#edit: there are now like 30 columns

[hoperays-song]

Info About My Baby, The Spreadsheet

The Characters on the Sheet

Aamanee Amari

Minha Amari

Tahiyat Amari

Wildan Amari

Darius Andeo

Rebecca Andrews

Hobbs Atene

Alana Batalla

Micheal Bianchi

Nancy Bianchi

Clayton Calloway

Ruby Calloway

Irene Crawly

James Crystal

Porsha Crystal

Bartholomew Frost

Logan Fuller

Norman Harrison

Gunter Järvinen

Klaus Kickenclobber

Suki Lane

Buster Moon

Charley Moon

David Noodleman

Edward Noodleman

Kiara Noodleman

Nana Noodleman

Harrold Ochieng

Noemie Peart

Caspar Pèrez - Harrison

Gail Pèrez - Harrison

Hannah Pèrez - Harrison

Nelson Pèrez - Harrison

Rory Pèrez - Harrison

Rosita Pèrez - Harrison

Tess Pèrez - Harrison

Stanley Phillips

Herman Robbins

Alfonso Romano - Hassan

Mizuki Satō

Jerald Swell

Johnathan Taylor

Marcus Taylor

Ryan Willis

Garry Wishmann

Columns on the Sheet (I do use this primarily for my Human AU btw)

Legal Last Name

Legal First Name

Legal Middle Name

Common Name

Nicknames

Pronouns

Birthday

Age in Sing 1

Age in Sing 2

Gender Identity

Sexuality

Race

Ethnicity

Hair Color

Eye Color

Skin Tone

Height (Inches)

Profession

Languages Spoken

Food Restrictions

Allergies

Fears

Parent(s)

Step-Parent(s)

Sibling(s)

Child(ren)

Romantic Interest(s)

Status

Base Animal

Notes

[kookslastbutton]

Guilty Pleasures ༓ jjk, kth (m) | chapter ii

✒ Summary: Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

pairing: ex-husband ceo!jungkook x ceo!reader, actor!taehyung x ceo!reader

genre/AU: angst, smut, fluff, loverstoexesto ?, coworkers2?, unrequited love

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: oc and jk are both 30, Taehyung is 32, swearing, fighting, confrontation, tornado of emotions, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of sexism in the media and business world, public shaming (both direct and indirect), morally grey characters, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of abandonment issues, mentions of therapy, attempts to self-regulate but reader is pissed, mentions of self-blame though oc knows its not entirely her fault, mentions of defamation charges, JK is just 🤬 while KTH is 😇

playlist: Unkiss Me, Apologize, Hate That I Love You, etc.

a/n: Woah okay....so had I fun writing this, even though it took me a hella long time to decide whether to continue the story as a series or not 🫣 Anyway I altered the summary slightly from chapter one (and updated for consistency purposes), but it doesn't change my overall plans! As you read this chapter, I hope you will be able to see my vision (I'm nervous af! haha)! Enjoy 🥰 (edited but pls forgive me for any oversights...my typos are ridiculous)

series masterlist | next >>

You’re seated in a wide sofa chair, surrounded by four blank walls, and the gentle sound of water tricking from a faux rock waterfall. Every element of the space is carefully integrated as a means to calm you. Yet it doesn't calm you in the slightest. Your hands are clammy. Muscles tense with the adrenaline spiking through your veins. It doesn’t help that you’ve been running on nothing but black coffee all week either, refusing to eat until the first promo shoot with your company’s new endorser was launched.

A natural in front of the camera, Kim Taehyung was able to speed the process up, yet it didn’t stop the massive dark circles from forming under your eyes. This morning, he'd told you they were unnoticeable but you've seen how you look in the mirror, and they're anything but unnoticeable. Still, you find his gesture to soothe sweet. Thankfully, your new partnership has been smooth sailing which is quite a blessing considering the disaster he nearly walked into.

Yes. You’re referring to that disaster in particular. When, in some desperate last-minute attempt for validation, you threw yourself into the arms of your ex-husband.

More like fixed the collar of his shirt and whoops, slid right on his dick…again.

What is wrong with you?

You’ve been asking yourself the question far too many times. You’d think being a hot-shot CEO of a million-dollar tech company would make you like titanium, resilient as finely pounded steel but no; you're just barely keeping yourself together. You regret your rash decision that day, you regret ever marrying Jeon Jungkook, and you regret ever giving in to your stupid feelings.

That’s why you’re here now, waiting in the office of your therapist’s private practice, hands restless in your lap. You’ve been seeing Melody for just over two months since your divorce was finalized, ready to move on; trying to, more like.

‘JeonX CEO Jeon Jungkook’s ex-wife compensated $1.8 billion in divorce’

‘South Korea’s Golden It couple split with ex-wife taking half the company revenue’

These are the lovely words that greet you from your phone screen.

You have the urge to grab your special red ballpoint pen from your bag and scribble out the entire paragraph, except it’s not a printed gossip magazine— it’s a newspaper column on the internet. Instead, you close out the pesky tab on your phone and reply to its sender.

Chim 🐥: can you believe this crap they’re saying about you?! It's no shit you were given a hefty divorce settlement. You brought in half the income! They’re making you look like some kind of gold digger. I swear if I ever lay my eyes on that pretty ex-husband of yours, I will end him! 😡 [sent at 5:06 pm]

Park Jimin, your childhood best friend, sends you a follow-up text when you don’t immediately reply to the news articles he forwarded over. He’s been extremely overprotective of you lately and especially pissed at how the media’s been portraying you, while Jungkook is seemingly getting a free ride. He’s always had an axe to grind with your ex-husband, to be honest, the divorce gives him only more reason to hate him.

You: Thanks for your concern Chim, but nothing they say surprises me anymore. If you don’t mind, can you stop sending these to me? [sent at 5:12 pm]

You hope your message doesn’t read as cold or dismissive. Jimin’s concern for you is a light in a dark place, but you don’t really want to be reminded of the amount of slandering articles still targeted towards you.

Gone are the days when the public saw you as a powerful woman in business, the one to watch, or the CEO of the fastest-growing startup in the last ten years. You're now simply Jeon Jungkook’s conniving ex-wife; as if you’ve merely seduced him for his money and ran when the going was good.

Of course, the whole situation is skewed to his side; half the world is in love with him after all, and that includes the few lingering reporters who've been practically salivating three feet from you at any given chance, hoping to get an exclusive “inside look”. Your marriage was a sham, you wanted to scream, a mutual business transaction.

Too bad rather than an increase in status, resources, and market share, you gained a pile of twisted, unwarranted emotions and regrets.

“I apologize for the wait Ms. __."

The door swings open as your therapist rushes into the room. She stops at her desk to retrieve last week’s session notes, then takes a seat in the chair adjacent to you with crossed legs.

“It’s okay,” you assure, straightening your posture. “I understand how crazy busy the day can get. It wasn't a long wait anyway."

Melody gives a small smile and jots a few words on her notepad. “Thank you for understanding. How are you doing this week?”

You take a deep breath. "Tired," you respond, "especially this week at work. It's like as soon as I wrap up one project, there's another jumping out from nowhere." You used to be ahead of the game. Now you're barely surviving.

"That's right," she hums. "Last week you mentioned having to attend a charity gala soon. Would you like to start there today?"

Crap, you're suddenly reminded that you have to pick up your gown by 7 pm tonight. You entertained the idea of not going to the gala at all, but that would do you no favors in the end. Given your situation, you can't skip out on such an important charity event.

"Sure," you nod. "The Winter Gala's tomorrow night, actually. It's funny how I used to look forward to it every year, being an opportunity to network and catch up with my peers. I can't say I feel the same thrill this time around."

"Because of the divorce you mean?"

"Exactly. Being the CEO of one of the largest software corporations in the world, my ex-husband's influence far exceeds my own. So whether out of loyalty or political agenda, anyone who's anyone will be on his side of the room. I'm gonna end up being that one awkward person in the corner in a far too expensive Dior gown who no one wants to dance with." You nervously chuckle out the last sentence.

Melody opens her mouth to respond, yet stops when she notices you're not quite finished.

"It'll be the first time seeing my ex-husband after months of no contact too. I guess that's what I'm looking forward to the least."

When you think about it, the most you've seen of Jungkook is his face appearing on the massive screens downtown. He's been featured in at least a dozen interviews lately, teasing a brand-new product his company's planning to release in the spring. Seems he's doing well.

"What you feel is valid Ms. __." Melody seeks to assure you. "In the past, you used to go to these events with Jungkook right? He provided you with a sense of safety, as you did for him, no doubt. I wonder if it's a lack of consistency and belonging that worries you, more than it is about seeing your ex-husband and your peers. Companionship too, of course."

"I suppose that makes sense, but it never used to be this way." Your voice raises to match your sudden argumentativeness. "I used to be very comfortable in my own skin. I used to be confident going to these events alone, long before Jungkook came into the picture."

You pause to take a breath before continuing.

"When Jungkook became CEO of his family's software company, JeonX, he was steps away from being bought out by both our competitors, so a partnership was proposed. We married at 27 as nothing more than two ambitious, rising leaders in business. Neither of us was after love or romance when our careers were at stake."

"But then that changed for you," your therapist carefully observes. "Combined, you both held the largest share of the tech market. You and Jungkook were also in an extremely intimate relationship, yet treated it as a business contract. Unfortunately, those don't always come out clean in the wash. It appears to me that while you gave him three honest years of your life, he stole those three years from you."

The words take a moment to sink in; Jungkook stole three years from you. It conflicts with what you want to believe, though from the bottom of your heart, you know she's right.

"I feel so...guilty. I hate that I fell for him, and I hate that I'm struggling this much to let him go." As you tear up, Melody hands you a tissue from the side table with an empathetic gaze. You mouth a thank you and gently dab your eyes with the soft fabric.

"I'd give yourself some grace Ms. __. But if I may ask, what about Jungkook?" she gently probes. "Do you think he feels the same?"

"No...," you say with remorse, shaking your head. "He's moved on."

Melody remains silent for as long as you need in the moments following, cautious to follow your lead. The last thing a therapist should do is rush their patient through the session, so she sits patiently and waits for your go.

"Sorry," you finally say. "We should continue."

"No need for apologies," she replies. "Take your time."

It takes a good minute or two longer of sitting in your car before you can fully compose yourself. As usual, your session with Melody was intense and insightful, but it was far too short. You're gripping the wheel with both hands when her final words of the session echo through your head: "Give yourself some grace; blaming yourself won't do any good."

Seemingly simple advice, yet tough to follow when you constantly feel responsible for the mess you're in. Yes, even though Jungkook has the bigger end of the stick, you made your share of mistakes too. You should have looked into other options when you found out your competitors were looking to buy out JeonX instead of eloping with their CEO.

Just what were you thinking __? you harshly scold yourself. You were trying to protect your company. You both were. Too bad you placed the cart in front of the horse.

Forcing yourself to take a slow, deep breath, your eyes widen in alarm when you catch the time on the clock— 6:38 pm. Fuck! The boutique that's holding your gown for tomorrow's gala is closing in twenty minutes. Without a moment to spare, you yank the seatbelt and slam your foot on the gas.

"Good evening Ms. __." A young woman, fitted in a black pencil skirt and white blouse, greets you with a faint bow as soon as you step foot into the posh boutique.

"Hello, Hana," you refer to the young lady by name with a smile. "I'm terribly sorry to be coming in this late. I came by to pick up the gown I sent in for alterations two weeks ago. The event's tomorrow and I know the shop will be closed for the day."

Knowing the exact dress you're referring to, Hana responds with a soft tone, "Please don't worry Ms. __. We have the gown ready." She disappears to the back of the shop to retrieve it.

As you wait, your mind drifts to memories of last year's gala. You had worn a vibrant, gold gown that evening, slightly risky with a low neckline. Jungkook liked it though, as he wore a matching gold vest himself. You can imagine how crazy the press went when you both set foot on the scene, arms linked and appearing to have coordinated your attire perfectly.

Every investor at the gig wanted to be your friend that night, anxiously pushing through the crowds to speak to you. One of them nearly split your dress in two, as he had accidentally stepped on your gown after one too many drinks. You recall Jungkook scolding the man before turning his full attention to you, making sure you were alright. You consider this to be the first time you truly started looking at him as your husband, a feeling of warmth blooming inside you.

How foolish you were to let that feeling grow.

You're attending the gala alone this year, without him.

Possessing no desire to call attention to yourself this year, you've chosen a rich, navy blue gown instead. It's subtle yet sophisticated. Made out of the finest silk, its silhouette is sleek and falls straight down to the floor without any extravagant frills. The neckline is simple too, paired with a tasteful open back. There are no flashy accessories or embellishments, just a straightforward, classic design. You find the gown beautifully elegant, and nowhere near as bold as your previous one.

"Here it is Ms. __," Hana chips from afar, her heels clacking against the polished floor tiles. In her hand is a generously sized garment bag, your dress flowing underneath.

"Thank you so much, Hana," you say, taking the gown from her hand. "Again, I'm sorry for my tardiness picking this up. I hope you have a wonderful night."

You leave the boutique, the sun having already set.

The Winter Gala takes place on the top floor of Seoul's most luxurious hotel, specifically in its grand ballroom. The walls are adorned with gold trim, and its floors are elegantly lined with polished black marble. Above, a magnificent glass chandelier glimmers, catching the moonlight filtering through the surrounding glass windows.

Despite being a private event, the gala attracts a whole slew of press and locals who eagerly gather on either side of the hotel's front doors, treating it as a prime spot for viewing the red carpet.

Physically, you're ready; dressed to the nines, and makeup done just right. Mentally, you're absent; secretly sipping a margarita at the end of the earth, wherever that is. The day finally comes for you to make an appearance at the Annual Winter Gala and it's clear, you're not prepared in the slightest.

Your nerves consume you as you sit in the backseat of your limousine. You protested against being dropped off at the front entrance. Hell, you hadn't even wanted to arrive in a limo. However, your PR team insisted you be seen arriving, happy to be supporting a charitable event for the eighth year in a row.

Reluctantly, you complied.

Chim 🐥: I wish I could be there with you tonight 😞 No matter what, don't let those snobs get into your head. You look stunning and you have nothing to be ashamed of! [sent at 6:23 pm]

"Thank you, love," you whisper to aloud upon reading your best friend's endearing message. Before you can craft a reply, your door is flung open, with harsh flashes of cameras blinding you. When you step out of the limo, you hear a mix of passionate cheering and interrogative remarks.

"Ms. __, could you share with us your experience of attending the gala without Jeon Jungkook by your side for the first time?"

"Ms. __, it's unexpected to see you here this year, especially considering your recent separation from your ex-husband, who is also on the guest list!"

"Ms. __, how do you plan to navigate the evening's festivities without the familiar presence of your former partner?"

Just keep walking __. If you can just get inside the building and tune out the noise, you'll be fine. You coach yourself with every step, but make little progress with the amount of discomfort only skyrocketing. Your photos are being taken, and questions barrage you from all angles. To top it off, you feel a strong migraine coming on and oh fuck— is that the devil now?

You don't have to glance back to guess the sudden increase in cheering is due to the arrival of another hot A-lister. It has to be Jungkook with a new woman by his side. You think he wouldn't bring a date to an event like this, even if she were a hire? You'd be horribly mistaken.

You fight against the urge to turn around and confirm if your suspicions are true.

"__!" a voice calls out, which you ignore.

But wait a minute.

You stop in your tracks—that's not Jungkook's voice at all; it’s far too raspy.

Peeking over your shoulder, your jaw falls open as you see Kim Taehyung steps behind you wearing a boxy grin on his face. He's dressed to the hills with a shiny maroon, Louis Vuitton suit hugging his slim waist. Quite handsome, per usual, but what is he doing here?

Taking the initiative, Taehyung strides next to you and waves to the crowd charismatically. “My movie shoot wrapped up early so I thought I’d swing by and see what all the excitement’s about,” he says.

You observe how easy it is for him to appease the crowd, a skill you’re still working to sharpen.

“Tae-” you begin.

He then turns to you and looks straight into your eyes. You shiver at from the sudden intensity.

“I got an invitation too, and the gala happens to support a cause that I find close to my heart.” His voice lowers for the next part, allowing only your ears to hear. “I also didn’t want you having to be alone this evening, __. I hope I didn’t overstep my boundaries.”

Taehyung’s words manage to coax you away from your previously frazzled state, comforting you as the chaos quiets around you.

“Thank you, Taehyung. You didn’t, don’t worry,” you reply, giving a tight-lipped smile. “It’s actually a good thing you came since you’re basically the second face of my company after all.”

“I’m happy to hear that. We’ve been working so well together recently, and I don’t want to ruin it. May I?” He offers you an arm.

“You may.” You slip your arm into his and continue towards the hotel entrance. You admit you’re glad to see him.

With Taehyung nearby, your apprehensions of the night start to subside. He’s not always beside you, slipping away to mingle often, yet his mere presence relaxes you. You haven’t even thought about Jungkook to be honest. Well, maybe a little bit.

You take a sip of the drink in your hand and casually scan the ballroom until bingo, you spot your ex-husband by the bar in the middle of half a dozen people. Figures he’s the center of attention, effortlessly tethering people to himself. Jungkook loves the spotlight, and the spotlight loves him. As you continue watching him from across the room, a whirlwind of conflicting emotions swirls within you; longing, sorrow, anger. You haven't seen him in over two months, it feels surreal.

Memories of your time together come flooding back all at once—both the good and the bad, yet mostly bad. It's strange how someone you were once so close to can suddenly feel like a stranger. You allow your gaze to linger a moment longer, curious to conclude a date is nowhere in sight. Perhaps you’re mistaken and they’ve merely slipped away for a second. You’re positive he would’ve brought someone.

Bitterly, you gulp down another sip of your drink. When you place your glass down, you nearly choke at the sight of Jungkook's dark eyes burning holes at you. You avert your gaze immediately, silently begging that he didn’t just witness you staring at him and take it as an unsolicited invitation to come over.

“So,” a provocative voice unexpectedly slides next to you. “Looks like you just traded one bachelor for the next __. I’m shocked to see you’ve shown up to our little soirée.”

Oh god, you roll your eyes, recognizing the owner of the slithery voice like the back of your hand. You do not have the stamina for this tonight.

“Kathy," you greet with the fakest, yet sweetest smile possible. "Nice seeing you again. I haven't seen you since last year. How's the baby?"

"Oh please," she scoffs. "Don't try to deflect, sweetie. We both know it's you who is of far more... intrigue. If you understand my gist."

You want to hurl at this woman's condescending tone. Nothing gets under your skin more than someone your age calling you sweetie. It's not endearing in the slightest, especially when it's Kathy Lee, Director of CommaTen. You despise each other, likely because you both hit it big in the industry at a young age. Meeting someone who reminds you so closely of yourself isn't always a blessing.

“Anyway, as I was saying," she continues, brushing her hair behind an ear. "I have quite the bone to pick with you about stealing that actor from me. Kim Taehyung was mine first, you know."

Hers? She speaks as if a person can be owned. You won't lie, you're surprised Taehyung agreed to partner with you at a time when most of Seoul's elites have turned against you. You're naive to assume that his support wouldn't backfire on his reputation. On the other hand, he's been your endorser for two months now and his following remains fully intact.

“To be frank, I didn't know the two of you were talking business at all," you respond to the accusations with composure, though burning up inside. "But of course, he's free to make his own decisions, can't he? Whatever the reason, something must have enticed him."

“You—" Offended by your insinuation that your offer was better than hers, Kathy doesn't stop what comes next. "We both know the only reason why Kim Taehyung's with you is because Jungkook left you! And you need the extra publicity, isn't that right?"

Fuck. Well, now you're really fucking embarrassed because, at that moment, everyone in the room shifts their attention your way. A pin drop could be heard in the entire ballroom since even the live band ceased their playing.

This is why you didn't want to come. Your fingers fumble with the fabric of your gown.

“Don't act like you're above me just because your company might be worth more than mine, __. We'll catch up with you soon," Kathy spits her final words before spinning around and triumphantly walking away.

Don't cry, you tell yourself. Everyone's staring at you; the press, your peers, Jungkook, and Taehyung. Don't you dare cry.

As the murmurs of conversation gradually resume around you, you force yourself to take a deep, steadying breath. Kathy's words were nothing but a feeble attempt to save her own face. Besides, what company doesn't have at least one endorser?

"Are you alright?" Taehyung's low, gentle voice catches your attention as he swiftly returns to your side, no doubt influenced after witnessing Kathy's verbal jab.

You manage a tight-lipped smile, nodding faintly as you attempt to push back the overwhelming wave of humiliation. "I will be," you reply, though the words feel hollow even to your own ears.

His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer, a silent understanding passing between you.

"I hope you don't take her words to heart, __," he mutters. "I chose to become your partner because I genuinely believe in your product. I'm selective about who I support, so please trust me when I say it wasn't because of material gain or pity."

You're on the verge of responding to his reassurance when you catch sight of your ex-husband from the corner of your eye, striding his way over to you for the first time tonight. His expression is unreadable, so you brace yourself, unsure of what to expect.

"__," he starts, his voice low but carrying an unmistakable urgency. "Can we talk?"

You and Taehyung share a quick glance before you follow Jungkook out of the ballroom, seeking privacy.

As soon as you're out of earshot, Jungkook turns to you, his features softened by a hint of concern. "Hey," he starts. "I meant to get over to you sooner but got tied up. You know how it is."

"Yeah, I know," you respond, though you'd rather he didn't come over at all, especially after being dragged into the spotlight in front of all your peers and colleagues.

The two of you share an unsettling silence before he speaks again.

"You-You look good." He allows his eyes to rake up and down your body, causing you to cross your arms in discomfort. There was a time when his gaze brought a flutter of excitement, but now, you're not so sure it brings you the same pleasure.

"I'm sorry for what happened in there," he says. "You okay?"

"What?" you repeat, your eyes wide with surprise, stunned by his unexpected apology. "Am I okay?"

Where was this concern when he handed you the divorce papers nine months ago? Or when he willingly took advantage of your vulnerability that time in your office, only to disappear afterward, as if he hadn't just torn your heart out of your chest? You clench your fists, trying to contain the rising temperature of your anger.

"Yeah, about what she said about you," he clarifies. "It was uncalled for, and I feel horrible about it." He reaches out to touch you, but you instinctively step back, as if his touch would scorch you.

"Please, don't," you sigh, a trace of weariness in your voice. "It's fine."

"I'm serious __, I can have her charged with defamation for that. It wouldn't take much!" His insistence is unwavering, and it strikes your last nerve.

"You don't need to fight my battles for me, Jungkook," you suddenly snap, voice stern. "I'm not completely helpless now that you've divorced me!"

Jungkook's expression darkens, regret flickering in his eyes. "I'm not saying you are. I'm just trying to help."

"Help?" you repeat, doubtful. "How do you think that's going to look for me in the media? Jeon Jungkook slaps another high society member with a defamation charge for ex-wife. Thanks, but no thanks. I get enough of that as is."

He sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I know they've been difficult on you recentl—"

"Difficult?" you interject, your anger bubbling to the surface. "In case you haven't noticed my face is on every gossip magazine, billboard, press release, and anything else they can use to scorn me with. It's unbearable, especially since I still have a business to run."

Jungkook winces, clearly stung by your words. "Then let me help. I'll get them removed for you. I still care about you, __."

You scoff. "You care about me? Is that why you made me sign our divorce papers three months after you found out I wanted more than a fake marriage?"

His jaw clenches, gaze dropping to the floor guiltily. "It's not like that, __. I'm not trying to be an avoidant asshole. I want you to-"

"Find someone else. Yeah, I got it," you mutter bitterly, feeling a fresh wave of hurt wash over you.

"I'm sorry, __. I am."

You stare at him, torn between resentment and a lingering ache for the connection you once shared. Now, he's apologizing?

"So am I," you say, slowly backing away from him. "You don't have to do anything, Jungkook. I'm fine."

You then turn on your heels to return to the ballroom where Taehyung still waits for you, leaving your ex-husband standing in the hallway, alone.

a/n: A much-needed confrontation between oc and jk eh? But... *laughs evilly*..this is not the end...LMK what you think! 🤔🤍

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[ratcatcher0325]

A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #31)

Chapter #31. ... Something Wicked this way comes... Or so Alexander thinks. Who is at Nat's door?

So this is by far my longest chapter yet! I guess that makes up for how long it took me to write and edit it? Maybe? Anyway thanks for continuing to read!! I love and appreciate you all!

Previous: Chapter #30

Next: Chapter #32

Word Count: 10,045 Read Time: Approx. 60+ mins

CW: adult language

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A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #31: The Pricking of Thumbs... and Eyes

[Alexander’s POV]

I strained to listen through the bedroom door, thicker than I measured shoulder to shoulder, through walls of drywall and insulation, through distance. While it was only a few dozen steps for the human who’d just told me to hide, it may as well have been the better part of a mile for me. 

Damn my little frame! 

My throat tightened as my spinal column was washed with adrenaline. What was happening out there? Was she okay? What was my best course of action? On the desktop I had the advantage of some height, sure, but I was also a sitting duck, with no chance to outrun a pair of malicious human hands if it were to come down to that. Did I risk clamoring to the floor? Or did that just guarantee my doom, underfoot? Down there, I’d have more places to hide out of sight before springing into action with this makeshift weapon I currently hefted under my arm. If push came to shove, would I be able to get to her in time to make any difference at all? Even if I crashed my way into the room with two absolutely massive beings before me, was there anything I could do to help? 

My few milliseconds for strategizing were abruptly cut short as the creak of the door opening far off in the distance hit my ears. My blood froze in my veins and I admit, I held my breath as I ground my heels into the wood of the desk, waiting to discover what was taking place far beyond where I stood. 

The door opened. I strained, wincing and wishing I wasn’t banished to this far off room, like some weak little coveted prize to be stashed away when danger called. I couldn’t be certain, but I swore I heard a gasp. 

Her gasp. 

My heart thundered ever more feverishly. That was it. I had to do something. Anything. Even if it got me killed. I would not lie down and cower in fear like some weak little waste of oxygen. If she needed my help, I’d try my damndest to give it. 

Without a second thought, I hobbled over to the edge of her desk, contemplating the cables I’d shimmied down once before. I now had the much more logistically challenging job of navigating this vertical drop with a letter opener towering a whole 3 inches above my head and mobility aid tucked under my arm. I heard a shuffling of feet as I swung my own over the cliff’s edge that was the desk’s ledge. I tried not to think about how a drop from this height could kill me as I heard her exclaim, “What the fuck? What’re you doing here?” Was this someone she knew? To my ears, it didn’t sound good.

 I needed to move, and quickly. I heard a male voice, deep and wholly unfamiliar ring in response, but I hardly had the bandwidth to pick up on his exact words. I managed to hear “Worried… Own good… Don’t freak out…” I launched myself over the edge, both hands gripping the cord as I swung precariously, trying not to drop the two objects carefully hooked under my right shoulder joint and pressed to my side with the crook of my elbow. I had to make sure to apply adequate pressure to keep them from slipping. 

 Hand under fist, I began to slowly lower myself down the length of the cord. The progress was abysmally slow. I bared my teeth, sweat forming on my brow, as a muscular burning began to blossom in my shoulders and arms. No! Not now, I’ve only just begun my descent. 

I pictured Natalie’s face in my mind. I’d no doubt she could hold her own quite well. The incident with the driver in her alley and her unapologetic shouting match with the impatient man came immediately to the forefront of my thoughts. She did not hesitate to come to her own defense, and I knew that. What she’d failed to remember when she’d commanded me to hide myself away, is that I would not hesitate to do the same. 

I was ripped back to reality by two concurrent events that occupied my full attention. First, I could feel my crutch slipping dangerously from my hold on it, threatening to fall out of my grip entirely, as my arms shook with the effort to hold myself aloft. I could hardly afford to risk letting go with one arm to catch it, let alone be able to twist around in time to stop its fall. I doubted I’d be able to support my full weight with just one fist gripping tightly to the slippery rubber casing of a wire. Yet, if it tumbled to the ground, and out of reach, I’d be royally screwed in trying to hobble even a few paces. 

As I hung in place, tightening the pressure between my elbow and ribs to try to keep the objects from falling, the second event tore me away from my current disaster unto another. There were footsteps, loud and unmistakable, thundering toward the door. This human, whoever he was, would be bursting through the threshold in only a few seconds’ time, judging by the cacophony of shoes on wood flooring. 

I was much too high off the ground to risk jumping, but too far down to have enough time to clamor back up again. This was a huge mistake. I was stuck, midair, probably about level with the average human’s thigh, swinging uselessly, and utterly exposed. Like ripe fruit ready to be plucked from its vine, I was at high risk of being snatched up.  

Steel yourself, Alexander, now’s not the time for succumbing to fear. I had a weapon after all, and a sharp one at that. 

The gigantic footfalls continued with ever growing intensity in my direction. The stranger’s voice seemed far too casual and familiar for my liking, “Aww, come on, I gotta see what’s been goin’ on… what’re you trying to hide?” Who was this man? Why was she not stopping him and what gave him any right to invade her home on such unexpected notice, no less? 

What was she trying to hide? Me. You unwelcome invader of privacy. She’s trying to hide me. So much for keeping out of plain sight and giving her peace of mind. 

“No, you really don’t! N-no I’m not hiding– I just… now’s not a good time and–” Her voice was softer than his, quieter and more distant. He was charging ahead and she was scrambling after him. What was wrong with this human? Did he not know how to listen? 

The footfalls were so close now, I could feel them as they ricocheted through the hardwood floor of the hall, and shook my makeshift climbing rope ever so slightly. 

How embarrassing. Just their steps were enough to rock me to and fro like a fragile leaf on the breeze. I swallowed hard. This was it. In the next millisecond I’d be face to face… well… make that face to body with an unknown enemy.

I gripped tighter, tucking the cable between the sole of one shoe and the toe of the other, so that I didn’t have to bear all my weight with just my arms. This muscular effort tweaked my injured leg, as my trembling hands gained some small relief. With my crutch still barely able to balance, I readied myself to use my weapon if needed. I was almost certain it would be needed. 

That’s when he crashed through the door. 

He towered over me, of course. The gusts of wind generated from his massive form erupting into the room threw my hair about my face and made me grit my teeth. Why did humans have to be so big?! 

He stopped just inside the doorway, his left thigh upsettingly close, yet maybe just an inch or so shy of being within stabbing range. Damn. Still, he was much too near for my liking. I could practically smell him. Was that fresh soap and a hint of cinnamon? I wrinkled my nose in disgust.

 He hadn’t noticed me yet: of course not, I was far below his eye line, why would he? He stood comfortably, as if he owned the place. He looked a few years older than Natalie, perhaps about my age, though it was impossible to know for sure. His bespectacled visage was bright, excitable. He seemed amused, as he cast his gaze around. His beard, dark in color, just like his neat, tightly curled hair, was cut close to his jawline. The wide-necked cable-knit sweater he wore sported a geometric pattern in black, royal blue and crisp white. His left hand relaxed inside the pocket of his corduroy slacks, as he took in the room before him. 

I hated him at first glance. 

He played the part of a perfect Nantucket dandy, clearly hailing from wealth, and with the added benefit of an Ivy League university education, he seemed out of place in Natalie’s humble living conditions. Everything about him oozed with pretension and privilege. And yet, the two of them seemed well acquainted, so there must’ve been some common ground. 

While this strange and wholly unwelcome intruder delighted in the view, my muscles were screaming for relief. Sweat poured from my brow and down the back of my neck. My arms, in spite of my best efforts, were starting to tremble and that damned cane was ever closer to tipping out of my grasp and down to the floor, a deadly distance away. I couldn’t hold on for much longer, but I’d be damned if I’d let this supercilious interloper’s first encounter with me be one of pitying condescension because I required any form of assistance.  

A moment after he’d paused in the doorway, the third party in this equation, and second human, my human, practically crashed into him in her hurried attempt to stop him in his tracks. Great job, on that front, Natalie. She managed to stop just short of colliding directly into his back by gripping to the threshold of the door and halting her momentum. Much to my surprise, I noticed she was significantly shorter than him. Was Natalie short? That seemed impossible, given just how towering she was to me. Or was this unannounced visitor just abnormally tall? From my vantage point they both may as well have been city buildings, so the difference hardly mattered. 

I watched as her eyes flitted feverishly over the desk’s surface, no doubt searching for me. She was red faced and breathless. I couldn’t tell if she was more relieved or panicked by not knowing where I was. Maybe luck was on my side and I’d go unnoticed by them both, left to gasp and tend to my sore muscles in the sanctity and peace of a humanless space. She sucked in air as if about to speak, no doubt to usher him out of the room, when he, oblivious, his back to both of us, cut her off. 

“Damn Nat, since when did you start picking up? This place always looked like a tornado blew through here but now it should be on the cover of a home decor magazine or something… What’s changed?” Me. I’m the change that made her clean up her pigsty of a home. You’re welcome. If I hadn’t been convinced already, it was painfully clear now that these two knew each other. He had this smug, easy going familiarity about him that made the bile rise in my throat. Who did this man think he was, waltzing into Natalie’s home uninvited and entirely unexpected and then parading around as if he owned the place? Was he expecting to stay for dinner? Spend the weekend on her couch? How dare he interrupt her work, our work, as if we had nothing better to do with our day than entertain him! 

I glanced over at Natalie, she didn’t seem the least bit offended or wary of his presence. So he’d been an unplanned but not altogether shocking visitor? How often did this stranger make himself comfortable in her home? They must’ve been quite close if he had unfettered access to her space and had been here frequently enough to note her change in personal organization. Why hadn't she mentioned him before?

As he spoke, he took another step into the space and went so far as to sweep a finger tip across the surface of her dresser to check for dust, his expression one of impressed intrigue (as he should be, that was my meticulous and thorough dusting he was observing). 

While he remained occupied, I suddenly felt the invasion of her gaze alighting on me. She finally spotted me, dangling there like some marionette in the world’s most boring puppet show. 

Her eyes bulged from her skull, as she set her jaw and her nostrils flared in that capricious way she always did when she was upset with me, which was infuriatingly often. 

Her gaze flitted with anxious intensity from my dangling form to the back of this other human, and then returned to me. With a frantic, utterly confounded gesture she mouthed at me with a serpent’s intensity “What the fuck are you doing?!” 

I hissed back, the heat in my face beginning to rise, “What am I doing? Why is he–” I jutted my chin in the stanger’s direction, which I immediately regretted as the force of my gesture forced me to swing in counterbalance, making the challenge of keeping my grip steady and the objects in my arms from falling all the more difficult, “--even here?” I cast my eyes down to the letter opener, and then back to her, “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m protecting you!” 

Somehow, her eyes managed to widen even farther as her gaze followed mine toward the letter opener in my grip, its blade as long as I was tall, sharp and menacing, “Don’t you dare! Alexander! No! Do NOT.” 

While she spat through gritted teeth, she made all kinds of emphatic gestures: shaking her head, swiping her hand in one fell motion across her throat, and staring daggers at me. If she hadn’t learned by now that telling me what to do would get her absolutely nowhere, then there really was no hope for her. If the man deserved to be stabbed, a stabbing he would get. Simple as that. 

She seemed to read my mind, “Alexander–” She was about to continue, her eyes narrowed to slits, even taking half a step in my direction, no doubt on the verge of expressing more disapproval for my very reasonable reaction to an invader in her home, or perhaps to simply snatch me up and disarm me, which I was prepared to fight tooth and nail over. Just as she drew another breath, however, the seemingly spatially unaware invader himself, clearly having no idea of this fiercely whispered conversation behind his back, uttered a noise of delight and intrigue which made both our heads whip in his direction. 

“Oh! This is adorable!” During the length of our heated exchange, our interloper had graduated from the dresser to the bedside table, where he was now leaning, hands on knees, marveling at the miniature wonder that was my neatly made bed, my dresser, and a few other furniture items, all to my scale: my open air bedroom of sorts. Oh give me a break! Have you never seen a bed before? What’s wrong with you?

 Defensively, Natalie stepped in his direction, still trying to keep my presence a secret; a smart move if his fascination with just my furniture was any indication of how he’d react to seeing me. A few beads of sweat traced down my spine as I grit my teeth, struggling to hold on. He continued to stare, adjusting his glasses for a better look, “What’s all this for? It’s so cute!” Come back over here and I’ll show you cute. 

Realizing with simultaneous intuition that we had about half a second before he’d turn over his shoulder to look back in her direction, we exchanged a swift, knowing glance before she turned on her heel, and planted herself firmly between him and my hiding spot, obscuring me from view.  

“Oh! All that? It’s… nothing… I thought my niece might like them, I just haven’t wrapped them up for her yet…” Ah yes, thank you Natalie, for reminding me that I and your niece’s playthings could do a furniture swap if we wanted. Excellent. At least she was giving me a chance to escape my predicament. She got points for that.

 I wasted no time in re-engaging my muscles for the upward climb. As my shoulder joints buckled, I felt my stomach drop. Did I have the strength to pull myself up? 

Now was not the time for doubt. I had to try. 

She continued to cover for me, speaking louder than was normal, as I made laughably little progress towards the lip of the desk, “Anyway, look, I really appreciate you coming to check on me. You have literally been saving my ass with the lectures and stuff, I owe you, big time…” My whole body was trembling, my breath escaping my lungs in ragged gasps, my hands, now slick with sweat, were struggling to maintain traction, as my hurt leg burned from the far too great strain I was putting on it just to keep from slipping. As I struggled against gravity, Natalie crossed the room to the other human, trying her damndest to usher him toward the door.

I was only a bit too preoccupied at the moment to clock whether her encouragement was proving successful. Hand over fist, feet wrapped tightly around the thick, rubber casing, I was getting ever closer to sweet relief. Only about two inches of distance left. I could do this. 

No sooner had I encouraged myself, than my next handhold gave way and I was left to cling fast by one arm, as I instinctively hugged the letter opener and cane to my chest with my now free hand, both objects swaying wildly along the same pendulum trajectory of my own form. My heart rate spiked and it took every ounce of willpower I had not to make a sound as I happened to peer down at the floor, seemingly a million miles below me. That was close. Taking advantage of the gravitational force that bandied me about, I managed to grab back on with my right hand. 

Okay, crisis averted, I could do this. 

 “...But, you did your check-up on me and as you can see I’m totally fine, so…”

Nevermind. I could not do this. 

No sooner had I steeled myself for the homestretch, my grip gave way again and this time I had much less luck in righting myself. My favored hand, my left, failed me, as did my foothold. I was now dangling, precariously, by one arm, legs flailing, as I swung with a violent rhythm. But that wasn’t the end of my troubles. In my scramble to right myself, my movement was enough to finally knock the crutch from my grasp.. and down, down, down it fell. 

"...Thanks for stopping by. Like I said I do have a bunch of shit to do today–” CLANG!!! 

The aluminum cane collided with the metal rim of the trash can below. My shoulders flew up to my ears as I cringed and grit my teeth. 

So much for keeping a low profile. 

The gasp of pure delight that came from the man across the room made my stomach churn, as I hung, wrapped tightly around the cable, my one line of defense still pressed between my chest and arm. The speed with which he turned on his heel, alerted by the sound I’d accidentally made, only to almost instantaneously break into a, frankly, disturbingly joyful smile made my countenance twist into a snarl. He practically bounded over to me, with so much enthusiasm that his footfalls shook me from head to toe. 

Why, oh why, did I ever delude myself into thinking the company of humans was ever worthwhile?

Much to my utter frustration and embarrassment, all my swinging and thrashing about for a steady hold left the wire above me twisted, and, therefore, I found myself being turned so that his rapidly approaching gigantic face was greeted with only my back.

This was all much too humiliating. I kicked and writhed in a minimally successful attempt to right myself. What I was greeted with made me regret the effort. 

His bespectacled gaze was a mere few inches from my body, his dark eyes, widened and glowed with patronizing fascination. 

“Awwwww…” His voice was booming, the intensity of his stare far too all-encompassing, he was close enough that I could smell him, that hint of soap and cinnamon striking my nostrils like a biochemical warning signal. He smiled, his massive eyes staring directly down into mine, “You need help, there, little buddy?” I could practically feel the steam erupting from my ears. Before I even had a chance to snap back, the pad of a finger, huge, rough and jarring, pressed into my ribs to turn me fully about.

 I writhed away from his touch, swinging to and fro and snarling, “DO NOT TOUCH ME.” Even a rattlesnake gives one fair warning before he strikes, this is mine and you’d do well to adhere to its call. 

Simultaneously with my outburst Natalie stepped forward, clearly forecasting what was to come. She knew me well enough by now to know just how I would take such condescension. As she came forward, I felt myself tensing, Don’t you dare swoop in and rob me of my moment. I don’t need your help here, I’m well armed and perfectly capable. I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin, hungering for the now inevitable moment of  confrontation with a being twelve times larger than myself. 

She continued to close the distance between us, and I couldn’t help noticing how her hand rested on his trapezius muscle with easy familiarity. She glared at him, an eyebrow raised “Yeah. Don’t, dude. Don’t do that…” Her eyes darted from him to me, her right hand poised to reach forward and tear me away. As much as I relished the idea of not having to hang here any longer, I craved the opportunity to give this dimwit a piece of my mind with far greater fervor.

But it seemed unnecessary for me to advocate on my own behalf, because he immediately laid the groundwork of his own demise, “Aw, come on, Nat. Don’t stress. I’ve got this. Just watch, we’re gonna be the best of friends after today, aren’t we? Aren’t we little fella?” How perfect. Keeping digging your own grave, you cable-knit clown. 

He stared expectantly, awaiting a response. His brows furrowed when he received nothing but an unrelenting glare from me, “He’s not much of a talker, huh?” His eyes darted uncomfortably away from my stone cold stare, as he looked to Natalie for an explanation.

“Quite the opposite, actually. That’s why I’m worried…” 

“Aww, don’t be! I’m not gonna hurt him!” 

“… for you, jackass. You’ve pissed him off into silent rage, that’s a level farther than even I’ve gotten.” 

The bespectacled man burst into laughter. Not only did the volume at this distance threaten to blow out my eardrums, but the boiling of my blood quickened my heart rate and I couldn’t help but snarl. The ignoramus wiped a tear from his eye and managed to speak between bouts of belly laughter, “You’re joking, right? That’s adorable! Uh oh, somebody’s grumpy! We all better be very afraid!” He threw his hands up in mock terror. His voice cascaded and echoed in a sing-songy voice reserved for the condescension of human babies or cute animals. Come just a little closer, you ignorant bastard, I dare you. 

“I’m gonna say this one more time, you’re gonna regret saying shit like that, I promise. So either move and let me disarm him, or you’ll see what happens when you piss him off!” 

Another round of incredulous laughter. Could he manage to be any louder and more obnoxious? I highly doubted it. He continued, unphased by Natalie’s apt warning,  “Look at him! He’s harmless! What’s he gonna do? That letter opener is bigger than he is. I’m actually surprised he’s even able to hold it!” You’ll be even more surprised how much force I can put behind it when its razor edge sinks into your flesh, “Yeah, you’re not gonna hurt me, are ya? I bet you’re just a sweet little guy, deep down. I just frightened you, is all. Don’t be scared…” Scared?! Who did he think he was dealing with? “Did you drop something? Here lemme help you….” 

He sank all the way to his knees now, searching the carpet fibers for my long lost cane. I waited, practically salivating in anticipation. He rose back to a neutral spine, his knees still planted in the carpet, as he held the walking aide triumphantly between finger and thumb, it looking no more durable than a twig in his massive grip. He grinned brightly, clearly pleased with himself. Alright, just a little closer… 

He waved it wildly in front of my face, like teasing a dog with a stick before playing fetch. Needless to say I was less than amused. He leaned forward, to place it on the surface of the desk behind me. Yes, you’re doing great, A+ for hitting your mark. You’re almost exactly where I want you to be. Just a tiny bit closer… His massive face was mere inches from mine, I could see every pore, every eyelash, every detail I’m sure most humans would prefer to be left to the imagination. He was so near I could feel the cascading tide of his breath stirring tendrils of my hair. He looked down at me, his dark brown eyes bright with bubbly self satisfaction, “There ya go. See? We can be friends. I’m not out to getcha…” As soon as the object clattered to the wooden surface, his hand descended from over my head, careening down, closer and closer until his fingers were right on top of me, aiming for my hair. Was this man about to try and pet me?! 

Without a second’s hesitation, I wrapped my right arm firmly around the chord, hefted the letter opener over my head, tucked it securely on my left side, and then shoved it forward with all my might. 

The trajectory of the weapon was suddenly halted when its point hit home, jarring my shoulder as it absorbed the ricochet of force. 

This four-eyed Polyphemus roared in shock and surprise, his hand flying up to the origin of sudden pain. The letter opener had glanced off the rim of his glasses, and the blade hit its mark just an inch or so shy of his right ocular organ. He whipped away, batting the letter opener as he went with such force that he very nearly pulled the weapon and me right along with him, but, somehow, in spite of our significant disparity in strength, I managed to hold fast. 

His initial exclamation, loud enough to deafen me, was not one of articulate words, but rather garbled shouting. He’d flung himself backwards, crumpled in a heap on the floor. 

And thus, Saint George slayed the dragon. 

Did I feel a swell of pride enlarge my chest? You bet I did.  

Raising my voice over the din, I shouted at the top of my lungs, “I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH ME, YOU INSUFFERABLE WRETCH!” I couldn’t help but laugh as I swung on the wire, all muscular exhaustion temporarily forgotten in the wake of this newfound excitement. 

“ALEXANDER!!!” Uh oh. 

Here came Natalie, her shadow casting a pall, literally and figuratively, over my gleeful celebration. She was pissed. I didn’t care.  

Meanwhile, her friend had scrambled across the carpet until his head crashed into the dresser behind him, “WHAT THE FUCK?!?! HE ALMOST STABBED ME IN THE EYE!” The timbre of his voice  had gone from saccharinely sweet baby talk to one of whiny disdain and flustered disbelief. He pointed at me emphatically with his free hand, looking to Natalie for some sort of recompense. 

I beat her to the punch.  

“WHAT DID I SAY? HM? WHAT DID I TELL YOU? I WARNED YOU!!!” I shouted across the cavern between myself and him, until my throat was raw. By this time, Natalie had fully crossed the few feet between her dresser and desk, settling before me on her knees, her brow furrowed and her jaw clenched. 

“Alexander! Hush! You’ve done enough damage already…” Her fingers descended around me, her thumbs pressing into my sternum and across my abdomen, her coinciding index fingers reaching under my arms and just above my hips to support my weight. Her grip was a bit harder and swifter than I’d become used to. She was trying to pluck me up quickly, and I sensed it wasn’t simply due to a desire to relieve me of holding myself up.

 Nevertheless, I was grateful for the relief, letting out a breath I hadn’t noticed I was holding. Carefully, she untangled me from the wire and shifted me to a seated position in her right palm. As she gathered me in her hand, she paused just long enough to cast a glance over her shoulder, “He did warn you though, like, in a multitude of ways…”

“Ha! See??” I burst with pride, unable to keep a wide grin from painting my features. 

She whipped around immediately, “Oh shut up, Alexander,” She pointed her index finger at my chest, “You’re in as much trouble as he is! He was being a fucking ass, yes, but you didn’t have to shank him! Give me that!!” Her finger and thumb dove for the plastic handle of my weapon, still dutifully tucked under my arm.  

I resisted, jerking my shoulder in the opposite direction, “Me? What did I do except protect myself… and you?” 

She looked utterly incredulous, motioning with a sweeping, exaggerated gesture at the injured party, who had now managed to scramble to his feet, examining his battle wound in the vanity mirror, “You STABBED my fucking friend! That’s the TA!” 

I was baffled by this newfound information. 

“THAT’S the TA? Who’s been sending the taped lectures and keeping your attendance afloat? That pretentious imbecile? Well, he shouldn’t have been so condescending to me! And… besides, you could’ve led with that, you know! Maybe then I’d have gone for his hands instead!” I found myself escalating in volume as I spoke, getting increasingly more emphatic, until I was practically shouting. 

“You didn’t give me a chance before you went all Zorro on his ass!!!!!” 

“What’s Zorro?!?!?”

“Oh my god! Give me the sharp object Alexander, do not make me pry it out of your tiny little hands!” My face flushed hot. I knew she was keenly aware I resented that completely unnecessary addition of ‘tiny’ and ‘little’ into her request. Nothing about me was little, everything and everyone else was just huge. End of story. 

 She held out her free hand, flat, just below my chest, raising one eyebrow expectantly. I held off for a second, then another, “ALEXANDER!”  Fine!

 I trusted our intruder understood his limits now and would not be making the same mistake twice. I relented, laying the slightly bloodied object across her fingers. She pursed her lips as if to say “That’s what I thought.” I had a feeling she had a few choice words for me after this unexpected visit. No matter. I regretted nothing. 

“Uh, Nat?” It’s bleeding… like a lot…” His voice from across the room drew our attention once more. He turned over his shoulder as he spoke, revealing a rivulet of blood springing from his cheek, down the fingers he’d pressed against it to staunch the flow, and down farther still, staining his pristine, white, woolen collar. 

“Fuck!” Natalie practically groaned, before flashing me an extremely dirty look, “Here, lemme… uh, here…” she half rose, seeming to suddenly remember she was holding me. With a grimace, she set me down somewhat roughly on the desktop. She wasted no time in quickly swiping the letter opener up and away from my grasp, before securing it in the back pocket of her jeans. Taking a quick glance around, she decided to pluck up the entire metal cup of pens and other writing utensils, “Please, just stay right here.” I crossed my arms over my chest and glared. When she realized that was all she was going to get from me, she rolled her eyes and sighed. 

With that she rushed over to her friend who was cupping his other hand beneath the first to catch drops of crimson as they fell. She threw the pencil holder down on the vanity and ushered him hurriedly to the bathroom, turning over her shoulder and pointing both fingers at her eyes, before reversing the gesture to be aimed at me. I held my hands up, what could I possibly do now? I was unarmed, and stranded. The object of my disdain far away from my radius for harm. 

As they retreated, I heard the wounded man grumble, “Fuck! He’s a little… demon!!” I had the sense that a different word had come to mind first, but he’d chosen the latter. 

“… Yeah, believe me, I know…” Hey! Natalie, you’re supposed to be on my side! 

“Why in the hell do you keep him around, then?” 

“I don’t know how to explain it, but, believe it or not, he actually kinda grows on you after a while.” I wasn’t sure what to make of that. Should I be offended or flattered? 

“I can’t believe he actually stabbed me…” And I’d do it again without hesitation. 

After that, their voices became so muffled beyond the partially closed bathroom door that it was hardly worth straining to listen. 

I sat alone, isolated and small, feeling a burning sensation in all my exhausted muscle groups, as my heart and lungs worked to steady themselves to a more even tempo. The gift of solitude meant that I no longer had to maintain my composure. I collapsed back onto an elbow, breath coming in ragged fits and starts, no longer having to maintain a defensive stance. Air couldn’t come fast enough as I choked and sweat dripped in my eyes and down my back and neck. My arms and legs were spasming as I tried my best to come down from the excitement of all that had just transpired. Damn, my leg hurt. Everything hurt. I focused on my breathing for a few moments, eyes craned to the ceiling so far above where I lay. I was utterly exhausted. A long rest in my bed which had been the object of such condescension and ridicule just a while ago sounded utterly delightful. But what could I do? I had no means of crossing the vast room in any practical way. I was much too pathetically little for such luxuries of inhabiting two different corners of a room with ease. As if I needed any more reminders today of how small I was. What was a man in my situation to do but sit and ponder? I had no other recourse, after all. 

So, this was her friend who’d helped make all this time working from home possible? I was beginning to think Natalie had very poor taste in friends. I wrinkled my nose in disgust remembering how his eyes had lit up in fascination like I was some shiny, new, coveted object. What was wrong with humans? What was so delightfully fascinating about me anyway?  In any case, he got exactly what was coming to him. 

The muffled sound of voices honed into sharp focus as, suddenly, a voice with a male timbre could be heard whining, “Fuck! OWWW!!!”

A female voice followed with zero hesitation, “Oh don’t be such a fucking baby!” 

I couldn’t help but chuckle. You got what you deserved, you overly enthused idiot. Of course, in fairness to him, I knew firsthand how dangerous Natalie could be when armed with a cotton swab soaked in hydrogen peroxide. 

*********

If I was in the mood to be generous, which I wasn’t, all I could say is that the tension in the air between myself, leaning over the kitchen counter prepping two whiskey cokes, my friend, nursing his wounds at my kitchen table, and the positively tiny man, petulantly sulking on the opposite side of the table and somehow, even from this distance, palpably radiating with vitriol, was so thick, you could cut it with a knife. The only sound was the groan of the living room heater, as ice clattered in the glass while I poured.  

We’d shuffled from bedroom to kitchen without so much as a word between us. And now here we were, all avoiding eye contact like put out children. This was fucking stupid. They were both being wildly immature about this. Build a bridge guys. Don’t condscend and don’t be a fucking dick, it’s not that complicated. Did this whole crazy day say something about me? Was I like a drama magnet or something? 

Tired of the exhaustive pity party, I swept my hair from my eyes, and swirling them for a final time, I set the drinks down by a wool sweater covered elbow. Neither of them bothered to respond.

 I stood there for a moment before breaking the ice myself, “Alright then… Alexander? Meet Charles. He’s a teaching assistant in most of my main lectures this semester. He was just coming over to check on me since I’d kinda gone AWOL these last few weeks. That’s all. He’s not a threat to either of us, okay? He’s a good guy and he means well. He just… had a pretty major… lapse in judgment. One of the smartest people I know… Oh, don’t glare at me like that! Besides you, of course. Okay, Charles, meet Alexander. I found him in my pantry… well, actually, my roses… well, I technically found him in the trash, I just didn’t know it yet… anyway, he’s incredibly intelligent, fiercely independent, and he’s been through some fucking major shit, yet, he still manages to come back swinging every time. To be super clear, he’s here only as long as he wants to be, he’s his own man and he has my utmost respect, even though he pisses me off every five minutes for doing gremlin shit like stabbing my friends in the fucking face. Oh, and he’s almost as big a nerd as you, so I’d like to think you two can find some common ground. So, with that said, it’s time to kiss and make up.” They each bore holes into the surface of the table. I refused to take no for an answer, “Apologize to each other, now.” 

Both their heads whipped up, brows furrowed, incredulous sputters erupting from both mouths, big and small. Then, upon realizing I was serious, and almost as if on cue, both shouted, “Me?! What did I do?!” 

“Jesus Christ, do I have to do all the heavy lifting around here?” I couldn’t help but massage my temples, a stress headache no doubt on the near horizon, “Charles? Gimme your eyes…” My friend’s lips flattened into a line as he raised one eyebrow as if to say, ‘Really, Nat?’ My bad. Wrong turn of phrase, given that one of his seeing organs was nearly lost just a few minutes ago. 

I sighed, settling into the chair between the two uneasy parties, each glaring over his shoulder at the other, “Sorry, well, your one good one, then… Look…” Fuck, bad phrasing again, what was wrong with me? “…I haven’t even had a chance to properly thank you for braving this shit weather to come check on me. I know I haven’t been super responsive and you’re a good friend…” 

The tiny scoff in the vicinity of my right elbow made me, albeit briefly, change course, “Zip it, Alexander!” Instead of acquiescing quietly, he, of course, had to make a big show of his dislike of being told what to do. He threw his small weight dramatically against the ugly, chipped, ceramic salt shaker my grandma gifted me years ago. 

The object hardly even rocked as he pressed against it, rolling over his shoulder to turn away from me and obscure himself from view behind the white and blue patterned flowers,  “…Anyway, where was I?” I turned my attention back to Charles, “Yes, you’re awesome, thank you for always watering my plants when I go home on break and for making the hellscape that is lawschool slightly more bearable. However… As you can see, there’s something significantly different from last time we really talked and there’s some important things you need to know: He may look like the cutest little blonde-haired, blue-eyed angel that you’ve ever seen, he may be so adorably small that he can fit in just the palm of your hand and, yes, in theory, if you were really determined to pick him up you could do so without too much resistance, but when I tell you it is against your own self interest to fuck with this little man I am speaking from extensive experience. He deserves as much respect as anyone else, big or small. He’s fought for that all his life and at least in the confines of this apartment, he’ll get what he’s worked so hard for. Believe me, he had to train me too, in the beginning. Listen to him and everyone will be much better off for it, I promise. Do not condescend to him, do not touch him without his permission and do not, under any circumstances, treat him as anything less than the hyper intelligent, wonderful little nightmare he is.” Out of the corner of my eye, I caught tiny movements on the table’s surface below, a pair of blue eyes staring up at me through blonde, curtained bangs as he listened intently. I didn’t dare flash my gaze in that direction, knowing full well once he’d been caught in the act, he’d turn away again. 

Charles was quick to respond, applying pressure with a few fingers around the banadage on his cheek, as if spot checking for blood, “Little nightmare is fuckin’ right. What did I do? I was kind. I helped him. I tried to be as gentle as I could. Look at him, he’s adorable… er, was… Can I really be blamed for that?” He shrugged defensively, “I mean, c’mon, they’re tiny, they’re cute, isn’t that, like, the whole point?” 

I was going to strangle him, “Dude, did you listen to a single thing I just said?”

“What?! I thought they liked it!” 

“You thought I… what?” No longer satisfied with lingering behind the salt shaker, Alexander rose to standing. Without his cane, which, in all the fuss, I’d stupidly left in the bedroom, he steadied himself with one hand on the painted ceramic, his chest puffed out, a defiant gleam in his eye. Oh boy, here we go. I knew better than to get in his way, but I couldn’t help taking a long swig from my glass in preparation for the tirade that was about to transpire,  “Please, repeat yourself, you thought I… what was that again?” 

Charles stuttered, flashing glances at me. His face was drawn, he instinctively leaned back, away from the little man before him who was unflinchingly glaring up in his direction. He knew he’d been caught, “W-well, I just… you know what I meant…” 

“You thought I liked being talked down to and treated with disregard? Interesting. What part of my reaction gave you that impression?” Even from this distance (perhaps a foot or so across the surface of the table) I could see his blue eyes were burning. Charles failed to respond, simply sputtering instead. I knew Alexander was just loving every second of this… smart little bastard, “No, I’m curious. You’re an aspiring attorney, aren’t you? Go on, then. Defend your case.” 

Charles looked at me and I offered no solace, instead, I  simply raised an eyebrow and downed another substantial fraction of my drink. As the little man spoke, goading the much larger recipient into a debate, he stepped away from the shaker, crossing toward Charles’ end of the table. I immediately bit my lip as he left the support behind and bore weight on his still weak leg. I did my best not to intervene, holding my breath as he made a few steps forward, a painful limp evident in his gait. Despite the pain, no doubt shooting through his body, his voice never waivered. Goddamn, I was proud of him, even if he was insulting my friend left and right. He tucked a hand into his side pocket, the other resting on his chest with a poised ease, his fingers spread from his solar plexus down the length of his sternum. This little nightmare knew precisely what he was doing, and I couldn’t help but watch, “Charles, wasn’t it? Tell me, Charles, how would you like it, if–” Just then, as he took another step forward, his knee failed to bear his weight, and he buckled. 

Gasping, my hand flew toward him, offering him support with a few fingers. He fell forward into my grasp, a snarl curling his mouth as his hands spread on my fingertips. He leaned against me until he regained his balance, gripping onto the segments of my fingers to pull himself back up. My heart was in my throat, as I searched his little face for signs of pain, noticing the rhythm of his own tiny heartbeats, though they spiked for a moment, didn’t seem to be going into overdrive. Setting his shoulders, he pushed forward, against my hand, attempting to continue on his path. I hesitated, providing the slightest resistance. His brow knit and those burning irises locked with mine again, “Natalie, I’m fine. Let go.” 

He wasn’t scared. His face was flushed and his bangs were disheveled, but his eyes were steeled and determined. I pulled my hand away without hesitation, wincing internally at each furious little limping stride he took, his fists balled at his sides. 

He regarded the man before him, whose eyeline may as well have been the summit of a sizable cliff face in their proportion to each other. The little man stood fearlessly beside a tumbler full of alcohol that he could have bathed in, sucked in a clean breath and laid into the larger man, “What you fail to understand is that there is not a single cell in my body that likes my current predicament,” As he spoke, his left pointer finger sawed and jabbed the air like some sort of rhetorical blade intent on wounding his target,  “I did not ask for you to loom over me, to touch me, to condescend or pacify me. I am not your friend, I don’t know you in any familiar way, yet you see someone like me, adorable and tiny, as I believe you put it, and you immediately assume that makes me somehow less valuable as a sentient being. You think that just because you can overpower me you have every right to do so. And I concede, in the current political landscape, you are legally allowed, no… not allowed, you are, in fact, encouraged to do so. And why shouldn’t you? I exist explicitly for your entertainment, don’t I? And, in any case, what am I going to do about it, even if I don’t like it? I couldn’t possibly, out of a desire for self-preservation, consider the idea of fighting back, could I? No! No, of course not. Because, as you put it, I’m just a ‘sweet little guy’, who ‘likes it’ when you treat me like an object. Indeed, it feels about as wonderful as a letter opener lodged in your face!” 

There was a pregnant pause between all three of us, as the gravity of his words pervaded the room. Both Charles and I couldn’t help but stare ashamedly into the inky depths of our drinks. I knew I was no saint, myself, when it came to the little man. He stood now with a rod straight spine, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as his lungs heaved with the task of receiving oxygen again, his unflinching gaze trained on the avoidant eyes of his opposite. I knew I’d fucked up hundreds of times: pissed him off, disspointed him, failed him. He was so right, and it was important we shut up and listen. 

The only sound was the heater rattling away, once again. 

“... Fuck…” Charles sighed, leaning all the way back in his chair now, his head in his hands. He was full of remorse “I’m… I’m really sorry. I wasn’t… You’re right, I just jumped to… I’m sorry, Alexander.” I watched the little man who wore his every thought on his sleeve, as he took this in. He was shocked. His head cocked to the side, his brow furrowed, his lips parting just slightly from their usual tight, pensive tension. He hadn’t expected this. Not at all. He blinked rapidly, his rigid posture softening ever so slightly as he was taken off-guard. 

Charles, taking precautions not to move too suddenly, pushed his chair out and leaned on the lip of the table, his chin resting on his forearm. As he moved, Alexander took a half step back, wary and uncertain about the whole situation, still, he never cowered and his eyes showed no fear. As the larger man settled himself, he was still a good distance from the baffled little man with whom he was now almost eye level. Slowly, he offered his index finger, “I’m sorry I insulted you. Can you forgive me?” Alexander regarded the man with suspicion, his brows knitted and his lips turned down into a sort of puzzled caution. 

Still, to my utter surprise, instead of using this moment of genuine vulnerability against his opponent, the little man stepped forward in all his five and a half inches and, albeit not all that enthusiastically, took the offered digit in the palm of his hand and shook it tersely before quickly breaking away. 

Charles didn’t linger in his space for long and soon returned to an upright position, as Alexander rubbed the center of his palm with the ball of his opposite thumb. It was clear we all needed some air. 

“Hey,” Charles met my gaze as I got his attention, “Could you do us a favor and go get his cane?” He and I exchanged a knowing glance. It was clear he understood what I was really asking for, “Just… just in case…” With a terse nod, the man in the wool sweater rose and disappeared down the hall. 

As the sound of his steps faded, I turned my full attention to the five and a half inches of a little life before me. It was just us again, after what’d felt like an eternity of drama. For the first time since that knock on the door, the air seemed to come a little more freely into my lungs. I propped my head on an elbow and looked him over. I watched his little body release pent up tension, his defensive spine melting into the everyday rigidity of his usual posture. Poor thing. Did he ever really allow himself to relax? He thrust his hands into his pockets, leaning his weight on his left side. I wondered how his leg was holding up. He hadn’t strained it this much since his surgery. I wanted desperately to offer him a hand to lean on but didn’t want to patronize. I bit my lip. 

Seeming to read my mind like a book, his keen eyes flitted in my direction, “I’m fine.” Are you, though? Or are you putting on a brave face? “I can tell you want to touch me as some form of physical comfort. So, go ahead, get it over with…” he lowered his head and spread his arms, as if surrendering. 

A pang of guilt shot through me, “No, I don’t want to make you endure it. If you want me to leave you alone, I will.” 

“You’re going to pout if I don’t allow for some form of contact. So, go on, just do what you’d like, within reason…” his head had stayed lowered to the ground until his very last few words, when his icy irises flashed up at me, and I caught a glimpse of a very different kind of glow in his eyes, one that was much softer, more vulnerable. I’d opened my mouth to rebuff him again when those eyes changed everything. 

Oh. 

This was his way of asking for it. His pride would never allow him to directly request what he wanted at this moment, especially not after chastising us both for our sins of condescension. I didn’t blame him. He’d been threatened, humiliated, laughed at, and stressed out. Maybe a minute or two to rest would do a world of good for him but, of course, he couldn’t admit to wanting something from me, that would be far too weak. We couldn’t acknowledge the reality of that truth for the sake of his ego, so I played along instead, “Just for a minute, please? You tell me when you’ve had enough torture for one day and I’ll let you go.” He nodded, eyes still fixed to the ground. Although it was almost impossible to see his face, I swear I saw more color in his cheek. 

“Yes, yes, let’s get this over with.” 

I slid my hand over to him, very gently wrapping my fingers around his legs and back, pressing the ball of my thumb into his chest and torso. Even though his face stayed neutral and he hardly moved at all, I couldn’t help but notice a release of his strained muscles as he was finally able to release all the pressure off of his injury. It’s okay to get help when you’re hurting. I couldn’t keep my brows from knitting together in concern. It pained me that he tried so very hard to be strong and independent. I completely understood where the impulse came from but I hated that he was in pain and toughing it out when I was happy to help. I sat with my hand propping him up for a few moments, wanting nothing more than a closer look,  “May I pick you up?” 

“Yes, fine.” His face was a little pinker than it had been, I was sure of it. Gently, I settled him across the platform of my fingers, his right leg placed carefully along the length of my palm with his heel balanced on my wrist. The ball of my thumb remained in his lap with a looser grip as I drew him up to the level of my eyes. 

He sat there stiffly, not allowing himself the luxury of relaxing fully into my hand. I wished he’d stop being so uptight but now was not the time to fight him on it. Still, as I looked him over, I felt an immediate swell of pride expand my chest and warm my face. I didn’t realize he’d been watching me with equal attention to detail, until he spoke, “What is it, Natalie?” His voice lacked its usual defensive edge. He was genuinely asking. 

“I just think you’re absolutely incredible. You are literally the bravest, most unhinged person I know.” Did his face get a little redder? All he could manage as a response was to roll his eyes, “No, I mean it! You looked at someone over ten times your size and without hesitation were just like, ‘Yeah I can take him’. Who does that?!” The tiniest ghost of a twinge of a smirk uplifted the corner of his crooked little smile. There you are, Alexander, the real you underneath it all. “When I really think about it, I can’t even be mad at you. You are one badass little motherfucker. Don’t ever change. Okay?” I rubbed my thumb across his chest, as he begrudgingly nodded, the smirk cracking into a half smile, while he rested a hand over the bed of my thumb nail. I admit, I felt the blood in my veins pump a little faster, “We can all stand to learn a thing or two from you on how not to take other people’s bullshit.” 

“I hope you plan to take copious notes after all this.” 

“Oh, it’s a must!” 

He cleared his throat and shifted in my hand, sitting himself up a bit straighter, his gaze took a moment to land as he settled, clearly preparing to speak in greater earnest, “I suppose… I feel at least a modicum of remorse… for staining his otherwise high quality sweater.” 

I had to slap my hand over my mouth to keep from cackling out loud, “You’re such a bastard! Of course all you care about is his fashion sense!”

Alexander was smiling too, as he pressed against my thumb, emphatically gesturing to the bedroom far off to his right, “What?! It’s the only redeemable quality about him! Did you expect me to lie for the purpose of overt flattery? Have you met me?”

Just then we heard the opening of a door down the hall, as the man in question began to re-emerge. I stroked the side of the little man’s head with my thumb, as I cocked an eyebrow at him, as if to say “Do you want to be put down?” He nodded brusquely, and I did as I was asked, gently lowering him and tipping my hand so he could find his feet before letting go entirely. 

As the footsteps approached ever nearer, I leaned down and whispered so only Alexander could hear, “You know, if you wanted a sweater like that all you had to do was ask, you didn’t have to destroy his!” 

“Says the woman who still hasn’t made good on her promise to fulfill my modest suit requests.” 

“Three piece Italian suits and silk ties are not modest. Even for someone of your size! I’m saving up, alright? Get off my back!” I prodded him playfully in the chest as he batted at my fingertip. 

In a moment, Charles would be standing before us, and there would begin a new matter as we all awkwardly tried to reset and start over, each much more aware of the others’ feelings on the whole situation. But for now, it was just the little blonde devil and me and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Was it weird that I was kinda excited to watch him lose his shit at us again? Not that I had any intention of provoking him, but it wasn’t far from feasible that we’d inevitably do something to offend him. It just made me proud to watch him unapologetically stand up for himself, even if I got caught in the crossfire. Looking down at him now, I couldn’t imagine my life without him. Had his opinions towards me shifted in that direction at all? Or was I a target for spite and disdain like my friend approaching the table? I didn’t think so. At least, not to the same degree. The way his eyes had softened when we were finally alone, the way he’d asked me to hold him in the most passive aggressive roundabout way possible… I thought deep down in that little stone heart of his was a warm spot for me, even if it was microscopic in size at this point. 

Maybe, just maybe, with a lot of effort I could fan that ember into something bigger. But who knew? There was only so much room in a chest the size of my finger tip. 

[cleolinda]

Varney the Vampire: A Preface

I want you to think back to what it’s like to reread your old work from years ago—your old stories or poetry, your old school papers, or even your old tumblr posts. Sometimes you’re actually kind of pleased, sure, but I want you to really go back and locate yourself in the heady cringe of that feeling.

In related news, I'm going to pick back up with the Varney the Vampire recaps I started in late 2010 CE. I got about nine chapters in, and then something, who knows what, derailed my life, as things tend to. Like, I'm used to this, it happens with the regularity of a lunar cycle. But I like writing about vampires (clearly), and since I feel like Dracula has been tread pretty thoroughly in recent times, I figured I might go back to something different; we had some lively discussions about Varney back then.

But 2010 was a time before A Lot of Things happened. I was in my early 30s at that point, so I won't say, "Oh, I was so young," but I had a very different energy as a blogger 12-13 years ago. So I've decided to rewrite the recaps a little—some more than others, some not much at all. I just feel like I have a really different perspective on the first chapter in particular, in 2023.

As before, I'm using the full, unabridged text. It is hideously long, something like 230+ chapters, but go big or go home, I figure. The thing is, I was using the files hosted at the University of Virginia, and now you can only get those through the Wayback Machine, but they are still usable for now. I have various backups saved, but I do want you to be able to see that I am, as ever, Not Making It Up.

I'm also not going to quibble anymore as to whether James Malcolm Rymer or Thomas Peckett Prest wrote this behemoth. Per Wikipedia sources, scholars seem to agree that it was all or mostly Rymer. When it's mentioned that they figured this out based on his dialogue style, I went... yeah, that checks out. Because it sure is A Style, and I'll be honest, the repetitive filler dialogue in chapter 10 was such a speedbump for me that I just threw up my hands and said, "I don't know how to recap this. Something I can't remember now is going on in my life and I Cannot. I no longer Can."

Well, it's the 2020s and we're gonna. Like I can't tell you how much stress I do not have about this. I've had covid three times and also spinal surgery. Varney the Vampire can no longer hurt me.

To start, this ordeal has a preface—apparently written upon the occasion of collecting the serial into book form—wherein The Author expresses his gratitude for "unprecedented success of the romance of Varney the Vampyre." First off, Rymer uses "vampire" and "vampyre" interchangeably, because fuck me for caring about consistency, I guess. Second, as Wikipedia notes,

It first appeared in 1845–1847 as a series of weekly cheap pamphlets of the kind then known as "penny dreadfuls." The author was paid by the typeset line [YEAH, I NOTICED], so when the story was published in book form in 1847, it was of epic length: the original edition ran to 876 double-columned pages and 232 chapters. Altogether it totals nearly 667,000 words.

For comparison, all of Lord of the Rings plus The Hobbit is 576,459 words. I sure do blanch every time I see those numbers! It's fine. We're gonna be fine. Back to the preface:

The following romance is collected from seemingly the most authentic sources, and the Author must leave the question of credibility entirely to his readers, not even thinking that he is peculiarly called upon to express his own opinion upon the subject.

"Seemingly" is doing a lot of work here.

Nothing has been omitted [for real, nothing down to the tiniest fly-swat has been omitted] in the life of the unhappy Varney, which could tend to throw a light upon his most extraordinary career, and the fact of his death just as it is here related, made a great noise at the time through Europe, and is to be found in the public prints for the year 1713.

I've seen more than one Dracula multimedia art project where people recreated the letters and diaries and recordings in the book (have you heard my whole thing about how Dracula actually was a cutting-edge techno-thriller back in 1897?), but I've never heard of anyone creating ARG-style media for the Totally for Actual-Fact Real tale of Sir Francis Varney the Vampire, and I think it would be hilarious if someone did.

I won't belabor the entire preface, but what I do want to touch on is Rymer's mention of "unprecedented success." Varney is actually standing on the shoulders of a vampire giant, and it's not the one we would think of. Nowadays, our big touchstone—the influence so great that most works either evoke it or take the trouble to say "Our vampires are different"—is Dracula, obviously. Which was published exactly 50 years after Varney, in 1897. But Varney's touchstone is Polidori's short story "The Vampyre" (1819). And for most of the 1800s, this was everyone's touchstone. Per Wikipedia (which I'm going to lean on for how concise it is, but I concur with this from my own research as well):

An adaptation appeared in 1820 with Cyprien Bérard's novel Lord Ruthwen ou les Vampires, falsely attributed to Charles Nodier, who himself then wrote his own dramatic version, Le Vampire, a play which had enormous success and sparked a "vampire craze" across Europe. This includes operatic adaptations by Heinrich Marschner (see Der Vampyr) and Peter Josef von Lindpaintner (see Der Vampyr), both published in the same year. Nikolai Gogol, Alexandre Dumas [note: I have the Ruthven play he wrote around here somewhere] and Aleksey Tolstoy all produced vampire tales, and themes in Polidori's tale would continue to influence Bram Stoker's Dracula and eventually the whole vampire genre. Dumas makes explicit reference to Lord Ruthven in The Count of Monte Cristo, going so far as to state that his character "The Comtesse G..." had been personally acquainted with Lord Ruthven. [...]

In England, James Planché's play The Vampire, or The Bride of the Isles was first performed in London in 1820 at the Lyceum Theatre based on Charles Nodier's Le Vampire, which in turn was based on Polidori. Such melodramas were satirised in Ruddigore, by Gilbert and Sullivan (1887); a character called Sir Ruthven must abduct a maiden, or he will die.

Back when no one gave a shit about copyright, Polidori's work was spun out into a cottage industry of knock-off stories and plays, an entire horror zeitgeist. Lord Ruthven was, for 78 years, who you copied, who you riffed on, who you parodied, what Count Dracula is to us now: the archetypal vampire. The Big Guy. And Varney is clearly cut from his cloth—the ostensible gentleman who worms his way into the lives of respectable, unwitting people. Unlike Dracula, there's no foreigner Othering, no "historical basis," no undercurrents of contagion and infection, no ambition to make the world his wine-press, none of that; Ruthven is a simpler figure, but the dominant one of this time no less. He is a stranger who shows up in the middle of London high society, icy and distant, his eyes “dead grey”—stern, yet somehow compelling when he cares to be. And when he cares to be, you're in trouble.

And this is the cultural consciousness when Francis Varney shows up.

[Chapter one will go up sometime this week, March 8-10 or so.]

[calamariumart]

HI HELLO! It’s time for me to open commissions because I, like many artists all over the world forever, Need Money. Image description under the cut!  

Start I.D.

[An art commissions post titled "Squids Commission Prices" at the top on a light orange background. It contains five tables, three on the top half of the post and two on the bottom. On the left of the first table for each half says "Prices". Each table has an image above it as an example of the type of artwork. The first table is labelled "Icon", and has an image of a symmetrical Jackalope with deer antlers and ram horns done in pixel art with solid colors. The table has two rows with one column each. The first row is titled "Base" with its column being "$20". The second row is "BG" with "+$5".

The second table is labelled "Sketch", with five rows and one column each. In order from first row and column to last, it says "Base $25", "Color +$10", "Shading +$10", "+Chars +$15", and "Full Body $35". Above this table is a colored sketch of three teenagers, two of which are fursonas, hugging and overlapping a partially colored sketch of a woman.

The third table is "Line art", with five rows and one column each. In order from first row and column to last, it says "Base $35", "Color +$10", "Shading +$10", "+Chars +$15", and "Full Body $50". Above this table is two separate drawings of animal heads, one maned wolf and antelope hybrid and the other of a cat, in clean line art. There is a box that reads "Separate base price" that is pointing to the rows labelled "Full Body". Next to these tables is a text box that reads "There isn't really a difference between line art with color/shading and a Simple Piece". The text box has a pink cyclops cat fursona drawn on top of it waving at the columns.

On the bottom half of the post, the first table is labelled "Simple Piece", with four rows and one column each. The second row is empty. In descending order, it reads as "Base $45", "+Chars +$25", and "Full Body $60". There are two images above it, one of the colored version of the hybrid, now purple, and the other a chest up of a brown bear with cat ear gamer headphones on, with clean line art and solid colors.

The second table is labelled "Detailed Piece", with four rows and one column each. The second row is empty. In descending order, it reads "Base $100", "+Chars +$30", and "Full Body $150". There are two images above the table. One is a detailed portrait of a human man, and the second is a detailed painting of three figures, all furries, one a gazelle child being held by half of a leopard woman, the other half of the leopard woman is a skeleton embracing a bleeding adult gazelle and leopard hybrid. Both images are drawn in a very detailed paint style.

Next to the two tables is a light blue text box that reads "I'll draw almost anything, just ask. Mech/Heavy Armor at your own risk. Simple backgrounds only. Animal Ear Edits are $5-8 btw. Put cat ears on your Anime Icon"

On the bottom of the image is a light blue text box titled "Contact Info". It reads "Art Tumblr: calamariumart.tumblr.com", "squidcalamarium.tumblr.com", and "Email: squidcalamarium@gmail.com". On the top of this textbox is the same pink cyclops cat, his full body drawn sitting on the box. He’s smiling with his eye closed, and gesturing to the prices with a paw.] End I.D.

[kpopsexstories]

How I write my short stories

I posted this last week and only now realized that Tumblr deleted half the post before publishing. So here I am re-posting it :)

I felt like sharing my process for how I write (and plan) all my kpop smut for this blog 😀

I work in something called Notion, a project management tool. In it, I've set up my own dashboard specifically for this blog. In this post I'll share some screenshots and insights if anyone's curious 🙂

The screenshots will also reveal a few details about what you can expect next on this blog, if you pay close attention to them 😉

Overview

Unfinished stories to prioritize:

The very first thing I see when I open my kpop smut dashboard is a list of stories I'm currently working on, and which I should prioritize. These are the stories I need to finish as soon as possible because they've already been announced or planned for publishing.

If I click on a story it's opened on a new page, where I can write the first draft of the story before I move it to Tumblr. Tumblr doesn't have a good overview of many drafts which is why I do the majority of the work in Notion. I currently have maybe 30 individual un-written story ideas in my Notion story database 🙂

Requests:

See the little "Priority Stories" toggle near the top of the left side column? I can click this to change the list of stories I should focus on to "Requests", which will give me a list of all the requests I've received on Tumblr and which I plan on writing a story for. (Because I don't want to get your hopes up in case I never get to your request, I don't want to show this view in the screenshot.)

Series:

To the right in the above image, I have a list of my ongoing and planned series, which each have their own page for organizing and scheduling stories. Clicking a series will take me to its page where only stories belonging to that series are shown. I use this for planning the schedule of each series, for example my Most Memorable Sexual Experiences of NCT series.

Sexy Words:

Also in the right side column I have a random sexy word displayed, which changes each time I open the dashboard and which I use to inspire my writing 🙂 I try to learn and incorporate new words so not every story feels the same.

Quick Add Buttons:

Also notice the three buttons at the top – these are quick links I can click to easily add new stories to the database of shortstories that powers the dashboard, based on the series they belong to.

To-do's & Resources

To-do Lists:

In the To-do's & Resources section, I have toggles where I keep various information I need frequent access to. This includes checklists for tasks I need to remember to do, like making specific changes to a certain story or editing something on Tumblr. I add tasks as I think of them and go through the checklist regularly.

Resources:

The second image above shows the Resources section. Here, I've saved links to articles I've come across and which I use for reference and inspiration. How many ways are there to say the word "penis"?

Current Posting Plan:

This section, seen in the first image above, hides a calendar view of all my scheduled and published stories on Tumblr. I use this view to plan and space out content. For example, I checked it before publishing this post to ensure I'm not also posting a smut story today.

Ideas & Works in Progress

Ideas:

The dashboard features an Ideas section (not shown in the screenshots because I don't want to reveal too much). In this section I can filter through the many story ideas I've spontaneously added to the dashboard, to help myself plan what I should work on next.

Works in Progress:

In the section shown in the image above I am able to filter through stories based on how far I've come in writing them. I can check stories I've started writing but not yet finished the first draft of, drafts I need to re-read and edit, and stories that are done and ready to be scheduled on Tumblr.

Notice the menu in the image (MMSE, QF, One-shots, Other). Here, I can select an option to view only stories from a specific series. For example, the stories shown in the image are MMSE (Most Memorable Sexual Experiences) stories where I have finished writing the first draft of but still need to edit and proofread.

All Published Stories

The final section of my dashboard shows all stories I've already published (or scheduled to be published) on Tumblr. Here, I can filter through all the stories for various purposes.

Different Views:

As shown in the second image, I have a drop-down menu where I can choose how I view the published stories. The views include:

All Published by Date: A gallery showing the most recent stories first (like in the first image).

All Published by Style: A gallery in which stories are grouped by the style of sex they contain (Vanilla, Medium, Wild, etc.)

Author's Choice: My own personal favorites. Not sure why I have this feature, but might do something with it in the future.

Table to Count Totals: A table list of all published stories that shows the word count per story and total number of stories I've published. This is the view you see in the third image above. Notice the totals in the bottom right corner: I'd published 77,182 words at the time the screenshot was taken.

Most Liked Stories: A list of all published stories, sorted by the number of likes they've received on Tumblr. This gives me insights into what types of stories you guys love the most.

So there you have it, just a little quick insight into how I plan, organize, draft and schedule all the smut you enjoy on this blog 🙂

[the49ththeme]

🌹 the49ththeme web design commissions 🌹

i’m ro and i’m opening commissions indefinitely for now since i’m a neet with nothing to do. the prices are the following:

simple theme - £40 - minimalist / light on graphics (e.g. x x x)

complex theme - £50 - fansite / graphic-heavy (e.g. x x x)

custom page - £30 - navigation / tags / about / etc. (e.g. x x x)

matching theme + custom page - £70 (+ £10 for every additional page)

all commissions will be fully customised for immediate use with graphics included if relevant. that means these will be private pieces (i.e. not released for public use).

i have 2 slots open, one as a main slot and another as a reserve. once these slots are filled, any requests i get after that point may not be addressed if i close commissions, just to warn you. i will edit the post when my slots are empty / open again, and will take any requests from before if relevant.

main slot - [taken]

reserve slot - [taken]

rules

payment is upfront before i begin the commission. i charge via paypal invoices. once payment is confirmed, i will start working on your commission.

any significant requests/changes you ask for after payment for themes will incur a charge of £10.

if you want to request something incredibly complex / time-consuming, this is fine but we would need to discuss custom prices. an example of something i’ve made of that caliber can be found here.

any commissioned work is for personal use only, please do not redistribute/claim as your own work. the credit to my blog also needs to remain on the commission.

it will take 2-3 weeks to complete your commission, so please be patient. feel free to chase me up at the 2 week mark if i haven’t updated you already. if something comes up and there will be a significant delay in your commission being finished, i will let you know via email.

if you wish to commission me, please send an email to the49thname@gmail.com using the following:

name: [name]

tumblr username: [username]

type of commission: [simple theme / complex theme / custom page / matching theme + page(s)]

specific details: [i.e. sidebar, header, graphic-heavy, multiple columns, minimalist vs maximalist style, colour scheme, artwork/graphics, tabs/pop-up pages, like/reblog buttons, etc.]

examples really help me out, you can find examples from my own work here, including previous commissions i’ve done, or you can take a look at what theme-hunter (x x) has listed.

that’s everything, send me an email if you’re interested. thank you ♥

[bylrndgm]

you do edits and gifs right? i am trying to find a good screen recorder (preferably free and without a watermark. kind of a tall order. i know) i just wondered if maybe you knew of one? also curious what programs/process you use to create your gifs and edits if you don't mind sharing ty

Hey! I've been making gifs for the last ten years and I got some tricks up my sleeve. It's going to be such a long post (as I'll discuss my process in detail and depth, explaining all the little things), so if anyone is interested, just read under the cut! (❁´◡`❁)

Step one: finding the video

To make an HQ gif, your video has to be HQ. The best choice is to go on YouTube and download the highest-quality video:

Example -> if there is as quality option 4K, download the video in 4K.

Remember that .mp4 videos have a lower quality, because it's a compressed file.

A better extension is .mkv, which I find preserves the quality better.

If you can't get the video from YouTube, you may still want to have a good quality video -> you can still record your screen and I suggest this open source program: OBS Studio (Win, Mac and Linux!)

Here you can play with the settings -> on the output menu, remember to select the .mkv output! (NOTE: you need to play around with the settings because depending on how powerful your PC is, some will be better than others!)

Now all you have to do is press start recording and once you recorded your video, press stop recording (it's pretty intuitive!!)

Step two: screencapping

It's the slowest way to make gifs, but it helps preserving the quality.

Once you have your video, you need to make the screencaps!

Download KMPlayer

Right click on the middle of the screen > options > preferences

These are my settings:

Open your file (you screen recorded in OBS studio) and put the cursor to the point the scene you want your gif starts

Then right click (on the screen) and select this

Make sure these are your options:

Press start and press play on the player -> now let it play until you finish your scene -> then press stop.

On the folder you chose as destination of the extraction, you should have something like this.

Step three: making the gif

Open Photoshop (I have Photoshop CC - 2018).

Go on File > Scripts > Load files into stack

Click on browse -> select all the screencaps you previously made -> once they're loaded, press on OK

Now, lean back, relax, grab some coffee because it's gonna take a while!

Turn on your timeline (Window > Timeline)

And press on Create frame Animation, there in the middle

Then press on the little burger menu on top right of the timeline and click on Make frames from layers

Click again on that menu and select Reverse frames

Now, select all the frames (the ones you see on the timeline) and right click where you see "0 sec" and choose Other ...

Put 0.04 as delay!

Step four: cropping and sharpening

Select the Crop Tool (shortcut: C) and you should have something like this

Move the handlers like this (don't reduce the image size!)

I just eliminated the black stripes on top and bottom and resized the width

Then confirm

Go to Image > Image Size and these are my settings:

If you want to make a ONE COLUMN gifset -> width has to be 540 px

If you want to make a TWO COLUMN gifset -> width has to be 268 px

Height doesn't matter! Press OK.

Now, back to your Timeline, press that little icon on the bottom left

Now, this is what should happen:

On the layers panel, select all the layers and right click -> Convert to Smart Object

Now, you can use whatever sharpening option you want -> go on Filter > Sharpen > Smart Sharpen.

I usually do that twice:

OPTIONAL -> duplicate the layer and set the opacity to 30% -> add Gaussian Blur (radius 1.5)

Step five: coloring

Now this is the fun part, and it's always different! So, just play around with the adjustments and find what suits the scene the best!

Step six: saving

File > Export > Save for Web

NOTE: .gif files must be under 10MB to be uploaded on Tumblr

REMEMBER TO SET LOOPING TO FOREVER!!!

And that is it!? If you have any questions please DM me, or send in another ask + there is a quicker way to do this, let me know if you are interested in that.

[shanamahtopoeia]

Editing Origins Soundsets Without the Toolset

Tools needed: xoreos tools GDApp pyGFF Talktable xmls Any text editor (Notepad++ works nicely)

Without the toolset, you can't create new soundsets, but you can tweak the vanilla ones a bit. Removing unwanted lines and/or duplicating preferred lines is perfectly do-able.

First step is to find the soundset you want to mess with. All can be found in designerdialogs.erf, of which there are several versions.

Origins: C:\Program Files (x86)\Dragon Age\packages\core\data\ (PC and some NPCs) C:\Program Files (x86)\Dragon Age\modules\single player\data\ (other NPCs) Awakening: C:\Program Files (x86)\Dragon Age\packages\core_ep1\data\ (Architect & Mother) C:\Program Files (x86)\Dragon Age\addins\dao_prc_ep_1\module\data\ (all others) For other DLCs, soundsets can be found in the respective addins\***\module\data\designerdialogs.erf, but they are encrypted. If you have a Steam installation, the location will probably be different.

Export the sse_ss****.gda & sst_ss****.gda files using pyGFF.

Unfortunately, these GDAs are an older format, and cannot be opened by GDApp, so we'll need to use xoreos tools instead, specifically convert2da.exe. Put your GDAs in the same folder as the xoreos tools, and open a command \ Powershell window there. In Windows 10+, this is easily done by holding Shift and right-clicking in Windows Explorer.

If you plan on changing the number or distribution of lines in the soundset (by deleting, moving, or duplicating lines), you'll need to convert both. If the number of lines for each entry type will stay the same, you only need to deal with the sse_ss***.gda.

Use the command line to convert the GDA(s) into text files, for instance:

convert2da --output sse_ss_pc_fdwarf_violent.txt sse_ss_pc_fdwarf_violent.gda

The gda text files will look like this:

Now we need to get these into new GDAs, making changes along the way. The first column is unneeded, as is the "2DA V2.0" line.

Put GDApp into 'Designer' mode, and set the column count to 2. For sse***.gda files, the headers will be 'ID' and 'StrID'. For sst***.gda files the headers will be 'ID' and 'Count'. The second row is the data type, and it will be 'int' for both columns of each GDA.

Switch GDApp back to 'Editor' mode. Unfortunately, you can't simply copy/paste from text files into GDApp. You'll need to either input both columns by hand, or use Excel's 'text to column' function to get a table, and then copy/paste that into GDApp. (there are probably other programs that can also turn a text file into a table, but Excel's what I have)

Whichever method you use, you should end up with these:

Now, you may be wondering what all these numbers mean. For the sse**.gda, the ID refers to the type series, while StrID is the string ID for the line.

A "type series" is all the lines of a particular type. The first digit(s) are the line type. These correlate to the entries in ss_types.gda (which you don't need to touch, thankfully). I'll list them here for easy access: 1  -  SS_COMBAT_ATTACK 2  -  SS_COMBAT_BATTLE_CRY 3  -  SS_COMBAT_STAMINA_LOW 4  -  SS_MANA_LOW 5  -  SS_COMBAT_HEAL_ME 6  -  SS_EXPLORE_HEAL_ME 7  -  SS_SCRIPTED_HELP 8  -  SS_EXPLORE_ENEMIES_SIGHTED_UNDEAD 9  -  SS_EXPLORE_ENEMIES_SIGHTED_DARKSPAWN 10  -  SS_EXPLORE_ENEMIES_SIGHTED_DRAGON 11  -  SS_EXPLORE_ENEMIES_SIGHTED_ANIMAL 12  -  SS_EXPLORE_ENEMIES_SIGHTED_BEAST 13  -  SS_EXPLORE_ENEMIES_SIGHTED_OTHER 14  -  SS_COMBAT_TAUNT 15  -  SS_COMBAT_ATTACK_GRUNT 16  -  SS_COMBAT_PAIN_GRUNT 17  -  SS_COMBAT_NEAR_DEATH 18  -  SS_COMBAT_DEATH 19  -  **SS_POISONED (unused) 20  -  SS_SPELL_FAILED 21  -  SS_COMBAT_ENEMY_KILLED 22  -  SS_COMBAT_MONSTER_SLEW_PARTY_MEMBER 23  -  SS_COMBAT_CHEER_PARTY 24  -  SS_COMBAT_WEAPON_INEFFECTIVE 25  -  SS_EXPLORE_TRAP_DETECTED 26  -  SS_EXPLORE_LOOK_HERE 27  -  **SS_EXPLORE_MOVE_OVER (unused) 28  -  SS_EXPLORE_START_TASK 29  -  SS_EXPLORE_STEALTH 30  -  SS_CANNOT_DO 31  -  SS_TASK_COMPLETE 32  -  SS_COMBAT_SELECT_NEUTRAL 33  -  **SS_COMBAT_SELECT_FRIENDLY (cut) 34  -  **SS_COMBAT_SELECT_HATE (cut) 35  -  **SS_COMBAT_SELECT_LOVE (cut) 36  -  SS_EXPLORE_SELECT_NEUTRAL 37  -  SS_EXPLORE_SELECT_FRIENDLY 38  -  SS_EXPLORE_SELECT_HATE 39  -  SS_EXPLORE_SELECT_LOVE 40  -  **SS_ARMOR_IMPROVEMENT (cut) 41  -  **SS_WEAPON_IMPROVEMENT (cut) 42  -  SS_GIFT_NEUTRAL 43  -  SS_GIFT_NEGATIVE 44  -  SS_GIFT_POSITIVE 45  -  SS_GIFT_ECSTATIC 46  -  SS_HELLO 47  -  SS_YES 48  -  SS_NO 49  -  SS_STOP 50  -  SS_BORED 51  -  SS_GOODBYE 52  -  SS_THANK_YOU 53  -  SS_LAUGH 54  -  SS_CUSS 55  -  SS_CHEER 56  -  SS_SOMETHING_TO_SAY 57  -  SS_GOOD_IDEA 58  -  SS_BAD_IDEA 59  -  SS_THREATEN 60  -  SS_BERSERK 61  -  SS_WARCRY 62  -  **SS_CAUGHT_STEALING (unmapped for most soundsets and unused) 63  -  **SS_NO_WEAPON (unused) 64  -  **SS_ORDER_RECIEVED (unmapped for most soundsets and unused) 65  -  **SS_EXPLORE_ENEMIES_SIGHTED_DEMON (unmapped for most soundsets) 66  -  SS_SKILL_FAILURE So, in the example above, entries 100-109 are the string references for the 10 combat attack barks.

In the sst**.gda, each ID refers to an entry type, and the count is how many lines there are of that type. This is so that the game can correctly calculate the odds of each line being played.

If you find ID #1 in the example GDA, you'll see it has a count of 10. (IDK why the ID#s are randomized, but all soundsets have the same order, so I don't mess with that)

Now to find the line to change. For this example, I'll be removing the infamous "Can I get you a ladder? So you can get off my back?". You'll need the talktable xmls now. Most soundset lines will be found in the core/single player core_en-us.xml. Doing a search for "can I get you a ladder" brings up 6 hits, one for each of the 'violent' soundsets. By context, I'm guessing that's one of the "SS_EXPLORE_START_TASK" lines, so I'll cross-reference with the StrIDs in the 28** series, and see if one matches up.

Sure enough, it's ID# 2804, StrID 344284. You can either replace the StrID with another StrID from the same soundset (giving that line a doubled chance of being said), or delete it entirely. (each soundset is a separate audio file, and lines can't be mixed and matched with other soundsets or dialogs, unfortunately)

For the purposes of this tutorial, I'm going to delete it entirely.

I've deleted the offending row on the sse**.gda, so now I need to adjust the sst**.gda accordingly, by finding ID# 28, and reducing the 'Count' by 1.

Save both GDAs, and put them in your override. (I have accidently misnamed them in my pics, make sure you don't make the same mistake!)

Now you'll never have to hear about ladders ever again. :D

[mahafuz83]

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[readitreviewit]

Tiny Beautiful Things: A Review Are you going through tough times? Are you seeking guidance from someone who has been in your shoes? Look no further than Cheryl Strayed's bestselling book, Tiny Beautiful Things! This 10th-anniversary edition of the book features six new columns and a new preface by Strayed. Rich with humor, insight, compassion, and absolute honesty, this book is a balm for everything life throws our way. Strayed, also known as "Dear Sugar," had a regular advice column with The Rumpus, an online literary magazine. Her advice column, "Dear Sugar," was a hit amongst her readers who found solace in her wise and compassionate words. Strayed's writing style is gripping and poetic, making her columns a fascinating blend of memoir and self-help. In Tiny Beautiful Things, Strayed compiles some of her best columns, making it easy for readers to access her wisdom in one volume. The book is filled with heartwarming stories and anecdotes that make for riveting and emotionally charged reading. Tiny Beautiful Things is an easy-to-read book that can be picked up and put down at any time, making it a great choice for those looking for a quick read. The book is full of amazing stories that deal with all of the struggles that one may face in their everyday life. From relationship problems, to worries about growing old, to familial issues, Strayed has an answer for all. The best part about the book and Strayed's advice is its absolute honesty. Strayed pulls no punches and tells it like it is. Her candidness can be shocking at first, but it's refreshing to hear a truth that we all have been ignoring. One of the most impactful aspects of the book is how relatable and sincere Strayed is in her advice. Her approach to helping her readers is to show them how she has overcome similar struggles in her life. Instead of giving advice from a place of superiority, Strayed gives advice as if she is having a conversation with her closest friend. Her words come from a place of empathy and understanding, making readers feel heard and understood. One of the best parts of this book is that Strayed doesn't shy away from any topic. She tackles sensitive issues like divorce, sexuality, addiction, and loss with grace and compassion. Her insights help readers feel less alone in their struggles, and the sense of community that Strayed creates is unparalleled. In addition to the book's profound messages, it is also beautifully written. Strayed's writing is so poetic and rich that it's almost musical. The words jump off the page, and it's apparent that each column was crafted with care and thoughtfulness. The book is a testament to Strayed's brilliance as a writer, and her ability to connect with her readers on a personal level. Overall, Tiny Beautiful Things is a must-read for anyone who is looking for guidance during difficult times. It's not just a book of advice columns; it's a book about life, love, loss, and everything in between. It's a reminder that we are all human, and we all experience hardship. Strayed's wisdom is empowering, and her willingness to be vulnerable is inspiring. Pick up a copy today and get ready to be moved by Tiny Beautiful Things. "Don't miss out on the chance to experience the magic of this incredible book! Order your copy now or start your 30-day free trial of Audible and listen to it anytime, anywhere. Take the first step towards an unforgettable journey – click the button below and get started today!" Price: [price_with_discount] (as of [price_update_date] - Details)

[rubybirdgrad603]

Week Five - Class Content + Project Development

This week in class we had a quick lecture and tutorial, and then had the rest of the class to apply the techniques to our own work. The lecture was focused on colour and composition, where different ways of using the colour wheel to create palettes were explored. Colour use in design helps to create coherence between design assets. It needs to be relevant to the work and the audience.

The concept of hue, saturation, and brightness was discussed, which was important for understanding the different types of colour palette. Using https://color.adobe.com/create/color-wheel I created some examples of different palettes

Complementary

Split Complementary

Analogous

Monochromatic

https://bestawards.co.nz/graphic/business-communication/marx-design/animals-like-us/

This monochromatic colour theme uses yellow as a main colour along with black and white. Yellow Is used extensively to create and reinforce a positive and playful tone. The one colour works really well for the tone of the project.

https://markiewicz.studio/industry-day-south-west-2020/

The blue colour works really well as an accent colour as it contrasts really well with the white colour. The palette is very simple and restrained.

https://www.behance.net/ryotakemasa

These works use very simple colour themes. Typically the works use one colour predominantly, one colour slightly less, and one as an accent. The illustrations use the 60/30/10 ratio really well. The bottom picture uses a nice split complementary palette.

https://www.100archive.com/projects/museum-of-literature-ireland-moli-2

This design system for the Irish Museum of Literature uses a simple analogous colour palette of blue and green tones. Despite the wider range of colours, the palette still appears cohesive due to the similar tones.

The tutorial focused on preparing a file for print, covering techniques to check errors and export properly. It covered non-destructive techniques to ensure that the document is ready for final print, such as using the find and replace function and style overrides. As well as this, ensuring images are displayed within the effective PPI is another important step to check before printing. With physically printed outcomes, it is very important that all mistakes have been identified and corrected prior to print. It is practically impossible to correct mistakes after print in the industry where many copies are printed.

Brochure Development

After the lecture and tutorial, we were given time to work on our projects. I used this time to check through the preflight for any errors, look for small copy errors like double spaces, and correct paragraph style overrides. I also corrected other errors I noticed. I had to swap Veronika and Carol’s panels around to fix the chronological order. When I did this, I didn’t like how the designer’s photos were arranged in an ordered pattern, so I changed the layouts to make it look more randomised.

Before layout fix up

After layout fix up

As well as this, I also added a missing label to the map, and made some minor adjustments to the layout. I think this panel will need a bit more refinement as it doesn’t fit with the other panels as cohesively as I would like. 

Schedule Design

In this time, I started to work on the schedule table for two top panels. Initially, I struggled with working on the table as the editing methods and table options are tools I am not very familiar with. After some trials, I made some adjustments to column and row numbers to find a way I could place all the information into the table clearly. I ended up using 4 columns and 12 rows to make the table, using alternating strokes to reduce the amount of visible lines. 

I am quite happy with the outcome considering I hadn’t created a table from scratch before. The tools discussed in the tutorial a couple of weeks ago were very helpful, but the way I learn best is by doing and experimenting this way so I am now more confident in my table skills. I do want to explore this further as I don’t think the layout is clear enough to be finalised. I want to work more with laying out the times and locations if the events as they are a bit random with no clear hierarchy. As well as this, I want to include the words keynote and workshop so that the audience can differentiate between the two.

Initial rows and columns

Refined table

Completed table - needs further refinement

[garudabluffs]

College stars’ name and image deals vs. the health of athletic departments

Mar 15, 2023

"Bruce Schoenfeld, book author and frequent contributor to The New York Times magazine, recently wrote about the effect of NIL deals on how athletic departments are funded. He joined “Marketplace” host Kai Ryssdal to talk about the future of funding college athletics and the problem confronting many athletic directors.

The following is an edited transcript of their conversation."

READ MORE https://www.marketplace.org/2023/03/15/college-stars-name-and-image-deals-vs-the-health-of-athletic-departments/

Jalen Rose tries to set record straight on Fab Five March 11, 2023

"Rose, in case you read this column to feel old, just turned 50 years old in January. And while his tenure at Michigan was filled with success — two consecutive trips to the NCAA championship game (1992, ‘93) – it was also clouded with controversy because of apparent illegal cash gifts given to prominent members of the Fab Five, including Rose, by Detroit businessman Ed Martin."

“When you look back at the journey, it was disappointing how we were vilified,” Rose told the Globe. “I know where it came from. It came from a place where a majority of the people covering us didn’t look like us, didn’t relate to us, and aren’t where we’re from. As hip-hop turns 50, that’s my metric that reminds me how mainstream America has changed so much because in the early ‘90s when we were listening to rap in the locker room by the people that I just described. We were considered hoodlums and thugs."

“At that time, and it really didn’t start changing until the 2000s, multiple media members used those terms on TV and in print to describe players in the NBA and the NFL, in particular. And some of these personalities still exist in high-profile positions.”

“Now, when you look at music and rap music and the people who were making it go double platinum were the same parents that didn’t want their kids wearing long shorts, black shoes, and black socks,” Rose said. “And did not appreciate at the time what the Fab Five was bringing to the table. That cultural dynamic played out via a person like Ed Martin."

Ed Martin dies - The Michigan Daily

"Martin pleaded guilty [in May] to conspiracy to launder money, the former auto worker told federal prosecutors he took gambling money, combined it with other funds and lent $616,000 to the four Michigan players while they still were amateurs."

— Ed Martin, who admitted he gave hundreds of thousands of dollars to former Michigan basketball players while they were in high school and college, has died, a federal prosecutor confirmed Saturday.

Fab Five scandal doesn't tell full story of Ed Martin: 'He helped everybody' DETROIT (AP) 04/30/2018

"Even casual sports fans know the CliffsNotes version: When five high school All-American superstars join forces in Ann Arbor, they become the richest freshman haul in NCAA hoops history."

"By becoming NCAA championship finalists as both freshmen and sophomores, the Fab Five obliterated the age-old basketball gospel that a team can’t win with five newcomer starters. And with their baggy shorts and black socks, they revolutionized basketball’s dress code. Overnight they reduced snug uniforms to laughable fashion relics.

Of course, the college basketball world had been transformed into a multi-billion-dollar cash machine long before King, Rose, Jackson, Webber and Howard ever took to a court together. Nevertheless, the impact of the prized quintet penetrated deep into the NCAA’s bottom line. It took merely one game for the collegiate sports industry to recognize just how lucrative the Fab Five could become."

"The Fab Five’s first year, 1991, also marked the beginning of a seven-year, $1 billion mega-deal between CBS and the NCAA that gave the network the rights to broadcast every game in the tournament. The agreement, announced in 1989, poured nearly $143 million a year into the NCAA’s coffers — nearly triple the size of the previous contract. The NCAA’s own magazine, Champion, described the deal as “stunning” and a “game-changer.”

Just as significant was the fact that 1991 also marked the start of a new compensation system for tournament entrants that found each college or university earning more money for each postseason victory. By 1995, with college hoops now in the midst of a TV ratings explosion, the NCAA and CBS were negotiating a contract extension through the 2002 tournament that was worth $1.725 billion."

"Even as freshmen in 1991, they may have been young, but they were nothing if not street smart. Each of them knew what it was like to be coveted, to have seemingly mature adults swoon over them. Their rare gifts on the hardwood sparked outlandish promises even as their intimidating bald heads and black game socks took off in popularity. Jimmy King says the look was the Fab Five’s nod to the Black Power sentiment that infused hip-hop culture during that period. Young but not naive, they understood the attention, power and revenue their brand could generate. But they also were painfully aware of how the same NCAA system that used their talents to turn athletic directors and TV execs into millionaires ensured that they could never receive a dime of those riches."

READ MORE https://www.freep.com/story/sports/college/university-michigan/wolverines/2018/04/30/fab-five-ed-martin-booster-book/548714002/

[cantulott14]

The Best Ebook Reader Apps A Great Android Tablet

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