#i was so young when i started watching dr who that its like permanently wired into my brain but i could never recommend it to someone

[aiteanngaelach]

the problem with dr who is that its got so many fundamentally shitty and annoying aspects and half that shit appeals to me. and the other half annoys the shit out of me

[gotatext]

hello, it’s swamp witch nora again…. i couldn’t stay away.... hitting u with a tiny baby boy who is also terrible (sometimes).  musical softboi who loves karl marx and hates children dying in cobalt mines to make smart phones. as is tradition, here’s the pinterest board, have a peruse. fyi sorry for those of u who have read this intro a thousand times i literally.... can never b bothred to change it n i think thats really sexy of me x

CHARLIE PLUMMER / DEMI-BOY — don’t look now, but is that rory bergström  i see? the 23 year old music student is in their junior year and he is a rochester alum. i hear they can be whimsical, impassioned, self-indulgent and nitpicky, so maybe keep that in mind. i bet he / they will make a name for themselves living in griffin street. ( nora. 24. gmt. she/her. )

aesthetics.

bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and djing into the blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars, marxist literature in stacks against your bedroom walls, a burner phone twice-shattered and a stash of replacement sim cards.

tw ocd, anxiety, drugs

half-swedish, half-british. the swedish is on his mother’s side. he’s bilingual but thinks in english. only really speaks swedish around his mother. only child, and kinda put a lot of pressure on himself to be the perfect kid when he was young, but his parents are honestly, quite decent? and just want him to have a nice life, they don’t care if he isn’t successful or rich or anything, they’re honestly rather solid. (wow imagine having nice parents, a first for all my characters, im literally this meme)

grew up in peckham, a suburb of london. growing up, his mum was a model / actress / waitress who later retrained as a speech therapist and his dad worked in her majesty’s service at buckingham palace. his dad wasn’t allowed to tell his family what his job entailed but rory suspects it’s probably very boring and just involves a lot of…. logistics n security.

was bullied a lot at school. [cole sprouse voice] he didn’t fit in and he didn’t want to fit in. unironically wore a trenchcoat to school every day of his life. spent most of his lunchtimes in the library because it was his safe space. as a result he knows…. loads of useless information because 30% of his school years were spent reading anthologies on space and the vikings etc. would be good on a game show. obsessively recorded every episode of university challenge as a child.

middle-class and lowkey quite wealthy but rarely talks about money, one of those well-off people who still wears really old shitty shoes and only spends money if they absolutely have to

virgin who can’t drive

into star wars, not into the big bang theory. feminist. can’t watch horror movies

favourite film is where the wild things are. also loves the florida project. thinks kids are the sweetest thing and can’t wait to be a dad to some

has been musical for as long as they can remember. first picked up guitar because he thought it would make this girl esther who he was in love with like him, but he just ended up falling in love with music instead.

formulated several different bands as a kid but ultimately had to give it up cos he was quite controlling and got fixated on making a certain sound so it wasn’t really fun for the others. got into electronic music because it was something he could do basically on his own and keep tweaking until he got it perfect

always drumming their fingers or strumming invisible guitar strings. tends to avoid parties bc he has quite has specific tastes when it comes to music and doesn’t like listening to r&b for eight hours while people throw up into plastic cups.

a techno connoisseur. has been making electronic music since he was about twelve.

after his parents divorce, when he was fourteen, rory & his mother moved to run-down suburban neighbourhood, pittsfield, massachussets.

big into photography. he mostly uses a canon 35mm camera, but occasionally uses disposable ones when he wants that more rustic feel.

moving to the states, their photography became more focused on suburban neighborhoods and are often quite dark and cinematic (think gregory crewsden). here are some shots of pittsfield i really like which rory has on his wall [1] [2] [3]

falls in love 12 times a day. never had a girlfriend or boyfriend. gets sweaty when someone cute looks at him. flirting?? what?? would prefer to idealise them from a distance

gender??? hm. rory don’t really know where they fit yet, sometimes he feels like a guy and sometimes they dont feel like anything at all!! slippin out of his physical form into the spirit realm! isn’t really bothered, cos they think it’s a social construct anyway. uses he/they pronouns interchangeably, but currently feels like ‘he’ is more fitting. won’t necessarily pull anyone up on it cos he knows having an identity that’s constantly…. in flux.. can be annoying for others … and doesn’t want to be a burden even tho it isn’t at all?? rory internalises guilt

everything is socially constructed. mirrors let you move through time. the whole thing’s a metaphor. he thinks he’s got free will but really he’s trapped in a maze. in a system. all he can do is consume. people think it’s a happy game. it’s not a happy game — it’s a fucking nightmare world, and the worst thing is, it’s real and we live in it!!!!

has ocd. tries to let it affect his life as little as possible, but obviously it’s incredibly hard to control a compulsive disorder. was teased for it at school when other kids started to notice. he was obsessed with the number five, would wash his hands five times, count stairs i groups of five, he could only use the corridors in one direction and always had to keep his hands busy. it manifests itself in hyper-fixations (trains when he was a child – specifically steam engines – then later he became obsessed with space and the patterns of constellations, and now he’s obsessed with synthesizers) and repetitive behaviours like counting stairs. doesn’t really affect his social life at all, he can jst get a bit locked-on n hyper-focused sometimes.

has insomnia. barely ever sleeps. finds it hard to switch off from work / writing / gaming / whatever’s preoccupying him in that moment. he’s always awake at 5am and quite often sleeps in through classes but still gets really good grades because he’s very good at his course. rarely attends classes. prefers to work independently. doesn’t really trust his tutors are intelligent enough to be teaching him, and is particularly suspicious of the lockwood tutors. a music snob tbh

occasionally deals weed n pills when strapped for cash, but only 2 ppl he knows, and on a very small scale grass-roots level!! (so its ok???) rollerskates around campus dealing cos they dnt have a car. we love to see it

aesthetics: bed hair from a permanent state of slumber, calloused fingertips from strumming bass into the early hours and drumming into blacklit night, self-help books thumbed once and thrown beneath your bed, watching vine compilations until your eyes turn square, battered copies of choose your own adventure books, spliffs passed half-arsed across rooftops while light pollution obscures low-hanging stars

likes: techno, the webpage cats on synthesizers in space, allen ginsberg, vintage gramophones,  floating points, lcd soundsystem, marijuana, soft dogs that let you pet them, late-night strolls talking about the universe, independent films, cigarettes, herbal tea, gallows humour, long showers, brown eyes, tchaikovsky, dr. seuss, constellations, photography, late night jazz, vintage game boys and girls who could rip his still-beating heart out of his chest and use it as an ashtray. dislikes:  weddings, funerals, formality, button-up shirts that people actually button-up, bananas, hot coffee, social media, people who watch and play sports, rap music – especially of the misogynistic variety, indie wankers in wire-framed glasses that play ed sheeran songs at open mic nights.

plot ! with ! me ! i’d say all the usual “exes fwb hookups spiel” but rory… has never hooked up with anyone… i feel like a deer in the headlights of love……. so give me

study buddies,

people who are also into techno and are music snobs about it,

people who love all kinds of music,

people who are in bands that maybe rory’s recorded and produced stuff for,

people he actually jams with (he plays bass and synth),

unrequited crushes!!

actually i think rory had sex w delilah in the last version of this rp so if u want a hook up plot its possible just unlikely. they’d hav 2 be the driving force i reckon cos rory doesn’t really act on impulses like desire or anythin.... jst bottles that shit up !!! but yea we could do a spicy hook up plot maybs, depending on the person

someone they met at a knitting club in freshman year and have remained friends with despite no longer going to it

people rory knows from open mic nights and gigs

library girlfriends / boyfriends that he stares at longingly while paging through leatherbound volumes

gamers !!! social recluses !!! hermits !!

people he deals weed to on his rollerskates (why r all my characters obsessed with rollerskates)

skaters. rory is really shit at skateboarding. like really shit. help the smol

[junker-town]

Chair shots to the head in wrestling are an unnecessary risk with permanent consequences

Tyson Whiting

AEW’s mission is to support its wrestlers. Allowing unprotected chair shots flies in the face of that.

Everyone knew something had gone wrong the moment Cody Rhodes crumpled to the mat. Even more so when they saw the blood.

The 34-year-old All Elite Wrestling (AEW) star was exhausted, having just battled underdog Darby Allin to a time-limit draw during AEW’s Fyter Fest when fellow wrestler Shawn Spears suddenly climbed in the ring, metal chair in hand.

Rhodes had less than a second to react as Spears swung for the fences. The steel made a sickening thud against his skull, busting open the back of his head and knocking him to the mat. Though he managed to walk away without a concussion, the injury left him with 12 staples in his head and served as a sobering reminder of why chair shots, planned or not, are an unnecessary risk in a sport where head injuries are all too common.

AEW has been disrupting professional wrestling since its inception by mixing old-school concepts with new-school sensibilities, but Rhodes’ injury and the questions surrounding it went beyond anything the company had planned for. Owner Tony Khan acted quickly following the Fyter Fest chair shot to address safety concerns, addressing it internally before speaking to the press. “You could build the safest airplane in the world, and if there’s pilot error, there’s pilot error,” Khan said in a press conference. “That was not good.”

Khan didn’t expand on whether the promotion would continue allowing chair shots or other dangerous maneuvers, but a source with firsthand knowledge of the situation tells SB Nation that AEW will not use unprotected chair shots moving forward.

“I understand there were discussions about trying to do it safely without causing brain trauma, but I think the lesson from this is that there’s always a chance for human error,” says Chris Nowinski, a former WWE wrestler and co-founder of the Concussion Legacy Foundation. “You have to look at the risk-reward for a chair shot to the head.”

Nowinski retired from wrestling in 2003 with post-concussion syndrome, which eventually led him to develop the foundation with neurosurgeon Dr. Robert Cantu. Nowinski advises athletes on the risks of chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) and holds seminars for current WWE superstars on the importance of being safe in the ring.

“My life is now focused on protecting brains and trying to fix ones that have already been damaged,” Nowinski says.

He can’t point to a specific moment that ended his wrestling career but remembers when he decided enough was enough after a series of undiagnosed concussions took a significant toll on his body and mind. One night, while still asleep, Nowinski stood on his bed and jumped off, crashing through a nightstand. He later learned it was a sign of REM behavior disorder, which typically comes with traumatic brain injury.

“That’s what it took to scare me straight and actually be honest about how I felt,” he says. “All this work with Concussion Legacy Foundation started because I wish I’d had known that I should have rested my concussion each time I got one. And I’d probably still be working.”

Rooted in the rise of Texas death match wrestling in the 1950s, chair shots were popular in matches that also utilized tables, barbed wire and trash cans as weapons. Matches typically took place in high school gymnasiums or makeshift arenas, venues that made it believable for a wrestler to take a chair from a fan and using it as a weapon.

Wrestlers continued to use chairs in the ring for decades, almost exclusively as foreign objects or to batter an opponent by striking them across the flat of the back. It wasn’t until the late 1990s that chair shots changed with the rise of Extreme Championship Wrestling (ECW) and WWE’s “Attitude Era,” which sought to pull the sport from its spandex-clad cast of cartoon characters and make it more visceral. This increased the risk, danger and violence of the product in a battle of one-upmanship to win over an audience with unquenchable blood lust. The chair shot was swept up in this movement, re-imagined as blows to the head — often unprotected.

This was the status quo until 2007 when WWE superstar Chris Benoit murdered his family before killing himself in their Atlanta home. People searched for explanations in the wake of the tragedy, as Benoit’s close friends insisted the heinous crime seemed out of character. A postmortem study showed that the 40-year-old had the brain of an 85-year-old Alzheimer’s patient. To this day, Benoit’s father claims his actions were the result of brain injuries his son sustained while wrestling. One of the most-used clips of Benoit adopted by the 24-hour news cycle as his story unfolded was of him being hit in the head with a chair.

This was around the same time the sporting world was learning about CTE. Studied since the 1920s, it wasn’t until 2005 when Dr. Bennet Omalu published his landmark study, “Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy in a National Football League Player,” that people started paying closer attention to the damaging long-term effects of head injuries in sports. In the wake of Benoit’s death, WWE mandated that its talent would never take an unprotected chair shot again, meaning wrestlers on the receiving end would have to cushion the blow with their hands. This was expanded in 2010 to exclude all chair shots to the head, period, at a time when the NFL was under scrutiny over concussion protocol. It was part of a company-wide shift to “talent wellness” — a paradigm shift for the sport, but one that was widely embraced by fans.

But the mixed social media reaction following the Fyter Fest chair shot suggests not all fans want wrestling to evolve. Many seemed to relish a return to the hardcore violence which has been absent from mainstream wrestling for years while others insisted the past should be left in the past.

“It’s simple. If you want to see that kind of violence, then watch boxing or MMA,” Nowinski says. “If you want to see some of the best performers on the planet live for decades then you should support them performing safely. You should respect them enough to let them perform safely.”

Part of the negative reaction towards AEW allowing chair shots stems from how it contrasts with the company’s implied mission. One of the biggest differentiators between AEW and WWE is how wrestlers are treated. For decades, WWE owner Vince McMahon has had his wrestlers operate as independent contractors. The problem with that is being responsible for their own healthcare has incentivized performers to hide injuries or ignore warning signs for fear of having their contract terminated. Former WWE superstar CM Punk explained in 2014 how he felt he would be “punished” by the company if he took time off to recover from a concussion.

AEW, on the other hand, said from the start that wrestlers would be full-time employees with benefits. It was an unheard-of approach in an industry that too often leaves talent in the cold when their spotlight dims. That’s what made the Fyter Fest chair shot feel so out of place. It’s impossible to reconcile the concept that performers should have secure futures while putting them at higher risk for permanent brain damage through the demands of the job.

Chair shots aren’t the only source of concussions in wrestling — far from it — but they are the most easily altered move in the industry that can be phased out with relative ease. With AEW pushing the envelope on violence, there’s pressure for WWE to raise the stakes in response. However, the company maintains its position outlawing “deliberate and direct shots to the head.” On top of that, WWE began mandatory ImPACT concussion testing in 2008, subjecting performers to yearly baseline testing of brain function, memory, processing speed and reaction time. Referees are trained to identify injuries that occur during a match (including concussions) and are given the power to stop a match to ensure no further injury occurs.

The issue of unprotected chair shots and the risk of CTE in wrestling isn’t just a WWE or AEW problem — it’s an industry problem. Away from the grand storylines and athletic feats lies a grassroots concern as wrestlers young and old across America are risking their lives to be noticed or remain famous. When a crowd is invested in a performer, they can build the kind of cult following needed to get booked in larger shows, and eventually, if they’re lucky enough, into a major promotion. The issue is that many young wrestlers see a need to risk their bodies and their futures by taking risks to get noticed.

Nowinski’s advice for young wrestlers turning to dangerous maneuvers for attention is to keep in mind that the fans who like violent wrestling aren’t the majority.

“If your goal is to make it to WWE ... show them you can wrestle the way they expect you to wrestle in WWE,” he says. “The reality is that if you take too many risks there’s a good chance you’ll flame out before you get where you’re trying to go.”

The world of professional wrestling is a fractured series of minor promotions and independent booking scenes feeding into the WWE monolith. As AEW attempts to compete for the same audience, there is an imperative for both organizations to band together and denounce chair shots to the head and other risky maneuvers that can directly be traced to future cases of CTE.

The same night Cody Rhodes took the unprotected chair shot, Jon Moxley and Joey Janela wrestled an unsanctioned hardcore match using barbed wire, thumbtacks, tables and ladders. By the end, both performers were a bloody mess — and yet it was still safer than being hit in the head with a chair. There’s room for violence in wrestling. There’s room to tell a story. There is no longer room for performers to shorten their lives for the sake of applause.

[lilmissmousey]

Stirrings (Denial (AKA: this is sooooo not a date prologue)

Bzzt.

Vegeta’s fingers stilled over his laptop keys, eyes sliding to his now illuminated phone screen.

It was her, “Hey hot stuff. What you doin’? ;)”

He grunted, rubbing the tired eyelids under his glasses. Vulgar woman. Had she no shame? He’d only been working at Capsule Corp for less than six months and she was already way to friendly. Didn’t she know he had better things to do? Like, hm, save their asses from a lawsuit recently filed by a rival company? Vegeta knew he should just ignore her, go back to typing and try to not think about aqua-colored eyes and slender legs, but Bulma Briefs was persistent.

The phone buzzed again: “I have sandwiches.”

“Why do I keep doing this to myself?” Vegeta wondered as he hit the elevator button to the lab. He shouldn’t give into her. He had way more productive shit to do than entertain a spoiled heiress. The song playing over the loud speaker was some kind of grating pop music, and it did not help in quelling his agitation. Huffing, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and leaned against the elevator wall. At least the dress code at Capsule Corp was lax. Suits were itchy.

The numbers flashing the descent of the elevator into the lower levels of Capsule Corp mocked him. Bulma’s private lab was in the basement, far away from the prying eyes of the other scientists employed here. While the “regular” people worked on mundane everyday things, Bulma’s work was top secret and hidden behind numerous keypads and doors. Every time he made the trip to the lab under her request he’d feel the increasing amount of nausea and primal surge to run as far away as he possibly could. Feelings were horrible, unnecessary things that only got in the way-

The elevator doors slid open, and there she stood, sub sandwiches in hand and beaming at him.

There was always that cliche moment in films where time stood still, the handsome protagonist locking eyes with a beautiful woman from across the room. The both of them knowing instinctively that this person would change their world forever. For Vegeta, this had happened the first time he’d ever met her.

And it only got worse every time she’d cross his path.

The air around elevator was heavy; Bulma was covered in grease, long blue hair piled on top of her head and held in place with a pen. Her lab coat was stained and open revealing a black tank top and blue denim shorts. She was a vision, the perfect woman…

Which is why Vegeta scowled and snatched the sandwich out of her hand, brushing past her shoulder and not giving her a second glance as he powered towards the lab door.

He heard her huff in agitation, her footsteps echoing in the hall behind him as she struggled to keep up with his longer strides, “UM, you’re welcome!”

“I didn’t ask you to buy me lunch.” He grumbled, still walking forward and already ripping into the wax paper keeping him from the sandwich.

A low whistle came from her direction. Vegeta paused, turning around with an annoyed stare.

Bulma was surprisingly close to him, within arms reach and she waggled her eyebrows suggestively, “I hate it when you go, but I love watching you leave. You should wear jeans more often.”

“Wha-damnit woman I’m going to sue you for sexual harassment!” Vegeta felt his cheeks flame red, “why do you insist on being so pervy? Have you no shame?”

Bulma laughed, “Not when it comes to you!” She reached up and gently pulled the glasses from his face, putting them on instead, “I didn’t know you wore glasses!”

Left eye twitching, he took back the eyewear and tucked them into his breast pocket, “Not that it’s any of your business, but my eyes get tired cleaning up all the messes around here.”

“Pffft,” Bulma rolled her eyes, walking past Vegeta and tapping her code into the keypad, “What I was going to say is that they make you look smart.”

“Well, of course they-Hey!”

Bulma giggled, waving him inside the lab, “Hurry up grumpy. I’m starving.”

-

He devoured the first sandwich within moments of settling himself on the swivel chair near Bulma’s desk, she already handing him a second one. She knew well enough by now that despite Vegeta’s shorter stature that he could eat anyone under the table. He’d had Ju Jitsu practice the night before and his hunger was especially fierce today.

Bulma’s own sandwich lay unattended beside her, still primly wrapped as she pulled a pencil out of her coat pocket and carefully followed the lines of the ruler she had placed against a large blueprint nearly engulfing her whole workspace. Vegeta chewed thoughtfully, eyes narrowed as he watched her work, “What’s that?” He asked around the mouthful.

“Hm? Oh, I made the modulator in the space pod too small. It wont accept the amount of wires needed to actually propel the dumb thing. I’m just adjusting the pod accordingly.” She continued to measure, her firm bare calves teasing him as she shifted footing.

“Hmpf, some genius.” He teased.

“Hey bucko,” Bulma wagged the pencil at him, still not looking in his direction, “it’s beautiful, stunning, amazing genius to you. And don’t you forget it.” she went back to the blueprint, getting absorbed into her work.

Vegeta was only slightly irritated. If she wasn’t going to engage with him, then why was he even here? She could have easily dropped the sandwiches off at his office, but no. Instead he was sitting in near silence watching the prodigy of Capsule Corp doodle. He had at least three pending lawsuits against this crazy company he had to deal with, and being treated like a personal assistant was definitely not in his job description. The anger within him was building, threatening to end his patience then and there until…

…She smiled at him.

He hadn’t caught her staring, didn’t even realize that she had stopped working to watch him.

Bulma tilted her head, a free tendril of aqua hair escaping her messy bun and brushing down her slender neck, “What?” She asked. Heart thundering, and before he could stop himself, Vegeta reached out and tucked that wayward lock of hair behind her ear. Bulma blinked, cheeks flushing an obscenely pretty shade of pink.

Clearing his throat, Vegeta crossed his arms across his broad expanse of chest and glared at the floor, “It was pissing me off,” he grumbled, “the hair, I mean. I’m going to buy you some proper hair clips so that way you don’t look like a damn mess. It’s a health hazard around here anyways.”

“O-oh,” Bulma smiled, “don’t worry about it. I’ve uh, got plenty of them at home. Thanks though. Nice to know you care.”

“I don’t!” Vegeta barked, surprising himself with his own level of volume, “It just, its-”

The damn woman snickered, shaking her head. That same tendril of hair came loose, almost taunting him to touch it again, “Whatever you say hot stuff.” She smiled at him again, and she went back to her blueprint, once again getting lost in her own mind.

How did he not piss her off? How did she even stand to be in his presence? There was a reason Vegeta was alone; and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t his fault most of the time. Now there was this beautiful woman (incredibly out of his league) who not only put up with his permanently aloof attitude, but had gotten him this job. He’d owned his own law firm, but it was really just a small studio in a shitty area of town. Business usually consisted of petty crimes and at least attempting to get reduced sentences for the scum of society. It really didn’t matter to Vegeta who he was representing as long as it paid the bills. He’d been called in for a gang deposition for the Icejin gang and somehow Bulma had heard about him from there. He was called into her fancy office wearing a second hand suit and had wanted to melt into the floor. From the way her father and other members had looked at him he was sure he’d be kicked out. Vegeta didn’t mince words, and had told the fifteen people sitting at that long interview table exactly how he felt about their methods of defending themselves.

Shitty. It was all shitty. How could they look themselves in the mirror when all they did was pay people out for lawsuits that were unjustified? How had they not gone bankrupt? Why was a company so willing to fail wanting to hire him? What was the point? A mouse fart could have been heard after his rant, the faces of all the old men at the table sallow and horrified.

He knew he’d done it then; had ruined his chances of ever having a good client.

Fuck.

Vegeta had turned to leave when he saw the blue haired woman standing in the doorway looking amused, “And where do you think you’re going tiger? You’re starting right now.”

“B-Bulma!” Dr. Briefs had stammered, “This young man had made it quite clear that he doesn’t wish to associate with us-”

Bulma’s blue eyes narrowed, and she peered around Vegeta’s shoulder to grin at her father, “Daddy, he is JUST who we need.”

“B-but princess-”

“Nice to meet you,” the woman had held her hand out to Vegeta, “I’m Bulma Briefs, co founder of Capsule Corp and head scientist. It’s a pleasure to have you as the newest employee. You’re office is down the hall, it’s the door right next to mine. You start immediately.”

Stunned, Vegeta shook her hand and she winked coyly, “Nice to have someone who will get things done. And you’re cute to boot.”

And that was how this whole crazy thing started. Because this certifiably insane, stunningly beautiful genius and business mogul had had given him a chance when all his life he’d been told no. They’re upbringings couldn’t have been more different, and yet here he was. Watching her work was like watching a painter, completely in their element. He had a thought that disturbed him and caused him pause, but was still not enough to stop him.

Vegeta pulled out his smart phone, pretending to check emails when in reality he was opening his camera app.

This was wrong. He could get in so much trouble. But if one day she got sick of him and kicked him out on the street and he never saw her again, he wanted to always remember her like this: Leaned over her desk, blue eyes fixated on her own genius taking shape and stunningly gorgeous despite not even trying. Vegeta hit the button and captured a single silenced photo before quickly tucking his phone back into his pocket.

Bulma kept working, blissfully unaware of what had just transpired. Vegeta pretended to glance around the room, then noticed the still unopened sandwich beside her. He knew she wouldn’t eat unless forced to at this point. Sighing, he stood and went to her side. Bulma glanced at him questioningly as he plucked the pencil from her hand, instead thrusting the sandwich into it, “Eat.” He said firmly. Blue eyes blinked, but Bulma obliged, finally sitting and unwrapping her lunch. Vegeta nodded, before turning and walking out of the lab doors.

He’d stare at that photo for minutes at a time in his office behind closed doors for the rest of the work day and even months after. It reminded him of her kindness, and it caused stirrings in his belly he didn’t know possible. There was no chance with her, Vegeta knew. So, this picture and dreams were all he had. He was okay with that. This single snapshot of a moment in time was his little secret. She’d never even know.

Besides, what harm could one little photograph do?

—

Here is is my friends; the prologue to Denial! Thank you all for the encouragement and kindness you have shown my stories. This is for all of you ❤️

[cherita]

Book Blitz: ReWired by S.R. Johannes

How do you feel about cyberpunk? Me, I love it. Technology, hackers, large scale conspiracies — be they government or corporate (is there really any difference these days?) — I am here for all of that. I don't know how many times I've watched Hackers (cheesy though it seems now), and Mr. Robot is pretty much the best damn thing on TV today. Combined with my love of YA lit, a YA cyber-thriller like ReWired is right up my alley.

All the winking little nods in the synopsis, from the main character's alias being "Dark Angel" (shades of the early aughties Jessica Alba show?) to the hacker group being called the Orwellians, only makes me want to read it more. If you're a YA fan and have similar feels about cyberpunk themes, you might want to check this one out too. It's available now, and there's a giveaway obviously. Take a look:

ReWired

S.R. Johannes | YA ● Cyberpunk ● Thriller

YA cyber thriller, ReWIRED, by Shelli Johannes-Wells (writing as S.R. Johannes), which offers a fresh and exciting new take on the genre, and could be described as Ally Carter’s HEIST SOCIETY meets THE GIRL WITH THE DRAGON TATTOO for teens.

Sixteen-year-old Ada Lovelace is never more alive and sure of herself than when she’s hacking into a “secure” network as her alter ego, the Dark Angel. In the real world, Ada is broken, reeling from her best friend Simone’s recent suicide. But online, the reclusive daughter of Senator Lovelace (champion of the new Online Privacy Bill) is a daring white hat hacker and the only female member of the Orwellians, an elite group responsible for a string of high-profile hacks against major corporations, with a mission to protect the little guy. Ada is swiftly proving she’s a force to be reckoned with, when a fellow Orwellian betrays her to the FBI. To protect her father’s career, Ada is sent to ReBoot, a technology rehab facility for teens…the same rehab Simone attended right before killing herself.

It’s bad enough that the ReBoot facility is creepy in an Overlook-Hotel-meets-Winchester-Mansion way, but when Ada realizes Simone’s suicide is just one in an increasingly suspicious string of “accidental” deaths and “suicides” occurring just after kids leave ReBoot, Ada knows she can’t leave without figuring out what really happened to her best friend. The massive cyber conspiracy she uncovers will threaten everything she cares about–her dad’s career, her new relationship with a wry, handsome, reformed hacker who gets under her skin, and most of all–the version of herself Ada likes best–the Dark Angel.

With a deliciously twisty plot, the topical bite of Cory Doctorow’s LITTLE BROTHER, ReWIRED delves into technology addiction, internet privacy, and corporate/government collection of data, as it vividly illuminates the universally human questions about ethics, privacy, and self-definition that both underpin these socio-political issues and dovetail with classic coming-of-age themes. Ultimately, ReWIRED is about the daily choices we all make about who we want to be, how much of ourselves we choose to share with others, and the terrifying risks and exhilarating rewards of being ourselves, online and off.

READ AN EXCERPT FROM REWIRED

The Dark Angel

Some say technology kills. But these days, a computer is my only lifeline. I move through the warehouse and flip on the space heater before checking the outside security cameras, but the streets are deserted as usual. This is my safe space. A place to hide. Here, there’s no IP address to track. No connection to trace. Here, I can sneak on and off the grid without anyone knowing.

Undetected and untraceable.

Hacker Commandment #1: One can never be too paranoid.

I turn on the desk lamp and sweep my hand across the ugly DIY desk made of a few cracked two-by-fours and a slab of plywood. Yesterday’s pizza box and empty Dr Pepper cans jump off the edge, clanging to the floor.

I unzip my messenger bag. A tattered copy of George Orwell’s 1984 snuggles up to my cell phone, and my laptop peeks through the opposite mesh sleeve. Its permanent resting place. In case I need to bolt unexpectedly.

Punching the ON button, I boot up my computer. “Rise and shine, Zed. It’s show time.”

I sit back as the laptop runs through its morning routine without any complaint. The perfect companion. Someone who never talks back. Follows my every command.

Once Zed is up and running, I blaze through my ritual. Perform a few carpal tunnel stretches. Secure both wrist braces. And crack all ten knuckles... twice. Then I slip in my earbuds and jack up some Daft Punk. The louder, the better. My legs bounce to the beat, and adrenaline buzzes through my veins like data on a live wire. My nerves hum with anticipation.

As soon as the desktop pops up, I sign on to the satellite network with an encrypted password and return to my latest target: SocialNet. My fingers skip across my keyboard, adding a clicking beat to the music drumming in my ears. After editing my script for the umpteenth time, I hit and watch my creation. The program floats up my screen, disappearing into the cybersphere. Hopefully this will open the back door I need.

I started the SocialNet hack with another hacker a few months ago after suspecting the company was lying about their privacy terms. Rumor has it the company stores teen data and makes a ton of money selling it. This means a teen’s personal pictures, posts, and confidential profile information is up for grabs. Without teens knowing. All for a buck.

I would die if my information got it, so I wanna see if it’s true. And if it is, I need to shut it down. But after months of coding, I still can’t crack the stupid system. SocialNet is well protected, guarded by steel firewalls and an army of Geeks-on-Call.

Busting into the largest teen networking site in the world with a little laptop is like busting into Fort Knox with a wet firecracker. Nearly impossible.

Waiting, I tap my fingers on the table, hoping this program can find something interesting to make my day exciting.

Zed beeps two dirty words every hacker hates to see:

“Hmmm.” I bite my lip. “We’ll see about that.”

An alarm sounds off in the warehouse.

I race over to check the cameras.

A security guard strolls by camera three and stops in front of my door.

I freeze and hold my breath, waiting for his next move. Last thing I need is to get busted hacking.

About the Author

S.R. Johannes is the award-winning author of the Amazon bestselling Nature of Grace thriller series (Untraceable, Uncontrollable, and Unstoppable). She is a winner of the IndieReader Discovery Award in YA, an IPPY a Silver Medalist for YA Fiction, a Finalist in The Kindle Book Review’s Best Young Adult Fiction, and a Finalist in US Book News Best YA Book.

Since leaving Corporate America, she has followed her passion for writing and conservation by working with The Dolphin Project, the Atlanta Zoo, other animal rescue organizations, and by weaving conservation themes into her books.

Currently, she lives in Atlanta, GA with her English-accented husband and the huge imaginations of their prince and princess, which she hopes- someday- will change the world.

Find S.R. Johannes Online: Website | Facebook | Twitter | Goodreads

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