creator only for it to be an illusion.

"Yikes, I can't imagine it was pleasant."

"It wasn't."

They went quiet after that soon the pancakes were ready and Reader went out to serve them along with the tea. Reader had to admit they could make some good mean pancakes because Darling looked a bit better with some of the color returning to their face.

There was another knock at the door.

Another visitor? Who would come- They looked at Darling, oh right.

Darling once again looked pale and the grip on their utensils was trembling. What had they done to shake them up this much? Reader wasn't doing better either their heartbeat going frantic as unpleasant memories resurfaced. Damnit they thought they had gotten better.

"Reader it is me Nahida we need to talk, I am sorry but it is urgent."

Reader inhaled, thank the stars it was only Nahida.

They relaxed their shoulders and opened the door. Despite the rain, the Archon looked dry and Reader wondered what sort of magic they used and if they could learn it as well.

"I am sorry to interfere," she looked behind Reader, "but it seems you have the person we have been searching for," Nahida said while looking genuinely sorry.

Right, the only person Darling knew besides the acolytes in this world was the Reader. No wonder they were found out so quickly.

"Uhm- uh- How about some pancakes first?"

Nahida looked the the back of Darling who was hunched over and relented. She must have seen something as she agreed rather quickly. Reader closed the door as the Archon entered their home. Nahida approached Darling they did an elegant bow and Reader was suddenly hit that Darling was or now was the creator. Darling got someone as well respected as Nahida to bow.

Reader had seen the way people behaved in respect and reverence at Nahida and how the scholars, the Emirates, and merchants would listen and take in her input. So someone like Nahida bowing. . .

Reader never fully understood the weight and status of that position the so-called "Creator" held even after being hunted down over it.

Yet now it seemed very heavy.

How did Darling live with that?

Darling face grimaced as she saw the bow. Nahida looked worried.

"Is there something going on your grace?"

This was going to be an awkward conversation. How to explain to someone you were not the god you thought they were?

Darling looked at Reader before looking back at their untouched pancakes.

"I am not your grace Nahida I bleed red like the rest."

A tense silence followed.

Nahida to her credit seemed calm with the revelation. She had her point finger touching her mouth in a contemplative gesture.

"I see and that is why you are here."

The room was quiet for a while. Reader awkwardly wrung her hands and it was surprisingly Darling, the least stable person who spoke up again.

"Did you know?" Darling said in an accusing tone their eyebrows narrowed. Reader thought they almost looked angry. Where did that come from? How could Nahida have known if no one else including them knew?

"To be honest your-," she paused," I had my suspicions.

Wait what- That was the first Reader heard about this.

"And you did not bother to tell me! To tell anyone?!" Darling jumped up from the chair.

"Was it funny watching me being led on, all those expectations, all those promises my whole world getting fucked up - fuck can I even go back home to my family?!"

Reader jumped between them hiding Nahida behind them trying to calm Darling down who looked to be on the verge of crying or a breakdown.

"Look Darling I know you are upset, it's messed up but she didn't have anything to do with it okay? I am sure she had her reasons."

Darling took one glance at Reader's eyes and fell down on the chair, they hid their face in their arms.

"I am. . . Sorry. . . Shit."

That de-escalated quickly just as it erupted. They worry about Darling's mental health at this point.

"It is fine, I suppose this is a very difficult situation for everyone involved," said Nahida.

Reader wrung their hands together.

"Hey I know it's not the time but I did make extra pancakes let's eat first?" They tried not to sound pathetic.

The silence was their reply.

"You and your damn pancakes," Darling said and snorted.

"Hey! I only do it because I know it cheers you up!" they said and huffed.

Nahida who looked at them laughed, the previous suffocating tension was gone and Reader went up to get a plate for Nahida as well. Finally both Reader and the Archon sat down on their seat they all ate in relative silence but it wasn't as awkward as it could have been.

Once finished Reader poured some hot tea.

"Thank you Reader the pancakes were delicious I will have to ask you to let me eat them again sometime."

Reader smiled at the Archon.

"Of course, you are welcome any time."

Darling who watched them snorted. Reader looked at them with questioning eyes.

"What are you laughing at," Reader said in an accusing tone. Was Darling mocking them again?

"You speak like them now," Darling said with an amused glint in their eyes as they looked at Reader.

"Ohh, I guess I kind of do. . ."

"Nerd."

"Hey!"

Nahida once again took a look at them and laughed. Both snapped out of their bubble and looked at the Archon sheepishly.

"I am glad to see you two are getting along well, I hope both of you don't mind the topic changing to a more serious one," she looked at both of them and both nodded,"Before we start, I have a question for you Darling."

Darling looked apprehensive but nodded.

"Do the others know about you not being the creator?"

". . .Yeah they do," Darling said and looked at their empty plate.

"I see that does make things easier it is better it is out now that later knowing how overzealous some acolytes and followers can get."

Reader grimaced and Darling looked a bit defeated at the statement.

"How much do you both know about the creator?"

Reader and Darling looked at each other and it was Reader who started to speak.

"Honestly not much I avoid religious talk at all cost."

Nahida looked at Reader with sympathy.

"I guess I am the opposite I got to learn a lot, basically in each new era the creator descends into a new incarnation, and their vessel is not always the same," she paused thinking about what to say next, "They like to live peacefully with their people because of that they don't always have their powers with them but they can gain them over time, something like that"

"Yes that is most of it, it is presumed in this era the creator chose to be a normal human which we thought was you Darling. We also thought that the Creator's presence and powers were weak due to being a normal human in this incarnation. Despite you not being the Creator some part of what I said is true.

"Which part?" Darling asked.

"The part where the creator chose to be an ordinary human, despite having such a faint presence me being so attuned to Irminsul could still feel it, yet it was weak. That is why I was confused. Rather than being the Creator you Darling had gotten a blessing from the Creator."

"But how I have never met them" Darling interjected.

Nahida stared at Reader and once again Reader was reminded of those intense stares directed at them as if trying to solve a puzzle piece.

"No, the creator was - is still quite close to you."

"Wait really?" Darling looked at Nahida in confusion inching closer towards the Archon as if they went closer physically they would solve the mystery.

"Yes we are sitting beside them after all."

There was no question about who Nahida meant both she and Darling were staring at Reader.

No.

That is what Reader replied with.

Nahida shook her head.

"I am afraid it is true.

No way.

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Taglist: @resident-cryptid @probablynoposts @esthelily @mitsukashi @charming-mage @chaoticfivesworld @irisxiel @dulcedelechenginamo

[joelmillerisapunk]

Brothers in Arms | i. don't talk to strangers

Cartel!Joel and Tommy Miller x Reader

masterlist | series masterlist

↳ Wordcount: 6,281

↳ Warnings: 18+, you're being watched, but it's different (it's the pick me quirky kinda being watched), you meet the boys, tags will added to each chapter

↳ Authors Note: Welcome, I hope you enjoy the first chapter. This is the first series I've ever written (please be gentle) also I couldn't find an accurate representation of cartel Tommy because Gabriel Luna is too cute and smiley, so I had to go suitless Tommy 🥰

Ten missed calls from your dad…

You didn't want to talk to him. You knew that as soon as you answered the phone, you'd forgive him for telling you that you didn’t have the guts to be a criminal psychologist. He told you that you were too sweet to survive. That those criminal types would eat you.

You suppose his feelings shouldn’t surprise you considering his “war on crime” campaign. He said the only place for criminals was prison. Do the crime, do the time. Completely ignoring the statistics that people that go through the system will end up back in again because the prison system tries to profit off prisoners instead of, you know, help them, like they were supposed to.

Like talking to a brick wall.

It didn’t matter that you were well on your way to a bachelor’s degree and then a master’s degree afterward. He had his own stubborn ideologies that no one, not even an expert in that field could dispute.

Fucking politicians.

Your phone buzzed again. This time a text.

Dad: Call me

You: No. I have plans. Stop calling me.

You threw your phone on the little twin bed in your dorm, watching it bounce on the thin mattress. Your roommate, Natalie, invited you to go out tonight. Most of the time, she ignored you, and who could blame her? You weren't the chatty type. 

Two years into your degree, you were still buried in a book, absorbing every little bit of information you could because you found it so interesting. Natalie was a marketing major, so there wasn’t any crossover.

In your defence, your major was a bit more demanding so you didn’t have a lot of free time. But, you really chalk it up to being your dad’s only child. You were practically wrapped in bubble wrap since the moment you were born. But after getting into the thousandth fight with your father, you wanted to live a little. There was this club downtown you were being taken out to, your first experience at a club. You were terrified.

The dorm door opened. “Hey, girly. You ready?” You turned to see Natalie standing there, perfect brunette eyebrows raised. She was built like a supermodel. You swear a potato sack would look like high fashion on her. Meanwhile, you stood there in your most club-worthy dress, and it still had a collar. Natalie’s eyes flickered across your dress.

“Do you have a meeting after this or something?” she teased, not in a playful way. Her voice had a mean tilt, but you were so starved for a female friend that you were willing to let it slide.

"I don’t have anything to wear,” you stated, gesturing to your half of the closet that was filled about an eighth of the way. You lived in your sweatshirt. 104 degrees Texas heat and you’d still wear that thing around because your classes were cold as fuck.

Natalie laughed quietly, “Of course, you don’t. Do you think you can even keep up with me and my friends tonight? There’s no shame in staying in and reading…again.” She said it like there was definitely shame in doing that.

As much as it pissed you off internally, you let yourself wither. You wouldn’t get what you wanted if you snapped at her. “I’ll be fine,” you murmured sheepishly.

She passed you, smelling like expensive shampoo, and opened your dresser. “I’ll find something for you. That dress will make you stick out like a sore thumb.” She tossed a few items on your mattress. “There, jeans and this cute little lacy thing.”

“That is a bra,” you pointed out. “I’m not wearing just a bra.”

“You’re no fun. I’ve got a mesh top to put over it. You’ve got the tits for it,” Natalie said. “Show a little skin.'' You were a little thrown at the compliment, but you'd take it. “And take your hair down, the messy tousle is really in right now,” Natalie mentioned as she waited for you to finish up. And as you got dressed, you think she might have been right. Showing a little skin but feeling covered up was a fantastic combination. You felt hot.

Natalie seemed happy with her handiwork. You grabbed your phone and wallet, and you were off. You called an Uber to take you to the club to meet up with her friends, Monica and Katherine. And for once, you felt like you blended in with them. You looked like you belonged in the same friend group, and that, in and of itself, was exhilarating.

The bouncer checked your IDs, and you were in. You'd have to say that the bumping bodies, the confined space, the loud music, and the flashing lights were really disorienting. But you were  determined to have fun tonight. Your heart crashed against your ribs, and you could feel the bass in your bones, vibrating your entire body. You just needed a drink to settle yourself.

Following Natalie and her friends to the bar, she bought you your first drink and shouted, “Thanks for coming out tonight!” The bartender handed you all shot glasses full of a clear, potent-smelling liquid. Tequila. You may have never had it yourself, but you always smelled it on your mom’s breath when she was around. Your stomach rolled, but you raised the shot glass and replied, “Thanks for inviting me! Cheers!”

You threw it back before you could register how the other girls were licking salt off their hands and chasing it with a hard bite of lime. The strong liquor hit your stomach, causing a wave of nausea to hit you, but you gulped it down and pretended like you meant to do that.

“Cheap tequila straight,” Monica said before looking over at Natalie. “Where’d you find her? I like her.”

You shot her a pained smile, fighting the burn in your throat. Natalie laughed and said, “Come on, let’s dance! I see some guys on the dance floor that I wouldn’t mind going home with.” You arched a brow, and you finally got a genuine smile out of her. “Not our dorm, obvi. I’m trashy, but not that trashy,” Natalie promised.

That made you laugh a little, your belly started to feel warm from the first shot you had ever taken. Not that you’d ever tell them that.

You went out to the dance floor, wedging yourselves between bustling bodies. You felt a little nervous, your palms getting clammy, but you just followed everyone’s lead. You bounced along to the music, letting the bass dictate your  hip rolls. Soon, you started to warm up. It was fun to dance around and move with the crowd.

Sweat beaded behind your neck, and you turned to the side, locking eyes with a dark-eyed man sitting at the bar. He wasn’t drinking, but there was no mistake that he was looking right at you. Your belly fluttered as you took him in, no longer interested in dancing. His broad frame slanted against the bar, his shirt was slightly unbuttoned and rolled up his forearms.

What is it about forearms? Your belly quivered a little bit.

You turned to see what Natalie and the others were doing, but she seemed to be choking on some random guy’s tongue in the corner. Part of you envied that. The ability to see what you want and act on it.

You were more methodical. Always a thinker. But this time, you wanted to act. There was a sinfully attractive man in the corner eyeing you. If you didn’t act on it, someone else would.

Oh, God, but what if he was looking at someone else?

As if sensing your hesitance, he waved at you, and you looked around, pointing at yourself like, “Who, me?” Even from several feet away, you could see a dimpled smile as the mystery man nodded, beckoning you over to the bar. You slid out from around the bodies to the slightly quieter bar. Up close, he was even more attractive. He was older than you but you weren't sure how much older. Certainly, the type of man well settled in his career. Made you wonder what he was doing at a club when statistically–

Hey, you told yourself, stop psychoanalysing strangers.

“Hi,” you greeted, unsure what else to say. You were very out of your comfort zone, but tonight was all about doing new things. Not that you were going to do him or–

“Hi,” he answered. “Do you want a drink?”

You tucked some hair behind your ear, heat in your cheeks from how you noticed his eyes follow your fingertip like he could see all of you. You'd  never felt so naked before, but you made the mistake of looking down to see your tits proudly on display under the mesh shirt, in a lacy red bra. Your  cheeks fired up even faster. “Yeah, I’d like that.” Maybe a drink would cool your nerves. Doubtful, but worth a shot. Ha. Shot. You could use one of those.

“Hmm, let me guess your drink,” the mystery man offered.

A smile curved the side of your mouth, and you were too intrigued to argue. “Okay, give me your best guess.”

“You don’t drink much, if at all,” he said, tapping his chin with a thick finger. “But if I had to guess that you were a wine cooler type of girl.”

You were shocked because he was absolutely right. How’d he get that off a look? “But, since wine coolers are shit, let me recommend a Tequila Sunset,” he said. “It packs a little more of a punch, but it’s fruity enough to take out the bite.”

You purse your lips, unsure if you'd  like it, but you were in too deep not to humor him. “You know what? Sure.”

He turned to the bartender and ordered it. The bartender made a show of mixing it up for you before placing a lovely glass of orange fading into a berry red from the grenadine. He watched you intently with those intense eyes as you took a sip, marvelling that the juice took out that awful taste of tequila. You repressed a smile and said, “That’s quite delicious.”

He returned your grin with one of his own, showing off perfectly straight teeth. “I’m Joel. And you are…?”

And you answered, giving him your name.

“It suits you.”

Your face felt hot, not expecting that response. “Thanks.” You took another sip of your yummy cocktail that tasted more like juice than liquor. “So, Joel, tell me how you guessed my drink of choice.”

He shrugged his toned shoulders, drawing your gaze to the chords of muscle around his neck. Never once have you ever wanted to take a bite out of a human being, but here you were, wondering how his muscles would feel between your teeth. He wasn’t close enough to smell his cologne, but he just looked like he smelled good.

“You don’t look like you come to clubs often, so it was a lucky guess,” Joel said.

“Is it that obvious?” you asked meekly. Here you thought you were blending in nicely, but maybe you did stick out.

He smiled at me and said, “No. My brother owns a club so I’m in them pretty frequently. Checking out the competition.”

That made you feel better. You parted your lips to ask another question when Natalie came between Joel and you to order another drink. She took a step back at your side and gave Joel a once over. “And where have you been hiding?” Natalie said flirtatiously.

While Joel looked at you, he was smiling. Visibly interested in you, but with Natalie, he looked very bored. He ignored her completely, which you would have found rude if it wasn’t also incredibly hot. You liked the attention.

“Can I have your phone?” he asked, outstretching his hand to you.

You reached into your jeans pocket and pulled it out, placing it in his hand. Nervously, you sipped your drink. Was he really about to give you his number? He saved himself in your phone and handed it back. “Call me,” he said, standing up from the barstool. “Or don’t. But I really hope you do.”

He flashed you one more dimpled smile, shot Natalie one more dirty look, and left.

“What a dick,” Natalie grumbled, but you were too engrossed in the contact info. You had a hundred notifications from your dad in the notification bar, but your eyes were locked on Joel's name.

“Whatever, let’s go dance.” Natalie grabbed your arm, clearly irritated at the one man in the entire club who wasn’t showing her attention. You relented, tucking your phone into your pocket as you danced the night away with Natalie, the mysterious man from the bar on your mind.

Should I call him?

You looked at your phone, lingering on Joel's contact info. Your thumb hovered over the message button, but you turned off your screen instead. Study. You need to study. You divert your attention to your criminal psychology textbook, taking notes for various terms you need to know. You didn’t necessarily need the notes. You remembered everything you saw.

A gift and a curse. A gift for college. A curse because you can’t forget anything. Your dad’s bribe deals. All the sketchy shit he got himself involved in, you remembered. You could even remember the name on the check with crystal clear accuracy. Sierpente. A distinct last name. Of course, considering how fast your dad snapped that check away from you only solidified it in your memory. He played it off, but you knew how nervous he was. Whoever this Sierpente was, they were bad news.

So sure, you were avoiding your dad because you were angry with him, but you also didn’t want to get tangled in his web. What you didn’t know couldn’t hurt you. Because you were also a terrible liar.

You were practically a walking textbook.

You sighed, leaning back on your rolly chair to tie your hair up. It wasn’t a very good bun, but your hair was always so unruly anyway. Your leg shook, and you couldn’t stop tapping your pen on your desk, eyes darting back to your phone again.

Fuck it. I’ll text the mystery man from the other night.

Keep it short and simple. Don’t sound desperate. Joel was too attractive to find desperate and endearing. You typed a few letters only to backspace.

You: Hi, it’s the girl from the other…

Nope. Nope. Nope.

You: Salutations. I was pleased to meet…

Salutations? You started to backspace when you accidentally hit send. Sounding like a fucking weirdo by texting “Salutations—” 

Giving up hope, you turned off your screen and placed it facedown on your desk. Way to fucking go. That’s the last time you ever try to make a move. You pressed your palm into your forehead. Never once had you ever used that greeting before, but you decided to send it to a drop-dead gorgeous man you met at a club.

Way to fuck that one up.

Why were you so hung up on it? Joel had this energy about him. You felt it when you were next to him. It intrigued you. You remembered what his hands looked like. Burned into your vision with perfect accuracy. You bet those hands would look great around your throat.

And where the fuck did that come from? 

A spike of lust coiled in your belly at the image. Lust wasn’t completely foreign to you, but you never acted on it. Boys never interested you. Surrounded by boys in class and on campus. You'd always been attracted to older men, but you had no idea how to make a move. And your inexperience was apparently a massive turn-off. 

Your phone buzzed, and you flipped it over to see that Joel texted back.

Joel: Salutations to you too. Who’s this?

Your face warmed as you tried to wait the appropriate amount of time before texting back. But in reality, you replied in about ten seconds.

You: From the other night at the bar.

Three dots appeared, keeping you on the edge of your seat.

Joel: Tequila Sunrise? How are you?

You: Just studying. You?

Joel: Another boring day at the office. You up for a phone call? I’d like to hear that sweet little voice without all that music. 

Your stomach lurched up to your throat, and you started to feel incredibly warm despite your sleep shorts, oversized tee, and the AC blasting over your head. You looked over to Natalie’s unmade bed. She likely wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning. A little phone call wouldn’t hurt.

You: Sure. One sec.

joel's pov

A small smirk pulled to the side of his mouth as he pulled back the curtain to look through his scope into your room. Joel was set up in an abandoned dorm across the courtyard. Temporary until the recon team set up cameras, and he could finally go back to his own bed.

You paced around your room, looking at your phone. Visibly nervous as you gave yourself a pep talk. Fuck, you were cute.

The past few weeks, he’d been assigned to you. Keeping an eye on you for Don Sierpente. A nice change of pace from breaking kneecaps and cutting off fingers. His usual mark was easy. Kill or send a message. Make it look like an accident. You, however, were a particular case. He wasn’t supposed to hurt you. In fact, he was supposed to make sure no harm came to you until Don was ready for his move. Keep his distance until his orders suddenly changed this past weekend.

“Get close to her,” Tommy ordered, playing liaison for Don. “We need her to trust you.”

Trust me? The girl was naive, not stupid. But I’d play. Could be fun.

As usual, he had eyes on you while you were at your desk that evening, nibbling on a pen and tapping your foot. You kept making little notes from your forensic psychology textbook. Wearing an oversized t-shirt and cute little pajama shorts, you looked good enough to eat.

“Call me, you sweet little thing,” he murmured, just loud enough for his brother, Tommy, to hear. He rolled his shoulders, raising his eyes to look at Joel, lips tilted downward in a displeased grimace.

Joel's phone rang and he lifted it to his ear, answering, “Joel.”

“H-Hey, um…this is, uh I was just texting you,” your cute voice whispered nervously over the phone.

He could feel his dimple puncture his cheek as his grin widened. “I know. Salutations.”

“Oh, dear God,” you muttered with audible embarrassment.

Your anxious little breaths were endearing. Joel was tempted to stay quiet and wait to see how long it took until you crumbled, babbling about something just to fill the silence.

“So, uh, about the salutations thing. That was an accident.” You twirled a loose tendril of hair around your finger, pacing back and forth in a circle. He liked that, even from a distance, he could watch you squirm.

“You mean you don’t send salutations as a greeting to everyone?” He already knew the answer to that when he got the text and saw you smash your palm into your forehead.

You laughed nervously. “Ha. Yeah…uh, I was supposed to delete that. But it sent so I gave up on getting a text back.”

“Gave up that quick, huh?” Joel teased. “Shame.”

“About five seconds from deleting your contact too.”

Joel gave a mock gasp. “Wow, darlin’, that’s just cruel.”

You made a cute-sounding giggle, finally warming up a little bit. He glanced over at his brother, clearly distracting himself with a text—probably from Eli—before he put his phone down and made a motion to cut the call. Joel rolled his eyes at him, turning away completely. 

“Hey, baby girl, I actually have to go. Bossman is walking in.”

The pet name took you off guard, but he liked the way you paced when you were nervous and how you twirled your hair. “Okay. Nice talking to you?” you said more like a question like you weren't sure how to end the call.

“Definitely. I could fall asleep listening to that sweet little voice.” Or jerk off to it, but he wasn’t going to say that. “Talk to you later.”

He hung up, arching a brow at Tommy. “What?”

“Babygirl? Really?” he inquired, crossing his arms.

“You’d like her, Tommy. Just your type,” he smirked. “And if she’s your type, then you know she’s mine.”

“The last time you dated a woman you were attracted to, she turned out to be a raging psychopath,” Tommy commented.

“Exactly. You have better taste in women,” he winked. He raised the scope to get one last eyeful of you before Tommy told him whatever he had to say.

“She’s undressing right now,” Joel baited. You weren’t. It wouldn’t have bothered him, but he knew it bothered Tommy. And it was always fun to fuck with him. Tommy's eyebrows furrowed, frown deepening. Always fucking frowning. Always pissed off.

“You want a peek? She’s got the assets.”

Suddenly, Tommy stood up and ripped the scope out of his hands. “She’s a mark. Not your personal peep show,” he practically hissed.

“You’re telling me that the Don wants me to get close to her, but not fuck her?”

“For the love of God, don’t fuck her. She’s the congressman’s daughter. We’re only watching her as insurance that he’ll follow through with his promise to rule in our favor. Then we leave.”

Well, that was a fucking contradiction. Why would Joel have to get close to her if he had to watch her? “What if she fucks me?”

“For fuck’s sake, Joel.” Tommy pinched his nose in frustration. “Drop it.”

He leaned back, pleased by Tommy's reaction. “She’s been my mark for three weeks and you don’t even know what she looks like.” Joel took a pack of smokes out of his jeans pocket, lighting up right in the room. “Humor me. See for yourself how fucking cute she is.”

“No,” Tommy hissed.

“Why? Do you think you’ll get attached?” Joel pouted his lower lip. “I know you have a soft spot for soft spoken women. I thought you were supposed to be the big bad Tommy Miller and now you won’t even look in the direction of a mark? You’re not even the least bit curious why the Don has his eye on her?”

Joel was baiting him and he knew it. He didn’t even know why he did this, but he liked getting under Tommy's skin. It proved that he still had a heart after all the shit that happened to them. He wasn’t like Joel and he shouldn’t be. He carried all that weight for them so no one else had to feel it. All that stress could break a man down.

Tommy sighed, sitting back down at the table, and taking Joel's scope with him. “Why do you think you were assigned to this?”

Joel raised his eyebrows. “Enlighten me. Why wasn’t Eli assigned for babysitting duty?”

“Because he would start to feel bad about her. You, on the other hand, don’t feel much of anything,” he said.

He was right. The only attachments he had were Tommy and Eli, his brothers. Part of him wondered what it would be like to care. A small little part of him ached for those attachments. But most of him didn’t give a fuck unless it gave him something he wanted.

“Speaking of, he’s flying back from Mexico next week,” Tommy explained.

“About fucking time. I missed the empathetic asshole,” Joel  commented. Eli was too nice for this line of work. He wasn’t a good fit for the cartel, but he was trapped in this arrangement. So was Joel. So was Tommy.

They were Don Sierpiente’s lapdogs and there wasn’t jack shit they could do about it. Til the day they died, the old fuck owned them. Tommy at least had enough sense to make himself indispensable. And if Tommy was indispensable, so were the rest of them. Package deal. The Miller brothers. They were a package deal in many parts of life.

Tommy nodded, deep in thought. He didn’t like it when Eli was sent over the border because he never knew if he’d come back. He was sure Eli could handle himself just fine, but Tommy practically raised them, so he still sees Eli as the thirteen-year-old jackass who moved the neighbor’s gnome every morning to make her think it was moving on its own. And Tommy, being eighteen and struggling to help mom make ends meet at the time, felt like he needed to protect Eli from every little thing. Of course, good ol’ Eli doesn’t help his case when he still plays tricks all these years later.

Tommy got up from his seat, still pissed off. This time, not at Joel, it was at whoever was messaging him. Not that he would ever tell Joel what was really going on. Tommy was still trying to protect his brothers. Joel would find it endearing if it didn’t annoy him so much.

“I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later,” Tommy said as he left before Joel could get a word in. But, he’d done his part. Now Joel just had to watch the pieces fall into place.

your pov

Time for coffee. Your caffeine fix. You were up all night studying for some bullshit math test that had nothing to do with your major, but it was a requirement. Sure, you can remember obscure terms or exactly what someone was wearing at brunch four years ago. But math? Your Achilles heel. So now you had to wake back up before you went to the class you actually liked. You just hoped you survived math long enough to get the credit for your transcript and never have to do an equation ever again.

Your phone buzzed.

Tucking your book under your arm, you reached into your pocket to see a missed message from Joel. You'd only met him a week ago, but you really enjoyed texting him. Your lips quirked into a smile when you saw it.

Joel: Hey, do you want to get a drink with me?

You: Tonight? I can’t. I have a morning class tomorrow.

Joel: That’s a shame.

Your stomach twisted because you did want to get a drink with him. He made you nervous in a good way and…he intrigued you.

You: Tomorrow?

Joel: Tomorrow is good.

Say something flirty.

You: Maybe I’ll let you buy me a drink.

Oh yeah. Hook, line, and sinker. You could pat yourself on the back for that one.

Joel: What else would you let me do?

Instantly, your entire body was hot. You could hear that sentence in his voice. That deep, sexy voice that made your knees wobble when you talked to him on the phone. That sweet-talker. But you'd be lying if you said you didn’t like it. You like how your belly flushed with heat. What would you let him do to you?

You: Buy a girl dinner first, Joel.

You giggled to yourself at that one, shifting foot to foot, still walking toward that coffee shop without a care as to where you were going.

Joel: I’ll take you up on that, baby girl.

Why did you like that? Never once had you ever liked being called baby girl or doll or sweetheart or any pet name, but when Joel said it so nonchalantly on the phone, your thighs tingled. Wetness pooled in your panties, and you didn’t understand why you liked it so much. Joel was an anomaly to you. He drew you in. Sent little shivers down your spine. Whether it was danger or attraction, you weren't quite sure. You were still trying to pinpoint exactly what it was about him. Maybe it was his absolute certainty in himself. The arrogance you could hear in his voice. He knew who he was, and you were still trying to find that out about yourself. Maybe you envied it a little bit. You had this urge to absorb some of that certainty.

Really, it didn’t surprise you. You were a psychology major and therefore hyperaware of how your parents influenced your childhood. You dissect people based on their walk, the flicker in their eyes, and the fluctuations in their voices. You could read just about anyone. Except for Joel. His mannerisms contradicted themselves. He’d say one thing with complete conviction while his body language said something else entirely. You wanted to get into his head and figure out what he was thinking. That came from your mother. She was an alcoholic talk show host who knew what buttons to press to make the best TV. Your father knew how to manipulate people to get what he wanted. A match made in Hell. That’s why they’re divorced.

Some divorced kids would be excited to have two versions of holidays, but while your dad spoiled you rotten, your mother forgot you existed. She’d forget birthdays. Important events. Always absent. Always drunk. Months, you were trapped in her condo, wondering if you'd find her body, finally worn to nothing from years of substance abuse. You would wake up on Christmas day to find her intoxicated on the kitchen floor, knife in her hand, in a pool of her own sick. You never knew what she planned to do with that knife. Was it for you? Or for her?

She’d tell you she was fine. That she wouldn’t relapse again. You had to protect yourself from her. No child should ever have to protect themselves from their parents. She was always lying. Eventually, your dad got full custody of you. He wasn’t much better, but at least you knew he loved you in his own way.

Unfortunately, he overcorrected. And manipulated to “keep you safe”. Your dad was a master manipulator. Your childhood was in the confines of homeschooling and avoiding paparazzi. But the love child of a politician and a public TV personality made for a complicated childhood. It only got worse as you started to grow up. You became anti-social. Cautious. You're still trying to unlearn the survival mechanisms you taught yourself. The flinching and the shaking. The “shut up and smile,” mentality.

Now you were free from your father’s legal ownership of you, but there was only so much behavior you could correct. And that’s why you have an uncanny ability to know when people are lying to you. You swear you're too fucking observant for your own good.

And just as that thought crossed your mind, you ran face-first into an incredibly firm chest. The man’s coffee went flying, saturating a white dress shirt. Your phone propelled across the sidewalk. And your textbook skidded over and tripped a student who got caught up in your acute sense of observation.

“I’m so sorry!” you gasp, trying to salvage his coffee cup, but it’s toast. You didn’t even look up at him as you went for your textbook. Black slacks appeared in front of your vision as he helped you gather your stuff. The first thing you noticed was scarred knuckles. The second thing, his voice.

“It’s fine.”

Your face was boiling. You can’t believe you just did that. Why do you even go outside? His scarred hands outstretched your book and phone to you. You took them, sheepishly looking up into deep eyes. “Thank you,” you said, tucking some of your hair behind your ears. This man couldn’t have been a student. He wore a suit jacket, also stained with coffee. “Your jacket,” you gasped, now seeing the damage you caused. “Oh no. Can I do anything?”

His nose had clearly been broken a few times. His thick dark hair had a few streaks of gray through it, aging him slightly, but  you only found yourself more attracted to him. He shrugged his jacket off and you got an eyeful of a soaked shirt clinging to his toned body.

Good Lord.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll just get another,” he commented offhandedly.

You felt like you had to do something. You did just completely destroy his shirt. “Please, at least let me get you another coffee. I feel awful.”

He rolled his shoulders and you swear your mouth watered a little bit. First you ran into Joel last week and now you run into another stunningly gorgeous man? “If you insist,” was all he said. But you felt like his lack of speech only made whatever he didn’t say much louder. His mouth was curved downward into a rather aggressive scowl which would typically send anyone else running away, but his shoulders were slack, relaxed. The unconscious language put you more at ease than his face did. You wondered if perhaps the grimace was a defence mechanism. Perhaps developed at a young age–

Stop psychoanalysing everyone. Get it together!

You greeted him abruptly stating your name, outstretching your hand to shake his in greeting. He looked at your hand but didn’t take it. You tried not to take that personally.

“Really?”

You babbled nervously, explaining why you were named what you were named. He watched you closely, still not smiling, but his tongue curved against the inside of his cheek, making it just out a little in an expression you translated as amusement. “I’m Tommy.”

“Well, let’s go get you that coffee, Tommy. I probably already made you late for your meeting.” You tucked your book under your arm, pocketing your phone to not distract yourself anymore. The student you tripped with your book gave you a death glare as you mouthed, “Sorry.”

“Meeting?” Tommy asked.

“Do you wear suits for fun?” you commented, your favorite coffee shop coming into view.

He shrugged. “Not particularly. I work in the area, but I don’t have an office job.”

“Oh, what do you do?”

“Finance,” he stated without missing a beat. A slight fall in his voice. An alteration in his speech pattern. An odd thing to lie about, but he also hadn’t talked long enough for you to determine his speech pattern.

“Oh?”

He diverted the conversation, another indication he was lying. You felt the urge to prod, but you didn’t know this man. Why he was lying was none of your business. Maybe he was sneaking around. Or cheating on his wife. You glanced down at his hands. No ring. Not married. Unless he took it off, but you didn’t see a tan line either.

“Are you a student here?” Tommy asked, keeping his tone neutral.

“Yeah, I’m in my second year. Studying psychology with a focus on criminal psychology.”

“Busy girl then,” he commented, but for some reason it made your insides twist. You felt hyperaware of his gaze. It felt curious even if his scowl said otherwise. People can rarely hide the truth in their eyes.

You chuckled, trying to sound at ease even though your body was twisting and tightening against your control. “That’s me. Busy. Busy.”

There wasn’t a long line at the coffee shop as you went up to the counter and  ordered your usual. Iced coffee and a cream cheese danish. You went absolutely feral for their danishes. Homemade and always warm. Your favorite snack between classes. Tommy spoke his order. Medium coffee black. Nothing to dress it up.

“Have you tried their danishes?” you asked, gesturing to the glass case. “I’ll buy you one. They’ll change your life.”

The cashier laughed. “High praise from you.”

His eyebrow twitched and he said, “Fine. I’ll take a strawberry one.”

“Excellent choice,” the cashier stated as he started to get the order ready. 

“Tap your chip when you’re ready.”

You nodded, pulling your wallet out of your pocket, but Tommy beat you to it, swiping a platinum credit card. “Hey!” you objected. “Let me get that for you.”

“I have more than enough money. I’m not letting a college kid buy me anything,” Tommy started with a complete monotone.

You brushed some of your unruly hair back. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” he shrugged. The cashier came back with your orders and Tommy handed you your coffee and danish. His fingertips brushed yours and small shocks erupted up your arm, leaving tingles prickling the hair on your arms. “Consider this a gift.”

You raised both your eyebrows, brushing off the addicting sensation tingling your arms. “For dumping hot coffee all over you?”

The corner of his full lips curled up for a fraction of a second before it was gone. “For the conversation.”

Your breath escaped your lungs and you stood there completely dumbfounded. “You’re welcome.”

“Now,” he held up his paper sack housing a delicious danish, “this danish better change my life.”

“It will,” you promised.

His eyes flickered. “Nice talking to you.”

“You too, Tommy,” you murmured, liking the way his name sounded. Coating your tongue like golden syrup. He nodded and turned away, exiting the coffee shop without another word. Your eyes were glued to him as he left, helplessly gliding down his back to his waist and thighs.

“Huh,” you muttered to yourself as you brought your danish to your lips and took a bite. Flavor exploded across your tongue. Tangy. Creamy. Buttery. Yum. You looked over at the cashier and shouted, “You’ve outdone yourself, Steve!”

The cashier shot you a smile and waved you goodbye as you left. Thankfully, you still had a little time before class to enjoy your coffee.

[tarotwithlove]

PAC 🩰ೕ what career would best suit you?

reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.

BOOK A READING WITH ME · LINKTREE · SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC · TIPS ♡ tips and feedback are highly appreciated!

GROUP ONE

cards · queen of pentacles, high priestess, judgement (reversed), king of pentacles (reversed), knight of wands, eight of swords. 

channelled songs · all i got by baekhyun. itty bitty piggy by nicki minaj. flicker by enhypen. 

hey there group one ♡ the career that would best suit you is one where you are reliant on yourself more than on anyone else. your financial and professional success is best in your hands, as you are the only person you should trust with the financial and professional success you have in mind. thus, regardless of specific avenues, self-employment and entrepreneurial careers would best suit you.  

you may have already spent some time gaining business experience, and now it’s time to use that experience and the connections you have built in the workplace for your own good. 

some of you may have a business or marketing degree. if not this is your sign to study business and/or marketing so that you have the knowledge needed to progress as far forward as possible. your degree will be the foot in the door, giving you access to a workplace and connections before you are ready to branch out on your own. 

working for yourself is scary. it is a big leap of faith to take. but if you have the desire in your heart to do so, do not let your doubts or the doubts of other people stop you. you may stumble and you may have to start over time and again and you may wonder if you have chosen the wrong path, but know that you have not. know that you will rise again and again and you will succeed. don’t let failure control you. the more you push yourself, the more you will see the success that you dream of. 

GROUP TWO

cards · page of wands, four of pentacles, eight of swords, nine of wands, justice (reversed), six of cups (reversed). 

channelled songs · circles by mariah carey. du du du by tan. regular - korean version by nct 127. 

hey there group two ♡ there are two distinct types of careers that would best suit you, though they are similar in nature. the career that would best suit you is one where you are helping other people plan for the future. you are personable and easy to get along with, which, when backed by knowledge and experience, makes people feel at ease. you make the people who come to you feel as if things will go smoothly just because they are in your hands. 

for some of you, this will look like going into accounting, investment coaching, or insurance. something financial. this career should be one where you help other people build up their savings. for some, you should choose a career where you are specifically helping people plan for retirement. where the latter is concerned, this could also look like working in a retirement home and eventually becoming the head of your own retirement home or retirement village. 

for others in the group, the way you help people plan for the future is as either a teacher or someone in the education sector or as a travel agent or someone in the travel and hospitality industry. with the latter, you can help people plan where to go and when, what places would best suit their interests, and how to best experience a place they are visiting - just as some examples. two careers that specifically come to mind are that of a concierge or a travel writer! 

GROUP THREE

cards · seven of pentacles, ten of pentacles (reversed), the devil, four of cups, four of wands (reversed), page of wands. 

channelled songs · wu ji - xiao zhan solo version by xiao zhan. my tragedy by taeyeon. cement by nicole dollanganger. 

hey there group three ♡ the career that would best suit you is one where you are in the public eye - either as an actor, musician, model, influencer, or the face of a brand. this will not be for everyone, of course, as this career will take a lot out of you emotionally and physically. with you at times feeling as if you sold your soul and your chances of a normal life for the sake of fame. 

this career is one that is incredibly focused on appearances and making sure things appear a certain, well-polished way. you will constantly have to work hard to ensure your body looks a particular way and that you come across as successful as everyone expects you to be - wearing designer clothes, driving luxury cars, always having your hair and makeup done to the tee.

in this career, you are the product as much as you are a person, and so you have to make sure that you are faithful to your brand at all times. while some may be crushed under this pressure - especially as you will be putting in a lot of work for very little money or satisfaction, at least in the beginning - you will likely only rise. 

alternatively, for some, this career could also be as a doctor. again, a doctor who adapts to the reality tv and social media age and gains a level of fame, like dr miami or dr pimple popper, for example. or as a writer who gives up writing what they want to write in order to write what will get them the most fame or success. 

in either case, your career and professional success takes precedent. which may mean you have to sacrifice love and time with family. 

GROUP FOUR

cards · the lovers, seven of pentacles, queen of pentacles, eight of cups, death (reversed), four of pentacles. 

channelled songs · sugarcoated love by rimon. when he’s done by tei shi. remember forever by red velvet. 

hey there group four ♡ there are two distinct career paths for this group. for some of you, the career that would best suit you is one where marriage and relationships is the main focus. of course, this is quite broad and varies from person to person, but you are someone who is best suited to help others reach their full potential where love is concerned. you may become a marriage counsellor, a couples’ therapist, or a lingerie/sex toy designer or salesperson. 

for others of you, this could be self love. you hold a mirror up to people and help them see the beauty in themselves - in the way that a self-help guru, personal trainer, or fashion designer might. you uplift people and make them feel as if life is a little more beautiful today than it was yesterday.

right now, i’m thinking of takashi miike saying that he likes to give even minor characters some extended scenes so that all actors get at least some time to shine. so that those actors, even though they may not be big movie stars, can feel accomplished and proud of the work they’ve done. 

in whichever case, it is your passion for others to see their own light and star power that propels you forward. whether you are the director who makes sure every actor gets important screentime or the lingerie salesperson who makes sure everyone walks out of your store with lingerie they feel confident in. whatever career path you choose, as long as you keep this mindset, you will not fail. 

[harrysmimi]

Professor

Synopsis: One where Harry pays for the consequences of ghosting the girl he was seeing for two months

More of my work

It was pretty late, but Harry was actually excited to finally get back in university and get his master's four years later!

It was his initial plan to do so but he kept putting it off as he was deep in debt, but now that's he's got his life back on track he was ready to get that masters because apparently the Management field looks for papers along with experience for better paying jobs. And honestly he hates his job as assistant to charted accountant now. Though he was already dreading this, his friends Niall and Liam were going with him, they were in the same Marketing and Business Law classes to put his anxious mind at ease.

Him and his friends would probably be the older of the demographic in the batch of this year, but who cares? He's there to learn and get that degree with his name slapped on it. Niall was coming over to pick him today as his car was in service for past one week.

"Oh, she's hot!" Niall commented the girl had seemed to heard it as she picked up her pace of walking, "hope she's in our class. She's got a marketing text book in her hand." He was apparently talking about this girl who just parked next to them and started running towards what he hoped to class.

Harry's heart skipped a beat when he saw her though. She looked awfully familiar to him. Shaking his head he proceeded to go to his first class which was Marketing Management.

The lecture hall was massive for the class strength to be of only 60 students, desks arranged in arranged in tiers to give the lecturer perfect view of the class. A projector set up for the lecture already. Harry and his friends had no other option than to sit on the very first desks, it would be pretty difficult of the trio as they've been the back benchers their whole life.

"Good morning class, I am sorry for being late to the class was about to begin ten minutes ago." The professor barged in with her text book and laptop and Harry almost shat his pants. "Settle down everyone, please." She waited for the class to get settled in their desired places.

"First day of academic year it's always exciting, isn't it? Then it all gets dreadful and by the end of the semester you're like "urgh! I can't wait to be done with this stuff!" but that won't be happening in my class, I'll try to not let that happen at least." The professor went on as she observed the class carefully starting from the very back, "let's start with introducing ourselves to the class, I'll start; I am YN YLN. I teach Marketing and Business Law, I've been teaching for four years now. I come from a family of professors, I mean even my great grand parents from my both parents side were teachers. That's something I like to brag about."

She smiled an adorable cheeky smile. She's really a ray of sunshine, Harry decided.

"Now you all don't have to feel pressured to introduce yourself though it is highly encouraged, if not we'll proceed with our first lesson today." She gave the class a moment.

Surprisingly many students stood up and talked about themselves, where they come from, what they like to do, and all the good stuff like that. The class was actually liking her that much even the shy ones tried to interract.

"Oh my god, she's definitely gonna hate me for calling her hot in the parking lot. She heard me!" Niall murmured to him.

But he's got way worse to deal with her. His professor.

Never in his life he thought he'd ever find himself in a situation like this, ever!

He met YN at the start of summer this year on a dating site. In all honesty he was just looking to get laid but for some reason he took it too far with her without telling her what he really wanted. Yes, he is an asshole for doing that, but he did not expected to have karma hit him this way.

Her dating profile was really what someone who was dating to get married would swipe right in a heartbeat. She was same age as him couple months younger even, she could cook (if anyone cared for that), she was well educated, and had a four year teaching experience at University — though the name of the university was not mentioned — she was a mum to an almost two year old boy.

Least to say he didn't wanted to hook up with her on the first date, she was just that sweet and humble. He just dropped her off to hers and asked if he could take her out for coffee and he did. He saw her over the weekend. Got laid as well. Led her on for five weeks straight. For the first time since he graduated he felt like wanting to get into a relationship, but she called off their date twice last minute because her son was severely sick.

Yeah! He totally feels awful for that. He knew she's a mother and he won't be on her first priority list probably for a very long time if he did not blew things up with her. He didn't even mind that she have a child in the beginning.

Maybe he got scared of the commitment? But she would have understood that as she had talked about getting stood up by dates for the reason, but also made it pretty clear in his opinion that she was looking for something serious if things led to other. He felt even more guilty. He just ghosted her.

And he was starting to like her, a lot. Seeing the way how she talked about her son in most subtle way, he found it very adorable and attractive in a way, she even paid all her mind when he talked about his own interests in his slow tone like he usually does which many find annoying. She had way too much patience to put up with him. She did come off as shy and introverted the whole time and not like as she is being in the class right now.

None of his friends knew he was seeing someone over the summer. That was the little down cor why Professor YLN had his heart running like a wild horse. He almost died when she finally noticed him as a sly smirk took over her pretty features making him sink in his seat like a melting ice cube of a burning iron skillet. He wanted to disappear. Throw himself against the wall.

"Anyone from the front desks? Very familiar faces from around the campus." She asked, eying him with a revenge being plotted in her mind. He is sure she's going to be petty with the look on her face like that. She even glared at Niall who commented on her earlier.

She proceeded with the first topic after two more introductions from the students. Honestly she was amazing at her job. Even more amazing than any of the teachers he's had his entire life (apart from his mother).

"Before we dismissed the class," YN said closing off the tabs on the projector for the class, "I just want to make you know that if you do not understand anything, you can feel free to ask away any of your doubts and please be free to give any feedbacks you have on my teaching methods, if I'm going too fast or too slow with the portion. I'm here to help. My office hours are from 3pm to 4.30pm, you can come in to get your doubts cleared if needed in the future."

"If you have any doubts from today's lecture, I'll be clearing those the first thing in the next class on Wednesday. From the next class onwards the first fifteen minutes would be to clear out any doubts and queries. And that will be all for today. Thank you so much for your time today. Hope you all have an amazing rest of the day." With that she dismissed the class, and left the hall.

"Move, move, move," Harry chanted getting up from his chair almost pushing Niall over who was had taken the aisle seat.

"Patience!" Niall stood up making a way for his friends who barged out like a racing car.

Harry ran straight to the bathroom and locked himself up in a stall as he threw up.

God he's going to have to put up with her for next six months. She's probably going to make his life hell in college. He's probably going to have to his arse off for her class. For a moment he thought he'd blackmail her if she tries to fail him but it won't work as he haven't seen her in a month and things came to an end before he even got accepted into this academic institution. His mind was racing with most stupid and fucked up possibilities as he emptied out the hearty breakfast he had this morning.

He finally got up and made his way out to wash his face but he felt like he was going to pass out if it weren't for Liam who came looking for him, he would have had fallen down and hit his head somewhere.

"You alright, mate?" Liam asked.

All it took was for him to shake his head. "Uhh, yeah!" He somehow pulled himself together.

"You want to go home? I'm sure none of the professors would be getting anything important done today." Liam suggested.

"No, no, I am fine." He shook his head again, washed his face and rinsed his mouth and drank some water Niall gave him.

He was going to have to put up with all this because he was so determined to prove his father wrong that he can actually do something with his life. He was still living in the same old studio flat since he moved out at the age of eighteen, now he's twenty-five, he works a job which pays him just enough to live on cheque go cheque. He had that pressure from his father because his sister was going amazing!

She had written three best selling books out there. She is doing so much better with her life than him. She was in a stable and healthy relationship. Had her own house, two cars. Even his step siblings were better than him in many aspects. But he's happy with what he has is always looked over at and he's compared to everyone who's figuratively doing much better than him at every family gathering.

He has even started to skip those now the best he can.

He went back home his cat Evie all tired and still feeling about shit he probably have put YN through. Even the cat reminded him of her now, Evie loved the girl more than him and she was over all for four times at his.

For fucks sake it was just a two months thing he shouldn't make a big deal out of it, man up and apologise to her.

And he did. He texted her, waited for an entire for reply just to remember she was really bad at texting, she admitted to it and that she preferred to talk on phone calls instead.

It was Tuesday night when he called her. It rang through twice but she didn't answer. He just tried to go to bed but he couldn't sleep all night. He wanted to drive upto her house but it would have it's own consequences if anyone from his class saw him. He did talked to many of his classmates on the first day who lived in the same area as hers.

On the Wednesday morning he got to know two his classes were cancelled for the day, which YN takes. That worried him because he saw on Tuesday on campus busy with her other classes. It took a text for him mum requesting him to take her to the hospital as she was having some sever allergic reactions, so he was more worried about that instead of dealing with the shit he had spread.

His mum was very sick to add to his worries, he drove her to the emergency room and waited for doctors to check on her outside. She was advised to stay there for the day and could go home in the evening if everything was under control with the medications she was given.

"You want me to get you something?" Harry asked.

"A bottle of water would be good," Anne nodded.

"I'll be back," he smiled, kissing her forehead he headed out. He had to walk all the way to the hospital canteen as there were no vending machines in this hospital which actually worked. He was already frustrated that he can to walk tem minutes to get his mother a bottle of water she needed. He can do no thing right!

"Can I get a black coffee with no sweetner and a bottle of water please?" He asked the cashier, already finishing for his wallet in his back pocket. He had to wait for his coffee so he took a seat at one of the table.

He decided to call YN again as he waited. She did answered it this time but a phone rang just behind him catching his attention.

"Hello?" He said.

"Hello, Harry if it is not anything urgent can I call you later?" She rushed in a murmur.

"Yeah, but are you okay?" He looked around to find her at the table just behind her, looking all tensed.

"Yes. I'll, I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay." He said and hung up.

He left her alone there, as she seemed to with a lady who reckoned to be her mother. He didn't wanted to bother her and he had his mother to worry about too.

......................................................................

It was the next morning he got a call back from YN just when he was about to text her again and go on to get ready for uni. His mum was doing good and was sent back home in the evening as expected.

"Hey, you needed any help that you called yesterday?" She asked, getting straight to the point, she sounded very tired on the other side of the call.

"Hi," he took in a deep breath, "ummm, I wanted to talk."

"If it's something related to class I don't know if I'll be help now, but I'll try my best, what is it?" She asked, politely.

"No, no it's not related to class. I, ehm, want to apologise for what I did." He said, "I shouldn't talk about this over a phone call, if we could meet?"

"I don't think that's a good idea now, Harry," she suggested, "and I can't see you right now. Whatever happened I'm just over it, you and I can move on from it and be professionals."

"You're going to forgive me that easily?" He asked. Hurt honestly that she's not going to hold anything against him because he truly believes he deserves that.

He heard a frustrated sigh from the other side, "I have got other things to worry about and what you did is honestly the least of my worries." She made it clear to him, "if you're worried I might fail you in either of your classes, I won't. I am not petty. You've got nothing to worry about just be good with your progress, I assure you will be treated as rest of the students." That hit him like a truck but with a whiff of cold air.

"I am not worried about that." Lie. A half lie. Or you can even a quarter lie. "I genuinely feel bad for ghosting you like that."

"And I forgive you for that, okay?" He was getting on her nerves now which was evident through her voice, "it's okay. Now if you're done, I have somewhere to go to."

"Yeah." He sounded before he heard the line go dead.

......................................................................

YN was miserable seeing her baby so sick. He had a surgery coming up this afternoon which had much higher rates of full recovery but it stung at her motherly heart that he even has to go through all of this.

He was born with atrial septal defect but doctors said it isn't fetal and he can live just normal. He basically had a tiny hole in his tiny heart. It wasn't until last month that he started getting sick and sick, that doctors suggested it was better to get the surgery done. Her insurance covered the costs of the surgery but the stay at hospital for next week was something she couldn't afford as she was paying off the rest of the loan for the house she lives in now.

Her parents weren't happy with having a baby, especially when she got knocked up by a random dude she hooked up with who refused to be involved with his life. She was going through her rebellious phase in college instead of going through it when she was teenager. Her parents being religious did not helped either when she decided she wanted to keep the child. They almost kicked her out and they did, but they came around sooner than she expected, helped her around until she got her life together. She is their only child.

YN was just so shocked when her dad called her one evening to give the house he bought for her to give her as a wedding present which he worked his whole life for. She was really grateful for that because she was really struggling with finances and raising a tiny human. Her parents do teach her lessons which are much needed but they're very supportive of her which she finds herself to be fortunate of.

She had no face to go ask for help from her parents now, her dad had given her everything, he bought her a house and furnished it for her, even her car was bought by him. She didn't tell them that her son has a condition since he was born, until her mother saw her at the hospital yesterday as she was there with her father to get her routine check up done. Least to say her father still loves her that he agreed to help her out in a heartbeat, though they've had a very rocky relationship from past almost three years.

The thing with Harry was least she can worry about. He was just a guy she met a few months ago. Her son was her life time commitment she made the moment she decided to keep her pregnancy. Which was definitely the best one she has made in her life.

She went to see her son who was resting in his room as the OT was being prepared for him. She didn't know how she was going to tell him what the doctors are going to do to him but she was going to try as the doctors have suggested it. A nursed was checking up on him as he had just woken up from his nap. He was a bit sleepy due to the medications or else he is usually tailing after her so she can drop him off at daycare so he can go play with his friends Justin and Sienna.

"How is my little Lion doing?" She asked, he was dressed in his Lion King PJs he threw a massive tantrum for in the middle of the store for, he was obsessed with the show for some reason.

"Mamma!" He whispered.

"He's doing great." The nurse said, "we'll take him to the OT in an hour."

"Yeah, thank you." YN nodded politely at the nurse as she left. "Did you had a good sleep?"

"Mhmm." He nodded pushing his hair away from his face, YN helped him with that. "Simba is there, Mamma look." He pointed at the wall art in his room.

"Yeah, you finally saw it." YN cooed.

"I wan, I wan go home." He looked at her with his big doe eyes, sad like a small puppy, he still stutters while talking even though his vocabulary for almost two year old much more advanced, YN found it adorable to say the least.

"We will go home soon, okay? I promise." She assured him, "do you want to cuddle?"

"Mhmm."

YN sat up on his bed, placing him in her lap careful of the IV on his arm. He immediately snuggled into her chest.

"When we goin' home?"

"Uhmmm, after you're feeling fully better." YN stuttered to answer him, "for that you know the doctor will have to operate on you so you can get better faster and we can go home."

"What is that?" He asked.

"That is a bit difficult for me to explain, my baby, but when you're sleeping the doctor will help your heart feel better so you can go play with Justin and Sienna." YN shared, "Mamma wants you to know that it is okay, I'm here with you, yeah?"

"Mhmm." He nodded, "I miss Daisy."

"Yeah, you miss her?" She cooed. Daisy was YN's Persian cat she has had since she was eighteen. "She said she misses you too, but she wants you to stay here."

"Why?" He whined.

"So you can get better to play with her too." YN reminded him, "you're feeling not well, right?"

"No well." The little boy shook his head.

"Yeah, she said she loves you and wants to play with you loads and loads when you get back home." She tried to hype her up the best she could. He's just two years old to say the most. "I love you."

"I love you." He repeated. "I wan ice cream please, Mamma."

"What else do you want?"

"A big Burger, please?" He chirped in excitement because she doesn't let him eat junk food as much as her friends let him.

"A big burger it is." She agreed using the same tone he used to describe the size of food he wants.

"I wan a lion toy." He demanded.

"You already have one." YN gasped.

"A big one!" He exclaimed the best he could lifting his free arm up to show his mother a size of a stuffed animal he desires. And proceeded to talk about all the animals he likes and randomly talking about food in between.

She wonders if he is going to be a zoologist when he grows up.

He did had a little breakdown, it was pretty obvious an almost two year old is going to be scared to be rolled on a stretcher by strangers to a scary looking room. But he did well. The surgery took three hours in total to be completed but it was a success and he was doing amazing!

"Your son is doing amazing, Ms. YLN." The doctor shared with her during the consultation after the surgery in his office, "he will be off the anesthesia by morning, we'll have to have him under observation for next five to six days — or less depending upon his recovery speed — before he can go home and have weekly check ins if needed for next six weeks."

"Oh okay," YN nodded, "thank you so much for your help doctor. I hope he wasn't too scared."

"He was but we talked about things he loves, he apparently loves animals a lot." Doctor shared the humourous moment with YN's son in the OT.

"Oh yeah, he does." She chuckled.

......................................................................

YN had to go back to work on the Monday as she could not take anymore leaves. Luckily her mother offered to stay at the hospital until she gets off.

She was dreading the office work she had to do, and she have to cover up the portion she missed for week as soon as humanly possible. First semesters usually tend to go faster for her for some reason. She had cut off her office hours for next couple of weeks now just so she can go back to her baby and have talk her ears off about a new animal documentary he watched with his Nani.

She was so grateful that her day came to an end at work, she still had to go home and pack a change of clothes for him and some food for her mother and herself. But he heard knock on her cabin, she saw the same frog face she was harbouring a massive crush on months ago. She wanted to smack that stupid of his when he ghosted though.

"Yes, Harry how may I help you?" She asked, gathering her stuff so she can work the time she gets when her is sleeping. He really had his notes printed in his hand.

"I have a doubt." He said, "do you mind if I come in?"

"Sure." She nodded. He's her student she's not going to ask him to leave when that's what she gets paid for. Turned out he genuinely had a doubt which she explained him in matter of ten minutes. "Is there anything else you meed help with?"

"No, that was all, thank you so much." He smiled. "Are you okay? Saw you at the hospital last week when I was there with my mum."

"I am fine, it was my son he's doing good now." She shared as she closed her laptop and put it back in her bag, "I will share the presentation on the classroom online do you can take notes from them, tell your friends about it too."

"I will," he nodded. "What happened to him if you don't mind me asking?"

"Actually I do mind." She smiled a forced thin lipped smile, "thank you for being concerned though."

"Sorry." He mumbled sheepishly looking down biting on his lip, "I'll take a leave now." With his head down he just left. YN instantly felt bad for talking to him like that.

......................................................................

It was three weeks later and YN's som was back home. He has been doing great and spending all his days with his grandma when his mum goes to work.

YN have finally gotten back on track with the portion she has missed on the days she took off. She had assigned the first assignments to her classes, and god it was going to be a hassle with double the queries coming in her way. She thought five classes including both UG and PG students and one extra class this semester as one of the professor is on a maternity leave.

"I clearly don't get paid enough for this!" She mumbled to herself as she frustratedly checked the first few assignments the students have turned in just to get over with.

Well, she get it. She was a student not too long ago and she is still studying for her PhD but this was atrocious how students actually treat their teachers. She had to turn all of the assignments back to the students with individual remarks on individual assignment.

Recently all she have been wanting to do is just spend time with her baby boy. But all she have to resort to from eight in the morning to six in the evening is just to look at his picture on her desk she recently put up on her mother's suggestion. The boy was doing amazingly, recovering faster than expected, getting back to starting to be active again and be his tiny human self.

YN was going to get him to get a hair cut in a long time now because he willingly asked for it this weekend. And he's been excited about it all week. It was also his second birthday.

YN had decided to go very lowkey on with the celebration unlike her and her father did for his first birthday. She doesn't want him to hurt himself because she knows how hyper he can get when around other children with adrenaline and run and jump around like there's no tomorrow. He still needs to be easy as he heals from a major surgery.

So it was just going to be him, his friends Justin and Sienna coming over for a play date later in the evening in the backyard. His Nana went over board and got him a slide and a swing set to add to plethora of his outdoor toys like a mini golf course and a basketball hoop he got on his first birthday. YN was going to take him out on a little date, buy him two new toys he wishes for and get a hair cut.

She had her day planned out with her baby, getting her all happy and giddy already.

And just when she is about to leave it was Harry coming to her office for yet another doubt. At this point she genuinely started to believe be never has any doubts because she sees him pay attention in class and she never speaks or asks questions, and he asks ber random questions like he did on their dates. He always manages to go to her office with doubts just when she's about to leave. YN finds it annoying because she figured he's always to everything and she thrives on time decipline since she was very young.

"I did not understand the Consumer behaviour." He said, not even bothering to hide his cheeky smirk as he walked in and took a seat on the chair in front of her desk, putting his half written notes on her desk.

"What do you not understand about it? I guess it have been repeated taught to business and management students for years." She reminded him.

"This is my first semester in college after four years of working as an accountant. I think my knowledge has been rusted a bit since." He explained. She took a look at his notes to know what he might have and not have understood. There was nothing but the title of today's lecture written with a black pen in block letters on an unruled page of the book.

"You have literally written nothing." She pointed.

"Exactly, my point." He shrugged.

"What did you not understand?" She asked.

"How does demand law come into play with consumer behaviour?" He asked.

"Because it is basically a behaviour." She said.

"How?"

"You know when prices go high the deman decline and that decline comes from customers desire for not wanting to spend that much on something and vice versa." She explained, hints of frustration now laced through her tones. "And that desire for not wanting to or wanting to buy a particular good is a behaviour by customers who are the consumers."

"Good, okay." He nodded, clicking his pen open, "can you repeat that, please?"

YN took in a deep breath and out, "I will explain this entire topic again, tomorrow morning the first thing in the class and I will be conducting a class test the very next day on the same. Now if you're done with your querie, my shift is already over."

"Hey, I'm sorry," he rushed chuckling, "now that your shift is over and you're no longer my professor, can I ask you something?"

"In premises of this campus, I am still your professor." She reminded him, "and Harry please I am begging you do not do something which both of us would have to regret and face consequences for. I have a son and I need this job."

"I won't, I promise. I just feel bad for—"

"I know you do and I told you I forgive you for that. Make peace with it and move on for gods sake?" She interrupted him. "So when we see each other again on Monday, we're nothing more than professor and student, okay?"

"Okay." He nodded as the dimples on his cheeks disappeared in instant. He just grabbed his book and his bag and left her office.

......................................................................

When YN got back home she couldn't help but shake the face of upset Harry off her sight.

She did started with her usual routine with asking her son clean his play area after she got freshen up and started preparing for dinner with him next to her. She had him fed, gave him his medications and tucked him in bed. She have now moved his bed to her room for the time being so she can keep an closer eye on her. She kissed him good night before she got into her own bed.

She went on to her phone after a very long time. Checking in on what her uni friends are upto now on Instagram. Most of them traveling for work whilst others were just having their own babies. When she stumbled upon stories of Harry.

She is still following him. Just when she was about to go to his profile and hit the unfollow button, she saw him partying with his friends. She recognised everyone from her class, especially the blonde named Hope, being inappropriate in the background as his two friends took shots. Least to say YN quickly unfollowed him immediately.

Yes, she fell for it quickly. She had a crush on him the moment she saw him on her phone screen really. It was her who had downloaded the dating app that one night, she's got no friends who would actually hype her to do so. All them are busy with their own shenanigans. Part it was pressure from her family and her extended family that she's unmarried and already has a kid and part of it was her loneliness.

She matched with couple of people she went on few dates on but none of them went further than one date until Harry. He actually did not judge her when she told him she's got a son even though she's his own age. She had many men and women just tell her that they're not interested in her after she'd casually mention about her son even though she had it mentioned on her profile.

Harry said he actually read that when she swiped right on her. The summer with him was amazing!

Especially when her son was spending much more time at her Nani's house as his cousins would be there. For the first time after having him she has that free time to actually give herself that much needed time. He actually seemed to care about her whenever with her, he'd even text her to check up on her but she is very bad with checking her texts.

......................................................................

The mother and son duo were dressed in matching black hoodies and jeans with boots as they headed out after a nice breakfast with Nana and Nani.

"Ohhh!" The little boy squealed a sound of amusement seeing the London Eye for the first time as they walked to the salon for his appointment. She was going to take him there the next day.

"Hello little lad," the guy who was going to cut his hair greeted him as he placed the boy on a chair and placed a cloak around his neck.

"You don't have to be afraid of the noises the machine would make, okay? It's not going to hurt." YN assured him. She explained the hair dresser how she wants her boy's hair to be cut.

For the longest YN did not understood why he had dark honey blond hair but later learned she had the same hair when she was born but her's darkened up before she turned one. His just decided to blond for a long time. All the while he sat there giggling and laughing, feeling ticklish from the buzz of the electric clippers.

"You like that?" YN asked once the hair cut was done.

"I love it!" He exclaimed raising his hands up in excitement to celebrate.

"Yeah? What do you say then?" YN suggested.

"Thank you." He looked at the hair dresser.

"You're welcome." The guy smiled.

Later the mother son duo went on shopping. They walked around the entire toy store.

"Mamma, I wan this!" The little boy hit at the box with a picture of a pretty blue doll house.

"Yeah, do you also want dolls to put in it?" She suggested.

"Mhmm." He nodded.

"Okay, lemme put that in our cart, okay?" She placed him in the seat on the shopping cart and strapped him before she put the choice of his toy in the cart. "Do you also want to get a few presents for your friends?"

"Yes, yes, yes!"

After they headed straight to parking lot and YN drove them to a restaurant for lunch. They were having an amazing day really. They went back home and wrapped the presents they got for his friends and put them in individual bags like a little hamper. YN remember this was something her parents did on her birthdays up until her eighteenth birthday. It was a nice gesture and who does like gifts. That really taught her growing up that the world really doesn't revolve around ber even though she was quite spoilt as a child.

She wants her son to learn that early, the feel of being grounded even though he's twice as spoilt by her parents.

The kids had amazing time playing their to exhaustion. YN's parents got along with Sienna's mother who held same interests in English and Hindi literature, talking about things she's never heard of. YN never read a novel in her life even though ber dad is an English professor and her mother is French and English professor. It was never her cup of tea which her dad like to tease her about.

"He's seem to be doing really great now." Alex, Justin's dad said.

"Yeah, Sienna missed her friend too, she was asking about him." Marie joined in.

"Yeah, he's doing very well." YN nodded admiring her son laughing and giggling with his friends from afar. He just turned two and he's got more friends than her. "He was talking about Justin and Sienna too. They've become best friends, haven't they?"

"Okay, maybe we should discard that conclusion for a while." YN mum stood up immediately watching the kids now starting to fight over something. The fight was resolved and they were back to playing again. "They're best friends again!"

......................................................................

Everyone came in for a nice dinner YN and her dad made today. The kiss still wanted to play but were promised another playdate tomorrow at Sienna's house the same time. YN parents stayed after to help her clean the mess the kids had made before leaving.

She bathed the boy and put him to bed before she headed down to get herself a glass wine. Though she wasn't a big fan of drinking even a glass of alcohol but she needed it after stressful couple of weeks. Just as she was about to pop open a new bottle of wine Alex gifted YN and Marie after he returned from his trip from Italy like six months ago. He said it was something fruity, like berries. Just as she was about to pop open the bottle there was a knock on the door. She peeped through the hole as she was alone at home and it has gotten quite late at night. It was Harry to her surprise.

"Hi," she said after she opened the door.

"Hi," he smiled, awkwardly, "came to talk if you have a moment."

"I, ehm, do you want to come in?" She asked already stepping aside so be can walk in. He nodded and walked in, took off his shoes by the door. He was immediately greeted by Daisy trying to trip over as he followed YN in to the living room. "Please sit, would you like me to get you something?" She proceeded to walk into kitchen where he followed her to.

"No, I'm good." He said, politely, yet she got him a glass of water. "I want to see you again, I am sorry for ghosting you like that. I shouldn't have knowing you wouldn't do that on purpose unless it was something serious."

"What did you thought?" She was confused.

"I thought you didn't wanted to see me," he admitted, "you used your son being sick as an excuse. I know that was very childish of me and I am really sorry for that."

"Even if you are sorry nothing can happen now, you're my student, I can't pursue a relationship with my student." She kept tone was as low as he could hear with frustrated and upset undertone, "I would never make an excuse. Especially my son being sick. Thank you for telling how low you think of me." Her vision started to het blurry with tears, she looked down quickly to pick up the wine opener and putting it in it's place, next was the bottle

"I don't think low of you, YN, don't say that." He stressed on defending himself.

"Heydar, my son was really sick, okay. I am not going to give you an explanation but that's how I felt when you said that." She shared, "that's what I feel like is the truth. He had an open heart surgery not even a month ago and he turned two just today, you knew I was going to put him first before anyone, even myself. You thought I'm that much of a coward that I'd lie about an innocent two year old boy being severely sick just to get out of the situation with you?"

"I get it, I am so sorry about that." He apologised again with his head hung low, "I never dated since I graduated — well not this once before — so it was a rollercoaster ride to be with you emotionally for me because those were the best two months I've ever spent in a very long fucking time. I just thought after we slept together that you didn't want to have to do anything with me. We became really good friends if not anything more and I ghosted you at the time you needed all the emotional support."

He talks slow but YN stood there listening to him. Carefully. "I want to fix this. Really. But I don't know how to. I want to fix this."

Harry's never been hung up on anyone. Especially since that one time where his friends conned him to basically go on a date and set him up so cleverly. He actually started getting along with that girl and after they both slept together for the first time she just told it on his face she doesn't want to go any further with him. It was worse than being ghosted he felt that time. YN's situation was worse here. He also knew that the pressure from his family to do better in his career had something to do with it that it scared him off from the commitment.

All those times she's just take out even fifteen minutes for him if her son was with her parents, she'd go to see him after work. He knew she was a professor but he didn't know she worked at the University he applied and got approved at. The way she'd go over evey little text he'd sent her through the day, every little meme which sort of reminded of him she'd carefully reply each one of them at the end of the day when she'd finally get the time to look at her phone, entertainment herself to clear her mind for a little before going to bed.

And YN wouldn't lie, she needed that emotional support if not financial support from her parents and she didn't exactly had good friends to rely onto for that. Her brown parents aren't exactly best at showing emotional affection or any affection at all, and she even felt guilty to ask for it because she's put them through hell her entire life being rebellious and especially after getting pregnant by a hook-up.

Though it wasn't anyone's business but the cultural environment she grew up liked to make it their business anyway, very much so that people started side eying her parents, especially her mother for her upbringing. Especially criticising them for having their daughter attend the Sex Ed classes for her own good before she was married, which allegedly influenced her to get pregnant with a strangers baby.

Her parents are long over it but she still carries that guilt with her.

Having a part of her go through a major procedure drained her mentally and emotionally. It is surely a bad time for her (she's certain it is going to pass), she knows no one is entitled to make her feel good mentally and emotionally but herself. So she didn't let the thing with Harry affect her that much, though she did cried the night after he didn't answer her texts.

"I don't know what you want me to do with it, Harry, I am quite confused here." She shared, "I know that I have been clear from the very first time we talked that I am looking for a long term commitment. I've got a son and I can't go out and date every other person and drag him through all of it and scar him emotionally and mentally for his life. I still don't know why you ghosted me like that. That can not be the only reason. I was so hurt that you led me on for two months just to sleep with me. You ignored me the night after I went over to yours and we had sex."

She took in a long breath to calm herself from crying in front of him, she didn't wanted that. "Then again. We were only seeing each other for mere two months. I don't know why I let myself go hurt me like that. It was just a summer fling for you."

"No, don't say that, please." He took a careful step over to the kitchen island separating them. "What I feel for you is still very real, I wouldn't say what we had was just a summer fling for me, I simply got scared of the commitment. I know should have conveyed that in a proper way like a decent human. I am really sorry for that. Please gimme a chance to fix this, YN?"

"So you're not scared of commitment anymore?" She sounded amused.

"I am not." He answered in a heartbeat. "I've got my shit together now. I know fucked up." When she didn't say anything it hit him that they can't technically date because she is her professor now, amd will be even if the semester is over and even after he graduates. "There's no way we can get back to where we left, isn't it?" He sighed.

"I don't know." She said.

"What about after the semester ends? It's not like we got to know each other on campus. We were seeing each other way before." He started brain storming.

"I don't want to talk about this." She said, knowing it is going to hurt her even more with faux convincing.

The university can still hold it against her saying that she should have informed them earlier if they get back together, it's been over a month and half since the academic year started.

She was still not over how he ghosted her. He was the first person she was open to be vulnerable enough to be share something that intimate after having a child. He did broke her heart that way badly.

"Mamma!" YN heard a high pitched call of a whine for her, she looked up to find her little boy going down the stairs slowly, clutching onto the railing. She rushed towards him even though he had quite master going down stairs by now.

"What's wrong, my love?" She cooed to him immediately scooping him up.

"I scared." He shared hiding in her chest, "I saw a monster when I sleeping."

"It's okay," she assured him, "it was not real. Monsters are not real."

"Scared!"

"Okay, okay, Mamma is here with you. You can go back to sleep."

"No!" He whined clutching onto her like his life depends on her in that moment, "I wan Mamma!"

"Okay, I'm here." She assured her and almost went upstairs forgetting Harry was there. But she went down as Heyder clung onto her like a baby koala, dozing back to sleep.

Harry saw her coming back downstairs, he saw her son for the first time here. He never saw his pictures before. But the little boy was wearing mismatched Rapunzel and Iron Man PJs, with a small stuffed bunny tucked in his grip.

"Just stay here for a moment." YN told him as she walked back into living room. She was there for solid ten minutes as her son refused to go back to sleep, so she gave him a sensory book which made car noises to play with as she went back to kitchen after telling him they have a guest over. Heyder tried mimicking the sound of an engine starting which made Harry giggle. He looked at YN and stopped immediately, the same neutral look on her features hasn't left yet but he thought she found it offending.

"Sorry." He cleared his throat.

"It's okay." She smiled herself hearing her son in the living room. He stood there in silence between them two with weird car noises in the back for what felt like ages before he decided he better take his ass out of her house. She isn't going to kick him out or ask him to leave. He isn't going to get his answer, at least not in that moment.

"Alright, see you tomorrow in class Ms. YLN." He smiled, earning a nod from her.

"I'll walk you to the door." She said and followed him out, "umm Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"Just don't talk about this to anyone, not even your friends please?" She requested, "I can loose my job and you can get expelled if the word goes to the faculty in a wrong way."

"You're going to talk about this?" He asked.

"I will have to. I have no other choice." She admitted, "don't want to face bigger consequences later for this."

"Okay. I won't talk about this to anyone." He assured her. It gave him hope for reconciliation with her.

As they walked to her front door he saw the little lad trailing begin YN close by. Harry also noticed the balloon and decoration and big Happy Birthday banner in the living room still up, a few unopened presents left on the coffee table.

"It's still his birthday?" Harry asked.

"Mhmm." YN sounded.

"Can I wish him if you don't mind?" He asked, they were already at the door.

"Sure."

"Hiya," Harry looked at her son, bending down to make himself appear smaller, "Happy Birthday little lad." He shied away behind his mother smiling.

"What do you say, Heydar?" YN encouraged him.

"Thank you." He mumbled.

"Of course, darling." Harry chuckled seeing him forward his small hand for a handshake which he returned gladly. He finally took his leave and walked out. It was slightly awkward he wouldn't lie. YN shut the door after he left and locked it before turning to find her son still stood in his place.

"Let's get your bum-bum back in bed now!" She announced, the little boy squealed as he started running around. But she caught him scooping him up in her arms tickling his sides. "Do you want to sleep in Mamma's bed?"

"Mhmm." He nodded.

......................................................................

Months passed by, quicker for YN and slow like a turtle for Harry.

Though he's really gotten his shit together. Set firm boundaries with his parents who always tried to put pressure on him to do better and compare him to his sister who is conventionally more successful than him.

He doesn't care if he's got a partner to settle with. He doesn't care what people think of his job, he loves it!

Harry learned he's been hating his job just because of his parents constant pressures to get a better job, or at least beg his way for a promotion. Well he's been working in that firm for just two years, he left the previous company for their unethical work environment. He's sure he'll get a promotion sooner than he'd expect, his boss is very impressed by it. He learned it was better to not let his work consume his life whilst he still has time to live and enjoy the best he can really.

Somewhere YN was the one behind it all even if she didn't know it. Her little pieces of wisdom in class to her student for occasional motivation really changed his perspective on life. Corporate was fucked and will be fucked for the rest of the days, you just don't have to let it fuck you over and ruin your life. She'd never talked to him about them yet though he knows he had talked to her higher faculty. He doesn't know what they told her, she refused to say even a word about it. She'd prohibited him for visiting her house since.

Harry's sister Gemma and one of his cousin's lived on the same street as hers. His sister liked to have him over for meals because he does eat well according fo her and she likes to spend time with him. They grew up apart from each other after Harry started his middle school and both of them were sent to different bording schools for higher studies so, it was her way to make up for lost time with her baby brother. She truly loves him, Harry came to realise sooner.

He couldn't help but be hung up on this situation with YN. He still haven't gotten over her yet and seeing her everyday does little to nothing to help him.

But once the semester ended, he'd gotten a call from her to meet her up for lunch at the same resturant where they went for their first date. It was her treat she said, celebration of him passing the first of four semesters.

A rather bright weekend it was, clear sky and perfect weather as Harry drove down to this little restaurant. She was already there he noticed. He still doesn't know how she does this even though she's got a toddler of her own to look after. But he saw a little black stroller besides her with his sun cover zipped up and she was busy reading from the University handbook. Thay scared him.

Gathering all his courage Harry went to greet her, the small talk killing him as they ordered their food. Her telling how her son had a doctor's appointment earlier and she doesn't have anyone to look after him for a couple of hours so she had no choice but to bring him with her. Little boy was fast asleep anyway, Harry didn't mind a little toddler around him. Especially one as sweet and well behaved as Heydar.

"YN what is it? You never called me to meet you like this before," he said cutting to the chase, "it's making me anxious."

"Sorry." She mumbled, "I talked to my head of department about, about you and I, and ehm..." She stammered.

"What's wrong? Is everything alright?" His enquiry gree more anxious.

"Yes." She rushed through a breath, "I explained it to her everything, Mrs. Davis, you might know her—"

"YN I'm not in your class anymore." He reminded her.

Caught. She couldn't look up, "okay, I explained it to her that we had been seeing each other since before and we never talked about you applying at my university. Since I didn't had any correlation with you getting approved in the uni, and I had to show her some proofs you can say."

"She said she'd evaluate everything because she doesn't want you to get expelled because you're an exceptional student and she doesn't want me to loose my job. She talked with the school board and they said it was okay." She said. Just her last word was enough to make Harry let out the breath he didn't know he was caught on. "But..."

"Why is where a but now?" His brows pinched together on his forehead.

"But they said they'd evaluate my non-biased judgement on you as your professor as it would be unfair for other students if I were to give the person I'm see a little extra help outside. That is why I asked you to not visit because there are many of my students who live in my neighborhood and new in institutions spread like wildfire." She continued, "they said I should just lay low until the semester is over unless you plan on taking any of the other classes I teach, or until you graduate. We both are going to be under strict eye, especially me as your professor."

"Is it illegal?" He asked.

"Not in the UK, no." She shook her head, "they said because we're of same age they don't see a problem of power imbalance, but there could be possibilities. They just want to protect their students."

He sat there, leaning his back on his seat as he let this all sink in. YN continued, "I understand if you don't want to have to continue us seeing each other, I had to tell them anyway. I know it's a lot to take in and I couldn't talk to you about this until now. I'm sorry."

"Hey, don't apologise." He rushed pushing himself up to sit on his chair, "I know how much you need this job, wouldn't do anything to put it at risk, I promise you that."

"Does this mean you're okay with this setting?" She hesitated to even assume.

"More than okay," he assured her, a toothie grin on his face showing off his front bunny teeth. "I've been hung up on you since little lad's birthday night. I was dying each day and seeing you all week for two hours didn't helped me one bit." He pulled his chair next to her careful to not knock the stroller in attempt to be closer to her, "I might have fallen for you already and easily it's amazingly the most insane thing I've gotten myself into. Let me make it up to you now that we've got ourselves a sort of green flag, yeah?"

"Mhmm." She nodded, opening her arms up so he can hug her. He the exact same wrapped his arms around her middle firmly.

They were going on a date soon!

N O T E:

1) just a fun one I wrote in a few sittings :)))

2) please do share your views in the comments and vote if you want to. It just really motivates me to write more.

Tag list:

@vrittivsanghavi @buckymydarlingangel @sweetwritingfanficfriend @theroosterswife24 @sleutherclaw @melllinaa @michellekstyles @sunshinemoonsposts

Lemme know if you want to added to the tag list

[coffeenonsense]

I usually try to stay in my lane most of the time (mostly bc I am far too old for fandom drama) but what the hell, it's friday, let's put that lit degree to use:

the way people are playing morality politics with fiction is really starting to genuinely irk me and I think some of the responses to ascended astarion are a perfect example of why this type of thinking is actually hugely detrimental to one's ability to meaningfully engage with fiction and also to the future of art.

astarion is one of the most well-written complex characters I've seen in recent years bar none (and I'm clearly not alone given the explosion of his personal fandom lol) and he has a truly compelling, emotionally resonant character arc whether you ascend him or not

If you keep him a spawn, you get a deeply touching, realistic character's journey to healing and personal growth where he learns who he is after the experience of his trauma and depending on the player's choice, explores his relationship to sex, romance and intimacy

If you ascend astarion, you get an equally emotional and well-rounded character arc where he chooses the power that allows him to have the desperate freedom and safety he's wanted, but in the process eschews any hope of real healing or personal development, and again, depending on the player's choices, restarts the cycle of abuse by taking cazador's place.

These options offer vastly different paths for the character and experiences for the player, but while yes, ascended astarion is the evil ending, and yes, ascending astarion is a tragedy, and a fucking incredible one (not only do you have astarion reigniting a circle of abuse but you have the narrative weight of KNOWING he could have actually overcome his trauma...hats off to the bg3 team tbh) but that does not mean ascending astarion MAKES YOU AS THE PLAYER EVIL

Ascend astarion because you love tragic story arcs, ascend him because you want to indulge in a master/slave vampire fantasy, don't ascend him because you want a healing character journey, don't ascend him because you want a sweet romance; all of these choices carry the same moral weight for the player, which is to say, none, because they are an exploration of fiction.

I know I'm saying this to the villain fucker website but it bears repeating; just because someone wants to engage with evil, fucked up characters or content does not mean they support evil acts in their real life, and furthermore, exploring dark, taboo or tragic concepts safely is part of what fiction is for. It enables us to look at those things from a distance, work through difficult feelings and develop greater understanding of what makes our fellow humans tick — and before you get it twisted there's also no moral issue with exploring fucked up media bc you're horny or just, because. You can take it as seriously (or as sexily) as you want.

It's starting to really concern me how many people not only do not get, but are violently opposed to this concept, because equating what someone likes in fiction with their real life moral code and actions is an incredibly dangerous and let's be honest, immature way of thinking that not only stunts your ability to engage with fiction but ironically, hampers your ability to deal with complicated issues and emotions in real life.

I don't know what's driving this trend (though purity culture is certainly playing a role) but it's definitely something that's not just impacting individuals but contributing to the commercialization of art, where we get games and stories and tv shows and books that regurgitate the same safe, mass marketable plotlines and character archetypes over and over and over again so corporations can squeeze out as much profit as possible.

Anyway, remember kids: There's no such thing as thought crime, reaching for morally pure unproblematic media is directly contributing to the death of art, and this is why funding the humanities is important.

[catboybiologist]

Hey, transfem who has only started to like her body about half a year ago here

As someone who takes a lot of pictures of themselves, do you have any resources/tips for angles or something that accentuates feminine features?

Also in regards to having a somewhat normal facial expression, like my eyes look so weird in every picture I take bc I don't know where to look

This response ended up WAY longer than I expected, and I think Imma add it to my pinned post- thanks for pushing me to talk about this! I don't think I'm really an expert here, but if people want to leave more advice in reblogs and comments, please do.

So when I say "I had two years of femboy experience before transferring to the related (and potentially overlapping) but separate field of trans womanhood" I'm only like... half joking. Selfie angles took a fucking wild amount of time for me to figure out, and guess what? The pictures I post are usually 1-3 in a set of about 20 that I take at any given time. I'm still unhappy with most pictures I take, you just gotta take a lot of them, and figure out for yourself.

That said, I think I have gotten a lot better over time. Behold, the first selfie I posted on reddit (warning for kinda cringe but I know y'all fuck with that):

(Damn, my thighs look good when I properly shave, gotta do that sometime)

(btw I'm 23 in this pic so feel free to simp if you so desire)

And another early one:

This was still selected from a bunch that were horrible, but you can really tell that my face is basically just covered in fabric entirely. My eyes look very dead in both. Compare that to:

^this one is still pre-transition, so don't blame the estrogen.

So what are my specific tips? Well, the classic "selfie angle" is from above. This angle certainly helps, but why? Personally I've found that its far less about angles are far more about lighting. Since most lighting is overhead, taking selfies from above means that you'll have a well lit face in those standard lighting conditions. Notice that in both the early selfies and the later one, the camera is actually positioned below my height level, and there's still a noticeable facial difference between them. The reason this is possible is good, forward lighting. Generally, you want a soft light source to be vaguely behind the camera, shining onto your face- but make sure its not too close, or too bright. This will ensure that harsh shadows don't artificially make your features look much different than they actually are.

Another thing that cannot be understated: DISTANCE between yourself and the camera, especially if you're using a phone camera. There are several reasons for this- notably, it'll help make the background be framed more pleasantly, as well as prevent the camera/phone itself from shadowing your face. But there's also a massive, insidious reason this happens- all phone cameras have some degree of fisheye to their lens to increase the field of view while still using compact optics. Multiple lens have helped a bit, but its still a problem on all of them. Higher end phones will algorithmically correct for this, but they also add a TON of other postprocessing "beautification" in ways that are sometimes completely invisible (insert entire rant here about how this is a deceptive marketing tactic to make a brands phone cameras seem better than they actually are). Sometimes, these edits are way off base. But I digress. The fisheye is killer because it takes any slightly more prominent feature and bulges them out, including the nose and chin. Conversely, recessed features, like eyes and the sides of your cheeks, are going to be less emphasized. Moving further away from the camera significantly reduces this. If you can get a small phone tripod and take selfies that way, it'll alleviate this. Unfortunately my living space is not large atm, and I have less motivation to bother my roommates in the common areas and use their hallways for picture taking, so this has been a little lacking in more recent selfies. It's also just a lot of work for a couple quick selfies, so its hard to do right- but it genuinely makes a world of difference.

Otherwise, my advice about eyes would be that your eyes show your overall facial expression, even if you're covering your mouth. Most of my pictures are taken while smiling slightly under the mask, and it shows in the eyes. If I want a scarier looking picture, I'm stone faced or deliberately make my entire face angrier, and you end up with the "glaring directly down the camera wanting to kill you" face. Referring to the pictures I just posted- the first two are both dead faced under the mask, whereas in the last one, I'm doing a smug, sultry smirk. The eyes then reflect that.

Don't focus on specifically trying to open your eyes wider. Change your facial expression and just let them be how they want to be in relation to that. Eye position should fully commit to looking straight into the camera, or be fully distracted with something else, imo (including the screen of your phone, if you're doing something like a mirror selfie). If you're taking a mirror selfie, look at the camera lens as it's reflected in the mirror. A HUGE takeaway is that cameras, especially phone cameras, straight up lie to you. They don't work the same way as the human eye, and have to compensate for that- but they'll never be a completely faithful representation of what you look like. Don't let your ego be affected by how you look in pictures, when all is said and done.

And of course, experiment, experiment, experiment! Figure out the lighting you can get in the space you have available, and the angles that work for you! Don't be afraid to delete selfies you don't like! Show off your style and your features in the way you want to! There are no rules for what's attractive, this is just what I do and you should develop your own style!

I guess I'll take this with both femboy and trans tags bc the selfies are pre-HRT

[randombookposts]

Canaan University Au

Ok I thought of a college au for the locked tomb a awhile ago but I never bothered to write it down until now. Anyways I think they would all go to this imaginary university in New Zealand and it’s like the first book but with a lot less murder. Here’s what I think each house would study

Judith- Criminal justice major. Huge stickler for rules and doing homework. If she’s not in the gym reading a textbook while doing push-ups, she’s in the library getting into a heated debate with a Corona. Had a huge crush on Marta and went to the same college as her to hangout, just getting over it, may or may not have feelings for Corona, maybe.

Marta- In law school, was a mentor to Judith when she was in high school and that’s how they know each other. Gently turned Judith down but they’re still friends and study together sometime. Is the DD at every party.

Corona: Majoring in marketing with a minor in fashion merchandising. Doesn’t do great on tests but aces every presentation. President of her sorority. Can and will gaslight frat boys. Everyone wants her but she only has eyes for the stuck up criminal justice major.

Ianthe- Management major with a minor in maybe finance. Commits tax fraud and gets away with it. Sometimes does Corona’s homework for her. Doxxes people online (mostly Babs), smokes in the dorm hallways. Flirts with Harrow during their study sessions, which Harrow ignores.

Naberius- Economics major, and major fuck boy. Makes thirst traps and is doxxed. Hangs out with the twins even though they bully him. Doesn’t do shit during group projects. Will get a job at his dads company post graduation.

Jeannemary and Isaac don’t go to college but are tutored by Abigail at her house. They just silly teens who experiment with makeup and clothes to find their look. Talk loudly about anime in the school hallways. A little cringe but they’re doing their best.

Abigail- Anthropology professor and is really cool. Tough grader but genuinely loves her students and shares trivia with them. Brings donuts to test days. Will accidentally derail class to talk about books or her husband. If one of her students brings up one of the incredibly niche topics she likes, she will talk about it for hours.

Magnus- Not a teacher but visits Abigail's classes often. Nice guy, helps look after Jeannemary and Isaac. I'm not sure what he would do as a job, maybe chef or stay at home husband lol. Regardless, he's the one making all the meals.

Palamedes- Pre-med, wants to become a doctor so he can save Dulcinea save people. Smartest guy in the room always, a go to for anyone struggling with their biology homework. Has a friendly rivalry with Harrow (it's more rivalry than friendly for Harrow but she grows fond of him over time). Is the one derailing class with philosophical debates.

Camilla- Physics major, too cool for you. Really into sports, just not sure which, like gymnastics or soccer or rugby or fencing. Works hard but actually remembers to eat and sleep too. Probably in student government as well. Her and Palamedes are attached at the hip, they later get an apartment together and that's where all the main hangouts with the other characters happen.

Dulcinea- Suffers from chronic illness and focuses her life on learning and traveling rather than getting a traditional job. She's got multiple degrees in stuff like literature, philosophy, and art history. She is active on social media and has a blog, and sells crocheted animals on Etsy. Became mutuals with Pal and Camilla on social media and they met up later when they went off to college.

Protesilaus- Dulcie's caretaker, helps her with her medical stuff. Becomes like a cool uncle figure to her and her friends. Hangs out a lot with Ortus and they share poetry.

Silas- Double major in theology and philosophy. Freaky teen prodigy who graduated high school early and attends university. Little shit who people are either freaked out by or straight up just don't like him. Will snitch on anyone for anything he doesn't like. Really only friends with Colum.

Colum- Silas' nephew, but way older than him, weird dynamic. Not in school but drives Silas to his classes and Silas lives with him during the school year instead of in the dorms. Nice guy, looks out for Silas' well being the best he can but tries to keep him from being too nasty to others.

Harrow- Double major in theology and archeology. Studies at all hours and forgets to eat and sleep. Local cryptid. Autistic with special interests in religion and burial rituals. Went to Catholic school and had a suffocating home life. Trying to grapple with that as she starts to navigate adult life. Also trying to mend her relationship with Gideon after being so harsh in her younger years.

Gideon- Kinesiology major, butch vibes to the max. Does swordfighting and weight training in her down time. Has kissed both Ianthe and Corona at some point, though it never went anywhere after that. Wears her sunglasses at all times even in class. Finds the worst fashions from thrift stores and wears them to piss Harrow off. Grew up with Harrow in a foster home Harrow's parents ran and also attended Catholic school with her but they rarely interacted beyond antagonizing each other. Reconnected after being randomly assigned roommates. Now they're buddies and hang out alongside the 3rd and 6th, (also the 2nd and Dulcie sometimes too). They all do stupid shit together like sing karoke off key and hit up Taco Bell at 2am after binge watching movies.

[coyoteprince]

I am really, really going Through It right now, but... in the best way possible? Like, really good things? It's just a lot to juggle at once so I'm absolutely wore out from a massive growth spurt

I deserve to be joyous about this so:

-New house! All our own! We're even moving during October (date was pushed back due to philly market), very spiritually important time for me

-Getting married next Fall once things calm down, finally, after being engaged for a few years

-Came to terms with Widderwood being an important purpose in my life, an art that feeds my soul- even if the result remains small, all this work isn't a waste, because the process enriches my life and brings me joy. The many years of dedication I've had for it is a sign that it's the right choice for me to continue following, and am super looking forward to the years of doing the actual page layouts. I've been setting realistic expectations to maintain my happiness with production, am working it into my new schedule, and I get to ink the pages at my antique writing desk in the sunroom as I look out at our back garden once we move... waow

-Learning a ton of important things about myself- my fears, roots of problems and behaviors thanks to trauma and ego that I didn't notice. I'm being kinder to myself, less judgemental of others, and letting go of other's projections rather than continuing to internalize them. I know what I am, how to be empathetic and accept my missteps, but also what isn't worth my time and energy.

-Learning how to adjust my desire for perfection in myself to much more healthy & reasonable level, and being more willing to delegate

-Rebuilding my business internally from the ground up for success, seeking continuous education for business & science, and after years of struggling and testing, FINALLY figuring out a work-life method that works for my messed up desires-varience autism brain. Balance!

-Similarly, figuring out how to balance cooking for two autistic people who have greatly different cravings & stims

-Realizing what a hard working, loyal, and loving person I am with an unrivaled, firey dedication to change and self improvement. Capricorn to an eerie degree.

Overall I feel like I'm in the transitional period between continuing to be poisoned by the aftermath of prolonged abuse and illness, and finding peace while blossoming far beyond what happened to me. Something I've strived for, but wasn't sure I'd ever have. In a way, it's obtaining independence and finding out who I really am as a person, unclouded by other's words and fearful what-ifs.

20 something years of being locked away. About 8 more years of new experiences, perspectives, professional help, love, and grueling work to dismantle things in myself. I guess this is what real healing and responsibility looks like- at least in my case. I'll never stop growing, but I am at a pivotal point of change.

What I've experience is important to me because it set the projectile for my life. I want to be somewhat open because I want others to be aware of what autistic children often experience and how it affects them long term... but I also know I have more to me and don't have to be haunted anymore. Turning an unpleasant experience into a tool I can control is a lovely reward and I can now whole heartedly say: I love being alive.

[asteria-argo]

fuck it I'm elaborating on that last post actually. My preface is that I don't work in or study marketing, but I had to do extensive unit on it for my actual course which means while I'm not an expert I do know enough that the arc annoys the shit out of me! This is a disorganized rant on my part, no one read too much into it.

POINT A.1

a lot of the work we see Keeley do in season one and two isn't actually PR, it's brand coordination. That's a separate department to Public Relations. They both fall under the marketing department umbrella, and there is an overlap in responsibilities depending on the size of the corporate entity but they aren't the same thing!

This doesn't actually matter that much, and sometimes it varies from company to company how marketing teams are structured anyway but it bothers me that it's called PR when she's doing Brand Coordination! They aren't the same thing!

POINT A.2

jumping off from point A.1 into the actual rant, the show likes to treat Keeley as an all-rounder, which I'm sure is just for convenience sake so they don't have to write in or hire actors to actually be Richmond's marketing department, but I think that's stupid! Most corporate marketing and communications roles in real life require at least a bachelors degree, she wouldn't have the necessary knowledge or experience to fulfill multiple of these roles at once.

Which leads me to my actual point, which is that Keeley is supposed to be a self made character but they consistently just hand her things.

Rebecca just hands her a job she isn't qualified for, very similarly to what she does to Ted, only with Keeley her motivations are to provide Keeley with a new avenue* in life rather than Keeley actively seeking these opportunities for herself! It's not self made if Keeley isn't trying to make it happen for herself.

I will admit it's been a while since I properly watched season one, so I might be wrong about that above statement, but it doesn't change the fact Keeley, much like Ted and probably even moreso than Ted who is at least qualified to coach to some degree, is not qualified for the job that Rebecca just hands her in any formal capacity.

(*side note; I can't remember if Rebecca was being genuine or trying to sabotage the club some more when she offered Keeley the job, but if she was doing the latter that is an entirely separate rant)

Then, they just hand her her own company she is equally underqualified for! She has maybe a year of formal marketing experience at the time, she has no formal training and she is a free lancer with one known client. They never show us Keeley working for anyone but Richmond! in fact, she works within Richmond, so it's safe to say they are literally her only client!

look, I'm not saying it's impossible for her to have gotten a free lance PR job at Richmond, that isn't actually my main concern with Keeley's arc, it's a good starting point, but it's important that it's acknowledged that Keeley isn't as prepared for the role as she could be. It's a conflict and conflict is what makes stories interesting.

My main problem is that they ignore the fact she isn't qualified, make her seem perfect and on top of everything, give her multiple legs up via friendship nepotism and dumb luck, and then when she is finally shown to be struggling, the rug is swept out from under her due to external, bullshit factors that have nothing to do with her actual professional struggles. And then she gets bailed out, via more friendship nepotism. It's BORING! You had a perfect plot sitting right there and you stepped over it!

POINT B

But Asteria, I hear you asking, why do you keep calling Keeley a free lancer? Because, dear reader, if she actually worked for Richmonds Marketing department, she would be in their marketing department!

There are mutliple interconnecting roles in a marketing department, data analysts, social media teams, media coordinators! They typically work together in an office building, similar to Keeley's PR company! There are a lot of different roles and a lot of different employees involved! think cubicles and break rooms, not a private office in the dungeon of a stadium.

So, Keeley from what the show tells and shows, is a free lance PR consultant not for the stadium itself, but for members of the team and later the greyhounds as an entity. This is where I would veer off course!

Instead of ending season two with a bullshit out of the blue here's your own company girl boss arc, I'd have Rebecca offer Keeley some kind of formal training avenue to get some more experience, build up her portfolio, and make progress in her career via some kind of internship or traineeship with Nelson Roads marketing team.

Why does this cause conflict? Because Keeley sucks at it! Keeley, for as friendly and sociable as she is, is not a corporate team player. She canonically doesn't understand corporate etiquette, she doesn't respect a lot of corporate practices, and to the people who have actually spent years of their lives studying and working for their positions, she doesn't deserve to be there!

She's there because she's a rich model whose friends with their millionaire boss. She's not self made to them, she hasn't come from nothing, she owns a mansion and wears designer almost exclusively. She has weekly lunch with the owner of their company, she was dating their star player and now she's dating the assistant coach, she got hired with no experience or education because she has friends in high places, if I was some poor marketing employee with student debt who worked my ass off to be there? I'd be pissed off, I wouldn't like her!

and Keeley is a very make her own way person, she isn't prepared for the rules and parameters that working in a corporate environment has! She also isn't used to not being liked! The team all love her, she makes friends really easy! It isn't an environment that she is comfortable in or used too, and she struggles with it!

Her arc would be about deciding if it's worth it! Where to compromise and where to hold to fast! Proving that she does deserve to be there to herself and to others! Realizing that she has had a lot of things handed to her, and that she is not as self made and independent as she previously claimed to be! Deciding how to proceed with that realization! Working on herself to understand the perspective of others!

You can give her a crisis of confidence and self doubt with that! You can make her actively trying to learn more and better herself! Give her the Elle Woods Arc She Deserved! She doesn't have to be The Boss, she just has to be an active character in her own story!

POINT C

Splitting Keeley from the main cast was dumb! It was just a bad choice! It's an ensemble show, ensemble shows never work when you split up the ensemble. That's part of why season three felt so weird to watch!

I love Keeley, I really do, but her story was not substantial enough to stand on its own! She needs to be connected to Nelson Road and Richmond one way or another, or she might of well have been written off because the KJPR story line doesn't serve the over all plot or Keeley's character development. She starts and ends the season in the exact same spot, and she contributes almost nothing to the main story line.

This point of mine is more of technical perspective on writing but if something doesn't serve a purpose in a story, especially a story that is actively trying to be concise like the third season of ted lasso allegedly was, you need to either change it so that it does serve a purpose or cut it. Characters aren't people, they are tools used within a narrative to tell a story. Keeley wasn't used effectively as a tool to the narrative in any capacity.

Also I just think it would've been a lot more interesting to explore Roy and Keeley's relationship breaking down in real time. Them breaking up off screen and then ignoring each other for most of the season was, once again, boring!

In Conclusion

I hate the KJPR story line because it was so easy to fix and it could've elevated the narrative in so many ways but nooooooo we had to have THAT shit show. You could even keep Barbara in my version. Like,, she can still be there and it would work better. They fumbled so bad, Keeley deserved better.

[seaoffandoms]

why am i even studying for my degree when the possible new president of the philippines (bbm 🤮) doesn't have one and faked his credentials?

why is an actor (robin padilla), who has zero experience in governance and is actually a sexist leading the senatorial race; when have candidates who are lawyers, human rights defenders, and over all more qualified than him can't seem to make it to the top 12 (e.g. chel diokno).

why are we over-looking people who has credentials and clean track records?? ang taas-taas ng standard natin sa ibang bagay pero sa mga politiko natin, hindi?

why are we ignoring leni robredo's contributions to our country especially during the pandemic? tha fact that she was being belittled by the duterte administration but was still able to achieve things says a lot about her leadership and skills.

why are we ignoring our history?

forgetting about the people who suffered under the marcos' regime, the wealth and resources that was taken from our country. we are still suffering because of what they did and we will suffer more under the hands of another marcos.

to anyone that would say "but they built infrastructures", are you really putting more value on infrastructures than the lives that were lost? the families who still suffer because of them? the victims who were never found? the people who were tortured, raped? do you not value their lives?

also, sa dami-dami nilang utang dapat lang may pinagawa sila but majority of the money they borrowed, they used it only for themselves.

foreign investors in our country are already pulling out. the stock market slowly going down. do you know why? because they don't trust marcos. our economy will suffer.

those you are rich enough will not experience the consequences of this elections. do you know who will? the poor, the marginalized, the people who we should have been thinking about when we voted.

to my fellow filipinos, do not stop protesting this election. this is for our future. we must stand our ground and fight for what is right and what we deserve. the comelec was biased and because of that we lost a bright future.

the entire world is watching as a dictator's son take power.

i am not crying because leni lost and bbm won. i am crying because our country lost and our people will suffer.

think not for one's self but for our nation.

[strangebiology]

Myths about Traditional Publishing

Now that I'm in the book-writing world I see a LOT of anti-trad publishing posts. They usually have some nonsense in them so I'm going to address these myths/misrepresentations.

I’m NOT trying to say everyone should trad publish. In fact, I actually suggest people without significant writing experience not write a book at all until they get experience. You asked. If you want to write something faster without any editors and you're okay with doing a lot more work per sale, or if you haven't published anything shorter than a book, I DO recommend self-publishing to you (or, re-thinking why you want to write a book.) Just make sure you’re making your choice without influence from misinfo! 

🚫 “Traditional Publishing means less money because your royalty is less!”

✅Your royalty is less but every one of these anti-trad posts misses the very important financial reality that traditional publishers sell your book widely, meaning more sales without work on your end, and more importantly: the ADVANCE! Yes, trad writers get money before a single book sells! On average most traditionally published books make WAY more than self, even though there are very rare stories of financial success among the portion of self-published authors who are very talented and hard-working.

🚫 “The advance doesn’t count because you have to pay it back!”

✅BS. Money DOES NOT flow from the writer to the publisher in trad pub. Not even if you sell zero books. As the royalties come in, they initially start flowing to refill the advance that the publisher lost, and they go to the writer once that is refilled. The writer is happy because they already have their advance, which has already gone to paying off their debts or into an index fund or the downpayment on a house so they don’t have to throw away money renting, so they’re in a much better financial situation than with no advance. There is no downside to getting guaranteed money earlier. 

The only way you’d have to pay it back is like any job: if I pay you to fix my roof and you don’t do it, the contract is broken and I am legally entitled to my money back. Hopefully, you already knew that. 

🚫 “The advance doesn’t count because you get it in installments and you have to pay some to your agent and taxes exist!” 

✅The second part of that is true, but so what? With a $50k advance and an agent, you keep $42,500 minus taxes. That’s $21,250 on signing and $21,250 on completion. (And yes, there are different installment patterns, different advances etc.) With self-publishing, you get $0 and then $0 forever until your book starts selling. If your advance is small that’s unfortunate but remember self-publishing advances are $0. Zero dollars is much less than $42,500. Zero is less than $1. Self-publishers also go into actual debt to pay for editors, printers, and marketing, so you could easily start with negative money.

🚫 “Traditional publishing sucks because they expect you to do all your own marketing!”

✅Huh? Whatever expectations are happening in the heart of my publisher are none of my business or concern. Marketing on my end is not in my contract and I doubt it’s in the majority of trad contracts. I’ll definitely promote my book as much as I can but I’m sure as heck not going to spend 40 hours a week doing it or getting a degree in marketing unless I'm getting paid. 

However, the publisher employs professional book marketers and they are the ones incentivized to sell the first [insert advance dollar amount] worth of books. 

Also, who do you think markets your self-published book? The Marketing Fairy? 

🚫 “You have to write the whole book first.”

✅Yes with fiction, usually. Unless they trust you because of your track record, and you have a good pitch and part of the book written (like the first three chapters.) With nonfiction, generally, you don't need to have written much of that, maybe one chapter and lots of articles. They might require more if you're writing a memoir, especially if you don't have writing experience. They want to know you can do it.

🚫 “Traditional publishing is just a lottery!”

✅I mean there are elements of luck, what’s in fashion, privilege etc. just like in all fields, especially creative ones. But most of the reason people get trad contracts is hard work, experience, a good concept, proof of successful writing and publishing (including non-books!), caring about what the readers want, etc.  

Most people who I talk to who tried and failed to traditionally publish had no published writing of any sort. Most who succeed at trad publishing had plenty, as well as a lot of expertise in that area. Like, a degree and/or years of experience in that field, not "I listened to a few podcasts on it."

🚫 “Actually a smaller advance is better.”

✅Absolutely not. This is an insidious nonsense rumor akin to “a smaller salary is better” and I wonder if publishers started that rumor to financially abuse their writers or if writers spread it because hate themselves and each other. I’ve heard all the justifications, they make no financial sense, if you hate money give it to me.

The only reason to take a smaller advance would be the same as the reason to take a smaller salary: if the publisher makes up for it with something else that's worth it.

Interestingly, I'm told bigger advances sell out faster, because they attract attention behind the scenes, from reviewers, booksellers, etc.

🚫 “Even an advance of 100k isn't that much when you split it into four payments over 2 years. Better to get regular royalties. Not like $100k is enough to quit your day job.” ✅$100k split into four payments over 2 years is WAY more than the $0 self-publishing gets you before sales. Even $200/month for 40 YEARS is less than 100k, and that's without the time value of money or inflation. And, remember, trad published books get royalties too, the only difference is the first [insert advance here] is GUARANTEED, and after that, fewer dollars per book sold. If you make $100k per book and don't spend too much time per book, that can very easily BE your day job and you CAN certainly quit your other one to pursue that. But no one said anything about assuming selling one $100k is enough for the rest of your life. That would be an absurdly irresponsible mindset. Just because trad publishing doesn't guarantee anything crazy like one book financially supporting you forever, doesn't mean it's worse financially. What a weird, irrelevant straw man.

🚫 “But if you don't sell out your advance, the publisher drops you!"

✅Misleading. First, what is the time frame of this accusation? Your book is not going to sell $50k worth in a week, most likely. Second, what do you mean by "drop?" The publisher does not do anything bad to the author as they are waiting and hoping for sales. They continue to sell and work with the book, they do not yeet it or burn it or un-publish it.

What does happen is your publisher will consider your past success when deciding whether to sign another book contract and how much to give you for your next advance. If your last book sold $100k in a month, but your advance was $101k, then yes, they have lost money so far. But the prospects of your writing are fantastic, and they are likely to sign you again. There is more than one month in their lives.

If your book did not perform well--say it sold $5k in 5 years--then that ONE publishing company isn't going to sign you again. Duh? Then you have like 99,999 other publishing companies to look at. Or you could self-publish. Is that a problem? How are the pro-self-publishing people so scared of self-publishing? Or you could just not write more books, you tried it once, you can decide that's enough, especially if you aren't happy with how it turned out. Don't we all have more than one goal in life? Didn't you want to get into fishing or dancing or insurance sales too?

🚫 “Getting a book contract is my retirement plan!"

✅(I realize most of this post seems pro-trad but yes, we need some reality check.) A trad contract is as good as it does--and as good as the author is. Same with self-publishing. Maybe you could make a lot of money at it, but I ask, what is your experience? How do you know your book is so amazing? You know some of the most financially successful writers still put out TONS of books, right? Because it's a job.

🚫 “Nobody earns a living from this."

✅Well. No, some people do earn livings from book writing, at least temporarily. A single book isn't going to sustain you forever, like I said, but it could potentially sustain you for the time it takes to write it, and even longer maybe, if you and your publisher are good enough. The next year will pass whether you're working on a book or you're working in insurance sales or at Starbucks; so you must consider your values, skills, opportunity cost, the money you get from each, and whatever else matters to you when deciding which to do. You can pitch a publisher and say "no, that's not enough money" when they offer you a contract, if you want.

At the end of the day, trad publishing is a business. No publishing company owes you anything except what is in the contract they signed. Not working with the same place twice isn't going to kill you. Getting rejected is part of the game--you didn't get into every college you applied to, did you? You don't get every award or every job you apply to, you don't cry when you open the Pepsi bottle and it says "try again." But if you don't treat writing like a job, if your publisher sucks, or you think it's a get-rich-quick scheme that requires no skills, craft, or ambition, then you will fail miserably and regret the whole thing.

[laundrybiscuits]

Just curious and i like hearing your thoughts on this stuff. May i ask what aspect of steddie fanon you're referring to (which don't fit IRL queer culture so accurately)?

Ahaha...okay so. IMPORTANT NOTE: fandom is not that crucial, do whatever you want, run free through daisy fields of whatever headcanons and characterizations you please. Also, fic is not real life and that's okay!!

That being said, fandom can get slightly weird about sex, especially queer sexual cultures and especially historical queer sexual cultures. I mean, I get it! Our current hegemonic understanding of sexuality is actually pretty recent; I studied sexuality from a sociological perspective as part of my undergrad degree, focusing on moral panics (gosh I wonder why Eddie's character arc appeals to me! so mysterious!), and I know just enough to know that I don't know shit. So I certainly don't expect anyone to be doing paradigm-shifting sociohistorical research for a fic. That would be ridiculous.

All of this is leading up to say that based on 1) the relayed experiences of queer mentors who were in the scene in the 80s 2) the secondary sources I’ve researched 3) personally having many gay male friends who love oversharing through the last ~15 years, I believe that if canon-compliant gay Eddie Munson is a virgin, it’s largely by choice. 

I've seen it suggested that Eddie's poor academic performance and nerdy interests would be, essentially, a dick deterrent. And like...I enjoy Eddie’s weirdo loser vibe as much as the next fan. I fully support him not being in any way smooth or cool with boys. But even when I myself was in my late teens/early twenties, many of my closest friends were awkward nerdy twinks who absolutely managed to get laid every weekend because MSM* hookup culture is eternal. 

And in the early 80s, when Eddie would’ve been in his late teens, MSM hookup culture was at its peak. AIDS still wasn’t being taken that seriously, and transmission etc. wasn’t really understood because…well, you know this story. It’s not a good story. Fuck Reagan. 

In short, I really can’t emphasize enough how certain types of sexual contact were extremely available for men seeking sex with men. A pretty young thing like Eddie could have literally as much sex as he wanted. Nobody is asking him for a high school transcript or anything about his hobbies, they’re asking if he tops. 

Now, would Eddie actually participate in the hookup culture of the time? That's a more complicated and speculative question, and not actually what you asked, but I'm going to talk about it briefly anyway.

In the 'yes' column: he has his own vehicle**, zero supervision, and a penchant for risky behavior.

In the 'no' column: the boy has at least three extremely involved hobbies eating up his spare time and energy; he's also a not-so-secret romantic.

Personally, I can see the pseudo-intimacy appealing to Eddie's tendency to keep people at arm's length, and I think it’s very plausible for him to be curious and experimental enough to want to explore a bit. I tend to land on 'tried it a few times, doesn't make a habit of it' in my backstories. I also tend to hint at the softer, friendlier side of hookup culture in my fics, just because I don’t often see it represented. 

Of course it’s like any other scene, there are bad actors and generally shitty people/situations, and sometimes the MSM scene specifically can be a bit of a soul-draining meat market. (ETA, because I am not white and neither are the vast majority of my friends and I felt increasingly weird not mentioning it even though it's not relevant to Eddie's situation: the scene is often also super racist, among other things! But that's a whooole other complicated kettle of fish, and again, not relevant to Eddie's situation.)

But there’s also space for casual sex to be part of a friendly relationship, in a way that I don’t really see in hetero circles. It’s hard to explain. It’s one of those dynamics that basically never shows up in mainstream media at all, so I absolutely don’t blame fics that don’t show it either. It’s just one of those things.

This is a step to the left, but I recommend checking out Dykes To Watch Out For: it’s practically an anthropological document depicting dyke culture in the 80s, it’s often funny as hell, and it’s just a fantastically detailed and relatively accessible window into a particular way of life that doesn’t really exist anymore. 

*MSM = men who have sex with men. It’s a sociological designation; not everyone in this category identifies as gay, bi, queer, etc. It may be useful to think about sexuality as having three distinct components: behavior, identity, and desire. The term “MSM” puts focus on the behavioral aspect, because it’s most relevant in this context. 

**As someone who has experienced several other countries' driving cultures, I just want to emphasize to non-Americans how willing many Americans are to drive for multiple hours for basically any reason whatsoever.

[writingquestionsanswered]

New Writer Worried About Dull Writing

Anonymous asked: I’m relatively new to writing creatively and fear my work is too beige - is this a problem like so many people say? Or is there a market for my blunt speaking (I do include metaphors/similes, btw). I read books like [popular series] and the writing style is similar to my own, but I still feel somewhat insecure.

If you're a newer writer (meaning you have not been writing for years and do not have numerous completed and critiqued works under your belt), it's far too early for you to worry about the quality of your writing. Far too early. One of the biggest misconceptions about writing is it's something you're just instantly good at... that quality and style are innate, and that anything you write should instantly be publishable. And that's just not how writing works...

Writing is an art and a craft. And like any other art and craft, most people don't sit down to do it for the first time or the tenth time or even the thirtieth time and find they've mastered it. If you take up baking, you're probably not going to have artisan bakery quality products after a few months. If you decide to learn the guitar, you're probably not recording an acoustic guitar album after a year. If you decide to learn karate, you're probably not going to earn your black belt within two years. Are there exceptions? Sure, but it's super rare.

Even when you hear that an author "hadn't written much" prior to writing their breakout debut novel, most of the time you find out that, in fact, they had written a lot. They wrote in college... maybe even have a degree in English or communications... they took creative writing classes or attended creative writing workshops... or they were prolific fan-fiction writers, bloggers, journalers, or even journalists. But they don't think to count those things because they're not original creative fiction stories or novels written with the intention of publication. But the thing is, it all counts. All writing is practice. And all writing that is shared and receives feedback from at least one other person helps you grow and improve your craft.

So, if you're new to creative writing--even if you have experience as a blogger, journalist, communications writer, etc.--the best thing you can do is focus on getting a body of creative fiction under your belt. Your quality and style will improve and develop over time. When you're ready, seek feedback from others... from alpha readers, beta readers, critique groups, critique partners, or post your stories on fiction sharing sites. Feedback will help you see where your strengths and weaknesses are and will help you hone your skills. And as your skills improve, so will your confidence! Which isn't to say you won't still sometimes have doubts... even the very best writers do... but you will learn to believe in your writing and your skills as a writer. ♥

(↓↓↓ Because it's expected at this point... ↓↓↓)

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