#and i’ve cleared my email inbox for the occasion!

[captainofthenautilus]

omg it’s an email from my bestie jonathan harker!!!

[keyofjetwolf]

Jet! Here is a reminder ask to talk about your scam experience, if you want to!

Anonymous said: It's probably not the weekend anymore, but I'd still be up for hearing about your scammer story if you feel like telling us. Thanks.

SO LET’S TALK ABOUT THE DAY I COMPLETELY FUCKING FELL FOR A SCAM. This tale could also be called, “Did Jet Wolf Learn A Lesson About Sometimes Being Too Keen To Fix A Problem? Probably Not!”

It was a beautiful morning. The sun was out but the temperature still cool. There was no ominous warning signs that I would later interpret as ignored omens of poor decision making. Nothing so clear and grand. It’s just me.

I’d gotten up early for some reason or another. In a perfect world, “getting up early” would be a rare enough occasion that I would be able to mark it, but this is not this world and that is no longer my life. (”But Jet Wolf!” you may interject in your boundless participatory enthusiasm. “If you’re now getting up early that often, wouldn’t it just be your regular getting-up time and not early at all?” To which I must reply, “I got up too early this morning for you and your logic, shut the hell up with your goddamn enthusiasm.”) So there I am, trying to wake up in preparation for whatever reason I”d had to get up early, when an email pings into my inbox from Mike’s father, asking for my help.

This isn’t a new or unusual situation, is part of the problem. I’m tech support (for many assorted flavours of “tech support”) for a fairly large sampling of people, and Hubby’s dad is one of those. I note that he’s sent it to more than just me, and so assume it’s also gone to Mike. I say assume, because the list of recipients has been bcc’d.

Should this have been my first red flag? YES. Did I dismiss the weird choice as the sender accidentally using the wrong field? ALSO YES.

The email mentions Mike’s dad isn’t feeling well (mental note made to have Mike check in later), and Mike was busy getting ready for work, so I decided to just take care of it all myself. See previous re: Being Too Keen To Fix A Problem. I write back, and ask what needs to be done.

I get a reply almost immediately: he needs help ordering Google Play gift cards.

Another red flag goes up. What does Mike’s dad need Google Play gift cards for? He’s still using an iPhone, and is otherwise on Windows-based PCs. Again, I wave away my own concerns. It could be for his grandson/Mike’s nephew. It could be for his girlfriend or one of her kids, it could be for a friend. It could be almost anything! Except possibly a scam! That never occurs to me for even a second!

On reflection, that’s part of the insidiousness of the whole deal. I wanted to be helpful, AND I didn’t want to be nosy or rude. If I’d been slightly less the former or more the latter, I might’ve listened to myself and not just strolled gamely forward, pretty much ASKING how I can make life easier for my scammer to scam me.

Which I basically do by replying, “Sure, I can do that. How much did you need on the cards?”

My “father in law” replies saying he needs two, $100 each, and sent to some other email address. I DID NOT ASK A SINGLE CLARIFYING QUESTION DESPITE HAVING SEVERAL OF THEM. I dismissed them all, either because I decided it was none of my business, or because I made up some answer to my own question. Again, there were so many opportunities for me to have stopped this, and I refused at every single turn.

I did what I was asked. Happily! I’m so helpful! I’m easing Mr C’s frustrations! I’m taking care of a nuisance so Mike doesn’t have to! It’s far too early for me to be conscious, but what a great way to begin a day! Jet Wolf is a useful little maiden!

Then like ten minutes later, I’m sitting there and “.....shit.”

I go into the basement, to Hubby’s makeshift Covid Funtimes Home Office, and am like, “Heeyyyyy soooo you maaaayyy want to call your dad..?” Explain the whole thing, Hubby immediately calls but can’t reach his father, and I’m now pretty much 99% positive I have NOT begun this day on the pleasing note I intended.

Fast-forward a bit. I’ve talked to Google Play customer service and received a whole lot of sympathy but no actionable solutions. I move to filing a claim with PayPal. PROBLEM: PayPal themselves, mid-transaction, are like “Do you REALLY want to spend two hundred bucks on untraceable gift codes that you’ll send to an email address you’ve never heard of before? We’re gonna send you a text message to confirm all that and have you specifically and manually agree that you want to complete what clearly seems to be a very bad idea to all of us here at PayPal.”

“YES I DEFINITELY WANT TO DO ALL OF THAT :D “ I text back, like the fool I am eagerly attempting to be that day.

Mike eventually gets a return call from his father, confirming that his email had been hacked and hijacked, and everyone in his contact list was sent the same plea for help. HUBBY WAS A KIND SOUL AND DID NOT ASK IF ANYONE ELSE HAD FALLEN FOR IT BECAUSE GUESS WHAT INFORMATION I REALLY DID NOT WANT TO KNOW

In the end, PayPal both said they’d found me to be a victim of fraud, and also completely culpable for the whole thing, which I want to be mad about, but honestly: fair. They also, however, reversed the charge while telling me they wouldn’t, SO I DUNNO. As of this writing, they haven’t reversed the reversal, so maybe there was a spark of luck in all this for me, after all.

BUT THAT IS THE STORY OF MY SCAMMING. my lesson in all this is to not be so eager to fix someone else’s shit that I dismiss my own concerns about said shit.

My other lesson is that a gin and tonic is calorically equivalent to a beer, but that’s a slightly different story branch.

[forgottenpasta]

Teach Me Dirty (m)

➤ Summary: Taehyung has a lot to teach his English teacher. Fortunately for him, you’re an eager and willing pupil.

➤ Taehyung x Reader

➤ Warnings: Oppa Kink, Unprotected Rough Sex, Oral Sex, Urethral Stimulation, Squirting, Fingering, Creampie, Pregnancy Risk(?)

➤ Word Count: 2.9k

➤ A/n: This is something I wrote a long while back, recently made some changes and decided to put it up. If the writing looks weird, then its probably because some parts were written more than a year ago. Also wrap it before you tap it please. Enjoy :D

Your feet moved fast on the pavement, breath laboured as you rushed past the pedestrians on the busy footpath. For the first time you were late for your tutoring session.

A tutoring session with the most coveted heartthrobs of the nation.

How did you get this job? Well, family ties tend to take people a long way. Just that one right connection and poof, you’re being paid 3 times more for a job that would otherwise make chump change for a person with way more experience than you. You were just an average university student who took a one year foreign exchange program with one of the biggest universities in South Korea.

Until you came here and the weight of the living expenses almost drove you to starvation. The scholarship only covered your tuition and the extra menial jobs didn’t even come close to paying the full rent of your apartment.

Fortunately and through sheer luck, your uncle was an old friend of Bang Si Hyuk.

You’d met him before on family gatherings and other such occasions and he was almost like an uncle to you too. He trusted you. You’d mentioned in passing that you were a literature major and joked about having no money and no life in the typical self condescending humour of someone trying to look cool in front of an intimidating elder. The next day you had an email siting in your inbox asking for your credentials and an interview for a teaching position with his entertainment company. 

The thought had crossed your mind that you were ultimately selected only because of your uncle, because it couldn’t possibly be that half a million English teachers wouldn’t jump at the chance of teaching Bangtan. But you didn’t want to hear the truth, so you’d never brought it up to either your uncle or the Bighit CEO. 

It had been a month into your new job and you still weren’t used to teaching boys who made your hands tremble and palms sweat with just one casual look in your direction. And you knew that they knew that you were a fumbling, nervous mess in front of them 90% of the time. At least they were gracious enough to not laugh at you or point out how maladroit you were for this job. 

Well, except for one person that is

The familiar quickening of your heart meant that you were going to be one single jittery girl in between seven testosterone filled sex-on-legs boys who probably thought of you as their daily one hour of free amusement.

But when you opened the door to their dorm after a quick customary knock, Taehyung was the only face you could see. Sitting on the long couch, he munched on an apple while a wildlife documentary played on the television. 

Of course it had to be him. 

He glanced at you lazily as you entered the living room. "You're late. The others left."

"Huh.", you huffed, still catching your breath as you put your heavy bag full of assignments down. "Where?"

He gave you a playful smile which did not match the heat in his roving eyes at all. A slow once over of you from head to tow. When his eyes reached yours again he tilted his head, as if in approval. 

"For practice. Our comeback is soon. You know that, Ms. __.”

A shiver rushed down your spine at the way he said "Ms.__". He was the only one who called you that, the rest just calling you __-ssi. Apparently, calling you Miss instead of the honorific made the English lessons more "immersive" for him. 

His words not yours.

You gulped. "And you didn't go?"

He gave you a wide eyed innocent stare. "I couldn't leave you here alone. Besides you gave me a punishment last time remember?"

You raised an eyebrow. His puppy dog eyes always spelled trouble for you. 

"You told me I'd get an F in evaluation if I didn't complete my assignment this time."

Right. The assignment. Every other member, even Jeongguk who struggled with English, had completed it. But for some reason Taehyung always day dreamed in class instead. 

Daydreamed or gave you heated stares which made you blush in unspeakable places. More than once you’d caught him staring at your legs. 

"Okay." You sat down on the carpet in front of the coffee table. "Give it to me."

His voice went husky. "Give what to you, Ms.__?” He joined you on the floor, sitting so close your knees were almost touching.

He always did this. Turned your conversations into sexual innuendos, while purposefully teasing you.

You gave him a stern look and held out your hand. "Your assignment."

His cute box smile made an appearance."Of course." He grabbed a paper from the side table and handed it to you.

Ugh. He could go from intense sex god to aegyo expert in a second. It gave you whiplash.

You grabbed your marker to evaluate him when he spoke again, shifting even closer to you. "Are you sure you want to read it though? I was brutally honest with my answers."

His deep baritone so close to your ear made goosebumps break out on your skin. You tried your best to ignore the lack of proximity between you.

"Good. Honest answers are exactly what I want.” You opened the front page.

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

You furrowed your brows but ignored him, focusing on correcting his English. 

1. Write a compliment for someone you admire.

~ Ms. __ has the most kissable lips ever. 

Your breath caught in your throat and your heart raced a mile a minute. You hadn't expected this. You could feel Taehyung's heated gaze on you. 

2. What is your biggest motivation to wake up in the morning?

You were sure his answer would be regarding their fan base, the Armys being his motivation. That's what most of the other members had written. 

Boy, were you wrong.

~ Seeing Ms.___ in short skirts. 

You didn’t dare look up at him. Your face was ten different shades of red.

3. What is the one wish you want to fulfill?

~ My English teacher's long legs wrapped around me while I fuck her against her precious blackboard.

Your eyes almost popped out your sockets as you looked up at the blackboard you had had installed in their dorm during the first week of your classes. 

"Are you thinking about it, Ms.___?", his whisper snapped you out of you daze. 

You blushed even more, if that was even possible. You had been imagining you both doing it against the blackboard.

Face screaming embarrassment, you looked at him finally. The top buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, you realised for the first time. His hard pecs visible.

He smirked. "My eyes are up here, Ms.___."

"Hmm.", you snapped your eyes up, your own chest heaving with heavy breaths. "Taehyung-ssi you can't write-"

His lips crashed down on yours. 

He moved his mouth against yours roughly, then softly, with expert ease that scrambled your brain and made all thoughts in any language nigh impossible. You were in sync when he moved above you, placing his large hands on your dainty shoulders and pushing you back on the carpet. 

"Kiss me back, __.", he breathed harshly against your mouth. You gasped at him calling you by your name.

And he took the opportunity to thrust his tongue into your mouth, tasting yours. Your mouths made a frenzied mess as you couldn't hold yourself back anymore, pushing your hands in his soft hair, you clutched him even closer.

His tongue moved in and out of his mouth, mimicking his pelvis between your now open legs.

You moaned loudly at a particularly harsh thrust between your legs, your core pulsing with pleasure.

He broke the kiss abruptly, a string of saliva still connecting your mouths. "Say my name.", he ordered as he ground himself against you. The hard outline of his dick stimulated all your right places. Apparently he was generously endowed, and with that you had knowledge about something you were sure a good percentage of their fan population would want to know.

"Taehyung!", you screamed as you felt yourself gushing down there. Your panties were ruined and you could smell your arousal clear in the air.

"Properly!", he scolded, clutching your jaw in his hand. "I'm older than you."

"Taehyung oppa...", you trailed off as one more thrust made you topple off the edge. "Aahhhh.", you moaned as spasms after spasms of uncontrollable pleasure fired your nerve endings, your orgasm crashing through you out of left feild.

A first off. It usually took you at least thirty minutes to come by your own fingers and he hadn’t even touched you and you had went off in two.

He gave you no time to be mortified though.

When you finally opened your eyes after coming down from your orgasm induced high, you saw Taehyung smirking down at you. He clearly wasn't done with you yet.

"That's one out of the way. Shall we focus on making you come again now, Ms.___?", he asked, trailing his hands under your shirt before pulling it over your head. 

The cool air on your naked breasts made you shiver. So did his reverent gaze. You hadn't been wearing a bra. 

“Fuck. Such a tease. I knew you were purposefully driving me wild." He unhooked the belt on your short shorts, then proceeded to pull them off you, leaving you in your panties. "All these shorts and mini skirts. And don't get me started on those crop tops. I’ve wanted you beneath me since the first moment you stepped inside our dorm, all awkward, clumsy and so fucking sexy I could barely restrain myself from eating you out in front of my members.”

“I’m not gonna restrain myself now.” He hovered over you now, scooping down for a quick kiss as you still couldn't feel your limbs after the earth shattering climax. "Tell me you want this,__." , he pleaded desperately against your lips. "Please. I'll go insane if you stop me right now."

You pulled his shirt over his head in response, trailing both your hands down his toned chest and abdomen. "I want this.", you whispered just as urgently.

"Good girl." He moved your panties to the side, abruptly entering one long finger inside you. You grabbed at his hand as your eyes rolled back in your head when he sought and found your g-spot in less than a second, pressing against it in a circular motion. 

His head swooped down covering you nipple with bites and nibbles. He took one in his mouth, suckling for a minute before doing the same to your other breast. Both his finger and his mouth were sending you to heaven.

He was good at multitasking. 

Not wanting to be a passive lover, you pushed your hands inside his sweatpants and boxers, taking his thick cock in both your hands. He was rock hard and hot as you stroked his long length up and down.

"Fuck, baby.", he groaned against your breasts, his rhythm faltering between your legs. He sat back up and pulled your hands out of his pants.

"What?", you whined. He pecked your lips.

"I won't last long if you continue that. When I come it'll be inside you." 

With those words he moved between your knees, pulling his own finger out of you. Only to replace it with his hot mouth on your core. 

"Oppaaa!" Dizzying pleasure overwhelmed you when he caressed your sensitive clit with his tongue in a manner that told you he wanted to take his time enjoying eating your pussy. One finger circled your entrance delicately, only pushing inside shallowly to make you keen with wanting something to fill you up asap. Preferably his engorged cock. 

“Your pussy tastes divine,__. I could spend hours between your legs.” A wide lick up your inner labia punctuated his praise of your cunt. Then he went exploring, parting your folds to go deeper, to the parts of you no one, including you, had ever even thought to stimulate. Pulling apart your labia with his fingers, he tongued your urethra, digging at a hole too small to penetrate and a shock of forbidden sensation jolted through you. 

“Taehyung! What are you—”

“Do you squirt, baby?”

You peeped down at him, your heaving breasts small mountains of obstruction to your line of sight. He grinned against your pussy, a mischievous glint in his eyes setting you on edge.

“N-no, I haven’t before.”

“Great.” He gave your cunt an open mouthed smooch. “Lets see if you can.”

With one thumb he pulled back the hood of your clit, exposing the sensitive bundle to his hungry gaze. Two fingers slid inside your entrance with a slick sound, thrusting in and out, making you clench yourself around his digits. Then the torture began.

He would lick your clit till you felt your high approaching, his fingers exerting the exact amount of pressure on your g-spot as he drove them in you in shallow thrusts. Just when you started spasming around his fingers, he would slow them down, a smirk on his face as he abandoned your clit for the tiny hole hidden deep in your folds. And a different kind of sensation would assault you, a pleasure-pressure you associated when you wanted to pee real bad but couldn’t. 

“Tae! Oppa, I don’t- I wanna—“, you cried for something, you didn’t even know what. “Please!”

Then he backed off, and repeated the whole thing all over again. By the third time, you were a sobbing mess, tears running down your temples from the way he denied your orgasm multiple times. 

Grabbing his thick hair in tufts, you made him look up at you. “No no. Tae please, let me come.”

He tsked, pouting. “I will, Ms.__. But you taste so fucking sweet I just can’t help delaying the inevitable.”

“You can eat me out anytime, alright!”, you almost shouted at his cavalier tone. “Just let me come right now.”

Taehyung brightened up at that, like you’d just handed him a trophy. “I’m gonna hold you to that, Ms __. Don’t think you can back off later.”

“Whatever. Just make me come!”

He happily dove back down, fucking you with his finger with a renewed vigour as he finally took your clit in his mouth instead of giving it teasing licks. 

“Oh, fuck, yes!”

That forbidden, delicious pressure built again, peaking into a crescendo as Taehyung pressed your every right pleasure point, his fingers thrusting into your pussy with a rough speed that sent you to heaven on earth. 

“Tae, I’m gonna— Oh my god!”

Taehyung pulled his head back at the last minute, watching with a delighted groan as your abused pussy gushed clear liquid in quick streams, drenching you and the carpet below as your hips involuntary lifted with spasms. 

“Fuck, that is such a pretty sight. I knew I could make you squirt.”

Taehyung pulled his fingers out of you abruptly, rushing to shuck his pants and boxers. Evidently, he’d had enough of neglecting his own needs. He lined up against your well lubricated opening while you were still coming down from your climax. 

He didn't give you a moment to breathe before he pushed inside. Seating himself inside you completely, bottoming out and stuffing you so full, you twitched when the smouldering embers of pleasure flared up in your core again. 

"You're so fucking tight,__.", he exclaimed. Even after two orgasms your walls clasped around him greedily, making him throb inside your tight sheath. 

"Baby.", he called turning your face up with a hand on your chin. His fingers smelled like your arousal. Desire reflected in both your gazes. "Keep your eyes on me while I fuck you.”, he commanded, slowly pulling his thick length out of you, only to glide back in with a satisfied grunt. “I want it rough, is that okay?”

"Yes, oppa." You clutched his back, your nails digging in as he increased his speed. Overstimulation making you more desperate, you moved your pelvis along with his, meeting each and everyone of his downward thrusts. It was frenzied attempt to reach the fastest route to the finish. He gripped your hips harshly, leveraging himself with his feet to fuck down into you with brisk precision. 

Taehyung made sure to go in deep though, letting you feel the tip of his cock against your cervix with every drive of his hips, pummelling your cunt into complete submission. 

Your foreheads touching, you breathed each other's air, never breaking eye contact. 

"You look so beautiful underneath me, baby.", he grunted. "So wet yet so tight. You're gripping me so tight...", his words turned into incoherent, half complete whispers and sweet nothings. He thrusted in you with lightening speed now, both of you so close to finishing. 

"I-I'm gonna...", you gasped feeling herself losing control once again.

"No. Wait for me. Together baby." 

You wrapped your legs around Taehyung, clenching your core muscles to delay your climax. "Faster, oppa.", you moaned. 

"Almost." He thrusted twice. "There." One more time. "Now, __.”

You let yourself go. At the same time you felt Taehyung come as he emptied himself inside of you. He groaned your name like a plea, slowing down. 

You raked your nails down his back, aftershocks coursing through your every nerve. You felt like a limp noodle and you weren’t sure you’d ever be able to walk again.

Taehyung slumped down on top of you, his warm comforting weight felt relaxing. Lips moving on your neck as he leisurely gave you a few loving kisses. 

After a minute he spoke. 

"I hope you're on birth control."

Oh shit.

[crayonpac]

Is your callout true? I saw it on my dash

Yes and no.

I was 16 when the callout was written, so, a minor and it was also three goddamn years ago. I was also undiagnosed with a number of things, being heavily physically, emotionally and sexually abused and unmedicated. I've changed now and have gotten help since then, at least I hope I have.

(I'm going to call the OP 'Goku' to hide their identity for their sake, since neither of us want to think about the other anymore.)

I'm at Goku through the infamous vent app when I was 15 or 16 years old. I just got out of a very abusive relationship with my actual abuser (who was a grown woman) and quickly became friends with them through kinnie shit and a mutual liking of Yokai Watch. We were really close and became queerplatonic partners which we probably should have been because they were in their twenties and I was a minor but we became them anyways.

Due to trauma I used to have a problem where I compulsively lie about certain things, because if I didn't lie my mother would beat me occasionally to the point of nearly killing me or just happened on more than one occasion which Goku had heard, amongst other friends that we shared the time. This was also around the time I'm at my abuser, the one I most frequently talked about on here on Twitter and in my abuser tag.

I told Goku whatever went on between my mother and this abuser and I guess I lied here and there that I forgot to keep up with. I also have dissociative identity disorder so between me and my headmates things would often get mixed up. I will admit that I did hurt Goku during the course of our relationship, in ways he didn't deserve and I definitely manipulated him without knowing it.

Eventually we stopped being friends and I couldn't handle it. One of my alters couldn't handle it. We became so disgustingly dependent on Goku that we didn't know what to do and thought we would die without him so I did everything in our power to bring him back into being our friend. This included the comment on the 8tracks playlist where I guilt tripped him, and getting a friend (who ig fucked off tumblr years ago? I don't know where they are) to convince him I was dead.

That was not okay in the slightest. I don't know what compelled us to think that was okay.

That doesn't make stalking people okay though, and after this is posted I'm going back to a hospital to make sure I get better.

I hope if Goku ever does see this he knows I'm sorry for abusing him, genuinely. He didn't deserve that and I should of just let him go.

Now for the lies the blog tells.

I really shouldn't have to say this, but I don't engage in bestiality that was a rumor started by my rapist when he manipulated one of my headmates for our tumblr password and sent random, disgusting messages to certain people. All of which he knew I knew IRL, or were going to move in with me. I've never had sex with my dog. Nor should I have to say that, christ.

About the pedophilia stuff from my old NSFW blog: I was 12-15 when all that was posted! The cookie run stuff on there was photoshopped, and at that time no character ages were confirmed (which doesn't excuse shit) but I thought (because I was groomed from a very young age) that posting nsfw of minors was okay because I was a minor. It's not. The blog's been deleted since I turned 17.

The fanfiction: any fanfiction that was posted to my Archive of Our Own account that involves bestiality are underage was written was underage to being groomed by an older woman. To my knowledge she's in jail now for what you did to me and several other children but that doesn't make what I wrote okay in the slightest. It will be taken down as soon as possible if I can remember the email that was used to create the account.

Sexual Assault: the one asked who spoke about me sexually assaulting them is a liar, and this isn't me trying to clear my ass either. It happened in a hotel room with another person where he forced me have sex with him with and an older woman for money. I was underage while he was not. The woman was much older than the two of us. I'll answer any questions about this off anon because I don't want my followers reading about a child getting raped.

There we have it. My inbox will be open all night.

Edit: Apparently the woman who assaulted me was trans! Sorry!!

[taskade3]

Free Notion Alternative

Nonappearance of regard email drafts, notes applications and plan for the day chiefs: Taskade does all that and that is only a diminished gander at something more observable

Everything that I require to keep my life moving perseveringly on the web. Some spot. I can't discover it.

I'm destroying all the record numbers, meeting notes, plans for the day, contact data and piece drafts I have to see each day. Other than the plans I need to cook, wines I have to try, and YouTube accounts I should watch. An aspect of that stuff lives in my email inbox, and some in Google Docs. By then there are my Pinterest sheets, clashing bookmarks and the Evernote account I can never make reasonably. Free Notion for School

On a key level, the web makes it more clear than at whatever point in late memory to keep all that I need a few taps away. Genuinely, the web has a point of view for pulling back our lives. Undoubtedly I floated everything in a journal and reasonably become inebriated, kept up a key regular ways from each page and proposed them in better places around my home.

Taskade makes an astounding instrument for boss plans for the day, and you can utilize photographs, emoticons and stock workmanship to tidy them up.

Photograph: David Pierce/The Wall Street Journal

Over the level of late weeks, an application called Taskade has helped me change into request. Taskade joins evident the best highlights of Google Docs, Excel and Dropbox, near heaps of undertaking the heads and legitimate instruments. Taskade Labs Chief Executive Ivan Zhao depicts the thing as "the raised level season of Microsoft Office," which is a little hyperbolic and a ton faltering. Notwithstanding, it is the best life-alliance contraption I've attempted.

Taskade blends the highlights of a note-taking application, an undertaking the heads application and a spreadsheet mechanical social affair the way that Steve Jobs joined an iPod, a cellphone and a web program into the iPhone: All these contraptions take a centrality to make something more than its parts.

I should show that Taskade is truly crazy: It has a continued relating structure, and expenses $8 enthusiastically for titanic use. Considering, it may pay for itself in the applications it replaces, and I've discovered it pleasingly worth the expense.

I starting at now have a page with all my plane and lodging commitment numbers in a bulleted list, over a photograph of my dental security card and a superb control with holding tight for my dental ace's office. I made information bases with all the motion pictures, books, TV shows, and YouTube accounts I have to get to—every cell opens to a rich report with my notes and encounters. Taskade has all the social occasions, research material and structures for my zone. I'm getting hitched soon and am taking a gander at my private a touch at a time plan persistently.

Explanation behind reality the freshest locale is an information base contraption, which you can see as a table, a structure and the sky is the limit starting there.

Photograph: David Pierce/The Wall Street Journal

I used to require five separate applications to keep so much stuff straight. Absolutely it's all in Taskade, two or three snaps or a central intrigue away.

Square by Block

It may be less shocking to consider Taskade a super-key site skilled than a stunning position application.

Unequivocally when you open another page in the application, you're genuinely making a sensible plot onto which you can put and sort out on a chief level anything. The application's key space is the square, which could be a hint of text, a bulleted list, a table, a picture, a code bit, a YouTube video, a PDF no insufficiency. You present squares with a tap or solace head course, and a brief timeframe later reorder and psyches these paying little notice to a goliath level of you may require. You can if all else fails change the chance of a square, other than. For example, you can pick a titanic degree of text and change it into an a touch at a time plan.

Taskade's focal part is the square, which takes different structures: text, joins, pictures, bookmarks straightforward as can be.

Photograph: David Pierce/The Wall Street Journal

Taskade looks like chess: simple to learn, hard to star. The application itself looks genuinely standard, with a sidebar on the left and your open page on the right. It has a few rich amazing occasions, similar to the choice to add a spread photograph to the head of any page.

Essentially when you first open the application, in any case, it doesn't do what's basic to assist you with seeing all that it can do. In any case, after quite a while of utilizing Taskade enterprisingly, I'm fundamentally starting at now understanding the most titanic approaches to manage regulate oversee administer supervise direct control brilliant things while endeavoring to abstain from settling on amazing structure choices. Do I genuinely require a full-page photograph inside my structure for the day? My proposition: Make epic utilization of Taskade's relationship, since they help you with spreading out pages and show what the application's set up to do.

There are neighborhood Taskade applications for Windows, Mac and iOS. Mr. Zhao says an Android application ought to be open inside weeks. The web application works consummately on work zone and flexible, in like way, and it's really a general experience offering little appreciation to which stage you're utilizing.

Taskade is made arrangements to web straightforwardness. It works disconnected astoundingly with pages you've opened beginning late while related—which proposes all that you can do is cross your fingers each time you open Taskade on a plane. On the upside, you can present tweets and YouTube records, even whole site pages, inside a Taskade report.

Photograph: David Pierce/The Wall Street Journal

Despite the way that I use Taskade to keep clear over my own work and life (and you ought to in like way), Taskade is proposed for business parties. It offers decided changing, inline remarks and fundamental contraptions for controlling consents and dispatching attempts. On the off chance that you utilize Slack, you can get alerts each time somebody remarks on or changes a Taskade report. Is in no way, shape or form at all, in any way shape or form, in any way in any way at all, a substitute for Slack or Salesforce, yet it can vanquish a monster number from getting the mechanical social occasions unbelievable affiliations use to store and offer data.

In all cases resource

Matt Galligan, facilitator of the Picks and Shovels Co., a modernized money affiliations startup, offered an anticipated portrayal for Taskade. He says utilizing the application takes in the wake of shopping on Amazon. Beginning at now, "stores unequivocal," he passed on, "and they worked unfathomably." Then Amazon followed and amassed everything. It perhaps wasn't the best store for any single thing, paying little psyche to the one-stop comfort made it energizing.

That is melding it: Taskade isn't as epic a spreadsheet instrument as Excel, and it doesn't have an aspect of the undertaking the board highlights I need—when an undertaking is standard, I may require an alert, for example. (Taskade says that is coming.) Yet the application has helped me shave the spots I hold stuff down to only two. I can't shield email from coming in; I can put everything else in Taskade.

Photograph: David Pierce/The Wall Street Journal

There's packs left for the Taskade get-together to do, clearly. Vindicating task pulls in, it's in like way organizing framework sync, PowerPoint-style introduction consolidates, a web trimmer, better confined assistance and that Android application. It's other than hoping to help relationship, for example, Zapier and If This Then That (IFTTT), which help move information between applications. Regardless, it beginning at now accomplishes more than any of its foes.

For a guaranteed long time, I've ricocheted around different note-manhandling contraptions, never completely happy. Evernote makes it simple to get data, offering little thankfulness to I never adored the interface. Google Docs and Keep don't offer enough highlights. Trello, Asana and other endeavor the managers programming don't work for note taking.

Taskade wires the best of each—and others—into a stunning renaissance application, capable in massive strategies for portion for creation and plot. I can't put a cost on the authentic quietness that begins from an unfragmented life. Check, yes I can: It's eight bucks every month.

[thaumaturtles]

Begin ANGELQUEST

The other day, I was doing some.......

...... studying.......

When I came across an advertisement. This isn’t at all an unusual experience; I’ve been on the internet for a decade and change and I’ve come to accept that ads are a part of the experience. This was an ad I’d seen many times before, too. I’m so accustomed to seeing it that my eyes often skip right over it. However, I’ve been reading a lot of articles about Enlightenment, lately, and I’ve been trying to put that into practice in my everyday life. I’ve been attempting, to varying degrees of success, to become more aware of myself and my environment, to probe onward into my mind’s own blind spots. In short, I’m trying to blitz my chakras. (Don’t worry, am Indian, can reclaim.)

And so, for perhaps the first time, I took a moment to truly see the ad in front of me. To stop and smell the dogshit hiding behind the roses. And, goodness, was it a sight to behold. Ladies, gentlemen, and all who fall betwixt, I present to you, THIS:

Take a moment, if necessary, to take it all in.

Have you collected yourself? Good. You’re holding up the rest of the class.

I don’t know how I’ve managed to let this pass without mental comment on more than one occasion. How did I look at this image, think “angel reading? yeah, sure, that’s a thing that exists” and then shuffle along? The only explanation I can muster is Divine intervention, which would ironically lend this product some legitimacy. I need to understand. What does Angel Reading mean? How could such a process be personalized, and, furthermore, how could it take place over the Internet? Who is this “Celeste”? What is she after? Why does she look vaguely disappointed in me? Can she see my soul? What is an “Angelic Medium”?????

Clearly, if I want answers, I’m going to have to dive in. I place my Crocodile Dundee hat on my head with no small measure of trepidation, though I must confess a moiety of excitement deep within. As I hike up my Adventurin’ Shorts and stuff a few hundred metres of rope into my backpack, I consider the long road ahead. And then, with my cosplay explorer’s outfit put on to my approval, I sit down at my computer. I’m really not sure why I felt the need to do all that when I’m just gonna be here at home.

I steel my will, and I click.

This loading screen appears, and I’d like to mention that the URL for this page is perhaps longer than any URL I’ve ever seen before in my 16 years.

Okay, let’s just take a moment to get our bearings here and-

HOLY MACKEREL, THERE’S A COUNTDOWN!

And only twenty-seven minutes left! Sakes alive, I clicked this link just in time! Imagine If I’d wasted more time farting around and dressing up like Indiana Jones!

Although, weirdly enough, whenever I refresh the page, the timer restarts, and it always restarts at 27 minutes and 50ish seconds, which is a random-enough number to seem legitimate.

Hmm. Odd.

I wonder if maybe the countdown isn’t actually real and is just there to pressure you into typing your info more quickly so you don’t notice how fishy this whole opera-

OH MY GOD ONLY 26 MINUTES!!!!!!!

OK, gotta think quickly here. Gosh, they’re asking some personal questions right off the bat, but I can’t let them know it’s me; they might recognize me from tumblr. If this sting operation’s gonna go forth I gotta lie my ass off. My name? Uh, uh.. My name is Dyl-Dy- Uhhhh, shit, okay, it’s Dylan-NO, Dylllllllll...... Delilah? Delilah. Like from the Bible. Yeah, that’s fitting, especially since I’m swindling these fools. Soon, Celeste, your hair will be mine.

They’re asking for my date of birth, which I’m hesitant to put because my 16th birthday party was kind of a big deal and Celeste might’ve heard about it, in which case she’ll know it’s me AND things will be super awkward cause I didn’t invite her to the party.

I put 4/13/1969 obviously

They’re also asking for my e-mail address, which I can’t give out because it has my full name, address, and social security number in it, so let’s just pull this ripcord real quick and parachute out of this nightmare zone, and over to a quick, free, secure e-mail client. That is, protonmail.com, which is not my usual e-mail server and will thus throw Celeste’s goons even farther off my trail

Wow, that was a surprisingly quick and painless process! I might just have to use protonmail in the future

So anyway here’s my info, sent in right under the wire, with a mere 24.3 minutes left! God that was close. Picture that classic scene in Indiana Jones where he slides under the door and then reaches back in to get his hat, only it’s an out-of-shape teen and also the door hasn’t even started closing yet.

I went with my actual country because, c’mon, there’re a lot of people in Jamaica. Statistically speaking, how likely is it they’d find me through that?

You know I didn’t. You know I fucking didn’t. Why are you asking.

Also, here’s a quick rundown of what Celeste is actually offering in case anyone was curious. It does somewhat tickle me that she claims she’ll “get to work immediately” as soon as anyone clicks the link and subscribes, as though the process isn’t completely automated. It evokes a clear image of Celeste, in full angelic garb, sitting at a computer screen and answering calls while also typing into three discrete keyboards simultaneously.

The idea that she could personally take the order of every individual who clicks this ad betrays either a complete lack of confidence in the desirability of her product, or an incredible amount of confidence in her own ability to multitask.

Who is “she”? Celeste? That doesn’t make much sense in the context here. Peter’s Guardian Angel? But earlier Celeste made it sound like all angels use he/him! Also, what does “bring her back” mean if it’s the angel? Can angels leave and later be found again? I feel like if you find your guardian angel once, that should be it forever, but apparently they can leave and you have to ensnare them again?????

Hooray! A link from an unknown source to an unknown destination! I sure can’t wait to click it all day long!

The things I do in the name of science, I swear to God Celeste.

It took a minute but here it is. Sidenote: I rather enjoy the irony of an inbox which consists of three e-mails about encryption and ways to curate a safe internet experience, and one which is an automated link from a bullshit ad for a product that doesn’t exist. There’s a subtle poetry to this image. I almost want to frame it, and then sell it for an exorbitant amount of money.

Here’s the e-mail, folx. If ever you needed proof that this was a scam, look no further.

Who on this good green earth would think beginning such a missive with, “Thank you for your trust,” would be a good way to garner MORE goodwill? When I go to my local grocer and I purchase a party-sized bag of Tostitos to eat by myself over the course of a day and a half because I’m in control of my body, goddammit, the bag doesn’t say, “Thank you for believing in us! We promise we won’t give you dysentery!

Like, what the fuck? “Thank you for your trust.” Your product should be able to stand on its own two feet and proudly proclaim, “I’m gonna give you a fucking angel reading or die trying!”

That initial line has honestly made me more scared than ever for this process. I’m confident I’m going to click that link and it’s going to auto-download a terabyte of obscure Norwegian pornography to my hard drive. I did just update my computer this morning, however, and all my data are backed up, so I feel somewhat more secure than I might otherwise.

Did I really just say “data are”? I know it’s grammatically correct and all, but it’s still jarring to hear. Messes with my mental flow. And wouldn’t the proper, descriptivist thing to do be to use “data is” to avoid confusion? Using “data are” feels clunky, is more difficult to say, and makes me look a bit snobbish. I’d delete it but that would require hitting the backspace button on my computer and I’m frankly quite lazy about that sort of thing. What was I talking about again? Oh, right. I have to click the link.

 Again with the “thank you for your trust” bullshit! Whatever, I’m going to let it pass. They’re clearly going for a friendly, approachable persona here, even if they’re doing it in the most threatening, ass-backwards way possible.

This next email took a seemingly endless eight minutes to arrive, during which time I meditated, raised a bonsai tree to adulthood, watched Marley & Me, grappled with intense feelings of loneliness, and worked on some of my homework.

Or maybe I just played games on my phone. You decide!

Okay, not quite what “hereby” means, but sure. It’s a common mistake, likely exacerbated by the presence of the word “here” within “hereby.” Sort of a “wherefore does not mean where” situation I suppose.

Anyway, I’m submitting to the mortifying ordeal of clicking the link yet again.

Christ get a load of this shit. How fitting that the Angelic stone for someone born on 4/13 would be Jade. My archangel is Megatron apparently??? His info claims he’s some sort of scribe. My major planet is Neptune, and my secondary planet is.... the sun? Is anyone going to tell Celeste what stars are or do I have to do everything myself around here? I do like that ram up in the top left though. I’m naming you Ram Elliot.

Now for the pièce de résistance. Meet Mahasiah. Mahasiah is not my guardian angel; Mahasiah is the guardian angel for anyone born between April 10th-14th. My guardian angel is Yerathel, apparently. A few things I learned while researching this: both Mahasia and Yerathel have “feminine energies” (???) and both have Fire as their associated classical element. Also, Yerathel rules over Intelligence, which is one thing I actually somewhat like about myself. This is actually kind of neat to learn about!

I mean come on. That’s pretty fuckin cool. His name means “He Who Punishes Evildoers” which is beyond epic, and his associated gem is Smoky Quartz, aka the only Steven Universe character.

You know, maybe this whole Angel Reading business isn’t a scam after all. Maybe it’s a perfectly safe process and I’ll be totally fine, what am I worrying about? At the very least, it couldn’t hurt to explore her site a bit more..... for research’s sake.

yeah baby tell me more

h-

certainly, miss celeste, anything for you

wait, aren’t I already in a relationshi-

JAZZERCISING JUNIPERS BATMAN THERE’S ONLY 28 MINUTES LEFT

holy shit! I want accurate readings!

Oh god oh no okay i’ll do whatever you want celeste please don’t leave me i need my tarots

THEY KNOW ABOUT ME ALREADY OMG

Well, okay, even in my currently addled state I can still see that “Duo-Telepathy” is complete bullshi-

OH WELL IF AMANDA GAVE THEM THREE WHOLE STARS I HAVE TO TRUST IT

Amazingly, my info was pre-filled in. Almost like this site is linked to Celeste’s in some way, or perhaps even run by the same group of scammeUPSTANDING CITIZENS IS WHAT I MEANT TO SAY

Ooh, another e-transmission from my good friend Celeste! Oh, how I’ve missed her! And apparently large and surprising discoveries have been made concerning me! She’s presenting me a Guide? I sure hope I’ll be able to open it, hassle-free, with no additional purchases/information required!

OHOHOHOHO

bro i’m shitting my drawers rn

I have no fucking clue what that means but you said FREE so i’m in!

oh my god there’s still so much left. just shut the fuck up and take my money you fools

AW TITS YEAH

....i think

Okay, I know the original thing said FREE and I should be “mad” or watever, but look at that bargain! that’s more than half off! It might as well be free! I’d be stupid NOT to buy it!

I’ve invented a lot of secondary information for Delilah. The phone number is merely (559) YOU-SUCK, as a subtle way of establishing the power dynamic at play here. I’m sure Celeste will appreciate it.

Hmmmmm.............. It would seem my method of “just input numbers randomly” won’t work here. Such a shame. Credit card fraud used to be so easy. I’ll have to put that on the backburner, though, because look what just appeared in my inbox!

You can see where this is going.

I’ll take my leave now, this post is getting long enough as is, but I do feel it’s important to note that doing a quick bit of research shows that Celeste & co. are famous for emotional manipulation, as well as getting people addicted to their products and forcing a sort of dependency upon them. It’s important to do your research, and remember basic internet safety tips like don’t click popups or check if a site is legit before downloading from them. It’s incredibly easy to get trapped down this sort of rabbit hole, where you wind up buying more and more of their products like you’re stockpiling for the Rapture. Not me, though, I’m obviously fine and can quit anytime I like. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go try a bunch of credit card numbers until one works.

[taylorswiftstylequestions]

Hey Sarah, do you answer all of your asks? That’s to say: if our ask is unanswered for a few weeks, should we assume you are making a selection (that, perfectly fine!) or should we send it again?

Hi! I genuinely do my best to answer as many of them as I can. It’s come to my attention as of late that I think I need to be in the “right” headspace. Not only mood-wise but also to think and consider, “Do I have the time to answer this? To give this answer and this person the time that they deserve because they want my genuine opinion or thoughts or response on this? If I write a response, will they feel satisfied?” 

I’ve received a few messages from people that have made note of my brevity or shortness and how it hurts them as it feels flippant or that I don’t care. Which, of course, makes me so sad as my length of response is never an indicator of being in a foul mood or not wanting to address your question/concern. But because I may be low on time, I’m a people pleaser, and because my 9-5 career job involves a lot of answering of emails and coordinating things between people — so I’ve trained myself to see a cleared inbox as the goal. And thus, I try to burn through questions as quickly as I can, mostly ones that I feel are something I can easily answer. And in turn, that may make people feel like I’m being short. 

If you need more context, I very rarely answer things directly on my phone. I am constantly checking if I have new messages (multiple times throughout the day, as often as I check my Instagram DMs) but I will rarely in the moment formulate a response. My usual process is to see that something has come in, make note of it, and come back to it later after I’ve formulated some high level thoughts and when I know I have the time to write it all down and give you, the questioner, a coherent and thoughtful answer (if the question warrants it, of course). Others I will buzz through if they are more “Where is this from?” or “Have you posted this?” or “I know it was a long time ago, but this item was this colour and had this length and she wore it with xx shoes” (those ones are my favourite, I love going through my memory and challenging myself to remember the brand and the occasion - even if it was years ago and it validates TSS’ entire existence as a full database of Taylor’s style over the years. I say this with absolutely zero sarcasm - truly! I can confidently say that it’s the only scavenger hunt I actually like #TooOldForEasterEggs #TooOldForScavengerHunts). 

Anyway! To your question - please you are encouraged to send in questions, always. If a response has not come through over weeks it could be, in descending order of likelihood: 

1) Tumblr ate it

2) You have truly stumped me and your question is still sitting in my inbox or I have saved a half-written response as a draft and I can’t finish it yet because it’s a deep q and I need more time [possibly the ends of the earth amount of time]

3) It was offensive so I deleted it 

4) I did not want to respond to it

[kylorenjyn-blog]

Use Your Tech From Anywhere: 25 Cool Apps for Digital Wanderers, Corporate Geeks, and Loony Travelers

In the previous 3 years, I have just maintained my business from Lebanon, Indonesia, Morocco, Iran, Kenya, and South Africa. Continuously on the chase after a steady Wi-Fi association, however free of fixed working hours.

My office can be my bed just as my preferred neighborhood bistro. My solitary apparatuses are a PC, a cell phone, and a couple of earphones to detach myself from the clamors of the external world. Obviously, I'm 100% subject to innovation to have the option to work from anyplace the word.

Innovation some of the time comes up short me. There's no Internet. My PC solidifies up. The telephone is dead.

Be that as it may, more often than not, it is innovation what makes it conceivable to keep my fantasy of time and area opportunity alive. Both quality equipment and convenient programming. That is the reason I've chosen a rundown of extremely valuable applications that will enable you to remain associated, gainful, or more all loose.

1. Docady

Snap a photograph of all the significant records you would prefer not to bear. The application will enable you to mastermind the desk work into important classes and securely store all that you may require on your movements.

2. PandaDoc

There's no compelling reason to send your proposition or contracts by means of snail mail. You can without much of a stretch make, offer, and sign archives with lawfully restricting electronic mark programming.

3. Docracy

There's likewise no hurry to search for a legal advisor each time you need a basic contract. Utilize this stunning open database of authoritative archives.

4. CrashPlan

Ensure your information and back up the entirety of your important records (music, photographs, reports) to an outside drive or cloud. You can get to them from anyplace, whenever.

5. Hola

In certain nations, your prominent sites (for example Facebook, Twitter, YouTube… ) might be blocked. For such cases, it's great to have a strong VPN introduced before you cross the outskirts, so you can peruse the Internet without restriction.

6. Dawn

Plan your days with a logbook that interfaces with your most loved applications, including Facebook, Evernote, or Trello.

7. Trello

Monitor your every day assignments and work together with your group on any task with this free and basic board-like application. Not any more interminable email strings or missed due dates.

8. Wunderlist

Arrange your to-dos, set due dates, and updates. You can likewise impart your rundowns to other individuals and perhaps dole out the assignments to another person.

9. Solo

In the event that you function as a consultant, most undertaking administration applications likely don't address your particular needs. Solo won't just assistance you complete stuff, it will likewise help with checking your exhibition, following your time and costs, producing solicitations, or overseeing customers.

10. WudaTime

Effectively track the time you go through on individual assignments with the assistance of this free program based device.

11. Gorgias

Spare a few minutes each time you send an email. This application will enable you to make clever layouts and alternate ways so you fly through your inbox excessively quick.

12. Energy

Self-restraint is the principle challenge while working for yourself. This application will enable you to make new propensities, track your every day advance, and accomplish your objectives.

13. Opportunity

Square diverting sites and applications to soar your efficiency.

14. ClearChat

Remain associated with your remote colleagues through a scrambled group visit application. Your discussions and records will be perused just by the planned beneficiaries.

15. Talkative

The individuals who want to talk eye to eye can supplement visiting with group video calls. No downloads, information exchange, or installment required.

16. Clearness

Timetable a call with an accomplished business visionary and get master counsel on your business regardless of where on the planet you are.

17. Meetup

Meet new individuals at occasions sorted out by neighborhood networks everywhere throughout the globe.

18. Visionary

On the off chance that you wish to join work, travel, and making the world a superior spot, check one of many volunteer open doors here.

19. Entrain

The individuals who frequently experience the ill effects of fly slacks will utilize this free application. It will disclose to you when to look for dull or light to modify quicker to new time zones.

20. PackPoint

This shrewd pressing rundown application will check the climate, note the length of your remain, and think about the reason for your outing, so you remember anything significant.

21. Dollarbird

Control your spending limit on your cell phone. Perceive the amount you've spent, plan your future uses, and watch your ways of managing money.

22. Silvrback

Try not to squander your time setting up another site. Catch your undertakings in a lean, diversion free blog.

23. Canva

Introductions, infographics, blog entry pictures, business cards, web pennants, publications, solicitations… any plan related stuff is simple notwithstanding for non-fashioners with this free, simplified application.

24. CodersClan

Complete your littler coding errands by expert coders in a matter of seconds.

25. SuperTasker

Do you have to fix your WordPress site, make another logo, or compose an official statement? A wide range of computerized assignments can be conveyed inside hours through this site.

[conchepcion]

Wait a minute...

This is for @half-past-late who came into my inbox and was super sweet. Sorry for being a week late, and I will try to answer every prompt you wanted because of your extreme sweetness. Here’s the first out of the four, not in the right order mind you - I’m terrible like that - 

“Wait a minute… Are you jealous?”

The clicking of the keyboard continued. Clearly, replying to emails were more important this time around, and John’s question had fallen on deaf ears. He wasn’t surprised, not really, he’d never really thought he’d be asking Sherlock about something so silly in the first place (he blamed Mary). John, however, having known him this long raised his eyebrows at how furious the typing of the keyboard was, hard pronounced typing that sounded positively, dare he think it – erratic? 

Again, he blamed Mary. 

The idea had been planted. 

It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed Sherlock’s expression, half-expecting to hear him tear a new one into Molly’s fiancé Tom who looked the spitting image of the great detective himself – without the deerstalker, mind you. Either Molly had put Tom up to it, or she’d deliberately gone after a bloke who looked like Sherlock. 

Again, either option seemed possible. 

Sherlock had been gone for a while, after all, or dead, though Molly knew he wasn’t the latter (unlike him), though she’d also wound up engaged (like him). He wasn’t going to dig too deeply into whatever that meant, but at least Mary didn’t wear a dark coat or had a mop of curly black hair. 

It almost made him laugh, outright, though he stifled the laugh, distracting himself with the mug of tea in his hand. He’d drifted into his own thoughts by now, almost forgetting the question he’d asked to begin with.

“Why would I be?” came as a reply in what seemed like minutes after.

He blinked, looking up from his cup, “I, umm, suppose not-,” he trailed off, however, properly invested this time. “…You aren’t though?”

Sherlock scoffed, “John, really?”

“What?”

“Him?”

“Well, yeah?”

Sherlock drew a breath, “He’s a cut-rate version of me. He’s hardly competition.”

The word competition floated front and center in his mind. Competition? ‘He’s hardly competition’…

“Competition – for what?” he said, coming to grasp that his wife-to-be might be onto something, and he was ‘completely oblivious to the miniscule detail’ as Sherlock would say. He was getting the bigger picture this time, might as well be broadcasting it loud and clear this time.

“Hmm?” said Sherlock who was, yet again, tapping away.

He didn’t seem to be typing so hard this round, more carefully, as if he was afraid to let on.

John resisted grinning into his cup.

“…Right.”

“I’ll give him A plus for effort, however,” said Sherlock with a small smile.

As if that settled everything, as if he’d not given himself away for once, like the cogs in John’s head weren’t churning rapidly putting tiny little details into place – like Molly knowing about him faking his death, besides her being one of the few people he personally counted on that could manage Sherlock whenever they were in a pinch -

“So, Molly isn’t the one who put him up to it, then?”

“No! Of course not!” Sherlock sighed, taking his hands away from the keyboard, giving him a withering look – “The coat was from a second-hand shop – a new purchase however – chemically cleaned for the occasion, though with obvious scuff marks from previous use, nice stitch work to conceal the damage, however, but a seasoned eye can tell. And the scarf was something Molly gave to him last Christmas – scarves are seasonal gifts, even ordinary people can get a hold of a scarf, everyone’s aunt and uncle knits! But most importantly - Molly spent most of the evening avoiding him… Though she tried to keep up the illusion of their happiness - flashing her ring around the room – ‘I’ve moved on’, like I didn’t hear that… She’d clearly not been clued in – which shows insecurity – on his part – and she’s never been a fan of that. Her previous choice in men – have been questionable – but Moriarty aside (after all, he fooled me, as well), she’s not an idiot either… Obviously, nothing to worry about John.”

John pursed his lips, “… I wasn’t worried, actually.”

“Then – why are you here?” said Sherlock raising his brows annoyed, moving into the kitchen to face him properly. He was reminded all of a sudden that he was about to ask him to be his best man. Maybe, Sherlock wasn’t jealous because there wasn’t anything to be jealous about, but he’d save the questions for another time.

He had another question to ask, after all.

[chip-off-the-writers-block]

Simon Snow Vs. the Heteronormals Agenda Chapter 4

Simon has never owned a mobile, because the Mage has never been for it, but after Penny begging him to get one for the millionth time, he finally caves. Along with the joy of finally getting to talk to Penny whenever he wants (even on holiday!), Simon gets to chat with Agatha on occasion, and discovers the Watford Tumblr tag. Life is perfect, until Agatha breaks up with him, someone from Watford comes out anonymously on tumblr, and Simon’s world is turned upside down.

Baz never expected to get contacted about his coming out. He figured he would be insulted, that people filled with hate would hold nothing back when they didn’t associate his name and face with his confession. But the letter in his inbox isn’t full or hate in scorn. Instead, it holds a damning declaration: “Dear Mr. Pitch, I’m just like you.”

-----

The Simon vs. the Homosapien’s Agenda story adapted to another famous and queer Simon in fiction.

Chapter 4 is now up! read it under the cut, or on-

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16056452/chapters/37860524

Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/639020194-simon-snow-vs-the-heteronormals-agenda-4

Baz

I didn’t really intend to post that thing on Tumblr, and I definitely didn’t intend to get that close to Snow the other night. If I had actually thought rationally about all of this, I would have realized that the only outcome for these events would be disaster, but Simon Snow has a way of making me not think rationally. Lucky for me, Snow doesn’t seem to have noticed that I’ve been avoiding him all day, or maybe he has, because he’s not in our room now, even though it’s easily 8 or 9 in the evening.

I originally wrote the post to get to vent for a single goddamn minute about boys, so I can go back to being the perfect poster boy of the Old Families like my dad wants, without an all consuming crush on our number one enemy, the Mage’s Heir. It didn’t work, which is quite unfortunate, and I’ve been called every homophobic slur under the sun (ironic, I know), which is not unexpected. I even was so worked up after my post got so much attention that I used some magic, which I haven’t done to vent in years.

I’m sure that for a less pessimistic being, this may have come as a shock. Snow comes to mind, though whether it’s because he’s endlessly optimistic or unbelievably dense, I am unsure. Nevertheless, I do believe that many less aware people would believe that Watford is a place of endless understanding, especially with the openness of a certain lesbian couple on campus.

While I hate to be the bearer of bad news, I can not only confirm that Watford is not full of sunshine and rainbows, but also that many of the Old Families’ kids that are here, who would have the biggest issue with homosexuality, probably didn’t even realize those two were dating. After all, girls are known to be much more physically affectionate than boys, or whatnot.

I do suppose I should be thankful my family is on the more accepting side of Old Family politics, though I’m certain my father still expects me to keep up the family bloodline. My stepmother’s children aren’t suited for it in the slightest, so that responsibility falls on me. But I digress.

Nevertheless, I expected the insults, and the hatred, and the general anger that would come to me so openly only as a result of the concealment of my identity. I also expected it to mostly die down after a couple of days, which it has. But what I did not expect is the email sitting in my inbox, written to me by yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com.

From: yourlightyourburningsun@gmail.com

To: pitchblackherb128@gmail.com

Subject: Hi There

Dear Mr. Pitch,

I’m just like you. Well, really, the two of us are very alike. At least I think we are. You see, I also feel like I shouldn’t complain about my life. I have good friends and an amazing life here at Watford, and the people close to me think I have a bright future ahead of me. But after seeing your post, it got me thinking, and what I’ve come to realize is that I think I like men, too. Of course, I’m very new to all this, and I’m not sure if I can tell anyone. I don’t think my family would approve. So, I’ve come to ask for your advice: What do I do?

Yours,

Cinder

On any other occasion, I’d turn this lost child away immediately, especially since the way he addressed me is so close to the truth. But maybe because the way this kid writes reminds me of Snow, or because I can’t resist the idea of getting to do something in my life that’s entirely me, not Grimm or Pitch, but Basilton, but I decide to actually talk to him.

From: pitchblackherb128@gmail.com

To: yourlightmatchburningsun@gmail.com

Subject: Re: Hi There

Dear Cinder,

Please don’t call me Mr. Pitch. It makes me sound like a character from those infernal Fifty Shades novels Normal women like so much. Call me Ebony instead.

I apologise, but I have to disagree with you on being so similar, since it sounds like you’re still figuring yourself out. That’s not a judgement, by any means, just an observation. If you’re not ready, you don’t need to tell your family right away, especially if you don’t know how they’ll take it. For reference, my dad knows, but still thinks I’m going to keep the family bloodline going.

I am, however, incredibly flattered that I’ve spurred on this revelation within you, but I must admit my curiosity is getting the better of me, so I must ask: who’s the lucky person who made everything clear?

Sincerely,

Ebony

[eagle-eyez]

Shortly after the COVID-19 lockdown began, I found myself all alone in my Mumbai apartment. My roommates had all left, for some reason or the other, and it was just me. The first couple of weeks were easy, I was living my best life and channeling my inner Kevin McAllister with gleeful abandon, eating ice-cream in the middle of the day with not a care in the world. The next couple of weeks, however, were... difficult. There was a point at which my little 2BHK abode, which, on usual days, felt stifling and small, started to seem infinite. The walls began to loom over me, and the walk from the front door to my kitchen felt like a marathon.

I was slowly beginning to succumb to a strange brand of melancholy, the kind that only something like a global pandemic can bring about. In my desperation to exit this sinking quicksand feeling, I tried all sorts of distractions. I watched films that everyone had raved about, television shows that frequently featured on "Top 10 shows to watch if you're not an uncultured swine" lists, even going so far as to — and I shudder to say this out loud — listen to a podcast or two. None of that really worked, and my salvation would finally come whilst trawling through the bargain bin offers on the PlayStation store, in the shape of F1 2019.

Prior to this point, I'd never played an F1 game before, despite being an on-again, off-again fan of the actual sport. Also, my utter incompetence when it comes to racing games might have something to do with why I'd never dipped my toes into Codemasters' decades-long series. In fact, just minutes after booting up F1 2019, I was ready to quit. I was expecting a light, carefree racing experience, but instead, what I got was an ultra-serious, simulator-esque ordeal, with all manners of strange buttons and technical jargon being thrown my way. Despite this initial reluctance, I persevered, and over the next month or so, I obsessively played my way through pretty much everything the game had to offer, and in the process, somehow managed to stave off the lockdown blues (Just to make it clear, I'm not advocating for F1 2019 to replace any of the tools you would use to improve your mental health, please try therapy, it works wonders).

So of course, a year later, when the opportunity came to review the successor to the game that got me through the first few months of the pandemic, I lunged at it with both hands. After having played it for a week or so, I've come to the realisation that despite having sunk many, many hours of my life into this game, I have somehow not gotten any better. I might actually be worse at it than I was a year ago. The game, on the other hand, has improved significantly.

Gameplay and Graphics

While the gameplay of F1 2021 is not massively different from its predecessors, there are a few noteworthy additions that make it a more appealing and polished game than those that came before it. Chief among those is the addition of Braking Point, a "Drive to Survive"-inspired game mode that attempts to throw back the curtain and expose the seedy underbelly of a sport that features 20 millionaires driving around in circles really fast. We'll talk about Braking Point in detail a little later, but F1 2021 is not all about huge updates and big overhauls.

There have also been a number of smaller, more subtle improvements. For an inept hand like myself, the assists, in particular, were one improvement that stood out to me almost immediately. Having little green and red arrows to tell you when to brake and when to accelerate away is really useful, and while these features have been a part of the F1 series for a while now, you do have a slightly larger degree of control over them now.

The game also integrates the DualSense controller's ability to adjust the tension in the trigger buttons, but if you didn't know that before you started playing, you might not realise it at all. In fact, I only remembered that the game was supposed to use adaptive triggers when I was re-watching a teaser trailer that had come out in the build-up to the game's release. Turns out, there are different levels of sensitivity that you can apply to the triggers, and the effects of the default level are not very noticeable. Once I had amped it up a little, I really felt a lot of feedback from the controls, and it made racing a lot more enjoyable by adding a heightened level of tactile interaction.

When it comes to the graphics, there's been a marked improvement in quality, though I suspect that might have more to do with the capabilities of the PlayStation 5 than it has to do with the game itself. Opting to race in rainy conditions will dramatically transform the visuals, with the almost photorealistic soaked asphalt, crunchy gravel and overcast skies really adding to the immersive quality of the experience. In contrast, when racing on circuits like Bahrain, the swirling sand and bright, oppressive sunlight really replicate what it's like to be at that particular track, so much so that while playing the game, I was overcome with nostalgia, thinking back to when a 10-year-old me got a chance to watch the F1 at the Bahrain International Circuit.

Braking Point - The Star Attraction

In Braking Point, F1's new story-focused mode, you're given the opportunity to relive the experience of being a pimply lad in your 20s, trying to make it in a big bad world, through the lens of one Aiden Jackson. Jackson is a strong favourite to win the F2 title, and your first race as Aiden Jackson is the championship-winning season finale that propels you to a seat in Formula 1. Soon after, you're forced to come to grips with the fact that it's not all stars and sunshine in the big leagues, and that underneath the bells and whistles, there's a viciously competitive system that's out to get you.

Among the chief antagonists of this story are your vaguely older teammate Casper Akkerman (really, he could be either 28 or 50) who despises you for being a young hotshot talent, and a very charismatic rival Devon Butler, who just seems to appear out of thin air at the very worst moments possible to sow seeds of doubt in your mind.

Now, there's nothing particularly new or interesting about this storyline in and of itself. It does seem like a slightly plagiarised reincarnation of the Alex Hunter story from FIFA games of the past, even featuring almost identical motivations for the primary character and the antagonists. How it does improve on that, though, is in the execution.

Each character is fleshed out to just the right point, where we neither skim over their reasons for doing what they do, nor dive into their past in exhaustive detail. The interactions between characters, especially those told through the cutscenes, are all paced well, and at no point does the story feel like it's dragging. The only character whose backstory I wasn't fully satisfied with was Akkerman, whose past exploits on the circuit are mentioned only in passing, but it's not something that hampered my enjoyment of the story.

Speaking of Akkerman, another gameplay feature that I really enjoyed was that Braking Point allowed you to race as Akkerman in some races that had were more meaningful to his storyline than they perhaps were to the protagonist. This truly gives players an ability to walk a mile in someone else's shoes, and adds a further level of nuance to this story. It gives a sense of authenticity to the world that the game is trying to bring to your television screens.

This world is also expanded upon by little touches like the mails you get in your inbox, as well as a social media feed of sorts that you can view on your virtual phone. Some of these are quite intriguing, and often form little side stories of their own, over the course of several emails. A significant portion of the story is also told through the medium of telephones, with Aiden being constantly plagued by his mum and team liaison/mediator Brian Doyle.

I do have a couple of gripes about Braking Point. To begin with, since the cutscenes are so visually appealing and well-written, there are occasions outside the cutscenes in which the characters look a little like they've been possessed by a demon, with deadpan expressions and eyes that are cold and calculating. Now, if there's a murder mystery side plot in the pipeline, this is more than acceptable, but otherwise, it just takes away from the overall polish of the game. Secondly, Braking Point is short, even for a novice like me who needs four or five attempts to complete every race.

Career

The career mode allows you to play either as a racer (Driver mode), or as a racer/owner/manager (My Team mode) who juggles the responsibilities of being the man in charge in addition to having to race every weekend. You can play the career mode all by yourself, or, if you have a very, very patient friend, which I do not, you can play it in CO-OP mode, which allows you and your friend to play as teammates or rivals.

When you play the "My Team" version of career mode, you're given a much larger degree of control over the team, and you can dictate proceedings according to your wishes. I found it quite entertaining, both in terms of story and gameplay, and I got a real kick out of acting like the big boss man. It was a little daunting, however, and required a fair bit of googling on my part to understand the progression systems involved in levelling up your engines and gearboxes. Of course, I admittedly have a very superficial knowledge of such things, and someone who is more aware of the inner workings of the sport will likely love the technical side of it.

That's not me though. I'm no geek. I'm fast, I'm furious, and I live to race baby. Hmm, I feel like the 'baby' was a bit too much, but my point stands. I wasn't interested in the makeup of the car or in having to decide what gearbox I was going to use, I just want to smoke fools on the track, and playing the "Driver" mode is perfect for that. You can pick from any team on the F1 and F2 grids, and then compete over the course of a season, or even half a season, if you want. I started out with an F2 side, and found that the journey towards qualifying for the Formula 1 was pretty engaging.

Multiplayer

There are a number of ways in which you can experience the joy of multiplayer racing, from online sessions to local split-screen races. The online races work well enough, but it took me very long to find players to race against, with wait times of over five minutes on some occasions. Perhaps some of that can be attributed to this still being a very new game, and it will likely improve in due time. I also prefer racing with collisions turned off so that other racers are not tangible entities that can make physical contact with me. I personally feel like it's much less chaotic, and ensures you don't fly off the tracks/have your front wing fall off every time you hit someone, but it does also make the race a teeny tiny bit less entertaining.

The multiplayer mode in which I had the most fun, however, was the local split-screen multiplayer, in which you can face off against someone sitting right next to you. Over the course of the past week, my brother and I have waged war on several occasions, and I have emerged victorious on almost every occasion (I let him win one time out of the goodness of my heart).

Grand Prix/Time Trial

These two modes are essentially the most barebones modes available, and they allow players to quickly jump into action whenever they so desire, cutting out any and all semblance of story or plot. They're great for learning how the game works, and challenging yourself to better your previous performances time and time again, should you be so inclined. With the time trial mode, you can also experience every track that the game has to offer without having to complete all of them first.

TL;DR: F1 2021 is a must-have for fans of the genre, as it builds upon an already robust series with numerous upgrades. If you're looking for a more fun, light-hearted racing experience, however, this is probably not for you.

Game reviewed on PlayStation 5. Review code provided by the publisher.

source https://www.firstpost.com/tech/gaming/f1-2021-review-a-near-perfect-blend-of-significant-innovation-and-subtle-improvement-9828141.html

[violetsystems]

#personal

It was a productive but discouraging week for the most part.  I received my second dose of the Pfizer shot on Wednesday.  I felt a little more exhausted than usual but I’m fine.  Thursday I had a message in my inbox on LinkedIn about a job.  Two or three weeks ago I had applied for another job which was seen but no reply.  The offer sounded interesting so I replied and they asked to schedule a phone call.  So this was to be the first human interview I’ve had since ten months or so ago.  The recruiter’s prescreening went pretty well.  The first call.  Which means there were a total of about three or four calls in a two hour span.  I’ve interviewed a lot of people over the years but never really had the reason to interview myself.  That happens when you are consecutively employed for twenty years.  So while I am a little rusty, this occasion I had a particularly good opener for a classic question.  What drew me to the job in the first place?  I had a nametag tucked above a cabinet from 2014 that I had forgotten about.  It was from when I attended a lecture by myself about Abenomics and the rebuilding of Japan after the Tsunami.  It was at the Federal Reserve Bank of Chicago.  It’s pretty tight security in that building.  But in 2014 they let a malcontent like myself in there.  At the time I was doing a lot of work which LinkedIn now categorizes as “human rights.”  Mostly volunteering for local organizations like Japan America Society of Chicago to attend these lectures and even helping run a Korean fest with a chamber of commerce after work.  I did all this alone.  Mostly to network and meet new people.  This is back when I thought meeting new people was the answer.  The answer in the interview was a lot shorter but it impressed the screener enough to finish the call and send me the scary forms to fill out.  Then there was a call back.  “I’m so sorry we forgot to talk about wages.”  That really wasn’t my fault.  But that is always the hardest part.  The job offer was a six month contract and not salary.  So I quoted my current hourly rate which was seemingly too high for the recruiter.  So they quoted low.  Which worked out to be about half of my salary last year without benefits.  I still had interest.  It was remote work but I’m literally not very far and fully vaccinated.  I told them on the first call I had a zero trust office network set up for my consulting.  Then the tone started to get weird.  I had sent a 2020 resume because it was the most relevant.  That did not include my current consulting business.  The woman on the second call started to dig deeper after the salary question.  “Can you tell me what you’ve been doing since your last job at the school and why you didn’t include it on your resume?”  I explained that I formed a LLC back in later December and have been working for smaller clients freelance.  She asked me to edit my resume and add this.  She wanted it within the hour so she could “sell me to her hiring manager” properly to be considered for an interview.  I did so.  A third call.  “Can you add specifically the types of computers you supported?”  That was in there.  A request to fill out more scary forms for the federal reserve.  A fourth message.  “Can you add specifically the types of computer you supported at your old job as well?”  It was then I thought something was extremely fishy.  So I apologized and rescinded my offer.  Then I spent most of the rest of the day feeling like a failure.  Discouraging but productive.

I woke up the next morning to an email in my professional inbox from another person at the recruiting agency.  It was legal in nature informing me I had the option to file a EEO form.  This is tied to equal opportunity insofar that by signing it, the recruiter must by law share with their client all the names of applicants that they screened and probably why.  Do I expect any justice?  Not really.  I don’t know that I would have even been selected if I got the chance to interview.  It is a federal job after all.  The point is that in the eyes of a hiring manager at a recruitment agency, my resume did not seem strong enough.  If learning through failure is apparent, I shudder to think if I didn’t start a company back in December what my next interview would be like.  That is if I even get an interview.  I was reading this morning that HP and HP Enterprise are being hit with a class action for age discrimination.  There’s a lot of reasons for this.  But particularly when it comes to the money game, people fresh out of school are easier to leverage.  Whether it is tax breaks for hiring new grads or simply cheaper salaries with less experience, the agenda is simple.  Save more money so CEO’s and shareholders can get a bigger piece of the cut.  Meanwhile, America’s answer is that it is the perfect time to start your own business.  Then compete with huge sprawling mega corporations and recruitment firms that have galvanized the employment market with their magic show of balance sheets and deductions.  I’m qualified to do a lot of things which is great.  I just bought a drone so I could use the SDK to learn Python and UI design.  These are great things to add to my resume for 2021.  But the likelihood of being employable with no debt to speak of is like kryptonite to the job market.  Much less the fact that my entire professional network is scared to admit I’m alive in fear of them being blamed for favoring their job security over friendship.  I was very lucky to be where I was at when this happened back in July because of the CARES act.  I just finished the personal nightmare side of my taxes from that year on tax day.  There’s still my business to do.  Which if anything I’m more qualified to do these days, it’s your accounting.  Add those skills to the resume stat.  Along with all the computers you supported since before you were born.  Twice.  It still does not matter.  And this is where I hit this insane brick wall.  I try to be acknowledged and useful.  I try to be employable and valuable.  And I am treated in such a shitty and abusive way that I’m starting to wonder if I’m better off behind closed doors.  I have money.  I have deductions.   I have time on my hands to organize my life so I don’t spend unwisely.  I have a roof over my head with a verbal agreement at best.  And I have been living in the oblivion of no one wanting to admit fault or praise since July in varying degrees of comfort.  I’ve had people stalk me in the street because of the companies I’ve invested in like they’re the fucking mob.  I’ve gone through all of this alone while people have peeped over my shoulder.  And I’m supposed to think the law is on my side in a city that shoots thirteen year olds point blank in the chest with their hands up.  If I know one thing, it is what I can rely on.  And mostly that has been my own instinct, wisdom and prudent decisions.  And I know where I’m at at the end of the day.  Pretty much at the end of my rope with the whole process of being ignored and treated like some joke.  Then there’s people who see me in a different light.  A different hue of the spectrum.  Easier to read than my resume after it’s been edited fourteen times that’s for sure.

Things are extremely broken.  Living in a neighborhood and a sanctuary city sometimes you look for the places that aren’t.  Regardless of feeling useless and unemployable, there are times when I feel valued.  Times when people in the street follow me around more so in solidarity than fear.  People who want to be free to express themselves and look the way they feel.  People who don’t want to lower themselves to mediocre standards just to get ahead.  People who want to walk around without being judged by people who never critique themselves.  As fucked up as everything is, there’s another side to this coin.  People do get what I’m about.  That meme about people going to your hood or block and never hearing about you?  You try that shit with me and you are in for a history lesson these days.  There are no shortage of people in Chicago who will tell you all about me.  Some of it is skewed.  Some of it is nostalgia.  And then there’s people in this neighborhood who know all about stuff I haven’t told anyone.  Like I don’t sit on the weekends talking to my friends about who I like or who I think the world of.  I don’t really have the luxury of trusting many people in my situation.  And yet sometimes when I walk out to get groceries or pay the bills, someone is there to say it without even saying it.  That people just get what I’m about without me having to say anything.  Besides three paragraphs on the internet every week or so.  The reason I don’t fuck with people.  The reason I keep to myself.  The reason I don’t really care if you get me or not.  That confidence is something infectious.  That after all the fucking shit I’ve been through I keep it real regardless.  Every year some troll has to prove me wrong and fails.  Every failure proves a very clear point.  The problem isn’t me.  I’m not invisible.  I’m not hard to understand.  I’m not a liar or a traitor.  I’m literally just existing here while people size me up.  Nobody has asked my name or my agenda.  Nobody really has had enough of a human conversation to pry it out of me.  I’m an only child.  I grew up lonely and learned how to survive on my own.  I also learned begrudgingly to stand up for myself.  It doesn’t mean I don’t like society or am anti social.  How the fuck can I be anti social when everyone can’t stop talking about me in public?  I understand people are antsy, paranoid and fatigued because of the pandemic.  But some of us have literally been rolling through this warzone for years.  I’m supposed to feel humbled and privileged to be so lucky to have survived?  Fuck you.  The number one thing con artists try to do is fuck with your confidence.  Because we all know better by this point.  America is not working.  Specifically we can’t when we’re overqualified and a threat to the natural order of whatever corporate scam is going on these days.  The one thing I know is that people with actual money got richer this year.  Stocks, 401k’s, CEO salaries, tax breaks, and whatever else you throw in there.  If I learned one thing from starting an actual business, it’s that the books are overcooked for a reason.  Not that mine are.  Years and years of shady deals are hard to cover up.  Donald Trump took a loss on his business for years and evaded taxes.  I’m technically what they call going concern.  But there aren’t many tax breaks for me as a small business.  Nor is there much money coming in other than what I can hustle out of the market or royalties.  Did I mention I’m royalty?  Not in the Prince Harry sense of the word.  But I do hold the sword and shield up for feminism in America.  That much we’ve learned by now.  That and the glass ceiling is harsher for women than it is for me.  So maybe I’ll sit this one out and let the ladies take control.  In that I know my work is worth something.  Just consider me interning for the movement at the moment.  And make sure you sign that contract in bright pink because I’m not really paying attention to anything in the red.  As far as the federal reserve is concerned, my finances are in the green.  <3 Tim

[suzannaalden2]

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[miraculous-dnd]

Insight Chapter 2

A miraculous ladybug D&D!AU  Words: 3552 Rating: Teen for mild language Summary: Between sessions the group finds time to catch up outside of D&D. 

Marinette slept late the next morning, it was Saturday and she didn’t have to go into work that morning. She walked into the office around 10 anyways though, one of the designs that she had been working on calling to her. The office was quiet, Sylvia apparently taking her day off seriously, so Marinette put on some music and got to work. Around 1 she was interrupted by a buzz from her phone:

Adrien: Hey

Marinette: What's up

Adrien: You free today?

Marinette's heart raced, despite herself

Marinette: Yeah, just finishing up some work, what did you have in mind?

Adrien: Well I was in the neighborhood and I was wondering if you wanted to grab a late lunch, or maybe some coffee, if you've already eaten?

Adrien: Maybe we could talk D&D?

Marinette: Yeah, that sounds great.

She sent him the address of the office,

Marinette: Meet me here @1:30?

Adrien: sounds like a plan!

Marinette dropped the phone on the drafting table and took a deep breath. She let the excitement run its course, Adrien wanted to catch up and grab coffee. This was normal, right? They were in a D&D group together, they were in the same industry (though the lowest ranking Gabriel designer could probably buy out Coccinelle without breaking a sweat and Adrien was on the damn board of directors), they had plenty in common, they could go for a normal lunch between friends.

Ok, maybe the grade school crush wasn't so past tense. She tried to shift her focus back onto the designs in front of her, but she kept being dragged back by the silky cat's purr of Adrien's Rogue voice.

That's only a little weird. Right?

Adrien walked up in front of the small shop front of Marinette's and smiled, it definitely had her touch. He opened the door and walked in, the building seemed to be quiet, but he could see a light coming from the back. He walked towards it, taking care to go a little louder than natural, so as not to frighten.

She was sitting on a stool, half-finished sketch on the drafting table in front of her. Her hands were on her chin and her eyes were a thousand miles away.

Adrien cleared his throat, "Marinette? Did you still want to get lunch?"

She startled a bit, "Oh, Adrien, I didn't hear you come in. Sorry. Yes. Lunch, that is, yes I still want to go to lunch."

"I'm glad, I had started looking forward to it."

"oh." Marinette tried, very hard, to find something slightly more articulate to say, but alas.

"There's a deli around the corner, they have good vegetarian food." he pauses for a second, "are you still a vegetarian?"

"Yeah. Well, most of the time, I'll make exceptions for special occasions. But vegetarian deli sounds good, uh, let me just pack up a bit." She hurriedly packs away her sketches and slings a small ladybug purse over her shoulder. She beams up at him, toothy grin wide.

oh.

The deli wasn't very far away, and Marinette and Adrien sat on a bench outside to enjoy their sandwiches. They sat in silence a while, sandwiches an excuse for the awkward silence coming from the fact that neither of them had really talked to the other, outside of D&D in, well, a couple of years now. Adrien broke the silence first.

"So how is work going? Your shop seems like a lot is happening."

"Ha. That's a very polite way of saying the shop looks a mess."

"No, I mean-"

"It's alright, I know the shop's a mess, It's probably a good thing anyways, it means we're busy. Which is pretty much also how work is going; designing is what I always wanted to do, and I love it, but the business side is a lot of work when it is going well, and even more work when it's going poorly, but I guess that's the price I pay for living my childhood dreams"

Adrien felt a small pang of envy, to be able to pursue a passion, to have a clear idea of what your passions were, it must be nice.

"That sounds stressful, but I'm still kind of jealous, working at Gabriel is kind of soul-sucking. Like, I'm not ungrateful for what my dad left for me, it's just- I don't know, I didn't have a lot of time as a kid to have my own dreams, I had a path laid out for me, you know?"

"I never thought about that, you were a bit, wrangled as a kid weren't you?"

"I don't think I've had an unscheduled period longer than three days since I was, well, maybe ever."

"Yikes, that sounds not great"

"Yeah, it is what it is. Marcel is- he's Marcel, but he means well." Marinette raised her eyebrows a hair.

"Marcel, as in Marcel Proust, the man who, to hear half the fashion rags tell it, is slowly sucking the soul out of the Gabriel brand?"

"He doesn't have the most sparkling personality, that's true, but he is trying, my father and him, they were friends, or as close as my father got to having friends. Marcel just wants to honor his memory."

"I'm sorry Adrien, I'm sure Marcel means well, it's just, he's been with Gabriel for how long now? 15 years? 20? In an interview last week he had no idea what Toilé was."

"Yeah, he hasn't invested much in the theory, but he has a handle on the nitty-gritty of running a corporation."

Maybe too much of a handle, Adrien thought.

They sat quietly for a while, before Marinette spoke,

"So, how about the game last night? That was quite the fight huh?"

"Yeah, I'm super pumped to get to use my new item, it seems pretty versatile."

"Yeah, I don't know about mine, i'll take a hit to AC, but it bumps up my whip's range and damage, so that's pretty sweet."

"The card says tier 1 on it though, so we've probably got to unlock the really cool pieces."

"Yeah, I wonder how high they go, like, what is the max tier do you think?"

Alya is in her favorite spot, next to the window in her regular cafe, looking down over the main part of the shop on the level below, the additional seating area quiet by comparison.  The word document in front of her sits, almost done, but not quite, the blinking cursor mocking her as she struggles to wrap up the story she has been writing. The political scene has become bleaker since she became a politics reporter, when she was young she had felt like there were heroes, people making real change, people caring for people and about process. Now though, well, every hero has their dirt, and Alya had made a career finding that dirt, which made the idea of a spotless hero something that Alya reserved for fiction.

Oh well, she still has two hours until deadline. She tabs over to her email, hitting the refresh and watching as a wave of unread messages cascades down her inbox.

Junk. Junk. Deal with that later. Junk. Junk.

Her eyes scan down the list of subjects and from addresses, until she hits a subject line that she can't ignore.

RE: Hawke

Alya clicked. Her eyes widened as the message appeared before them. This was big.

Their coffee date/outing/catch-up session/whatever-you're-supposed-to-call-it over Marinette was back in her office, back in the zone, her pen putting the finishing touches on the design that she had been working on earlier when her phone buzzed again. Marinette grabbed the phone eagerly,

Alya: Hey, you got a minute?

Marinette: Yeah, just doing a bit of weekend work, what's up?

Alya: I'm looking for advice, but I gotta be a bit vague, you down?

Marinette: Its for a story, isn't it

Alya: Yeah, anyway if you found out that someone in your industry was in the pocket of a certain, politician, and you could expose them, what would you do?

Marinette: Shit. Um, give me a minute to think

Marinette: I mean, I'd call you, obvs.

Marinette: I take it calling them out isn't going to make you very popular?

Alya: I mean, they've got a couple of fans, if you catch my drift.

Alya: I'm nervous enough about it to come to you for advice, if that says anything.

Marinette: Ha. Yeah.

Marinette: Well, I don't know, is there a hard time limit on this?

Alya: Not really, there's a couple of months before it's really relevant.

Marinette: Maybe you could just make a draft then, and see how you feel?

Alya: Good plan. How's this weekend looking? are you down for another session?

Marinette: Ooh, we've got a big order going out on Friday, but Saturday or Sunday ought to work!

Alya: Good to hear! I'll get in touch with everyone else, see how they feel. <3<3

Marinette put the phone down, then picked it up again and checked the time, it was almost 8, her stomach rumbled. Looks like another night of takeout.

Adrien was not a fan of Mondays. Working for Gabriel was... stressful, in the most boring way. Marcel was a controlling CFO and Adrien still wasn't entirely comfortable in the executive role that had been created for him after his father's death. It felt like the right thing to do though, and fashion was something that Adrien knew a lot about, so he did alright with that part of it, but bringing himself to care about the gross market returns on the spring line Tokyo marking campaign was next to impossible.

He had some time before his presentation to the board, so he closed the document, in a pinch he could wing it pretty well. He pulled open another document on his browser, and scanned down what he had already written.

"The Life and Times of Pollux Blackvein"

Raised by his aunt and uncle, Pollux spent most of his time as a child avoiding responsibilities, finding places to hide. There was little he loved more than to find a rooftop or shaded alcove from which he could people watch in peace. He created rich fictions in his head. This period of happiness could not last long however and tragedy soon struck again when a illness took both his living relatives. With nothing to keep him in the small town that was all he had known, he fled into the woods only days after his 16th birthday.

In the woods he found the hut of a old hermit, who took him in and gave him a place to stay as he mourned the life that he had left behind. When he had recovered the hermit began to train him, teaching him how to survive in the wild, how to hide and how to move silently. It was the old man that taught Pollux how to fight, and Pollux took to the quarterstaff quickly, favoring knives second. When the hermit had taught him enough, Pollux left his home for a second time, returning to the village that raised him.

When he arrived he found that the village was in a desperate condition. The Magistrate Vitaa Douleur had been installed in the town since he had left and was in gross abuse of her position, levying cruel taxes and enforcing laws that had gone untouched for good reason. The abuse of power made Pollux furious, so he began to formulate a resistance. He started small, disrupting the couriers that Vitaa dispatched to other cities, stealing small shipments of coin and distributing it, subtly, to the people of the town. When this caused her to double down on the oppression of his town, Pollux began to sow the seeds of violent rebellion. The rebellion was, ultimately, successful but it was a Pyrrhic victory. At the end Pollux stood over the body of Vitaa Douleur drenched in the blood of friend and foe alike, the assault on the manse leaving only Pollux standing, after searching the manse for any clue as to who was responsible for her installment in his town he burned down the manse and fled town that night. In that part of the country, stories are still told about the rebellion of Greenthorp, and the mysterious figure that led the people against the tyrannical ruler, but they are stories that Pollux has never heard, having fled to the capitol in search of the mysterious figure that sent the scourge to his people.

Since arriving in Erathia, Pollux has fallen in love with its people, and he is already beginning to chaff at the way that the nobility (or at least some of them) take advantage of them. He has made few friends in Erathia, finding the thieves too unscrupulous and the revolutionaries too lax and inactive. He is a radical living in a city of moderates.

-

Adrien sat there and let the cursor flash at the end of the document, he felt like there was something missing, maybe he needed more characters? Should he maybe soften Pollux's stance on nobility, since Marinette and Chloe were both playing nobles? He should have sent this to Alya like, two months ago, so maybe he shouldn't worry about it. He really wanted Alya to like it though, so maybe he should. What he needed was another set of eyes.

Adrien: Hey, you got a minute?

Max: Not really, but I need a break, what’s up?

Adrien: Not much, I was just hoping I could get you to look over my character background before I sent it to my DM, if you're busy I'll ask someone else.

Max: This is for Alya's campaign?

Adrien: Yeah

Max: Send it here, I need something to pull me away from work anyways.

-

Max: Nice, it looks good, I'd say you could send it to her as is, maybe add a couple of names of people from the town?

Friday night found Alya sitting in the workspace in her apartment, DM guide and monster manual open on the table in front of her, spreadsheet open on her computer. Tomorrow night was going to be epic, they were finally going to get into the meat of the arc that she had prepared. She just needed to find the right encounter to really bring home the scale of what they were supposed to be doing. She flipped the pages of the manual, looking for inspiration.

Myconid, Nothic, Ogre, nah.

Nothing had quite the feel that Alya was looking for. Then an illustration caught her eye. She started typing:

Horrificator: AC - 8, HP - 72, Speed 15 ft.

Nino woke up to the warm sunlight coming in through the window, and to the persistent buzz of his phone. He picked it up and looked at it groggily. "Reminder: Working Bibliography Due @ Noon today."

Shit.

Nino stumbled out of bed and pulled open his laptop. 10:00, two hours, that was probably enough time to shit together some sources, he could always go back later and decide not to use any of them. That's what he'd done in undergrad, 9 times out of 10. Just as he was opening the library page his phone buzzed on the bed.

Adrien: You still planning on getting lunch today?

Nino: Yeah, I got some stuff to finish up that's due @ noon, but we could go after

Adrien: Sounds good, how're classes going?

Nino: Well, I've heard you talk about how dry your junior capitalist meetings are, and I can assure you that, without a doubt, Professor Putnam is three times dryer

Adrien: Grad school sounds like a blast

Nino: its thrilling, now bug off, I gotta finish this, I'll see you at 12:30?

Adrien: Wouldn't miss it

Nino turned off the phone and got to work.

He got a respectable amount done by noon, and sent off the file at 11:59 precisely. He turned his phone back on and a flood of notifications rolled down the screen.

Alya: UUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH...

Alya: Can you believe this guy, and whats worse ca...

Alya: What really bothers me though is the way tha...

Alya: I swear, if I have to hear another relative say b...

Alya: That absolute shitstain of a man is the last thing...

Alay: Did you hear about the new thing with Hawke? he...

Apparently it had been an eventful morning.

He opened up the first text.

Alya: Did you hear about Hawke? he just announce he's running for president

Alya: That absolute shitstain of a man is the last thing this garbage pile of a country needs.

Alya: What really bothers me is the way that people are taking it seriously, like, this is the man Front National wouldn't endorse.

Alya: I swear, if I have to hear another white guy say 'ooh, he's outside the system' NO SHIT, he's outside the system because the system had the basic decency to kick him the fuck out.

Alya: Can you believe this guy, and what's worse is I'm going to have to report on this creep for like, a year!

Alya: UUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Gross.

A knock at the door interrupted Nino's reply. He opened the door and Adrien stood there, leaning against the hallway of Nino's apartment building.

"So, you ready to get lunch?"

"Just gotta put on some shoes, come in."

"Nice place you got here Nino."

"Not for long, I'm gonna be apartment hunting again soon."

Nino finished tying his shoes and stood up.

"Where are we headed?"

"Why am I always the one who has to decide on where we eat" Adrien laughed and stepped back into the hallway as Nino locked up the apartment.

"It's because you're the one with the time and money to eat out with any regularity." Nino said, giving Adrien's shoulder a playful punch.

"Fair enough I guess. I was thinking the bourgeoisie pig, since it's pretty close."

"The coffee shop? Do they even have food there?"

"I think they have a couple of lunch options, are you hungry?"

"I'm starving, I haven't had anything to eat since lunch yesterday."

"Dude, you've got to eat. Fine, how's Heather's sound?"  

"Bro. I am always down for Heather's, you know this."

"Right, dumb question gets dumb answer, Lets go."

Heather's was only a few metro stops away from Nino's apartment, so it didn't take them too long before they were sitting down in the distressed leather booths that fit right in with Heather's distinct 'american diner' aesthetic. The walls were decorated with old street signs, black and white photos of crowds of people, and other random paraphernalia. Nino looked over the menu, an eclectic mix of American/Korean/Chinese/Indian/French/Japanese dishes, and unlikely fusions of all of the above.

"Bro, is there any chance that the vegan ramen burger is good?" Adrien seemed skeptical, but Nino knew better.

"Heather's has yet to let me down. That is far from the weirdest sounding thing I've gotten here. You should try their vegan soy sauce ice cream, that's an experience."

"I'll take your word for it. You ready for tonight?"

"D&D? Heck yes, I've been ready all week. I hope we get to go a bit longer this week though, last week felt kind of short."

"Yeah, but at least we got a bit of action, I was itching for a fight."

"Yeah well you don't have a wizard's hit points, so I can see how you might be a bit more eager to fight."

"Please, you're fine, we all passed our tests and now we’re gonna see some real fighting, I wonder what Alya is going to throw at us tonight."

"Same, I'm itching for a chance to get to use my new item."

Evening came and Adrien and Nino walked up the steps to Alya's apartment, the October chill settling in as the sun sank below the tall parisian buildings. When they hit the buzzer for Alya's apartment there was a long pause before the intercom crackled.

"Yeah?"

"Its us, Adrien and Nino, you wanna let us in?"

The lock clicked and Nino pushed into the foyer, the old building was a bit run down, but not a bad place to live. They took the elevator up to the fifth floor, and waited as Alya undid the locks on both doors to the apartment proper.

"Hey guys, ready to play? Marinette just texted, she should be here in a couple minutes. Chloe is on her way too."

When they were all gathered at the table, Alya got down to business.

"You all leveled up last time, so did you all figure out your stuff or do you need to do that now."

With leveling up out of the way, Alya wasted no time launching into the story.

"Last time, you remember, you appeared in front of a cave and decided to explore it, finding an old gnome who told you that you had been chosen by the gods to protect Erathia, as you stepped forward to accept this responsibility four fighters appeared to test your abilities, you defeated them, and the Gnome rewarded you with magical items of great power. You then appeared back in Erathia, and that was where we left off."

[chip-off-the-writers-block]

Simon Snow vs. the Heteronormals Agenda Chapter 11

Simon has never owned a mobile, because the Mage has never been for it, but after Penny begging him to get one for the millionth time, he finally caves. Along with the joy of finally getting to talk to Penny whenever he wants (even on holiday!), Simon gets to chat with Agatha on occasion, and discovers the Watford Tumblr tag. Life is perfect, until Agatha breaks up with him, someone from Watford comes out anonymously on tumblr, and Simon’s world is turned upside down.

Baz never expected to get contacted about his coming out. He figured he would be insulted, that people filled with hate would hold nothing back when they didn’t associate his name and face with his confession. But the letter in his inbox isn’t full or hate in scorn. Instead, it holds a damning declaration: “Dear Mr. Pitch, I’m just like you.” ----- The Simon vs. the Homosapien’s Agenda story adapted to another famous and queer Simon in fiction.

Read it on Ao3:https://archiveofourown.org/works/16056452/chapters/38749436

Read it on Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/651438043-simon-snow-vs-the-heteronormals-agenda-11

Baz

When I am called up to the Mage’s office, I am immediately suspicious. I don’t understand why I am being called into his office, and based on the fact that he’s sitting on his desk when I get there, it’s not for a legitimate reason.

His legs are crossed, and although he normally looks like a ridiculous Robin Hood (the animated Disney fox one), his posture and grin remind me of the Cheshire Cat.

“Hello, Tyrannus.” his grin turns my stomach. “Why don’t you have a seat?”

I summon all of the Grimm and Pitch inside me to look at unimpressed and bored as possible as I sit down and look the Mage directly in the eye in my mother’s old office.

“Why did you call me in here?” Stay calm, Basilton. Do not show interest, do not be bothered by the fact he repeatedly uses the wrong name. Maintain eye contact.

The Mage is holding something in his atrocious green gloved hand, and I am filled with anger when I realize it’s my mobile.

“That belongs to me,” I force my voice to stay calm, even though the Mage lights up as if I’ve confessed to a crime. “I don’t believe it’s very legal of you to confiscate my belongings for no reason.”

“Tsk, tsk, Tyrannus,” the Mage looks all too gleeful. “I can with probable cause, and since Simon, my heir, is always talking about how you’re a villain, I decided to investigate for myself.”

I hold off a flinch when the Mage mentions Simon. We both know, of course, that we’re on opposite sides of the war, but the way the Mage talks about Simon, as if he were just a tool, sickens me.

“Well, unless you found something illegal, I believe you must give me my mobile back,” I take in how much the Mage truly looks like a discount Robin hood in his getup, because I’m sure I’ve won. I haven’t even broken any rules.

“Actually, Tyrannus, I believe I will be holding on to this for a while longer,” and now we’re back to Cheshire cat. “After all, I did find something very interesting on this device.”

I scoff.

“You have nothing.”

The Mage leans in much closer than I’m comfortable with.

“I know you’ve been stringing my Simon along with those emails. I know all about your little Old Family Scheme”

What little blood I have in my system runs cold, but I keep a blank face. There is no scheme, but I’m not sure if it’s in my favor for him to know that.

“I have no idea who Cinder is,” this is all I have, calling his bluff. But he can’t know that.

His face lights up even more when I say that. I feel sick.

“Ah, but I do. You see Tyrannus-”

“Basilton,” I correct him.

“Basilton, yes. You see, I know who Cinder is, because Simon trusts me. And I know he’s going to be crushed when he finds out it’s you. Not to mention, if you didn’t know Cinder was my precious heir, the Old Families didn’t put you up to this. And I don’t think they’d appreciate it if word gets out that their poster boy was doing this little dance, now, would they?”

It upsets me to know that his half baked way of jumping to conclusions has led him to the truth.

“So what do you want?” I grit my teeth to keep my fangs from popping out in anger.

“It’s really nothing big at all,” the Mage flips his hand around as he speaks. “I just need you to talk some sense into your aunt. She, quite frankly, has been on the warpath or whatever, and while we were able to turn a blind eye for a while due to her legacy, it’s simply getting out of hand. I wouldn’t want to have to use force and upset your family any more.”

I don’t trust this. I don’t trust him. But Simon does, so that has to mean something. I put on a dazzlingly fake smile, but the Mage doesn’t seem to notice.

“Fine. Now, give me my phone back.”

The Mage clicks his tongue in this annoying way.

“I don’t think so, Basilton,” he says, pretending to sounds sorry. “I believe I have to hold onto it until you fulfil your end of the bargain. After all, it’s clear I shouldn’t trust you.”

“And how do you suppose I get in contact with my aunt without a mobile?” I am actively pushing down anger now, barely keeping it at bay.

“Not my problem,” comes the all too infuriating reply. “I’m sure you’ll manage. You’re a bright boy.”

I stand and walk out of the room as calmly as I can manage, face blank and void of emotion. But as soon as I leave, I feel the facade crumbling. Anger lights up my face and I let my gait be slightly heavier than usual. Needless to say, I am livid.

[lodelss]

Dear Reader,

The book that’s been the most help to me during lockdown is a book I’ve never read; I didn’t need to read it for it to save my life. I just needed, just one time, from a review or maybe from simply reading the jacket copy, to absorb its premise and go “huh that makes sense” and then to lock that information away deep in my nether-brain where it would be reserved for the occasion when I would really, really, really need it.

I am, of course, talking about Tamar Adler’s (no doubt) incomparable An Everlasting Meal, a (if I’m not mistaken) wonderful book, the main thrust of which (as I have been led to believe) is that to properly run a kitchen, you have to be constantly planning how the leftover ingredients of one meal will seamlessly blend into the next. This (surely) is a way of thinking and strategizing your grocery shopping which Tamar Adler wrote an entire book about. And I used to be such a bad cook — a non-cook, if you will — that when I first learned oh so many years ago about this concept from the book’s jacket copy or (as I’m now recalling) from my friend Hannah, who described the contents of the book to me (yes, that’s it, she once described the book to me) on the phone (honestly I barely have interacted with this book) or perhaps as we rode together on the train, I was so struck by the powerful logic of it that I locked it away tight in my hind-brain, my deep and permanent lizard-brain. In fact, so stunned do I remember being by this tremendous insight of Tamar Adler’s which (I have reason to suspect) she laid out in detail in the book An Everlasting Meal, that I have got to believe it had an impact on my grocery shopping and meal-planning right away; but the effects weren’t all that pronounced for a very long time, since back then I (truly) did not know how to cook anything. I did not know how to cook anything until last year and therefore until last year I never had an everlasting meal; I never had much more than an everlasting sandwich.

Last year is when I started getting really into recipes. But, reader, I was still a mere “shopping for one recipe at a time” person, a type of person which I have, these past few weeks, come to regard as a very weak and inferior type of person when compared to this accomplished and frankly powerful “shopping for three weeks of meals at a time” person that I have become.

To be totally clear, I placed a Fresh Direct order 3 weeks ago and we have not left the house since. I am a god.

Not a day of lockdown has gone by on which I have not thought of Tamar Adler’s An Everlasting Meal, a book I have not read. Not a day has gone by on which An Everlasting Meal has not made me mighty.

I still have plans to make so many — so many different — curries that it would make your head explode. If I told you how many I’m afraid the information would hurt you.

I have never read Tamar Adler’s An Everlasting Meal, but, if I never get the virus, friends, I am attributing my survival entirely to the fact that I once merely heard about Tamar Adler’s An Everlasting Meal (a book so powerful that I am beginning to think that no one ever actually could read it without suffering some sort of permanent brain injury, or descending into madness, or raising up a creature from the Dark Pool Below the Tower in My Dreams and unleashing it on an unready world) and that, upon merely hearing of Tamar Adler’s An Everlasting Meal, I inscribed in my deepest and darkest most everlasting thoughts a message that will never leave me, that I cannot — that I will not! I refuse to! — forget: “Thus darkly and alone is the Way to everl

  [Editors’ note: This draft of Dana’s weekly books newsletter, which we received in an email from a strange address that included several photographs in the attachments, each of which is labeled “the False tomb of the child of Akbar at the Tomb of Akbar the Great in Agra on an overcast day,” ends abruptly mid-sentence. We will update this post when we finally hear from Dana what the message of An Everlasting Meal is.]

  1. “In ‘Afropessimism,’ a Black Intellectual Mixes Memoir and Theory” by John Williams, The New York Times

In an interview, Frank B. Wilderson III talks about his memoir-theory hybrid Afropessimism, which, true to its title, makes the pessimistic case that black suffering is “essential” and even “necessary” to the psychic life of society. It’s hard to read the coronavirus death statistics this week and not see his point.

2. “Beth Alvarado: Grieving in Dreams” by Kimi Eisele, Guernica

Two novelists discuss what it’s like looking back at the books about grief, mass death, and apocalypse they wrote before the coronavirus. “We had no idea then that the virus was there, waiting, and about to be so swiftly spread. Or maybe we did know, could sense, our own precarity. What could possibly sustain a world so stacked toward some and against others?”

3. “No One Disagrees With Rebecca Solnit” by Jennifer Wilson, The New Republic

Jennifer Wilson takes a turn touching the third rail of book criticism by pointing out that a widely lauded feminist author of many books is maybe a bit too easy to agree with.

4. “The Brilliant Plodder” by David Quammen, The New York Review of Books

Many years ago, I intensely read David Quammen’s extraordinarily gripping book about how pandemic viruses emerge. I liked his writing so much that I picked up his book about Darwin and read that, too. Ever since corona showed up, Quammen’s name has been popping up in my feeds a lot as various publications have asked him to weigh in, but I never click on those articles; in fact I feel alarmingly triggered by them, because that book was so terrifying that, honestly guys, the fact that David Quammen is weighing in means we are in terrible trouble. So, uh, here’s an article he wrote about Darwin instead. I read it; it’s delightful. Let’s all read this one and not the others; let’s not become paralyzed by fear when David Quammen says the Big One has come, as he foretold it would.

Sign up to have this week’s book reviews, excerpts, and author interviews delivered directly to your inbox.

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5. “For the Union Dead” by Daniel Mason, The Atlantic

A short story from Daniel Mason’s forthcoming collection A Registry of My Passage Upon the Earth, in which the narrator discovers a startling aspect of his recently deceased uncle’s favorite hobby.

6. “Broken Pieces” by Cody Delistraty, Poetry

This is a really excellent profile of the poet Cynthia Cruz. “Throughout our afternoon together, Cruz earnestly asks me to help her interpret her poetry, as though she has located the lock to the deepest recesses of her mind but not the key.”

7. “Rereading Sanmao, the Taiwanese Wayfarer Who Sold Fifteen Million Books” by Han Zhang, The New Yorker

One of the world’s more popular writers has recently been translated into English for the first time. Han Zhang reflects on her girlhood fascination with Sanmao.

8. “from Hex by Rebecca Dinerstein Knight,” Bomb

An excerpt from Rebecca Dinerstein Knight’s novel Hex. After a lab accident, a disgraced toxicologist makes a choice. “I guess you could say that I like revenge and they like common decency. I guess you could say I don’t approve of myself enough to protect myself.”

9. “Season of the Witch” by Ana Cecilia Alvarez, Bookforum

A review of Fernanda Melchor’s Hurricane Season, a novel about a real-life murder which she wrote in lieu of an investigative report because “in Mexico… they kill journalists, but they don’t kill writers, and anyways, fiction protects you.”

  * * *