#imagine being an actual human and getting those email responses

[armand-dearest]

I am in PAIN laughing so hard at DougDoug's new video, Jesus fucking Christ someone help me

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

A reflection on the terrorist attack on Israel through the lens of America.

October 9, 2023

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

    About 30 seconds after I pressed “send” on Friday’s newsletter, I received an alert regarding a surprise attack on Israel by Hamas. By the next morning, it was clear that the strike was the largest terrorist attack on Israel in its modern history. For a small country, approximately 700 deaths are the equivalent of 25,000 in the US. That horrific reality was compounded by several factors, including Hamas’s gruesome use of social media to display dead bodies and civilian hostages, that the attack was launched on a Jewish holiday, and that there were “celebrations” around the world in response to the killing and capture of Israeli civilians.

          For Jews in America, the attack comes at a time of increasing antisemitism in the US. Right-wing extremists spew a toxic mix of white supremacy, neo-Nazism, and antisemitism fueled by grievance over losing white dominance. Last week, a mayoral candidate in a small town 20 miles south of Nashville showed up to a debate flanked by the “Tennessee Active Club”—a group that includes white supremacists and neo-Nazis who glorify Hitler, deny the Holocaust, and use the slogan, “Remember, there is no political solution.”

          The mayoral candidate (Gabrielle Hanson) denies she supports neo-Nazis, but after being called out by the local newspaper for using neo-Nazi “enforcers” at the debate, she sent a campaign promotion featuring some of the same neo-Nazis who provided “protection” for her at the debate. The message was clear to those in the small Tennessee town: Gabrielle Hanson hangs out with neo-Nazis and wants your vote. It starts with a wink and nod among brothers in hate and ends in genocide. It must stop now, and we must be the ones to stop it.

          The increasing antisemitism in the US places a special burden on all Americans to recognize that the attack directed at Jewish civilians has deep resonance with millennia of efforts to stigmatize and blame Jewish people for imagined grievances and vile conspiracy theories. Whatever you think about the maddeningly complicated politics in the Middle East, there is no excuse for targeting, torturing, and using civilians as hostages.

          Jewish Americans are rightly anxious, frightened, and wary that it could happen again because antisemitism has gone mainstream in the Republican Party. Republicans in Florida, Texas, Missouri, and other states are banning “The Diary of Anne Frank,” “Maus,” and other books about the Holocaust because they do not want school children to know or remember about a genocide that happened during their grandparents’ lifetimes.

          We need to tell all Jewish Americans that we are by their side and will stand between them and the neo-Nazis, white supremacists, and messengers of hate recruited and infected by the virus of MAGA extremism. We need to speak out against antisemitism to protect our friends, neighbors, and strangers who are fearful about what happens next.

Coda.

          A few minutes after I wrote the above introduction, a reader sent me the following email from an Israeli American who sent an email to her friends to explain how Jews across the world feel. I have excerpted (and lightly edited) two paragraphs from a much longer email:

Your Jewish friends are hurting. We are grateful to the ones who can pluck up the courage to get in touch and to check on our loved ones. We are moved to tears, after years of antisemitism at what we thought was already a fever pitch in the US, and while bracing for the wave that is already beginning, that some of you will even go as far as to publicly post that the murder of Jewish civilians is not okay. We are so inured to people being not just okay with but supportive of the death of Jews, that just a simple social media post that says "Maybe treat Jews like they're human for five minutes before explaining why this is actually their fault” seems radical. Because even just that is so, so rare. Instead, we get a million explainers about why this is justified, why Israelis deserve this, why we only have ourselves to blame. With not even one moment, one breath spared for the intense, irrepressible pain we are in as we try to track down our loved ones, hold space for our community members who are suffering, and brace with fear at what the suffering that is coming next, on both sides of the border.

What the terrorist attack on Israel means in the US.

          There is so much to say about the attack on Israel I will attempt to be brief to cover more ground.

1.    The attack took place during a time of deep political division in Israel.

The current government coalition has been attempting to undermine the judiciary to maintain political power—a tactic that has deeply divided the Israeli people. See Lawrence Freedman on Substack, Hamas attacks Israel | Why Now and What Next? Per Freedman,

[T]he coalition’s policies on judicial reform left Israeli society deeply divided, something of which Hamas will have been well aware . . . .

When a nation is deeply divided by political strife, its enemies seek advantage. That is why the MAGA culture war benefits America’s adversaries, especially Russia and China.

2.    Republicans have hollowed out the American diplomatic corps.

Republicans have resisted the routine confirmation of Joe Biden’s diplomatic appointments. The following US diplomatic posts in the Middle East are vacant:

- Israel

- Egypt

- Lebanon

- Oman

- Kuwait

- No confirmed top USAID official for the Middle East for nearly three years

3.    Senator Tommy Tuberville is hampering US military preparedness.

Meanwhile, Senator Tommy Tuberville has prevented the appointment of 300 senior officers in the US military.

4.    The absence of a governing majority in the House has hampered the US’s ability to respond.

There is much media attention to the fact that the absence of a Speaker is limiting the ability of the House to support a US response to the attack. While that is true as far as it goes, the absence of a Speaker is the symptom, not the cause. The GOP caucus is incapable of governing.

Republicans must be able to join Democrats to advance America’s interests without incurring primary challenges from neo-Nazis, Proud Boys, Oath Keepers, Moms for Liberty, or other extremist candidates funded by GOP dark money.

5.    Disinformation is rampant.

Disinformation about the terrorist attack and response is rampant. Elon Musk recommended two sites for war coverage on Twitter that are known for peddling false stories to gain subscribers. Worse, one site Musk recommended for war coverage includes antisemitic content. See Washington Post, As false war information spreads on X, Musk promotes unvetted accounts.

Separately, Republican presidential candidates have been spreading the false claim that the Biden administration’s release of a hold on $6 billion in impounded Iranian funds was used to finance Hamas’s attack. That claim is false. See The Hill, $6B in frozen Iranian funds remain unspent in wake of Hamas attack, Blinken says. The $6 billion remains in a monitored bank account cannot be released except for humanitarian aid.

Those facts did not prevent Nikki Haley from claiming that the Biden administration is at fault for the Hamas attack because it allowed the Iranian government “to move money around” in anticipation of the release of the impounded funds. She should be ashamed of herself for lying—assuming she has the capacity for shame.

6.    Trump's battles with the US intelligence community have undermined trust in those agencies.

Trump has been at war with the intelligence community ever since it concluded that Russia intervened in 2016 (and later, 2020) elections to help Trump. Per his playbook, Trump attacked the messenger. Then, when he was caught divulging secrets to top Russian diplomats and retaining defense secrets, he once again blamed the intelligence community. See, e.g., NYTimes, Unwanted Truths: Inside Trump’s Battles With U.S. Intelligence Agencies. The article reveals that the US intelligence community began to shade its conclusions to avoid upsetting Trump.

          It is too early to assign blame for the fact that Israel was caught off guard by the attack. But, at this early point, it is difficult to understand the failures of both the Israeli and US intelligence agencies. I am not saying that Trump's attacks on the US intelligence community are a proximate cause of the lack of preparedness. But Trump has caused congressional Republicans to view the intelligence community as an adversary. It is not; it is essential to America’s defense in a dangerous world—as the surprise attack on Israel demonstrates.

Concluding Thoughts.

          Writing about politics in the Mideast is difficult. The above comments are mine alone, but I thank readers (and friends) Dennis Aftergut and Susan Morgan for helping me to shape my thoughts about tonight’s newsletter. My unerring Managing Editor provided more than her usual amount of guidance for this newsletter. And a half-dozen readers sent links to helpful articles. Thank you.

          The status of Gaza and the West Bank are difficult issues about which Israel’s major political parties and citizens disagree. We can’t expect to resolve those issues for Israel and the Palestinians, though we can stand ready to guarantee the terms of any peace and governance framework.

          Sadly, the point of the terror attack on Israel was to disrupt efforts to normalize relations between Israel and Saudi Arabia (among others) as a precursor to a peace framework. Hamas’s goal is to prevent peace and stability in the Mideast—a development that would make its structural opposition to Israel’s legitimacy irrelevant and unnecessary.

          The US has a delicate and important role to play—which is why having Joe Biden as President at this moment is important and fortunate. The US is moving a carrier strike group into the Eastern Mediterranean. The carrier strike group will provide air defense to discourage involvement by Iran or Syria. Major military moves—and the possibility of command decisions to engage in combat—are not the type of judgments that should be in the hands of an impulsive, immature, petulant, distracted, and ignorant leader like Trump.

          Republicans are suddenly in a panic about the absence of a speaker of the House and are considering re-electing Kevin McCarthy—because they know that Jim Jordan is not a serious candidate for the job. So, too, with the choice for President of the United States. A vote for Trump may satisfy the emotional need of some voters for revenge and retribution, but it is not a vote for stability and peace. The world is a complicated and dangerous place. Last Friday evening, the entire outlook for peace in the Middle East changed dramatically in a matter of minutes. We need Joe Biden’s experience and wisdom to guide us through this difficult time.

          Talk to you tomorrow.

[whentherewerebicycles]

hello here is a scruffy little girl keeping vigilant watch over the backyard!!!! NO squirrels allowed!!! we got up at 5:30 but lord I slept badly… had bad racing thoughts trying to fall asleep and then just tossed and turned all night. woke up with a splitting headache but the mood is nevertheless good because after today I only have three days of this loathèd job left :)))))

I think part of the reason I was tossing and turning so much last night is that I was thinking about how much the rhythms of my life are going to change when I’m actually in a real job with a real schedule and real responsibilities. I feel absolutely positive that the tradeoffs will be worth it, but I do want to just emotionally prepare myself for the inevitable adjustment period where I panic a little about not having endless time to cook/walk the dogs for hours/lounge in bed. I think in the summer it will be fine because even if I get home at 5:30 or 6 I’ll still have plenty of time to walk the dogs while it’s light out… the hardest part will probably just be the winter when the sun sets at 4 and I can’t walk the dogs in the middle of the day. but I hope that by the time the Long Dark rolls around I’ll be settled enough in the job that I can arrange my schedule in a way that enables me to meet my human needs! like maybe taking very long lunches and working a bit later so I can drive home and walk the dogs during the day, or just getting the reflective vest & dorky headlight gear that will enable me to do long walks when it’s pitch black out at 5pm lol. and I want to not be afraid to use the hybrid option as needed—if I’m home two days a week, I can take full advantage of that time (and can really savor every second of daylight I get on the weekends). as far as cooking goes, I’m hoping that liz and alex will live close enough for us to cook together a couple times a week, which will make cooking feel more like a joyful social occasion and less of a chore I have to do at the end of a long day. I also think that I am slowly getting to the point where I find the act of cooking itself to be relaxing and fun, so hopefully I can continue to make it feel like a nice calming/centering thing I do for myself as the day winds down.

anyway the point is: big life changes always feel scary!! but that’s because on the cusp of a big change you’re always keenly attuned to the things you’ll be losing (because you have a concrete sense of what those things are) and not as able to imagine all the things you’ll be gaining (because the future is still hazy and ill-defined in your mind). I have complete faith that this change will transform my life in so many positive ways that the adjustments I have to make or the energy I have to put into creating new routines will be more than worth it.

anyway ok!!! I worked from 6:30-8:30 finishing up a project and am now taking a short lounge break before I meet with my lead from 9-10. after that I may have a few work tasks to complete, but if not I can shift my attention to other stuff. here are the things I am committed to doing today:

read through CT material and email him back

send JE a gentle nudge about job materials

unearth these plants that died and put them in plastic pots so I can return them

run at the gym! since I’m being oddly resistant I’m going to lower the expectations for myself! I just want to warm up, run 1 mile, and cool down, which will take me under 20 min. I suspect I’ll end up doing more than that but the point is just to get myself out the door and into the gym.

do all returns (kohl’s, target, old navy, home depot). my shameless bribe to myself is that if I do all that stuff I can buy yellow flowers, a cilantro plant, and a cherry tomato plant.

then I’ll check back in at work and take care of anything that came up before moving on to my afternoon tasks:

read through JS material and email her back

finish generating AU brainstorming prompts

walk the dogs for an hour (it’s deliciously cool out this morning so I might do this earlier in the day to take advantage tbd)

showerrrrrrr

talk to M/HL and book flight

[beautifulpersonpeach]

BPP, sometimes I don't know how to feel when I see asks like the Jin one you just got. Why does the idea of BTS liking Army piss some people off so much? I mean why is that something somebody is getting worked up about? Is the fandom that bad? Is it like a jealousy thing cos they want BTS to be like how they imagine BTS to be in their heads not liking 'those crazy Armys'? When I see opinions I don't agree with I try to put myself in their shoes but I can't even picture myself losing it on Tumblr over something like that. Not even if I was a 13 yo.

The fandom can be crazy but most fandoms are so why not just have fun?

**

Hi Anon,

Idk really. It could be a whole bunch of things.

Some people just deeply despise the fandom for whatever reason and (because they're dealing with a group like BTS), constantly need an outlet for that emotion.

2. Some people never really outgrow their Regina George high school days and think being contrarian is how you signal you're cool, different, and more intelligent.

3. Some people are inexperienced with fandom, period. And so are easily irritated by fandom dynamics and that bleeds into (1) and (2).

For example, I was on Twitter the day Jungkook deleted all his Instagram pics and started from scratch. It was absolutely hilarious. People were panicking, typing in all caps about how traumatizing this event was. I recall seeing people posting about how they were having heart attacks, people were asking for HYBE's email address, I think someone said she was going to leave her daughter at school (as in not pick her up) until she figured out what the fuck was going on. It was glorious chaos. And of course, a good amount of it was hyperbole, the sort typical in fandom spaces. Then a multi moot of mine retweeted about someone having a heart attack, to which someone who keeps up with BTS said something along the lines of 'ARMYs are mentally ill and losing their shit over Jungkook deleting his Instagram'. I saw that tweet a couple hours after she'd posted it and of course most people had just ignored it lol. But that's exactly the sort of response you can expect from people on the outside looking in.

I noticed a similar thing happened when ARMYs reacted to Yoongi posting this a couple days ago:

*

Cue the same fandom hysterics lmao.

Nothing actually problematic was happening in response to Jungkook deleting his Instagram pics, ARMYs weren't actually having heart attacks (would be hard to do that and tweet at the same time), just as ARMYs aren't actually filing lawsuits against Min Yoongi, nor actually writing patents for Jimin holding an extension cord to mention another example, but the fandom norms were something that person didn't fully understand nor care to view charitably since they despise the fandom to begin with. I'd say it all just boils down to plain old human nature.

And honestly, I don't blame some people for hating the fandom. ARMYs are some of the most insufferable people on the planet. Many ARMYs are a little stupid and easy to manipulate. Add in the fact that there's just so many of us that even less of a fraction of a percent is enough to overwhelm anyone. It's easy to hate a fandom like ARMY, and so if you see people who indulge, in my experience it's best to just note it and let them be. Lol.

[jubinbabu21]

How AI Would Drive New Digital Marketing Strategies in 2024

Welcome to a world where AI is not just some buzzword thrown around within circles of tech enthusiasts; it is the real deal and at a very fast pace. It's changing the game in terms of digital marketing faster than you can say "algorithm." But if you're still stuck in that pre-AI age of marketing, then catch up, as 2024 has arrived with full force, featuring AI innovations that revolutionize strategies for digital marketing. Buckle up as we plunge into this new bold world!

AI in Digital Marketing: The DaybreakA Brief History

Remember those times when digital marketing was all about flashy banners and email spam? Ah, easy times, my friend! Well, data grew, and with it, the itch for smarter marketing strategies. Here came AI, touting promises of making sense of chaos. The transition wasn't overnight, but boy, has it been transformative!

Early Adoption and Skepticism

First of all, marketers were sceptical. AI sounded way too close to science fiction. People doubted whether a machine would ever truly understand human behaviour. Fast forward to 2024; AI has proved its worth and is now an indispensable part of the digital marketing toolkit with a lot of free AI tools for digital marketing

AI-Powered Tools Taking Over Chatbots:

The New Customer Service Representatives

Why They're Awesome

Chatbots are like those uber-efficient friends who just seem to know almost everything. They handle customer inquiries 24/7, and never do they need a cup of coffee to brighten them up. And, let's be honest here, they don't get cranky! With AI, chatbots become adept at comprehending natural languages and dispensing solutions that seem almost human.

Fallacies at Large

Many people still seem to think that chatbots are just robotic, automated responses. Nothing could be further from the truth about today's AI chatbots. They learn from interactions, can adapt their responses accordingly, and even throw in a joke or two. The future of customer service is here, and it's pretty chatty!

Predictive Analytics:

Seeing the FutureHow It Works

Now, imagine a crystal ball that dictates what your customers will want next. That is predictive analytics in a nutshell: AI analyzes past data to predict future trends, so that marketers are always one step ahead. It's like having a marketing psychic on your team—no crystal ball required.

Case Studies

Companies at the forefront of implementing predictive analytics have impressive results to show for their efforts. From targeted campaigns that hit the bull's eye to inventory management that prevents overstocking, benefits from its adoption are patent. These businesses that embraced this tech are earning the rewards of foresight.

Personalized Marketing on Steroids

Power of Personalization

It's no longer slapping a customer's name in an email. Customization goes way deep, from preferences to behaviours to interactions, developing bespoke experiences with AI. Similar to having a personal shopper who knows what you want before you even know it.

Examples of Successful Campaigns

Brands like Netflix and Amazon nail AI-driven personalization. They recommend products and content so well that it actually feels like they're reading your mind. These successes are just the tip of the iceberg in the AI personalization revolution.

AI Content Creation and CurationAI-Generated ContentBenefits

AI isn't just consuming content; it's actually creating it. This generation has seen tools like GPT-4 that can handle a blog post, a social media update, or even a poem. What are the advantages? Speed, efficiency, and being able to chomp out content at scale without breaking a sweat.

Quality Concerns

Let's not get too carried away here. Sometimes AI content misses completely on nuance and creativity. This is where AI effectiveness needs to be counterbalanced by human creativity to ensure the delivery of content that is both engaging and authentic.

AI in Content CurationStreamlining the Process

Content curation had become labour-intensive. Then, along came AI, which was able to comb through mountains of data for the best content in seconds. You could say it is much like a digital librarian who knows just what you are looking for.

Improved User Experience

AI curates content based on user preference and makes the user's online experience more enjoyable and relevant. Doing this not only engages users but also builds brand loyalty.

Enhancing Customer Experience with AI

AI and Customer Insights

Collection of Data

AI doesn't just collect data; it makes sense of the data. From customer interactions to preferences and behaviors, the depth of insights AI provides is previously unimaginable. It's like having a detective who's really into joining the dots.

Actionable Insights

Insights like that are gold dust for marketers—informing strategies, creating targeted campaigns, and driving better decision-making. It's about spurring data into action.

Chatbots and Virtual Assistants Efficiency

The unsung heroes of modern customer service are AI-powered chatbots and virtual assistants. They can process requests, handle queries, and even recommend things while keeping the human agents free to focus on more complex issues.

User Satisfaction

Customers love quick responses, and AI delivers. Chatbots enhance the user satisfaction and attract customers for more through near-instant replies and 24/7 availability.

Ethical Considerations and Challenges

Data Privacy Issues

Consumer Concerns

With great power comes great responsibility. While AI has been frantically collecting data, privacy concerns have skyrocketed. Consumers want to be assured that their data is safe and used ethically.

Measures by Regulation

Governments and organizations have taken a step forward with regulations concerning the protection of data privacy. Keeping up with compliance remains critical for businesses if they would like to hold on to trust and avoid heavy fines.

Bias in AI and Fairness

Identifying Bias

AI is not perfect; it inherits biases from data on which it has been trained, resulting in unfair outcomes. So the key to the ethical use of AI is noticing and dealing with such biases.

Minimizing Bias

Developers are working on techniques that lessen bias, so AI systems can be fair and equitable. It's in progress, but a very important feature for the integrity of the technology.

Future Trends in AI

Digital Marketing with AI and Voice Search

Voice Search is exploding. As AI is intrinsic to voice search, marketers must optimize for voice to remain relevant as more consumers turn to Siri, Alexa, and Google Assistant.

Augmented Reality Marketing

AR brings a plethora of immersive marketing experiences from virtual try-ons to ad interactions that are driven by AI. It is doing all it can to make marketing more fun and engaging.

AI in Video Marketing

Video marketing is being transformed, from video editing to recommendations, even AI-written scripts. The future of video is smart, dynamic, and deeply personalized.

Conclusion

AI is no longer a concept of the future; it's here, reshaping digital marketing in ways one could never have thought possible ten years ago. From chatbots to predictive analytics, AI works its way into bettering strategies, customer experience, and results. Looking ahead, embracing AI is no longer an option; it will be necessary to be competitive in the digital world. So are you prepared to ride the wave of AI? Let's get started immediately with free AI tools for digital marketing to transform your strategies today!

FAQs

What are some free AI tools for digital marketing? Here are some free AI tools for digital marketing that would better strategize: from Google AI tools and HubSpot AI-powered features to Mailchimp AI-driven email marketing.

How does a digital marketing expert utilize AI? A digital marketing expert makes use of AI in such a way that he or she performs data analysis, executes personalized marketing campaigns, automated customer service, and predictive analytics to be ahead of trends and optimize performance.

What are the benefits of a digital marketing agency using AI? AI improves efficiency, provides better insight into clients, serves better targeting, and helps run more effective and personalized campaigns for any digital marketing agency.

How can AI help a digital marketing freelancer? This is how a digital marketing freelancer could use AI to automate a lot of drudgeries, get deeper insights from client data, and create better-personalised content that offers more value to the clients at a lesser effort.

What are some of the ethical considerations when using AI in digital marketing? More specifically, ethics drive data privacy, while bias in AI algorithms needs to be tamed as its role in marketing is open for consumer trust.

[taocrafttarot]

I like to knit.

Sometimes that means making stuff out of yarn.

Sometimes it means weaving together disparate ideas in a Tarot reading. Or a Tarot blog post.

I'm doing both lately. It's that Elfcon 5 gift making time of year, but I'd also like to knit together the past couple of blog posts. We've looked at a couple of narrow topics, now lets connect them back into the grand scheme of things a little bit.

The grand scheme is how Tarot and intuition actually works - at least the way I go about it.

Recently we talked about the role of imagination in intuition and the idea of accuracy in intuitive processes like Tarot.

My readings do not predict the future. So that kind of "accuracy" doesn't factor into things even if it were possible, which it isn't for all of those cause and effect sort of Heisenberg uncertainty-ish sort of reasons. In this case "accurate" means "it contains some sort of useful insight or idea."

Can we get insight or inspiration from Tarot and imagination? Yes - absolutely. It's about the most human thing I can think of to do.

Let's go back to our imagination as intuition example - think of an elephant taking a shower.

When I first learned this concept in an email conversation with Chris Fleming, my first thought was a Babar-like, highly antropomorphized cartoon elephant in a cartoon human shower with a big white towel wrapped around it's waist a la movie men's locker room.

Was this a prediction? No, of course not. Was it accurate? Yes - it was whimsical and playful at a time in life where I needed a reminder to be more playful and find more humor in life.

In response to last week's post, a client said she visualized a real life elephant being lovingly cleaned by an attentive caretaker and seeming to enjoy the experience.

Like a Tarot card in the context of a layout, this image in the context of the person who saw it is a beautiful message from and for a beautiful person.

This person is a natural caretaker in a care taking profession. Her visualization is a tremendous validation that she is on the right path in her work, and even if they don't say it her clients appreciate her as much as her imaginary elephant was enjoying its shower.

It is also the classic reminder for caretakers to allow themselves to be cared for or at least give themselves a little TLC. It could be a reminder to let yourself be that happy elephant.

These aren't "accurate predictions" relative to physical events. To make Tarot or psychic readings into that is to strip it of all its depth, emotion, beauty and humanity. Making Tarot and psychic readings about predictions is like taking a living breathing elephant and turning it into a two dimensional rubber stamp shadow image of an elephant.

Imagination is our window to intuition. Tarot is the battery sparks intuition. Together, they let us see marvelous things far beyond physical predictions.

Are you ready for something more advanced than pool ball toy predictions? Are you ready to glimpse the ideas that help you create your future rather than (maybe) predict it? Tarot doesn't tell you what will happen in life, it helps you figure out what to do when life happens.

[imemon-blog]

VoiceFusion AI Review 2023: Should You Buy It or not?

Welcome to my review of VoiceFusion AI. Are you sick of listening to those flat, mechanical voices in audio content? Guess what, though? Finally, the day of lifeless narration is ended! Introducing VoiceFusion AI, a game-changer! Imagine being able to produce original content, audiobooks, podcasts, voices based on real human emotions, and more with only one keyword. It’s like having a talented writing staff and voice cast at your disposal but without the bother.

You know, the people who can enliven even a grocery list? VoiceFusion AI accomplishes this by bringing content to life and making even the most uninteresting subjects sound interesting. The best thing, though? No more battling writer’s block or wasting hours fiddling with voice preferences. All of that is taken care of for you by VoiceFusion AI.

If you’re not familiar with technology, don’t worry; this tool is simple to use. It works like magic; just type in a keyword, and presto! You receive prepared voiceovers that sound human and interesting information. Even amateurs may take the stage and produce fantastic audio material. So bid robotic monotony adieu and welcome to stuff that brims with individuality. Prepare to impress your audience and leave a lasting impression with VoiceFusion AI!

Overview Of VoiceFusion AI Review

Product name: VoiceFusion Ai

Author/Vendor: Pranshu Gupta et al

Official Website: VISIT HERE

Launch Date: August 18, 2023

Front-End Price: $17

Bonuses: Yes, Huge Bonuses Included

Refund: 30-day money-back guarantee

Support: Effective Response

Niche: Software

Recommend: Highly Recommended!

Rating: 8.6 Out of 10

Skill: All Level

Actually, What Is VoiceFusion AI:

It’s like your computer is home to a group of voice wizards and writing geniuses thanks to VoiceFusion AI. It’s a cutting-edge technology that can take your ordinary words and transform them into captivating stories and sounds that can rival even the most elegant radio DJs. With VoiceFusion AI, your material receives a personality infusion that will keep your listeners engaged. Gone are the robotic monologues that lull you to sleep.

Think about it: you enter a term, and before you know it, you have excellent content and voiceovers that seem to have just left a Hollywood recording studio. It’s comparable to having a magic wand that can transform dull into brilliant. VoiceFusion AI has you covered if you want to produce audiobooks that rival classic bedtime stories or podcasts that have listeners hitting the replay button.

So, wave goodbye to the days of boredom and say hello to the era of captivating content that speaks with real human touch. It’s time to unleash the power of your words with VoiceFusion AI!

Some Interesting Features:

Do away with any speculation and get to the results right away.

Allow AI to Produce Voices With Real Human Emotions.

Easily create whole audiobooks and podcasts.

Even AI Will Create Original, High-Quality Content for You.

A True AI App That Uses ChatGPT4 & IBM Watson Technology.

100% Free Instant High Converting Traffic Ads Are Not Necessary.

300+ Real Voices with Human Emotions to Choose From.

More Than 100 Languages Available.

1,000,000 articles with full PLR license from DFY.

Produce an infinite number of VSLs, sales copies, emails, ads, etc.

Change the Real Human Voices in Your Old Boring Robotic Voices.

98% of beta testers that used VoiceFusionAi within 24 hours made at least one sale.

Pay Once, Reap the Benefits Forever.

Simple Setup; Start Working in 2 Minutes; No Complexity.

– 30-Day Money-Back Promise.

Serve Unlimited Clients with Free Commercial License Included.

Transformative Features of VoiceFusion AI:

Expert & Completely Cloud-Based Platform

Newest ChatGPT4 Platform Powered by IBM Watson

Let AI create original content for you or your clients.

Creator of Real Human & Emotional Voiceovers

Additionally, create podcasts and audiobooks that sound real.

Human Emotions in 300+ Real Voices

Built-in DFY 1 Million Articles With Full PLR License, 100+ Languages Available

Unlimited VSLs, sales copies, emails, ad copies, etc. can be created.

Transform your outdated, lifeless robot voices into authentic, emotion-based voices from real people.

Pay Once & Receive Profit Without Any Restrictions for All Time

Built-in “Social Sharing” Function To Generate Endless Traffic

Included is a COMMERCIAL LICENSE.

No restrictions – totally free

No Special Experience or Skills Necessary

Earn like the big boys by selling unlimited content, voiceovers, and audiobooks.

Simple Instruction

And a lot more…

Simple 3-Step And Start Now:

First, sign in to the members area. Pay a small one-time fee to get immediate access to VoiceFusion Ai and sign in to your exclusive members area. Image Left Arrow

Step 2: Simply Type a Keyword You may also upload old voice recordings, text files, etc., and let AI handle everything for you. Right Arrow in Video

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[septembriseur]

I apologize to those of you who did not follow me for political analysis; please feel free to skip this post. 

But I feel compelled to talk about the rhetorical choices in Zelenskij’s speech to the European Union today, insofar as some of them closely mirror the rhetoric that I have seen young Afghans using in conversations and emails with me over the last months, since the collapse of the Afghan republic. 

For context: the response to Zelenskij amongst Afghans— both in Afghanistan and scattered as refugees— has been powerful. The New York Times wrote about it here, and that accurately reflects what I have seen on Afghan social media. Not only do Afghans perceive Zelenskij as a hero due to his refusal to desert his country, but (as you can see in the screenshot I posted earlier) they see Ukrainians as fundamentally engaged in the same struggle as them: a struggle for human rights, democracy, and liberal values. I have talked to Afghan men who described themselves as weeping while watching news about Ukraine.

In his speech today, Zelenskij’s theme could be distilled in a single line: “We are exactly the same as you are.” And in fact Zelenskij’s great success (which, like, don’t get me started on my affect-theory analysis of what exactly has been happening with the hysteria surrounding him) has been to force a reconstruction of Ukraine in the European imaginary to the point that Europeans can imagine that Ukrainians are the same as them. 

But this is also a theme that resonates beyond Ukraine and beyond Europe, insofar as it echoes the cri de coeur of a lot of Global South citizens, particularly highly cosmopolitan citizens, who find themselves grappling with the fact that they are the same as people in the Global North and yet, on the basis of the single happenstance that is the location of their birth, are allotted the fate of dying as grist in the mill of Western civilization. In August, a young Afghan woman wrote an email to me in which she asked “Why can’t we live like those in the United States, the United Kingdom, the United Arab Emirates, and other countries?” A few days ago, a girl whose family had fled to Tehran wrote to me about realizing that racism is about “believing that people deserve or not deserve something because of where they were born.” There is a level of paradoxical in/comprehension that surrounds their awareness that they are the same as me. And yet they are not. What they recognize in Ukraine is a very simple clear illustration of that precept: that the most powerful people in the world will stand and watch you die because you are marked by the sin of being born to a lineage of suffering. And there is literally nothing that you can do in your lifetime to prevent this.

It interests me that, for all that Zelenskij’s language about “fighting to be equal members of Europe” has a specific political purpose, it acquires its remarkable power from how close it comes to exposing the repression upon which Western civilization is built: the repression of the fact that there is nothing you can do to deserve being considered a person. To a certain extent, the great sacrificial drama of Zelenskij is that he threatens to die to illustrate the logic of this. I suspect that this is what makes him what Sara Ahmed would call affectively “sticky,” a site of tension that attracts and binds emotion. We sense but cannot say what is actually going on here; at the root of our response to him is a kind of longing and shame, because we would like to deserve to be people but we know that we don’t and we can’t, and we know that other people are dying on the basis of this.

[nanowrimo]

How NaNo Camp-Ins Helped Me Finish My NYT Profiled Book

We all know about NaNoWriMo, but what about CampMo? CampMo is when a bunch of Wrimos get together in a writing-retreat format. Cathy Salustri, author of the NYT Profiled travel writer, talks about her experience with CampMo, and how it helped her finish her book. Disclaimer, we are still cautiously opening up to in-person events like CampMo. It’s tentative that it will happen this year, and if it does, we encourage following COVID-19 protocols and being safe and responsible!

The first time I participated in NaNoWriMo, I hadn’t written anything creative since my undergrad days, which predated email, to give you an idea. I didn’t think I had it in me… until a germ of an idea took hold right about the same time I learned about NaNoWriMo. Most of my writing that year involved late nights at a massive maple table. I crammed in the last few words, checking my word count a few seconds after midnight, thus barely missing “winning” NaNo my first year.

The next year, I discovered write-ins. I also discovered CampMo, or NaNoWriMo camp-ins.

Lest you think this involved huddling in pup tents and writing by firelight, let me disabuse you of that notion: We camped in cabins at Lake Louisa State Park, and these cabins? Well, they weren’t exactly rustic: They had two bedrooms – one with an ensuite bathroom – dishwashers, full-size refrigerators, gas fireplaces, screened porches with rocking chairs, and comfy futon couches and chairs. The only thing missing was an icemaker, but, well, we all have to suffer for our art. 

For three days and two nights, WriMos filled the cabins, writing and eating and writing and drinking and writing some more. The lack of cell service, TV, or wi-fi forced us to spend time in our imaginations, and I wrote something like 25,000 words in three days. 

Some years later, I had an actual book contract for a Florida travel narrative based on 1930s-era road trips. I’d done the research. I’d written the book proposal. I’d gotten the contract. My first meeting with my editor went well, until I casually asked her how much she thought the book would cost readers. She said she’d take a look at the projections and budget from whatever department did those things, and I froze. 

This wasn’t my book any longer, I realized. This was something more; it now lived officially outside my head. However well it sold – which means, of course, however well I wrote it – would impact people’s jobs. My publisher was investing time, money, and talent into bringing my book to print – and if I failed, they would suffer. 

I stayed frozen for a few months more. The voices in my head constantly reminded me how much other people had invested in a book I couldn’t seem to write.

And then it was November. I took a leave of absence from my paying writing job – a hyperlocal weekly newspaper where I covered city council, Little League, and various duck scandals – and focused on churning out a draft.

And I went back to the cabin to find that CampMo magic. I fell upon that cabin like a menopausal woman on an ice floe. I holed up in a chair and, with all the distractions of the world removed, I wrote. And wrote. And then I had a beer, because this isn’t a movie and I’m human. But then I wrote some more. I took a short walk through the woods, sure. I left to go get more beer. But I wrote.

Although I didn’t finish the draft that weekend, I wrote a lot of it, and finished the rest of it by November 30. Months after publication, the New York Times profiled “Backroads of Paradise.” The publisher printed a second run, then a third.

CampMo Magic.

This year, with (hopefully) the worst of COVID-19 behind us, I’m looking at November cabins again, hoping not only to go back and meet the magic, but to share it with other writers. 

Cathy Salustri works out of Gulfport, Florida, travels across Florida on foot, bike, boat, or car to places the Interstate bypassed long ago, as well as those spots where natural beauty has survived the onslaught of overpopulation. She attended the University of Central Florida, and earned her undergraduate degree at the University of Tampa finding the Florida Studies MLA program at the University of South Florida St. Petersburg. Cathy has written travel pieces for USA Today, Visit Florida, regional magazines and local press. You can find all her travel writing at the greatfloridaroadtrip.com.

Photo by baikang yuan on Unsplash  

[ravennm84]

Lyre Festival Justice

Here is the sequel to Lyre Festival Fraud where you get to see exactly what happened to Lila during her long weekend after she went back to Italy. I thought, at first, that I may have gone to far with the salt... But it’s Lila and I really don’t like her character. So, Warm-Fuzzies and enjoy this salty goodness!!

It was a beautiful day in Rome and Lila was enjoying her shopping spree around the city. She and her mother had spent the first few days after moving back to Italy unpacking and getting settled. It was Sunday, and her mother had to go to the embassy to make sure that all of her paperwork had transferred from Paris, which gave Lila the opportunity to spend the money she’d gotten from the idiots from her old class. Really, she couldn’t believe how stupid they all were to have just handed her over €2,000 for a luxury vacation in Venice. She should have gotten at least €3,000 from the class, but that Mari-brat and stick-in-the-mud Adrien had convinced some of them that she was lying. Oh well, €2,000 was better than nothing.

Best part, none of it could be traced back to her. They travelled to Venice on their own, nothing had been written down, her old mobile phone was disconnected and in a landfill somewhere, and she would just tell her mother that she had gotten all her new clothes at a thrift shop she remembered from the last time they’d been living in Rome. And if the idiots got in trouble and tried to say that she was involved, she’d turn on the tears and her mother would side with her like she always did. Seeing a little cafe, she stopped in to get a good cappuccino, it had been too long since she’d had a deceit cup of coffee.

It was mid afternoon by the time she got home. She had made a stop at the thrift store to grab a couple of their shopping bags to hide the real ones inside. It felt wrong to put a Versace skirt in a bargain bag, but one does what one must to keep her life going smoothly. Opening the door to the apartment, she barely caught sight of her mother sitting on the couch before Lila started gushing about how great it was to be back in Italy and all the things she’d missed. 

She prattled on for a couple minutes before noticing that her mother hadn’t said anything. Turning to look at her, Lila flinched when she saw her. Something was seriously wrong, the last time she had seen her mother so angry was when she’d told her that her dad was cheating on her. That hadn’t been true but they had ended up getting divorced anyway, which was to Lila’s benefit since the man had always called her out on her lies.

“Is everything okay, Mama?” She asked cautiously, doing her best to sound and appear small and innocent.

“Sit down.”

Her tone left no room for argument. Lila set down her bags and sat in the chair across from her mother.

“Mama, wha-”

“Be quiet!” She snapped, and Lila shut her mouth. This actually seemed worse than the fight her parents had before they divorced. “I received a very strange email on Friday night, from a former classmate of yours in Paris. It seemed that the majority of your class was under the impression that we were throwing a party for a lot of important politicians, celebrities, and musicians on a private island and you had invited them. I told myself, ‘not my daughter, she would never do something like that’. But the email went on, with a list of the students that were supposedly going on this trip and gave you money for the expenses. Again, I thought ‘Lila would never be so cruel as to steal money from her friends right before we left Paris’. So I told the person who sent me that detailed information, that I would handle it. I still thought it was a joke.”

The teenage girl didn’t even have to listen to the end of this story, she knew that goody-two-shoes Marinette had ratted her out. Lila was fighting every instinct she had to run and lock herself in her room, but if she moved even a little her mother would stop her. She could only sit there and hope that she could come up with some kind of lie to convince her mother that she was being set up.

“Then when I went into the embassy today, my boss pulled me into his office and started grilling me as to why I allowed seven unaccompanied minors entry into the country. I tried to explain that I had no idea what he was talking about, and then he started reading off the names. Do you want to guess why those names sounded so familiar?”

By this point, Lila was practically curling into herself to make herself appear smaller. She had to say something, any lie that would make her mother believe her and only her. Turning on the tears, she buried her face in her hands and spoke between sobs. Fake crying always gave her a few extra seconds to think before she had to speak. “I swear, Mama. I didn’t want to do it. Marinette forced me to take those papers from your office to give to our classmates so they could get into the country without their parents. I never took any money from them, I swear! Marinette was bullying me the entire time we were in Paris, I was scared of what she’d do to me if I didn’t do what she said. You’ve got to believe me!”

“So you’re saying that you didn’t tell your class about some non-existent party on a private island, had no knowledge of who was coming into Italy, where they were going, or anything like that?” Her mother’s eyes narrowed as she brought out her mobile phone.

Her hands were shaking as she kept her face buried in her hands, something about her mother’s tone  and the way she spoke made this feel like a trap. But she couldn’t backtrack now, Marinette was her way out and she had to stick with it. So she nodded as she continued to sob into her hands.

“Then please explain this to me.” Her mother turned the phone towards her and Lila looked up, her face falling in horror when she heard her own voice. It was a video of her telling her class about who was going to be at the party that she and her mom were organizing, how she was going to need to know for sure who all was coming before the weekend, and Marinette had somehow gotten video of Alya and Nino each handing her €300!

It took longer than she would like to admit for the shock to wear off, but she was smart enough to stick to her original story. “It’s fake! Marinette must have made it to get me in trouble. Max probably helped her, he’s really good with computers. It’s all too convenient to be true. I mean, she sends you all this information about which people are going, how much money they gave me, and a story about a party on a private island in Venice, that anyone would be able to see is clearly fake. Can’t you see that I’m being set up?”

Her mother’s eyes grew harder as she stood from her chair, causing Lila to shrink even further into her own. 

“You say that this is all a set up and you had no idea where your classmates were going in Italy, but you just told me the exact city where they were found. You left them waiting on a dock for you to come ferry them to that non-existent private island, and don’t even bother saying that you know which city because of the video I just showed you, because it never names the city they were in.”

Well, crap. She was about to try another tactic, but her mother cut her off before the first syllable left her mouth.

“Young lady, do you have any idea how much trouble you are in?” she yelled, her face beginning to turn a purplish-red and began pacing the room. “You forged my signature on multiple federal documents, endangered the lives of multiple minors, committed theft, and god knows how many other laws you’ve broken. I can’t protect you from this! You will be facing federal charges for what you’ve done!”

Lila felt her stomach drop to her ankles. “But-but that was all in Paris, and I had diplomatic immunity while I was there!”

“It became an international incident when you forged an ambassador’s signature on federal documents that endangered minors! My boss gave me a choice,” her voice grew even harder and colder than before. “Either you answer for what you’ve done and plead guilty, or I lose my job and we both go to trial for what you’ve done.” 

“You’d let me go to jail for one little lie? It’s not like anyone got hurt!” Lila screamed, standing from her chair in a panic. This was much worse than she’d imagined. 

“And what if they had been?” Her mother screamed back. “What if they had been kidnapped and sold into human trafficking? What if one of them had fallen off the dock and drowned in the channel or hit by a boat? I would be held responsible for that because you forged my signature! Do you not care about the people around you at all? What is wrong with you?”

“But nothing happened to them! It’s their own fault for being stupid enough to believe such an obvious lie. And you’re taking their side over mine? How dare you call yourself my mother and claim to love me!” 

“Don’t you dare try to blame me for your bad behavior!” Her mother yelled back as she advanced on her, making her fall back onto the chair. Mme. Rossi looked back at the shopping bags she had knocked over when she had turned, revealing the Versace bag. Tilting her head back, she took multiple deep breaths before looking at her daughter.

“This is what’s going to happen. You are going to return everything you bought today, and you are going to explain to the managers of each store exactly why you are returning everything.” Lila was about to protest, but one look from her mother had her mouth snapping shut. “We will also be clearing out your savings to pay back your classmates for the money you took, their travel expenses, their parents travel expenses, and any money they lost while being away from their jobs to retrieve their children. After that, you will be standing trial for forgery and fraud. If you know what’s good for you, you will go before the judge and apologize profusely for what you’ve done and listen to everything the judge tells you. If you’re lucky you may receive a lenient sentence; but either way, you can expect your next school to be a reformatory school. And if you try to fight me on any of this, I will let a court appointed attorney with no experience handle your case instead of the family lawyer. Have I made myself clear?”

No longer having to fake her tears, Lila nodded to her mother, resigning herself to the fact that her life had been ruined because her mother didn’t love her and Marinette didn’t know how to keep her nose out of where it didn’t belong.

~oOo~

The rest of the day, Lila was forced to return everything that she bought back to the stores and tell the managers how she had stolen the money from her classmates and then abandoned them in a country and city that they weren’t familiar with. The people that overheard her were horrified by what she had done and the managers banned her from ever shopping in those stores again. After all, if she was willing to steal money from her friends, there was little doubt that she would steal from the stores.

After everything was returned, she was taken to the embassy where they recorded her confession on how she lied to everyone, forged her mother’s signature on the documents she stole, and how she scammed over €2,000 from her former classmates. After the confession was taped, she was taken outside of the embassy and handed over to the police to be kept in a juvenile detention center. She screamed at her mother, not believing that she would just hand her over like that, but the woman looked down her nose at her and said, “It’s time for you to face the consequences of your actions, young lady.” 

When she arrived at the police station, she was relieved to see their family lawyer was waiting for her, although he was less than thrilled by what she had done. He explained that even as a minor, she could be serving 2-6 years just for the forgery of the documents, that wasn’t even factoring in the scam or reckless endangerment of seven minors. If she were to be tried as an adult, she could be serving 6 years for each document, facing serious fines and more time for each classmate she endangered.

After hearing that, Lila had to rush to the trash can to throw up. She couldn’t believe that one little lie could get her into so much trouble. But this wasn’t her fault, none of it was. If there was anyone to blame, it was that goody-two-shoes Marinette Dupain-Cheng. After all the effort she went through to destroy that girl, she just wouldn’t back down. She would make that girl pay for what she’d done. As soon as the charges were all dropped, she would do everything she could, use every dirty trick in the book to force the nosy girl to end her life and stay out of hers.

But that would have to wait for now. For the time being, she would do what her mother said and play her part. Act like the innocent girl that had gotten caught up in her own fibs while trying to make friends in a new country. She didn’t mean for anyone to get hurt or in trouble, she was just so overwhelmed and she is so sorry for everything that happened. She would need to cry a lot, that was a given, but she could do this. Just fake it until she could get her revenge on the girl that ruined her life.

~oOo~Three Months Later~oOo~

Lila hadn’t meant to lose control in front of the judge. She’d spent months locked away with a bunch of low-class delinquents, talking to different lawyers and quack-doctors before going to court. She had been the picture of innocence and childhood regret the second she walked into the courtroom, she was sure to get off all the charges against her. But she and her lawyer had been blindsided. 

The quack-doctors had called her a narcissist and a sociopath, in need of desperate help. To prove that, all of her lies, everything she had said while in Paris had been brought into evidence against her. They’d exposed her truancy and forgery at her old school, found proof of her purposefully getting Marinette expelled, and faking interviews on the Ladyblog which brought her more lawsuits from a bunch of the celebrities she’d lied about. 

Some of her classmates had come to give testimony on what she had done and said during her time in Paris. The goodie-two-shoes brat had even come to Italy to give testimony against her, though Lila hadn’t been allowed in the courtroom while she was there, as Marinette hadn’t felt safe to be in the same room. Lila’s lawyer had actually agreed, probably so she wouldn’t cause a scene. And she probably would have. She would have stabbed her in the face with a pencil, in front of the entire courtroom, if she had the chance.

But the worst had to do with the school security cameras. After M. Damocles and Mme. Bustier had been fired for neglectful and abusive behavior to their students, which had been brought about by the investigation into Marinette’s expulsion, the Board of Governors went farther back through the recordings to see how long the bullying had been going on. What they found was video evidence of Lila grabbing an akuma out of the air and putting it into her earring, and then willingly working with the known terrorist. 

To make matters even worse, Ladybug and Chat Noir had sent a video as testimony of the times Lila had purposefully interfered with their rescues and had led Chat away from Ladybug to make her more vulnerable to the akuma Oni-chan. Her lawyer tried to get the video stricken from evidence as he couldn’t cross-examine the two heroes, but it was denied.

Her parents had been sitting behind her when they showed those videos. When her mother saw them, it was like she completely shut down. She heard her say that she wanted to leave, and Lila watched as her father helped her mother to her feet and lead her out of the courtroom without looking back. 

The judge had been absolutely disgusted with her, going as far as to call her a monster for willingly aiding a terrorist. Since she had already confessed to multiple counts of forgery, fraud, and reckless endangerment of minors, and would now be adding slander and other charges from her time in Paris, the most notable being terrorism; he declared that she would be tried as an adult and was likely to spend the rest of her life in prison.

She’d completely lost it at that point, screaming at the top of her lungs as she jumped over the table to attack the judge. She didn’t remember smashing the water pitcher against one guard's head, scratching another guard across the face, or getting tasered in the back. When she woke up, she was strapped to a bed by her wrists and ankles, her head felt really foggy, and there were a bunch of nurses and orderlies that were keeping keen eyes on her.

Lila Rossi spent the rest of her life heavily medicated in a maximum security mental health hospital. Most every night, the nurses would hear her plotting some kind of scheme to show everyone what a loser Marinette was, but then she would trail off about how she wanted to hear the song Jagged Stone wrote for her or the album she’d help Clara Nightingale write. When she saw people, she would ramble and lie about being a princess or a secret agent, and that she was only here to keep her safe until they came to get her. Over the years, it was all written off as the insane ramblings of a very disturbed girl that would be remaining at the hospital for the rest of her life.

[eltanin-malfoy]

The Portend (His Royal Highness II)

word count: 6.7k

warning(s): cursing, anxiety

a/n: hi all! i just wanted to say that i know this chapter’s length is SO different from the first one’s but that’s because that one is, again, 2 years old and was written all at once. the other chapters will also be fairly long from here on out. i hope you enjoy this one!

taglist: @drawlfoy @war-sword @lilyreachelcassidy @socontagiousimagines @andreasworlsboring101 [@kaibie @regalillegal @mayorofzillyhoo, i know you all wanted to be tagged in the full-length HRH and this is pretty much it ig. please let me know if you’re still interested and want me to add you to the permanent tag list for this series]

reply to this post or send me an ask/dm if you want to be added to the tag list for the series or for all of my fics!

HRH - Table Of Contents

Y/N placed her palms flat on her desk as if doing so would bring any sort of change to the absolute hurricane that had begun its wrath within her stomach. She tried to imagine she was somewhere else for a second. Why would any rational human being do this to someone? That too to someone with as much responsibility as she had. Oh, right… she’d forgotten. Prince Draco was far from rational. Far from being a human being, even.

She looked down at the paper trays with guest lists upon guest lists kept before her, shifted them to the side and planted her face on the wood. That’s better , she thought. Now no one else can see how fucking ridiculous I feel right now! She tried to think about what the hell she’d done to him to make him act so horribly towards her. What could she have possibly done in a past life that would have resulted in her having to face such a… conundrum? She’d thought it was hard enough having to bargain with the King and Queen over how much detail could possibly be squeezed into cake decorations but had no idea a situation even more stressful could and would arise.

How could she let herself get so weak? How could she not bring herself to be assertive? She could have just said no, right? It wasn’t that hard. He hadn’t been nice at all. She took a deep, deep breath, trying desperately to calm her brain. It had begun to run from thought to thought, imagining every possible scenario that could go wrong. She had so much work left to complete on her own, and god knew how much attention and criticism she might face at and after the ball.

And the way she’d freaked out in front of Draco as well! She was sure he must’ve been at least a little put off by how strongly and emotionally she’d reacted so quickly. God, not that that should matter that much but… if they were supposed to work together for a highly publicised ordeal, they had to get along, right? Right? She hadn’t meant to do that. It’s just that he’d already shocked her a bit by slipping into her office so unexpectedly. And then he’d gone on and rushed to… that . Not to excuse what he did but perhaps she should’ve realised she didn’t need to panic so much over it either. She knew she was having a hard time with her anxiety…

Nevertheless, she brought her hands to the edge of the table closer to her and pushed herself up. She looked forwards, turning slightly to face the window she was looking out before everything turned to shit. The scenery was still gorgeous, albeit not that comforting anymore but looking out at the wide expanse of a beautiful garden would bring just about anyone some tranquillity. She had been thinking about how lovely the weather was today, how nice it would be to go for a walk after she’d finished up with her work. Maybe she could even head downtown for once and meet some old friends. But no, no one was happy just giving her a single moment of peace. Even fate was bent upon just giving her as much to stress about as was possible.

She looked down at the paper trays she’d just abandoned. Administrative work could distract her a bit, couldn’t it? All she had to do was send RSVP reminders and reach out to the guests and performers coming in from out of town about their travel and accommodation details. As well as request the performers for the outlines of their performances and send them contracts saying they’d stick by the approved setups. They couldn’t have a repeat of last year’s embarrassing The Hobgoblins’ performance. To be very brief, it had gone sexual. (The King and Queen’s expressions during it were still popular reaction gifs) She picked out one of the lists and opened up her laptop, finally beginning the work she’d been putting off all morning. It seemed so much easier and more comforting now that she had the much more disturbing dilemma on hand. She corroborated the list in front of her, adding ticks and crosses to the list to mark invitees as having confirmed or not. She then compiled their contact details and created a template for emails to send to those that had yet to confirm their attendance and travel itineraries. After this, she did the same with the list of performers, making sure to add enough information to their emails regarding the outlines they should send back.

And there… most of her work was done already, wasn’t it? Now all she had to do was proofread these, make sure all of the addressees were receiving the appropriate emails and well, press send. It shouldn’t take too long and then she could… She could get back to stressing about the problem fucking Draco had landed her in, goddammit! She was right back there again, her stomach beginning to swirl dangerously. She tried to take in a few deep breaths, forcing herself to get back to work. It wasn’t that hard. It wasn’t that hard!

Never mind, she couldn’t deal with it right now. She… Well, she needed a break. Or maybe she just needed to leave work early today. It was fair game after what the hell Draco had just unloaded on her. It was time she gave her intern some actual responsibility anyway. He was a sweet little fellow, straight out of university. Had his head in the right place but wasn’t particularly good with all the practical work yet. She’d assigned him some random organisational task she knew wouldn’t take her more than a minute and wasn’t going to bother checking because she thought it was simply too easy. Hopefully, he’d been able to do it to her standards.

She sat back in her chair and raised her hands up to her head, stretching out her fingers and breathing in and out deeply through her mouth. She was going to do this. She was really going to handle this (easier) bit of the work off to the intern and he was going to do it just fine. Just fine. Maybe she might have to assist him with it a little bit but it was going to work. It would work. Yes, it would. She shook her head to try and shake off some of her anxiety and stood up, closing her laptop’s screen and picking up the tray of guest lists. She walked out of her office and into the large room outside of it, which had a small group of cubicles placed in the middle.

While the rest looked rapt in their work (an exaggeration, to be sure, a lot of them were chatting with their co-workers and eating snacks), she noted her dear intern was just sitting idle which both made her feel hopeful and worried. He was sitting with his laptop closed, one hand tapping on the table’s surface, the other holding his phone.

“Hi, Colin!” Y/N said and he jerked forwards in surprise, dropping his phone to the floor. “Oh… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”. Colin shook his head as he picked it up and looked it over, “It’s no problem, miss… My phone is just fine. Are you alright? I know the prince was just in your office, he came to ask me where it was first! I was so excited and I asked him for a picture but he said he was in a rush! I can’t believe I’ve managed to have a conversation with one of the royals already!” Hmm… “have a conversation” was probably a stretch but… she chose to ignore that. The boy was definitely an optimist and she couldn’t fault him for that.

“That’s lovely, Colin. I’m sure you’ll get to talk to him and the others again. I had some work for you if you’re up to it.”

“Yes, of course! Does it have anything to do with the prin-”

“Let’s calm down there, Colin. I trust you’ve completed what I assigned you earlier?”

“... Oh, yes I have!”

“That’s great.”

She set the paper tray on the side of his desk and he looked at it for a few seconds before looking up at her again.

“So… what do I have to do?”

Y/N gulped and laid out the lists for him, beginning to explain to him the meanings of the markings she’d made and the emails he had to look through and send off.

***

Beep, beep.

Y/N kept her phone pressed between her shoulder and her ear as she walked around her apartment. She was holding a large iced vanilla latte in one hand and her purse in the other. She knew she needed to set something down but felt too jittery to do anything but pace around with her stuff. It was probably partly inspired by the amount of caffeine she’d drank that day but hey, that didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Today was also a terribly tense day, wasn’t it?

Beep, beep.

She took a nice long sip of her latte, relishing in how nice and cold it was. She had the air conditioner on and had taken off her blazer but it still felt like she was this close to overheating. This sudden heatwave throughout the country was absolutely unwelcome as far as she was concerned.

Now if only Pansy’d pick up so she could get some clarity on the situation. Suddenly the dial tone ended and she heard the crackling of breathing through the speaker.

“Hello, Y/N?”

She smiled and finally set her purse down.

“Hi, Pansy! It’s so nice to finally hear your voice. Are you free to talk?”

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, I was just sending off this email but now I’m free for a bit, yes. And Jesus, Y/N, is something… up?”

“Oh, nothing… it’s just… the prince really got me gobsmacked today.”

She hears her gasp over the phone.

“Oh my, the prince?! Well then… I certainly wasn’t expecting that. Although, I suppose… it’s not so far off for the prince to bother you when you’re working at the palace...”

“Pansy… that’s beside the point.”

“Yeah, okay, so… what happened? You have to tell me now.”

“I will but you need to promise me you won’t get mad or jealous of me or anything. I didn’t choose to be a part of it.”

“Of course I won’t be mad. Why would I be?”

“Well, you know, your history and… how you were off your trolley about him as a teenager?”

“Oh, bugger off, babe. That’s not even true anyway.”

“Oh, really? I can vaguely recall someone crying and taking care of him for weeks after he was attacked by that bird he harassed in the first place.”

“I was just… overemotional.”

“Right.”

“So what, okay? So what if I liked him for a while? There’s nothing there anymore. Even waking up to him the next day after the… you know what between us, I was just repulsed. And you thought he was fit too! So. And I feel like I only just liked him because I thought my parents would be happy with us together.”

“That’s… fair. But yes, you’re right, I’ll get back to my story then.”

“Yes, please.”

Y/N started to unbutton the collar of her shirt, beginning to feel hot again. She took another sip of her latte.

“Well, basically, I was just sitting in my office, you know, minding my own business, when Mr Royalty just busts in and starts talking to me.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Yeah, I know right? Anyway, he got straight to it and asked me to be his date to the coronation ball.”

“Holy shit! That’s… never mind, but you said no, right?”

“Well… at first, yes. But then...”

“You what? That’s so unlike you, Y/N, come on…”

“I know, okay… I shouldn’t have. I just started to feel bad for him and I... Should I get out of it? I’m thinking I will. It’ll be stressful, won’t it? I just… I don’t know what to do about it, okay? I’m lost. Help me.”

Pansy fell silent for a second and Y/N undid the whole of her button-down, setting her drink down onto a table as she headed into her bedroom to look for a lighter change of clothes.

“You know the first thing I’m going to tell you is you owe him nothing. I know you felt bad for him but he really shouldn’t have asked you that with no context or anything. He was the one in the wrong here for sure. It’s sweet of you to accept his offer but you don’t have to keep up on it if it’s really stressing you out so much. Also, the fact that you accepted such a spontaneous offer makes me a little sceptical of the power play there...”

“You’re right. Also, I think it definitely wasn’t nice of him but he wasn't mean about it or anything. He was definitely adamant but eh....”

She set her phone onto her bed and turned it to speakerphone, opening her wardrobe and taking out a t-shirt and some shorts.

“At the same time… when we look at the positives, they are fairly significant. You’ll likely have to give in… not that many hours in exchange for a pretty fun night. You know the service at royal events is amazing and if you’re literally the date of the guy the event is being thrown for, the King being crowned that night… I’m going to guess you’ll get so much from that. You’ll obviously get some… fame and have to pack on some PDA there and what not but that means free stuff, great clothes, who even knows what else. You’d just have to work extra hard for that time and balance the work, but I thought you said you were done with a lot of the stuff already.”

“That is … true.”

“But you’re not happy with that, are you?”

“You don’t have to say it like that. It’s just… actually I don’t have a counterargument for that. The perks do sound pretty good.”

“Right? But you know, there might be criticism or hate or something you might get.”

“Well… I’ll also get paid to advertise things after that, won’t I? And free things and VIP invites to places I wouldn’t even have been able to enter before.”

“Well, yes, but… maybe that’s something of an exaggeration, you know. Not every brand or group or whatever is that fixated on how much publicity they can get.”

“... I mean, aren’t they?”

“Okay, yes, they are. I think you should do this.” Y/N laughed as she took off her skirt. She sat down on her bed in her underwear, lying down so her head was near her phone.

“This was a very helpful call. Thank you.”

“I do agree, I think I was a huge help.”

“I concur. Again.”

“Thank you! Now, can I request an invitation to the ball as well?”

“Pansy!”

She giggled and sat up, crossing her arms. “Of course I’ll get you an invite, Pans!”

“Great. I was expecting that. I’m not missing you floundering around, having a… Cinderella moment for the world.”

“A Cinderella moment?”

“You know, getting a chance to dress up like a princess for a night? It’s weirdly literal too, it’s just for the night and then you go back to being normal again. Unless… the prince charming decides…”

“Shush up!” Y/N felt her face beginning to heat up. Not for the second time in one day… She sighed. And… partly because of the same person too.

“I’m sorry, darling. I hope I didn’t say too much there. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah of course. It’s just a problem I’m starting to recognise with me. I keep getting more aggressive and emotionally charged than I mean to be.”

“I get that… you could try meditation, you know. Or you could join my yoga class, it’s pretty relaxing. The teacher has a nice butt too.”

“Pans!”

“Y/N!”

***

Her evening was fairly relaxed after that. The call with Pansy had seemed to fix the problem. Well, not exactly “fix”, more like change the way she looked at the issue so it felt all the lighter. And it worked pretty much the same. She began to feel so much better about the decision she’d made. After all, even if it was destiny or whatever, she’d been chosen for a reason, right? She’d managed to get Draco’s number off of Pansy. (“ It’s from… way back when so forgive me if he changed his number to get me off his back or some shit. ”) And… on a caffeine high, she had decided to text him almost right away.

Hi, your royal highness!

It only took a few hours but soon she was privy to:

Where did you get this number?

Got it from a friend. It’s Y/N btw :) should’ve said that before.

Oh, right! That makes sense. How’re you doing?

I’m alright, thanks. What about you?

I’m okay.

Listen, I was thinking about what happened today.

And now I’m wondering if we could meet tomorrow? Morning, if possible? It’s urgent.

Y/N squinted down at this message in confusion. What was this suggesting? Was there something wrong? Was he going to retract his offer? She knew there must be some kind of administrative work they’d have to log but was it really that serious already?

Sure, I’ll be free to meet before 9:30.

That is not what I was thinking of when I said morning :(

What, do you wake up at 4 o’clock or something?

No, I meant that that was too early!

She rolled her eyes. She should have seen that coming. He wasn’t exactly known for being put together. Or spiritual, for that matter.

We can call now if you really want.

No, it’s okay. It’s better we talk about it in person. I should try and wake up earlier anyway.

As you wish.

So I’ll meet you tomorrow then. Let’s say, 9 am sharp?

Perfect. I get dropped to the main drop off point at that time anyway.

Great. See you xx

See ya x

Y/N set her phone on her counter and put it to charge for the night. What the fuck? What was happening? The sleep she’d been looking forward to seemed to have suddenly drifted away. What was she going to have to worry about tomorrow morning?! She shifted under her sheets, turning where she lay to face the other side and look out her bedroom window. It was a clear, clear night. If she looked hard enough, she could probably see the edge of the royal estate. But then again, she really didn’t want to. She turned to the other side and just stared at her closet.

She wasn’t sure when her mind got tired of imagining potential disaster scenarios for the next day but Y/N woke up to the sound of her alarm ringing at 6:45 am. She reached over to her nightstand and turned it off, sitting up in bed and looking out the sun already shining bright in her window. It was barely May but the days had already begun to increase in length.

Since she’d woken up with ample time to complete her routine, she did everything she could to pamper herself, spending almost an hour in the bathroom. She even changed into her nicest formal clothes after, a white pantsuit with dark detailing. She packed her work bag with the essentials, her laptop, her water bottle, her royal admin ID, her wallet, stationery and her phone. She felt very prepared for once. Whatever was coming her way would be taken care of as needed.

She had a comfortable trip from her apartment building to the estate, the state-sanctioned car ride feeling a lot less bumpy than usual. It was still just as clear as it was last night, but the car’s windows were tinted so the sun’s rays felt like they barely even touched it. There was only the slightest hiccup when the driver slammed the brakes too hard all of a sudden and made Y/N’s face hit the seat before hers. OUCH!?

It didn’t take very long for the car to get to the palace, stopping at the main entrance pavilion. She didn’t notice anyone there yet and checked the time. It was still only 8:53 am. She had enough time to walk to the administrative wing, leave her things there and come back with time to spare. She walked through the hallway and towards the next hall which she knew led her to-

“Fuck me!” “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Hi, Y/N.”

She had her hand on her heart, trying to slow down her breathing as she looked at the blonde who had bumped straight into her. He had his hands in front of her to catch her if she fell. Thankfully, she had just missed falling.

“What the hell is it with you and giving me heart attacks?”

"I promise you that wasn’t my intention.”

“Well, I’d sure have hoped it wasn’t.”

She sighed and dropped her hand to her side, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised.

“So?”

“So, yes. Um. Can we walk or something? I don’t want to be standing here and have someone walk in on us?”

“... Draco, what do you have planned exactly...?”

She looked up at him quizzically and smirked. He managed a small smile but shook his head.

“God, get your mind out of the gutter! I just mean… this is stressful, okay?”

“Well, I’d like to drop my things off at my office if you don’t mind.”

“Alright, I’ll wait for you by the admin wing’s garden exit.”

“Done.”

***

Y/N had decided to leave her blazer on her chair and all her belongings except for her phone on her desk. Hopefully, Colin was good enough as a guard or she was getting robbed. Either way, she could spot a tall blonde’s head nervously bobbing above the hedge next to the exit. His face was a concerning shade of pink, goodness could only hope he’d put on an adequate amount of sun cream.

“Draco?”

“Yes, hi.”

He managed out, looking toward her walking out now.

“Are you okay? You look… red.”

“I’m fine.”

“I mean, are you sunburnt?”

“Oh…?”

He brought a hand up to touch his cheek.

“No, but that’s a good point. Let’s stand in the shade.”

She stopped where she was and he walked in to meet her. She felt her insides begin to do the jitterbug in anticipation. What could possibly have him so on edge? What was wrong?

“I’m really very sorry about yesterday. I wasn’t exactly thinking very straight when I came to see you. In hindsight, I know it got on your nerves and everything and I should’ve been a lot better at telling you about it.”

“It’s no big deal now, honestly.”

“Okay, but that’s not exactly why I called you. The thing is, there’s going to be a lot of PR work at this ball. I didn’t realise it before but Mother told me she’s arranging a meeting with our publicist for us today. And the publicist is never there just to take the piss. This is serious now. Like, even more than I thought it was.”

“I- what do you-”

“It’ll be very pressing, I would never hold it against you if you decided to pull out.” He stared into her eyes with a pensive expression on his face and Y/N felt whatever response she had been planning just vanish from existence. She pretended to have comprehended everything he said, but could only really think of saying one thing right then… That’s what she said... but that would be inappropriate. He soon got conscious and looked to the side and she felt the cogs in her brain begin to work again.

“The thing is my mother was getting a little impatient with me and telling me it was time for me to tell her who my date for the ball is. My parents have been begging me to find one unless I want to risk an arranged marriage, it’s a long story. So, I told them I’d find a date for myself and that they don’t need to worry. The truth is, I didn’t actually bother to find one and it was starting to get a little late. You know there’s only one month left till... right, you know. So… she came to talk to me about it over lunch and she told me I had to tell her who it was so she could arrange everything for us. I started to think about whom my parents would be okay with me going with and whom I would be okay with and well… you were on top of the list.”

“I’m hoping that’s a compliment.”

“It- it is. I told her your name and she was satisfied with it, I think. And then I was scared she’d come and talk to you immediately so I ran to you first and just asked you about it then. Again, I’m sorry it came out as forcefully as it did. I didn’t mean to… get you stuck in this whole thing.”

He took a deep breath and looked back at her again. Her stomach seemed to begin buzzing as she felt her anxiety grow. This was not going to go as smoothly as she expected, was it? The queen, and most likely the king as well, knew. Although that wasn’t exactly unanticipated, it gave everything a sense of finality. Like, she didn’t have much legroom here at all.

“Anyway, that's what happened. I’m sorry, again.”

He looked at her as if he was waiting for her to yell at him. She wasn’t intending to and just turned to the side, trying to calm her racing heart. She needed to make a decision, didn’t she? And who knows what kind of problems would face her, either way, she decided to go? It seemed like teasing to dangle this lux option in front of her just to draw it away. Draco annoyed her.

Looking at how strangely afraid of her he looked, she couldn’t help but notice how very much he started to look like the Draco she used to know. Little and arrogant and scarily afraid of his parents getting upset with him.

“You’re fine. I… I’m going to need some time.”

“That’s okay. You can take as much time as you need. The problem is, I have no idea when today my mother is going to pull you out for the publicist meeting.”

Y/N huffed slightly and covered her face. So, what was she going to do? What was she going to do?

“I’m in.” She’d set her mind to it, hadn’t she? She’d made a promise to the prince, and his parents knew of it already. She’d already told Pansy she was going for it. Well, all of those things and also the prospect of fulfilling a childhood princess fantasy seemed more enjoyable than anything. There was something so gratifying in that idea, dressing up well and being pampered and showered with affection and just… pretending to be a princess. What could be more fun than that?

“You’re sure?”

The answer was nothing.

“Yes.”

Most likely.

“Well, I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“So do I.”

***

It still hadn’t really sunk in yet that she was actually going to do whatever this would entail. Sure, she’d been dreaming about it the day before but it seemed completely different now. Her gut seemed to be calmer now, signifying that perhaps her intuition hadn’t been completely off guiding her in the direction it had.

What’s sad was Y/N was still lost about this after Narcissa had whisked her away into one of the palace’s many giant bedrooms. She was sitting on the bed, still in her work clothes, stressed after having had to explain to Colin how to decide how accommodations would be settled for the guests and the performers coming. She’d been expecting the meeting with the publicist and Draco to happen but she was lost as to what was taking place right now.

Narcissa approached her with a clipboard and a pen. “Now, dear, I just need you to sign these first.” Y/N took both from her and glossed through the texts.

A non-disclosure agreement and an employment contract…

“I’m sorry, your majesty. Do you mind me going through the documents before signing them?”

“Absolutely not, sweetheart. Though do try to rush, we have appointments we need to get to in time.”

“Thank you, ma’am. Honestly, ma’am, I’m not too aware of legal jargon like this. Could I please ask you to explain the purpose of this agreement?”

“Well, when any…”

She seemed to want to say a word but held it back, twisting her tongue around in her mouth as she thought of what to say.

“Person unfamiliar with our ancestry and our policies gets… involved with a member of the family, we have them sign one of these in order to protect our privacy.”

“I see…”

That seemed very… imperialist of them. She began to skim through the document, trying her best to understand it based on what little knowledge of this she had. It all seemed par for the course except for the last clause.

“I’m sorry again, ma’am. The others make sense to me but this one: 11. Covertness, it’s quite vague, the “other actor”…?.”

“To be transparent, the King and I posed the covertness clause as a protective measure. We don’t need Draco learning about this agreement and growing wary of all of us. We’re doing it to protect him more than anything. You are not to revert any of this portion of our meeting to him and he mustn't ever come to know of this agreement or the contract at all.”

The Queen suddenly seemed scarier than she ever had in all the years she’d known her.

“Well, that’s- I’ll have to think about that for a second.”

She started looking through the employment contract. It was similar to the one she currently held, nothing too special, except for the fact that it detailed that she was entitled to a lump sum of £200,000 at the end of the event, assuming she kept up her end of the agreement. She paused for a moment and just stared at that number.

“Is this a misprint by any chance, ma’am?” The Queen leaned over and looked at where she was pointing, then shook her head.

“No, it is not.”

She took a deep breath. That would be much more than enough to have her set for life and for a private event planning business alongside. It would take her 10 years to even come close to earning as much. She continued reading the document. She was supposed to participate in a few publicity stunts, make it clear “she had good intentions” and was supposed to disconnect from the prince entirely after the affair was over. Those terms didn’t sound too harsh, now, did they? A little acting and ghosting for 200 grand? It didn’t sound like much. Even a real big shot actor wouldn’t get paid half as much for such little work. And the part about her leaving the prince alone after was a little strange, but she supposed it made sense, what with the royals’ obsession with keeping their family all blue-blooded. Draco had been the poster child for that kind of thing growing up. And she likely didn’t have an ounce of it in her.

Why were they even that desperate anyway? This seemed huge. It might boost the prince’s reputation a bit but… what else was there to this? She knew the country was not doing the best in terms of international relations but did this really hold that much weight along those terms? Surely, there was something here she was missing. Regardless, 200,000 quid for a little work and a lot of fun was too amazing an offer to turn down. And so, Y/N signed both papers and handed them back to her. Jesus Christ, Draco’s impulsive decision was about to get her rich. Quick. She certainly hadn’t been expecting this.

She handed the clipboard back to the Queen who smiled and took it back quickly, setting the papers into a folder which she kept in a decorative paper bag. Not a bad hiding place at all. She walked outside for a few minutes, before reentering, followed by a squat old lady well-dressed in mauve and a younger woman wearing similar clothes. The Queen ushered towards either of them and began speaking.

“Madam Malkin and assistant, this is miss Y/L/N, the crown prince’s date to the coronation ball, miss Y/L/N, this is Madam Malkin, the family’s official stylist and designer, and her assistant.”

Y/N raised her hand out for her to shake, and she did so, firmly. “It’s so great to meet you, Madam.”

“Pleasure as well, love.”

She retracted her hand, looked over Y/N’s outfit and began whispering to her assistant.

“Well, to be very honest, I feel we don’t have to worry about my wardrobe as much. I know I probably don’t meet the royal standards but… I was planning on buying this really nice dress online anyway. I could show it to you and have you approve it if that would be fine.”

The Queen looked at her vacantly, her eyebrows raised and her nose pinched in the slightest. Then her expression settled and she exchanged a look with Madam Malkin before looking back at Y/N. Madam Malkin maintained an unamused expression, then began to speak.

“ I hope you know we’re not going to let you just wear a dress you bought online to the ball… We’ll tailor one for you. And your other clothes will be picked from contemporary designers ourselves.”

Y/N just looked at her silently, nodding and blinking slowly in assent.

***

An hour or so of Y/N having to change into various clothes behind a divider and then show them off to the pair of them passed quickly. It was very fun knowing she’d get a bunch of very nice clothes out of this (even custom made underwear so her clothes fit her right over them!), and she thought the royal family was really being very generous with all of this. Lots of money and clothes? There had to be some kind of catch, right? Something that would make this hard to keep up with? What was it? Just the stress of all the work that’d pile up? That didn’t seem like enough. Everything was not going the way she was anticipating. It was going a hell of a lot better. Mostly.

The actual meeting she’d been waiting for all morning was finally occurring. She was seated in a meeting room opposite the Queen and Draco and their publicist. It was weird seeing them like this. It seemed like a strange grown-up parent-teacher conference.

“So, our point is, we need to have you both make it clear to the public that there is a strong relationship between the two of you.”

The redheaded man droned on at the head of the table and Y/N looked over at Draco who glanced at her as well before both turning to look at the man.

“It’s Percy, right? I’m just a little… I’m sorry if I just don’t know my current affairs well enough for this but… why?” Y/N gulped, crossing her arms tightly after asking this question. It was quite bold of her for sure. She could only hope she wasn’t violating anything by asking this. “She’s not wrong.” Draco chimed in, ”You never had to do anything like this, mother.” The Queen smiled but shook her head. “Things just aren’t the same anymore, are they?” She looked over at Percy to continue.

“We now live in a world of social media and tabloids and none of that will work towards the image we need to create.”

Draco seemed to be satisfied with that and just looked at Y/N silently, who could only really do the same at this point. “I’m sorry, again, I… think I’m missing something here. What “image” are we trying to create?”

Percy and the Queen exchanged a long look, where she pursed her lips and shook her head somewhat disapprovingly. She then nodded and he began to speak.

“Miss Y/L/N, to be very frank, the kingdom isn’t doing amazing. In terms of international relations and funding and… most importantly, resources and trading. We’re afraid we’re losing allies and we cannot risk anything. We not only need to increase viewership and publicity of the ceremony and the ball, but we need to raise the reputation of the family and the prince in the public eye. It’s… a trend at King’s coronation balls for royals or other elite families to offer their daughters’ hands in marriage to the crown prince or king. Our prince is bent upon not getting into an arranged marriage and having to reject offers is a lot more publicly disgraceful than you might anticipate. As you might know, the country wasn’t even on speaking terms with one of its neighbours because centuries ago a crown prince rejected an offer for marriage and an alliance with them. We cannot risk having that happen when we’re in as dire straits as we are.”

Y/N could only look up at him with her mouth agape. They were serious. This was why it mattered so much to them. This was why she was being paid to do this. In case they offended an ally or just any other country. Because of the prince’s idealistic desires for romance or whatever it was. Although she couldn’t really fault him for that, his father hadn’t had to do the same and she’d heard the conditions for some of those alliances and the situations they landed themselves in the future were never that positive.

She nodded up at Percy. “I understand. I should probably read a bit more on the news and the family anyway. I tend to avoid it.” Percy barely seemed to notice her response and started to talk about strategies and actions that needed to be taken. The meeting ended with Draco and Y/N agreeing to keep up with their public profiles and maintain a good reputation on them. They were supposed to interact more publicly for the time being while Percy laid out more intricate publicity stunt plans.

As she left the room and started to walk back to her office, thinking about what work she had to do, someone tapped at her shoulder gently. She turned around to see the very same prince that had dragged her into this mess staring down at her.

“Again, I’m sorry.”

Him saying that like this made her feel guilty now.

“It’s- it’s really okay. You don’t have to say that.”

“I feel like I have to. You’re barely getting anything for doing this for us.”

“That’s- that’s not true. I’ll have my fun, won’t I?”

“Well, whatever it is, what I told you yesterday, the offer still stands. I’ll get you anything, I’ll buy you a mansion, whatever you like.”

“Not that I’d ever decline you giving me anything… you really don’t need to. Thank you for the offer, though.”

Y/N bit her lip and smiled up at him, waving him off as he made to leave, pretending like that was really the truth. She watched him as he walked to the other end of the hallway. She was going to have to keep up this lie all the way till the event. It definitely wasn’t going to be easy. She began to clench her jaw, setting a hand on the wall as everything rushed through her head.

This was exactly like Cinderella except she had no evil stepmother or fairy godmother or glass slipper or a prince charming on a quest to find her, just a lump sum, publicised PDA and more acting than she realised. And absolutely no way out of seeing the story through anymore.

a/n: there will be a hell of a lot more draco in the next chapters, stay tuned!

[benlaksana]

2021

It's been roughly a year and a half since the start of the Covid-19 pandemic here in Indonesia, and I've recently been trying to understand where I'm at. Not physically, as in physical space, but mentally and probably existentially. What is the state of my mind? I am aware that I've become somewhat bitter, my late nights are sometimes riddled with anxiety for what the next day may bring and reoccurring personal-collective grief has at times, and recently more often than I would like to admit, numbed me.

This may probably be my mind's automatic coping mechanism seeing all this death mainly as a result of how my government has failed us, its citizens, especially during a time of crises. And I really need to stress this point: how my government has failed us Indonesians during the times we need it the most and I very much believe that it is because of this why many of us Indonesians are in constant misery and haunted by that feeling of despair. If chronic physical pain causes constant daily anguish, I am not surprised if chronic physical and mental pain caused by structural violence causes persistent misery as well.

I'm somewhat fortunate in this regard, I'm grateful that I've learned ways to keep my sanity in check. My contemplative practice is key for me. Honestly, I wouldn't have gotten far in life without it. I have many people to thank, but Art Buehler especially, my former professor in esoteric contemplative/meditative practices who reminded me and pointed a certain possible direction of where I should head when I sense a lost in my life's direction, is one those I should thank the most. I know this seems like an individualized response to structural oppression, and I don't intend to paint such a picture, but I do believe we need some kind of mental stability to keep on going. To survive if not thrive.

Art sadly passed away in 2019. I received an email about his passing. And come to think of it I never really did allow myself to properly grieve for his passing. I don't know why. To be told through a short concise email that someone you cared for died, without having the opportunity to properly say goodbye feels like that person never really passed away. It is horrible way to end relationships. A sudden cut, nothing finalized, and since goodbyes are relational, now nothing can really ever be concluded. I have to make amends with myself and only with myself. If I said goodbye yesterday, or if I say goodbye today or perhaps tomorrow, will it ever be enough for me?

Life is individual yet also relational. It's good to have friends, family, people that care for you or the odd mix of all three to get you through life. So although I have these array of tools to possibly help get me through life but if the people whom you look for some kind direction is no longer present, I'm just not sure for how long I can maintain it if I'm doing all this by myself. Will a breaking point come to me?

The mind is a fickle thing, and the mind is as strong as its habits. Bad habits, bad mind. Good habits, good healthy mind (no habits, no mind?). They also say that things that might happen, will indeed happen. It is just a matter of time. If so, how will I break? To what extent? For how long? What will change? What will I lose? Will there be something renewed? Will I come out the same person? Will I come out changed but for the worst?

This is one of the things that worries me. That certainty of uncertainty. The certainty of breaking, the uncertainty of when and of its form. Will I explode in sudden exasperation, engulfed in madness? Will it be a quick balloon pop yet a slow descend into meaninglessness? An unabashed diatribe rant towards someone I care? Something that's just a twitter post away from me on actually doing it. Will this be an opening, an opportunity for 'satori', a sudden lift of the 'veil', bringing about comprehension and understanding of the true nature of things? Questions, questions, questions, not much when it comes to answers, is all I have for now. To be hopeful is hard these days and with the wavering hope, very much coming and going like waves, it has become incredibly hard to even retain any semblance of kindness. That is something I do not want to actively become a habit of. Without hope, comes the cold embrace of fatalism that many on the 'left' are guilty of. Clutched by fatalism, empathy becomes harder to come by. I've seen it, and I have felt it.

I know that my eroding sense of hope is connected to my personal dreams. Specifically how it has become very hard to actualize it. Rara and I never really planned on staying in Indonesia for long. I was confident enough, a bit too confident come to think of it, that we will be out of Indonesia by 2021 the latest. A mere 2 1/2 years after our last stay in New Zealand. The plan was for me to continue my studies, getting into a Ph.D. program and of course a scholarship. That was our ticket out. Hoping that we'll be back to our old routine in Wellington, in and out the university's library, my head in books, loving our 'flatwhites' while regretting having too much of it, the usual stint doing some university tutoring, community organizing stuff, lazy gardening, out and about on the weekends tramping around Wellington and if Covid did not happen or/and maybe if my government handled things much, much better I think that would've been the case. Or at least I constantly would like to imagine that would be the case.

Yet here we are still in Indonesia, me struggling to do my Ph.D. through this wretched distant learning, initially in the comfort of my home yet steadily devolving into cabin fever. And Rara with her own struggles trying her best to get back on her feet as an aspiring musician. None of it is going as well as we had hoped for. All this while juggling trying our best to keep ourselves safe and our families and friends safe. Both of us have become direct witnesses how challenging this has been, physically and mentally. Both of us slowly grappling with the continual kick in the gut, the never ending structural absurdity, violently absurd.

That slow grueling realization of how fragile our lives are. Not just existentially. It is existentially precarious yet at the same time understanding that precariousness in many of its aspects is structurally and politically maintained. It is this political construction of precarity, which Isabell Lorey elaborates in her book State of Insecurity: Government of the Precarious, that angers and saddens us the most.

Lorey provides a nuanced approach in unpacking and differentiating this thing called being 'precarious'. The three dimensions of being precarious: precariousness, precarity and then precarization. On precariousness, Lorey draw's on Judith Butler's conceptualization of precariousness which she sees as existential, relational and inevitable. I'll insert my existential philosophy and Buddhist values here, to help me see and more importantly accept the transient nature of life and that impermanence or change is the only constant. Our lives, our bodies are destined to die and wither away. We humans are fragile mortal beings. The loss of life, the loss of one's identity, the loss of everything that makes us, us is unavoidable. It's also a 'relational' thing, as in it is also a shared experience. Everyone will experience it. It is the great equalizer some say.

Then we have precarity. Yes everyone dies, but the process of dying or even the process of grieving someone's death is dependent on what Lorey see as the “effects of different political, social and legal compensations of a general precariousness”. Some die at young age due to starvation, riddled with poverty and disease and have nothing or no one to ease their pain, others die surrounded by family and friends in a well-cared for hospital. Some have days or weeks to grieve, others have to go back to work the next day as she or he have no luxury to stop working even just for a moment and simply grieve. To stop working even for a day draws some closer to the possibility of death for the person or those dependent on the person working. This is the inequality of dying and grieving due to our social hierarchies. How fragile we are, is dependent on those social hierarchies.

And last we have Lorey's third dimension, governmental precarization which is the instrumentalization of insecurity by the government. In other words, the government using the idea and the reality of insecurity as a tool or device to control its citizens. The calculated, deliberate attempt by the government in destabilizing our lives in order for us to be easily governed. Insecurity, be it real or due to perceived constructed fear of insecurity is an effective governing tool. The fear of being labeled "useless and lacking in contribution to the nation-state". The genuine insecurity of not being able to get a job due to the false understanding that it is simply a result of an individual's laziness rather than due to systematic government policies. The deliberate attempt in making our lives constantly insecure, constantly on the edge, without us initially knowing it and when we do come to understand, the blame is on us. It is normalized and it is internalized.

This is not simply a social issue, it is a deeply existential one as well. We Indonesians have very little to make us feel safe at the moment. Covid and the government's response to it has severely limited our movements and it's not simply physical immobility, but also an existential one, the inability to even have the imagination that our lives are actually "going somewhere", towards a forward direction. Perhaps some sort of minute incremental progress, but progress nonetheless. This imagined mobility is what Ghassan Hage calls as "existential mobility" and this immobility suffered by many of us is what he also calls as "stuckedness".

Turning an often momentary or the ephemeral nature of a crisis into something prolonged and perhaps even permanent is another part of the strategy of governmental precarization. Our lives or jobs are always on the line and again coupled with the sick prevailing idea that we only have ourselves to find the solution. The crisis is permanent, we don't know why but we've been told that way, if we fail to overcome it is because of our personal inabilities thus proliferating and intensifying this sense of stuckedness.

Forcing us to accept whatever solution the government-messiah presents us with in order to relieve us from this suffering. From labour laws that normalizes precariousness even more, to oppressive new laws that limits our desire and ability to dissent, to including who or how our enemies are defined, easily accepting who is to blame for all this insecurity we are all suffering.

Be it the long dead Indonesian communists, the Chinese Indonesians and the racist perception of them being "selfish and greedy", the Indonesian Islamists - the kadruns and their conservatism, the "foreign forces" whomever they may be constantly trying to take over Indonesia, anyone or anything is to blame. Anyone but the Indonesian government and its affluent patrons. Insecurity and the fear that rises from it renders many of us easily governable and compliant.

This governmental precarization and this 'stuckedness', which Hage sees no longer as a possibility that may or may not happen but an "inevitable pathological state which has to be endured" is how Rara and I feel at the moment.

Rara and I feel our lives are going nowhere. We feel that our lives are stuck, constantly rotating in a hamster wheel trying our best to overcome our precariousness. No progress, no forward movement, no growth, just trying our best to survive from this sustained uncertainty. It's an awful feeling, paving way to existential dread. We are very much looking forward to moving back to New Zealand as soon as possible but with the conditions right now, that is something I can't even dare to imagine.

And although I am grateful that the weave of our privilege with at many times just pure sheer luck has kept us alive and physically well for the time being, we both now realize that we have hit a proverbial concrete wall here. Adding to the already precarious nature of life here in Indonesia, our line of work as a fledgling social science academic and aspiring artist and what Rara and I aspire to do socially, what we aspire to become, easily ends in stagnation if we intend to continue to live our lives in Indonesia. (I want to direct you to Social Science and Power edited by Vedi Hadiz and Daniel Dhakkidae to get the gist of what I'm trying to get at here.)

This is a hard pill to swallow, harder to write and even more so to act upon. I am existentially tied to Indonesia, my family and friends are here, my father is buried here and so will my mother. Memories of the distant past, the colloquial language when shitposting on social media, my mind and body have been shaped by Indonesia in ways I possibly do not even fully realize. This is why I oscillate between guilt towards others and guilt towards the self. I feel guilty for simply having an exit strategy when many others don't, I have the luxury of choice. Yet I also I feel guilty for feeling guilty about this, as it means I am also neglecting the well-being of myself, now and in the future. I need to work on this and find my bearings, being stuck in a guilty limbo won't get me anywhere.

And the future is far from stable, I wonder what is on the other end of surviving this pandemic? There is so much collective grief, collective anger and of course personal anger. All this will amount to something, I'm sure of that. Although I don't know what exactly, I'm not entirely confident this something will be good. John Keane's new book 'The New Despotism' comes into mind.

What do I personally do with all this anger? I’ve noticed how anger, especially when it is on the verge of hatred, morphs itself and easily descends into madness, into aggression and often showing itself, unawaringly to us, when the act of expressing anger happens. Your mind becomes instantly clouded, ending in mindless action. This inability to have control over oneself terrifies me. I already have so very little semblance of control over life in general at the moment, if I truly have no control over myself whatsoever, what then do I have?

And I wonder if it is a waste of time asking these pseudo-intellectual questions? I don't know, yet I do know I live in a society where it hones aggression and hostility, whether it be in physical and digital spaces, and I would like to draw myself away from all this at the moment before I transform myself into something I do not wish to be. Anger I can fully understand, and it is needed and useful. Yet to actively transform it into deep blinding hatred and sustain it daily, is something I feel psychologically destructive for me and I'm trying my best not to go on that path.

I rarely update this blog I know, but this blog has always been used as a personal chronicle of how much I have progressed, digressed or both. And I needed to write all this, because I've never been this least sure of what my life should be like and where it should go. I know I am not alone at this. This pandemic has destroyed the lives of many, our futures, our dreams, our sources of love and I hope that anyone of you reading this finds a way to get through it, doing anything you can do day in, day out.

I'm not sure it if amounts to anything. Maybe it won't, maybe it will, or maybe it has but maybe we just can't see it. All I can personally do for now, is to hold on to these 'maybes', and maybe, just maybe I'll get through this too.

“Where must we go...

We who wonder this Wasteland

in search of our better selves?”

- The First History Man, George Miller

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

Richard Kruspe interview 'Welt' 2009

By Laura Ewert.

Some of the usual stuff (Richard's difficulty with dealing with the Rammstein democracy, this-record-is-the-last, being happy vs being meaningful, the 'old marriage' comparison) but i liked the part about the orginal lyrics of Pussy being too 'platt' which translates to 'flat' or 'uninspired' and they changed it to insert a bit of humor into it, because even though it must exhausting for the band themselves, i think the qualitycontrol within Rammstein is a good thing really.

(also, i think Richard got a bit annoyed with the interviewer, which i can understand.. 😇)

English translation:

"Rammstein are too smart to be right-wing"

They are Germany's most successful rock group. On the new album "Liebe ist für alle da", Rammstein, as usual, played the bugbear. WELT ONLINE spoke to their guitarist Richard Kruspe about porn, national symbols and the imminent end of the band.

Black hair, heavy rings, black-rimmed eyes - Richard Kruspe looks exactly as one had always imagined a Rammstein member to look. The 42-year-old sits at a large table in a room of the Universal record company in Berlin, smokes and smiles friendly. The discussion again can start: Are Rammstein dangerous provocateurs or ingenious creators of their total work of art?

WELT ONLINE: Mr. Kruspe, the current Rammstein single "Pussy" entered the German charts at number one. Despite a video that cannot be shown uncensored on television.

Richard Kruspe: Any other band would have said: We can't make a porn, it'll never be shown on music television. I heard that over two million people saw it in two weeks like this. So there are other ways too, you don't always have to bend. "Pussy" is very independent compared to the other songs on the album. Our singer Till initially only wrote the text in English and I thought it was borderline at first.

WELT ONLINE: In terms of content?

Kruspe: Yes, in terms of content. It was just too much. There is a certain kind of humor that I find good, but there are limits. Then at the request of the band Till wrote the German verses. In that way the text got a humorous touch that I can live with. It's not exactly what I define as Rammstein, but Rammstein simply is a mix of six different people.

WELT ONLINE: Who actually had the idea for the porn video?

Kruspe: We asked the director Jonas Åkerlund. He listened to the song and after three hours wrote an email back: "Let's start a revolution, let's do a porn". All you could see on the faces of the band members was a big grin.

WELT ONLINE: But you have had yourself doubled?

Kruspe: Well, that's the big question. It doesn't matter. It was a nice challenge. I always thought the porn business was dirty and cold, but it's not at all. All the people there were extremely friendly and very accommodating.

WELT ONLINE: The text is not particularly friendly and accommodating.

Kruspe: I cannot and will not say anything about the text. I am not the text writer.

WELT ONLINE: But you said earlier that the first text version of "Pussy" was a bit too much for you.

Kruspe: No, it wasn't too much for me. It was just too uninspired for me. The German verses gave it a certain sense of humor that I can support.

WELT ONLINE: It is said that this text should be understood as a criticism of German sex tourists.

Kruspe: If you see it that way.

WELT ONLINE: I don't see it that way. But can you tell me what your understanding of the text is?

Kruspe: For me it's a party song, nothing more and nothing less.

WELT ONLINE: The line "Put bratwurst in your sauerkraut" is excellent to roar along to when drunk.

Kruspe: I think that's extremely funny.

WELT ONLINE: What about those who don't understand this humor? Drunken hordes of men on the way to the "Blitzkrieg with the meat gun"?

Kruspe: There is aggression in every society. They are acted out differently. My children, who are 17 and 18, don't do that. The only thing I can do is make sure things are different in my small circle. But when you start thinking about these things as an artist, you start limiting yourself. But I have a problem with censoring myself. I grew up in a system where I was constantly censored.

WELT ONLINE: Doesn't the question of responsibility arise?

Kruspe: I'm not someone who goes out with a raised finger and says: That's how you have to do it. We never did that.

WELT ONLINE: But don't you also say that you want to criticize something by exaggerating social situations?

Kruspe: Yes, you could say that. But that still doesn't mean that we tell people how to live. Everyone is responsible for their own life. Everyone has to have their own experiences in order to learn from them. We are not the Messiah.

WELT ONLINE: So is your music just acting out your own personalities?

Kruspe: When making music, of course, a dynamic of its own develops that you have to live with. These are things that cannot be influenced.

WELT ONLINE: The cover of your album is reminiscent of paintings by Rembrandt.

Kruspe: Hieronymus Bosch is a better comparison. The cover was created in collaboration with a Spanish artist who just tried things. Journalists are always entitled to question the meaning. But good things happen out of a certain naivety.

WELT ONLINE: What is that metal toothed monster up there on the cover on the right?

Kruspe: It should be some kind of alien. I already forgot. It was pretty good what the artist had thought out. Some kind of alien that eats up all consumption. Very philosophical what he has built there.

WELT ONLINE: And the naked woman lying on the table has her hands chopped off, right?

Kruspe: Yes, but that shouldn't be taken literally, in the sense that a woman is being massacred.

WELT ONLINE: It looks like an offering.

Kruspe: I see more the abysses of this world in the picture.

WELT ONLINE: Next to the woman on the table are two men closing their pants. Are you one of them?

Kruspe: No, I am not.

WELT ONLINE: It's a rape scene really, isn't it?

Kruspe: If you want to see it that way. I always find art interesting when it leaves things open.

WELT ONLINE: Let's come back to ...

Kruspe: ... to the difficult questions? Don't you have something else to talk about? Something nice? About life?

WELT ONLINE: I still have one question about the record.

Kruspe: Okay, one more.

WELT ONLINE: You are clearly using national symbols. Be it the German flag, the desk reminiscent of pictures of Hitler's speeches ...

Kruspe: Yes, but in a very humorous way. "I can't get laid in Germany" is very funny.

WELT ONLINE: Well I don't think you're right-wing.

Kruspe: No, we're too smart for that (laughs).

WELT ONLINE: Why does sex always have to do with fighting and war in your songs?

Kruspe: For me, sex always has to do with passion. I am a romantic. On the other hand, I like it dramatic. We'd have to go back a long way to my childhood to see what might have gone wrong. I believe that musicians more or less unconsciously always bring things across in a dramatic and painful way. At least that is how it has to be for Rammstein.

WELT ONLINE: Are you a believer?

Kruspe: Religious? No. I believe in justice.

WELT ONLINE: A justice that arises out of the human being, or one that is imposed from outside?

Kruspe: I think there is an idea. Some say this is God. Before things are done or before they arise, there was always an idea from which there is also a sense of justice. Do you understand? I believe that it is important in life to be punished for certain things. I believe in the fate principle and the karma principle.

WELT ONLINE: But if there is this punishment, won't Rammstein face a hefty punishment?

Kruspe: We only speak out what is reality or what is part of society. The Church used to say what is good and what is bad. That's bullshit. Just because someone has a sexual orientation that the Church classifies as evil doesn't mean it is wrong. On the contrary.

WELT ONLINE: Does "love is there for everyone" also mean that any form of sexual love, including that which is socially ostracized, is a part of humanity?

Kruspe: "Love is there for everyone" is a very Christian thought. Of course you have to ask yourself, is love really there for everyone? I would wish it to be that way. Can we forgive those who misunderstood love? I often think about it and fail and get a little further and go back again. Especially when you turn 40. A lot happens there. Especially with men.

WELT ONLINE: Yes? What?

Kruspe: For me there are two options in life. Be happy or be meaningful. And as a musician you naturally try to lead a meaningful life. The big problem with me is that my longing for happiness is great, but the strength I need to be creative comes from suffering. Even if you do not suffer, you try to bring it into your life somehow in order to be able to create again. A cycle. If I were happy I'd know I would never write again. I tried to find happiness outside of myself. And now at 40 there comes the point where you try to find something inside me that makes you happy.

WELT ONLINE: Can't you catch the creative moments by now?

Kruspe: I used to try drugs. I used cocaine a lot. You reach dimensions that you would otherwise never be able to reach. You can edit a kick drum for eight hours. This creative power comes to me in different moments. It's buzzing in the air and the only thing you can do is be open. And then the moment is gone again. As if a cloud is passing by and you reach for it and then wait for the next cloud.

WELT ONLINE: One hears that the current record could be the last of the band. Is Rammstein going to dissolve?

Kruspe: At the moment I couldn't imagine going back to the studio with the experiences of the last record. But I could imagine touring further. In a band you're trapped in an image. It's like a soap opera that never ends. You have your character and you play it. And then this Rammstein democracy. We have discussions every day. Everything is talked about and talked about. And voted. In a band you don't have that kind of sexual discharge that you would have in a relationship. It's like a long marriage with us. You just don't like to sleep together that much anymore.

[rjhpandapaws]

Imagine, if you will HBH Connor. He is hit with random insomnia. What’s he doing? Who’s he calling/texting? Who’s he very pointedly not calling because they need to sleep and he doesn’t want to wake them?

//food for thought

Connor opened his eyes with a frustrated sigh. So much for sleep. He rolled onto his side to check his phone for the time. One in the morning, lovely. Silas didn’t sleep much so he was probably awake, but whoever he was with was probably trying to sleep. Richard would answer if he sent a text, that didn’t mean he was awake and he hated bothering his little brother. That left suffering alone, or calling Hank who should have been asleep, but Connor was willing to bet that he wasn’t. He sat up and stretched. What was it Silas said helped? He knew warm drinks tended to, coffee was off the list because he wanted to get to sleep, not clean his whole apartment before his shift started. So that left hot chocolate or tea. Silas wasn’t a fan of chocolate, so Connor was going to assume tea was the answer to his question. He tapped Hank’s contact without looking and sent a message on his way to the kitchen.

Connor: You busy? Hank <3: Why are you awake? and no more than usual. Connor: I can’t sleep. Mind if I call you? Hank <3: Go nuts.

Short replies, he was definitely writing then, instead of sleeping. Connor hit the call icon and put his phone on speaker as he shuffled through his cabinets for the tea he kept around for Silas. He nearly had a heart attack when Hank spoke.

“So what’s keeping you up Con?” Hank asked and Connor could hear the busy clicking of his keyboard in the background. “That’s the question isn’t it. I went to bed at my usual time and didn’t drink any coffee this afternoon, so it isn’t either of those things. School is going well, you and I are fine, so looking at it from a stress standpoint I should be fine.” He rambled, “It could be as simple as my not being tired, but that isn’t the case either because I feel sluggish, I just can’t sleep.” He came away with the box of tea he was looking for and put a bag in his usual mug and started up his Keurig. “Hmm.” Came Hank’s pensive response, “They say when you can’t sleep its because the person you love is thinking about you.” “Then would you kindly fucking stop, I have an exam tomorrow afternoon.” Connor quipped, “There’s a plan. I could study until I’m tired.” “This is exactly why they say romance is dead.” Hank laughed. “No, I’m pretty sure that’s because you leave the lights on when you leave a room.” Connor responded as the machine finally began pouring water. “I makes it easier for you to find me. Follow the trail of lights.” Hank replied, and Connor could hear his smile, “I think that is very romantic.” “Not for your power bill.” He said dryly. “God,” Hank groaned with no real heat to it, “You need a nap.”

“Why do you think we in this situation. I can’t sleep.” Connor picked up the mug and took a moment to relish in the warmth. “Okay, this is going to sound dumb.” Hank started and Connor quirked an eyebrow at his phone, “But what if I read to you? You could send me your notes in like an email or something and I could read them back to you to get you to sleep. They say you retain information that way.” “The results for that study are actually mixed, but i can send you my notes and we can see how it goes.” Connor set his mug down to pick up his phone and search for the document, “How well versed are you in human anatomy?” He heard Hank take a breath, “If you start singing the Skeleton Song I will hang up.” Hank laughed, “Do you love me at all.” “I’m dating you so I have visitation rights for Sumo.” Connor joked as he sent the document to Hank. “I know but damn Connor, let a guy dream.” Hank remarked, “Go get cozy. I’m gonna read through this on my own and google all the words I don’t know and then read you a bed time study guide.”

@irrelevantbutfabulous

(Prompt from this list)

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Justice Chapter 1: How?

This is a mini series (hahaha mini series... ok) about the MC in the ReWritten Series, now named Uesugi Yoko. What happens to her after she’s left in Japan by the Caesar Team and what challenges is she facing?

If you read, please leave me feedback! ^_^

Yoko Uesugi looked at her phone from the rumpled sheets in a black tank top and shorts. Tokyo was seven hours ahead of Rome so it would be midnight, ‘Caesar Time’. She’d cheekily texted ‘you up? >:P’, but got no response. He probably was awake, but Caesar was the worst texter and seemed to get worse the more she wanted to hear from him.

She imagined him still awake, smoking a cigar and drinking Champagne. In the Takamagahara he used to stay up all night long to work and sleep in the morning. Yoko still struggled to wake up in the morning and sleep at night, even now. Most of her studying she did at night by the light of a lamp, polishing her Japanese reading and script, studying history, and dragon genealogy. On the nightstand she had crossed off 35 assignments. But this was an accelerated pace she set for herself, not something required by the Japan branch. In fact, Anjou blithely told her that thanks to her performance on the mission, she could be excused from classes entirely.

But knowledge was power, and she needed power.

She made an effort not to bother Caesar. Her assignment in Tokyo was her business after all. He had nothing but full confidence in her ability to handle any difficulty that came her way. So it felt like she was doubting him when she suddenly wondered if what she was doing was going to end up well done in the end. 

And now she wondered if she was going to end up dead.

Months ago, she’d awakened at Cassell College after experiencing the destruction of Black Swan Bay. The disorienting change in circumstances was made all the worse when she was subsequently shipped off to Japan to perform a dangerous mission. She learned that the man who had run the human experimental labs at Black Swan continued the cruelty in Japan. Dr. Herzog set up two organizations from a single family group of hybrids, splitting families apart by their bloodline heritage either the stable ‘good’ genes of Hydra or the ‘trash’ violent genes of the Devil Clan.

He ran experiments on both groups and used violent means to dispose of the undesirable results. When he finished his research, he launched a campaign to eliminate the Devil Clan by framing them for wanting to resurrect ‘god’ that is, the Light King. In less than a week, hundreds of people were dead, thousands were injured. And those who survived had their lives torn apart.

Herzog was dead by her hand, but his legacy lingered in the ruins of the Hybrid families of Japan. Yoko’s assignment was to help heal the fracture between the Devil Clan and the Hydra. Herzog’s legacy in Japan was connected to Black Swan Bay and she knew him intimately. It wasn’t enough to just kill Herzog and call it justice. She wanted to dismantle Herzog’s entire deadly philosophy that caused the slaughter in the first place and undo his legacy in Japan down to the foundation.

However, what needed to be done was going to run her up against some very powerful people. She wanted Caesar’s advice, but he wasn’t answering. Yoko put her phone down and got up to get ready for the day.

Yoko Uesugi wasn’t her actual name. Her real name was Russian because that’s where she was conceived. Her dark hair and eyes appeared Asian, however, only her square jaw and longer nose spoke to some other mixed heritage. It was easier to just adopt a Japanese name rather than have them struggle with her Russian one.

The light was already on in the bathroom. A girl with long red hair brushed her teeth in the mirror and moved aside to let Yoko in. Erii was the one who gave Yoko her last name, fully adopting her as an Uesugi sister. Like Yoko, Erii was the result of Herzog’s experimentation and should have been killed by him. She was the chosen vessel for the Light King parasite, the so-called Tsukiyomi-no-mikoto, who could fully assimilate the genes of the dragon into her own body at the cost of her mind. 

She was horribly unstable. The dragonblood in her body was eating away at her. Yoko was in a similar state and together they bonded over their shared illness. Thankfully, they both ended up sharing the cure of the Light King’s fetal blood that saved their lives, but even this was at a great cost. The resurrection of the Light King provoked the eruption of Mt. Fuji, devastating earthquakes, and a large tsunami that killed hundreds of people. Erii and Yoko got their lives back but the scars on Tokyo were still very apparent.

Erii wrote in her notebook and held it up. “Sakura-Kun got promoted. He’s a big man in College now.”

“That’s good news. Tell him I said congrats.” Yoko runs a brush through her hair and yawns. “Hope it doesn’t get a big head.”

Erii lifted up the paper again. “He says he doesn’t know how he’ll manage.”

“I can sympathize with that.” Yoko looks down at her brush.

As soon as Caesar Gattuso, Chu Zihang and Lu Mingfei left Japan, Yoko was approached by the Clan Chief, Nanami Sakurai who had been placed over the Hydra Executive Board by Chisei Gen before his disappearance. Yoko didn’t know Nanami very well other than a brief encounter where she’d furiously slapped Caesar in the face, not knowing it was him. The cold, murderous look in her eyes frightened Yoko into fleeing the elevator she was in.

But after the events in Japan, Nanami was very different. 

Nanami Sakurai had suffered from both sides of the War. Her relatives were members of the Devil Clan. Akira was less than ten years old when it was determined that his bloodline was dangerous and he was shipped off to the prison like schools for the violent. Kogure Sakurai was older, about fourteen when she was sent away. The two half siblings both died because they took Herzog’s poison and mutated. They were both killed by Chisei Gen.

Not only that, but two men she loved among Hydra died to the Devil Clan. The Kotaro of the Fuma Clan and Genichiro Ryoma.

Nanami took Yoko to an onsen and teahouse where they stayed for a week, talking and swapping stories. Yoko told Nanami the truth. The man who separated Kogure and Akira from her family was the same man who provided the poison that turned them into monsters and the same man who sent Chisei Gen to kill them. The man who did that was also the same man who drove Chime Gen to madness by converting him into Ruri Kazama. Ruri Kazama then killed Kotaru Fuma. This same man planted the Kanto Group in Hydra and induced them to rebel, an action that would lead to the death of Genichiro.

The men she loved in Hydra and her Devil Clan family were all victims of the same man who wanted to resurrect the ‘god’. Dr. Herzog.

Nanami Sakurai was silent and numb for a long time, her eyes dull. She didn’t speak again that night.

Once Yoko returned to her lodging in Genji Heavy Industries, she sent her a memo on how she thought the damage should be repaired. Yoko commented that it was important to listen to all the victims to get a full account of matters and collect evidence to document what happened first before making any decisions.

Kaguya the super computer had her core destroyed in the fighting and was still being rebuilt from a backup, but many of the records were held on personal devices and Nanami also sent out neutral representatives for witness testimony. 

Yoko had spoken to a man of the Inuyama family named Chance who gave her a glimpse of the violence during that horrible week. His family was all killed and their apartment block set on fire. The young children were all orphaned and institutionalized. But even that was only the tip of the bloody iceberg.

The Devil Clan controlled eleven of the eighteen yakuza gangs in Osaka, and the seven gangs loyal to Hydra had always been peaceful to them. But overnight the world changed. The gates of the Genji Heavy Industries building opened, black vans drove out in a convoy and the top members of the Hydra poured out. The moment they arrived in Osaka, the seven Hydra gangs launched an attack on the Devil Clan. Never before in history had a yakuza war been fought so efficiently. It was no less than Hitler's blitzkrieg of Poland. The Devil Clan gangs were crushed one after another before they could organize themselves. Seven of the eleven Devil Clan gangs declared their allegiance to the Hydra Yakuza, three of Devil Clan hold out gangs were beaten to death with bats, and the last one was disbanded. Overnight, Osaka became the Osaka of the Hydra

Not only Osaka, but also from the south to the north, all the gangs loyal to the Hydra family took action and spared no effort to attack the gangs loyal to the Devil clan. Either the Devil Clan members surrendered or their bodies were left on the street.

Hydra had almost all the information about the Devil clan, including the illegal transactions of the clan's gangs and government officials who had dealings with them. The police department received anonymous emails with evidence of the Devil Clan’s crimes, and as soon as the judge accepted the evidence, more than half of the Devil Clan members would be sentenced to prison. The officials who covered up for them received death threats. A prefectural assemblyman was suddenly lifted by a helicopter on the highway in his car, flying 500 meters in the air. The terrified prefectural assemblyman received a phone call in the air from Zuo Shang, an old-timer in the Hydra family, expressing his cordial greetings. Ten minutes later, the helicopter dropped off the senator's car in front of the prefectural assembly building, and by then the senator had become a member of the Hydra family. 

But the ‘ghosts’, the unstable hybrids, never even had the option to defect. Even though they had the blood of the Hydra family in their bodies, in order to escape, some of them used potions that forcibly purified their blood. In front of the Executive Board, which was created to kill people like them, they were just a bunch of desperate beasts. No matter how furiously they struggled, their hearts were pierced by explosive bullets filled with mercury. The aces that the Executive Board brought along with them were responsible for pouring the bodies of the ‘ghosts’ into the cement piles. The cement piles were driven into the bottom of the sea to form a neat array. The Maruyama Construction Institute, to which the Hydra family belonged, would build a shrine on that reclaimed land to commemorate the dead. 

The ghosts who did surrender would be imprisoned for life. During the Heian period, the Hydra family set up a black prison in the hollow of Mount Kobe to imprison the ghosts that appeared in the family. After the Meiji Restoration, the family was exposed to Western ideas and felt that the black prison was not humane enough, so they closed it, but suddenly the rusted iron gate had opened again. Very few ghosts surrendered however, preferring death to an eternal prison and that prison filled with their children.

Yoko had stood on the shore of the sea, looking over the rows of concrete piles under the waves, knowing that each one contained the body of a man or woman who had chosen not to be imprisoned forever and a great cold came over her. Right behind her, the people assigned as her escort and guard were the same ones who had ended these lives. Unless there was an investigation, it would be impossible to tell who was acting in good faith to repair the damage and restore the Japan branch to harmony and who would much rather let all the former Devils serve as a building’s foundation elements.

Thoughts of financial reparations and placement of orphans were suddenly overshadowed by the names of famous courts like Nuremberg and the Hague and Gacaca…

The suggestion of an investigation and trial of cruel members of the executive board went over as poorly as she expected. Where in Japan could she find impartial judges? Hydra owned everything, all the officials in the courts. No witness would ever testify openly in such a situation. Outside judges would have to be brought in. Who could be trusted with compiling such a roster? Who would be in charge of protecting them from corruption and intimidation?

The pushback was immediate. The Executive board were respected and highly regarded members of the Hydra. How could they be prosecuted for sparing no effort in stopping the Devil Clan from resurrecting god? Nanami didn’t tell anyone that this was all a plot of one man. They all still believed it was 100% the Devils’ fault and they all deserved to die. Tachibana was their respected and dearly departed leader who died saving his son at Tokyo Tower! Why were the guardians of Japan being held accountable for a war that the Devils began?

On the way home from shopping, Yoko was researching the Meiji Restoration when a bullet shattered the window. Despite there being a clear blue sky and it was broad daylight, there was no evidence to be found regarding who fired that bullet.  It was a warning shot. Only someone who was very high up in the Hydra rankings could have known where she was at that moment. The next bullet probably would not miss.

Yoko slipped on her shoes at the door and checked her phone one more time before stepping out into the hall of the Genji Heavy Industries building.

Caesar had still not texted her back.

[monster-madame]

Impulsive Decisions (Breanna x Jackson) | Modern Orc Boyfriend x Human Witch Woman

Hello hello!

Here is a hetero NSFW orc boyfriend story, featuring a human plus size woman witch and an orc named Jackson!  

I couldn’t figure out how to photoshop the tempting rugby player photographed green (what a problem to have), so use your imagination.  <3

Details:  This is a reader insert story, but I do name the character becuase I find “Y/N” distracting.

Word Count: 6,305 [800 ish is smut]

* * * * *

You blew your hair out of your face, pushing through the kitchen doors into the dining area.  You normally didn’t work lunches, as you were taking computer science classes at the local university.  Classes made the lunch shift nearly impossible, but you were on break between spring and summer courses.

Walking through the packed dining room, you mentally noted to avoid taking lunch rushes during the future.  You definitely preferred the more relaxed pace of the dinner shift.  The lunch shift seemed mostly made up of  patrons who were on a time crunch for their lunch hour.  You winced as their stressed energy grated against your Senses. 

“Here you are,” you said to one of your tables, putting down your tray.  The guests smiled at you and continued talking animatedly to one another, they all seemed to be friends.  Their energy was open, fun and a little mischievous.

Vinnie’s attracted a more diverse set than other restaurants, and the table sat a good assortment of humanoids – a half-orc, a tiefling, a human (probably a witch by the tattoos) and a minotaur.

“Did you see that Jackson Scott is here?!” the tiefling whispered to the table.  “I can’t believe we’re lunching where JACKSON SCOTT lunches!  Wasn’t he just declared one of the riches men in Boston by The Globe?”  

You raised your eyebrows at that.  Vinnie’s was a nice restaurant, but it wasn't nice nice, like 5 dollar signs on Yelp! nice. What was he doing here?

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” you asked the table.  The minotaur asked for another side of Mayo.  “I’ll go snag that for you and be right back,” you said, mentally noting what drinks needed to be filled.

Turning to go back into the kitchen you heard a crash in a far corner.  Looking over, you saw that it belonged to one of your BFFs, Jill, who was red-faced and mopping up what looked to be marinara sauce around a really pissed off orc.  Jill is a slight dryad, and you could feel her stress emanating at you.

Striding over, you slapped on your best Hospitality Smile, ready to flex your energetic charms as an empath to diffuse the situation.  You strided over, noting that the patron was seated in what the staff called the “Do Not Disturb” table, that was situated behind potted plants and in an alcove.

Well, at least other patrons wouldn’t be able to gawk at the lot of you.

As you neared, you realized why he was seated at the DND table.  Oh fuck. He was a VIP.

It was, of course, Jackson Scott.  Jill had a knack for ticking off the wrong customers.  He was ripped, with the kind of body that would make Jason Moma ask for workout tips.  Beautiful tusks and a real energy of “fucking pissed off” about him.  Nearing 7 feet tall with dark hair, he was seated in one of the special chairs designed to withstand a taller being.

“Hello,” you said greeting him.  “We’re so terribly sorry for the accident.  We’ll of course cover the dry cleaning bill and help you get into different clothes.  We can send you home with a take out order and a giftcard on the house?  We’ll  cover the Uber, so you can get changed?”

“This,” he grit out, gesturing to his linen suit, “is bespoke.  And ruined.  Do you intend to cover the cost of a new summer suit?”

Um, no, the restaurant probably couldn’t cover a suit that would cover six months of rent.  Seeing your hesitation, his frustration grew.  

“Look, I came here for a quiet lunch between meetings, and if I had known the staff was so incompetent,” he said, looking at Jill, “then I definitely would’ve gone elsewhere.  Do you typically keep on staff that are so bad at their jobs?”

Oh, no he fucking did NOT.  Jill was one of their best servers!  Accidents happen!!

“Jill is one of our best staff members, and we so apologize for this accident,” you said, upping your mental defenses, just in case his energy became more aggressive.   “We have an excellent dry cleaner, and I so appreciate you helping us get this sorted out,” you said.   Sometimes thanking someone for being on your side helped them actually be on your side.

Seeing your words had no effect, you let out a trickle of an calm energy to the restaurant. 

Unfortunately, that little oomph of calm you tried to use totally backfired.  His tension ratcheted up. Your Hospitality Smile vanished right off your face.

“Are you fucking magicking me?” he grit out, shoving his chair back from the table.  

Technically, no.  You were magicking yourself and the energy around you, but you didn’t think he’d see it that way.

Desperately trying to figure out how to fix a situation that had totally gotten out of hand, you saw Gio, Vinnie’s son, headed towards them.  Oh, thank god.  Vinnie was human, and he was able to effortlessly engage with all types of beings.

Gio arrived on the scene, strategically placing himself so that Jackson had to move a bit to address him, shielding their party from prying eyes.

“What seems to be the problem here, Jackson?” he asked, addressing the Orc.  

“Your staff is fucking incompetent and magicking patrons, Gio,” he bit out.  “What kind of restaurant did I just put money into?”

At the word “money,” you looked at Jill, shocked.

“I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding,” shared Gio.  “Breanna would never magick a customer, and her magick doesn’t even work that way –”

“Wait a moment,” you interjected.  “He bought Vinne’s?!”

Jackson shifted his attention to you, realizing he had two shit shows on his hands.  “I mean, he’s more of an investor–”

Well, crap.  Spilling marinara sauce on one of Boston’s elite was bad.  Ruining the suit of an investor was even worse.  This could be disastrous for Jill.

Glancing at Jill’s face, you realized she had figured out the same thing.

Chewing your lip, your mind raced.  BAM! You had a solution. Jill really fucking needed this job and, you, well, didn’t.  The restaurant was trying to expand, and needed capital.  Telling Jackson Scott to fuck off wasn’t an option.

You knew what you had to do.

Turning back on your Hospitality Smile, you turned to the Orc. Jackson.  “Mr. Scott,” you said smoothly.  “I so apologize for your experience today at Vinne’s.  This is not the kind of service our staff is trained to give.  Because I trained Jill, I take full responsibility for this issue.  Faulty training isn’t up to our standards at Vinnie’s, so I’ll be replaced.”  

You then took off your apron, and handed it to Gio.  You then took out your mini-wallet that held your license, credit card and a few business cards.  You peeled off one of your business cards.

“If you’ll please send the bill to the email address on that card, I’ll be happy to reimburse you.”  You handed it to a stunned Jakson Scott.

The three of them stared at you.

“Miss, wait, I think there’s been a misunderstanding –” Jackson started.

“No, no totally my fault,” you said with your Hospitality Smile, emanating graciousness and competence.  This needed to work.  If he asked Gio to fire Jill, Gio would probably have to. Although to be honest, if a prejudiced Orc now owned the restaurant – excuse you, invested in it – you weren’t sure how long Jill would have a job.

“I’ll let Gio sort out your Uber and meal.  Have a great rest of your day, Mr. Scott.”

And then you spun on your heel on and left the dining room, headed to the staff room to grab your bag.  You felt hot tears at the back of your eyes as you walked back.  No. You would not cry.  You kept your Hospitality Smile firmly in place.

The people at Vinnie’s were your family, the only family that mattered.   You knew you weren’t going to work here for the rest of your life, but you for sure thought you’d finish your degree before leaving.  And even then you had planned to work the odd weekend shift or get more involved in the back office.

But Gio and Vinnie had been looking for an investor for ages, needing cold hard cash to update the restaurant and expand to another location, for Gio to fully run.  They needed Jackson Scott.  More than they needed you.

You grabbed your purse, dropping off a side of Mayo and a refill on the Iced Tea at your table, before heading out.  “Another server will be taking over for me,” you told them smoothly. 

You left out the front doors, and you didn’t start crying until you were a few buildings down the sidewalk.

* * * *

You wake up the next morning, blearily scrubbing your hands over your itchy and puffy eyes.  What a crappy evening that had been.

You’d spent the evening googling the heck out of Jackson Scott.  He was an MIT grad, and he had built and sold several technology companies, and he was an investor in a variety of industries.  Photos showed him with his large clan, and he seemed involved in a good amount of charities.

Studying his photos last night, you could NOT get over how good looking he was.  He was broad shouldered with muscles, he had a rugby player’s build.   His gleaming tusks curved over his upper lip.  Dark forest green eyes and great bone structure.

Plus, he had recently had an interview in GQ, and the stylist had had fun with a few shots – Mr. Scott was apparently a Calvin's briefs kind of guy.  If those briefs (and what was likely under them) had made their way through your dreams, you couldn’t be blamed!  You couldn’t control your subconscious!

He probably had a good PR team, but your Senses told you that this wasn’t the type of guy to make a scene at a restaurant. But he had made a scene, and you had had to quit.

You rummage around to try to find your phone in your bed, eventually snagging it.

*** 47 Notifications ***

You groan to yourself.  

You’d turned your phone on airplane mode as soon as you left the restaurant, and promptly carbo-loaded as soon as you got to your apartment.

Sighing, you went to the kitchen to make some coffee.  As it started brewing, you began cleaning up after last night’s pity party, loading your dishwasher and wiping down the counter.The buzzer on your apartment rang.

**** BZZZZZZT  ****

You ignored it.

**** BZZZZZZT  ****

Go away!” you said aloud.  

Couldn’t the world respect your need to mope?!?!

**** BZZZZZZT  **** 

**** BZZZZZZT  ****

The buzzing became more insistent.   

**** BZZZZZZT  ****   

 **** BZZZZZZT  ****   

 **** BZZZZZZT  ****

You harrumphed and walked over to the speaker, pressing the button. “I’m not in the mood to see anyone today!”  you snarked into it.

“Ms. Alexander, I apologize for disturbing you,” said the voice of the and only Jackson Scott.  “We had a terrible misunderstanding yesterday, and I’d like to meet with you to remedy it as soon as possible.”

Your mouth dropped open in surprise.  What in the actual hell?!“How do you know where I live?!” you said tersely into the speaker.  Surely this asshat had something better to do than creep on chubby witches?!

He cleared his throat into the speaker.  “Ahem, well, yes I may have glanced in your personnel file.  I grew worried last night when you didn’t answer messages from myself or Gio.”

You opened your mouth to speak. Closed it. Opened it.  

Feeling like a fish, you cast your eyes desperately around.

Pressing on, he said, “Would you be amenable to a breakfast meeting?  Or a lunch meeting?  I have to go run a few errands, and then I could meet you at that little cafe down the street in two hours?”

Realizing he was determined to meet with you, yet respecting your boundaries by asking you to a public place, you decided to cut him some slack.  

You pressed the buzzer.  “Okay sure.  I’ll see you there in two hours.”

“Great, thank you for being so accommodating,” he quickly replied.  “I’ll see you there soon.”

As soon as the crackle of the speaker stopped, you were seized with a terrible realization.

You were going to brunch with Jackson Scott, and you had no idea what to wear.

************************

One hour and fifty-three minutes later, you were waiting outside the cafe.  After agonizing over outfits, ou had gone for what you hoped was chic casual, high waisted jeans and a front tucked white cotton button down with keds.  You put your long hair in a messy bun, braiding a headband to make it clear you put in effort – but not so much that you cared too much.

You went up to put your name on the list, “Hi, table for two?  For Breanna?”  The place was packed, and you weren’t sure how long the wait would be.

“Breanna Alexander?” the human hostess asked you.  .  

“Uhh, yeah?”

“Right this way please.”

She took you to the back garden, where tables were interspersed in amongst raised flower beds.  The flower beds gave the feeling that each table was in its own garden, and also made the air smell divine.

You loved this cafe.

Turning a corner, you could see Jackson Scott seated at a table (in a corner, of course).  He was almost too tall for the chair, one leg  crossed flat over the other.  He wore casual dark jeans and a light gray hoodie sweater.  

You brought up your Senses, shielding yourself from any aggressive energy that may come your way.

You got to the table, and he stood to greet you.  The hostess placed some menus down, murmuring something you didn’t catch.

“Thank you for meeting me,” he said, his hand outstretched for a professional handshake.  He seemed earnest and a little nervous.  

“Well, I was a little worried you would stay outside of my building until I did,” you joked lightly, stretching out a hand and clasping his.

His hand engulfed yours.  Oh dear.

He warmly grasped your hand, and then released it.  You put your bag down, and then sat.  

Okayyyyyy, you said to yourself.  This is a professional breakfast meeting.  You need to make sure you call him on his shitty behavior, keep it together and not drool.

He cleared his throat.  “I want to start this out right.  First of all, I want to apologize for  my terrible behavior yesterday.  This has been a month from hades, but that’s no excuse for howI acted.  I apologized and made amends with Jill and Gio.”

Oh god is this going to be a non-apology?  Wait, why had this been a month from hell?

“And now, I’d like to apologize to you,” he said looking deep into your eyes.

He looked at you steadily.  

“I am so sorry for what occurred yesterday.  I am sorry that you felt you had to quit your job to help resolve the mess, and I deeply admire your quick thinking in a tough situation.  However, I’m not the kind of Orc who would expect or demand someone to quit over an accident.  I know Gio has reached out to you to be clear your job is still yours if you want it, and I wanted to meet with you in-person to promise that I would not behave that way in the future.”

He finished and looked at you, waiting.  You lowered the defenses a bit on your Senses, to try to get an idea of how sorry he was.

His energy was truly apologetic, truly apologetic.  You were getting embarrassment, self-consciousness and a good bit of hope from him.

Just then, the waitress came by.  “Have you decided what you’re having?” she asked, looking at you.

You hadn’t even looked at the menu.  

“Can you give us another few moments?”

“Sure!” she said brightly.  “I’ll just bring around some coffee if that’s okay?”  

You nodded and then looked at Jackson.

“Have you had the waffles?” he asked.  “Not that I’m biased or anything, but I think the combination of sugar and carbs could help put you in a more forgiving mood.”  His eyes sparkled at you with humor.

“Or a food coma,” you joked back.

Now that the tension had eased a bit, you realized you didn’t really hate him.  His apology had been full and fair, and hadn’t been one of those half-ass apologies you were used to the men in your life making.  Aaaand, truth be told, you probably should’ve offered to quit and let him get a few words in, before marching out of Vinnie’s yesterday.  You could be a tad impulsive. 

“There’s no need for waffles to inspire forgiveness,” you said to him.  “You acted like a total asshat, but I really appreciate you going above and beyond to fix things.”

His shoulders relaxed.  “It’s good to hear that,” he said.  “Do you want to look over the menu?  I know what I’m ordering.”

“Me too,” you said instantly.

“Waffles?”

“No, pancakes! Which are better in every way.”

This then sparked a debate about breakfast foods, which turned into you talking about food in general and travel.  Jackson was really smart and witty, and he was so fun to talk to.

As the meal winded down, you realized that you didn’t want brunch to end.  You really liked spending time with him. And looking at him.

“So, there was another reason I was hoping to talk to you,” he shared, as the waitress took away the plates. His energy wavered, and you could tell this was important to him.   “I invested in Vinnie’s because it’s one of the only restaurants in the city that accommodates different species, and I wanted to help grow that.”

You nodded.  This was one of the many reasons you loved working there.

He continued.  “That said, there have been limitations.  Species that aren’t as humanoid, say Driders for example, are welcome to come – but the staff has to move around furniture and it can make booking complicated.  Many beings want to come, but are worried about putting the staff out by having them have to go through extra work. I know you’re studying computer science, so I was hoping we could design some sort of online reservation system – like an app – that would help us better plan for and accommodate different beings.  Someone could book through the app, and their profile would signal staff as to what changes need to be made.  There’s a lot of kinks to work out – wait, before I go on, is that something you’d be interested in?”

Wow, you were NOT expecting this.  You did have experience in app design, and you could probably license an existing reservation platform and modify it to your needs.  Your mind starting whirling.

“Breanna..?” he asked, uncertain as to what you were gonna say.

“Oh, sorry!” you said, your face scrunching in embarrassment.  “I would be absolutely LOVE to work with you on this project.  How do we get started?  How do you see this working, from a meetings and timeline perspective?”

His energy perked immediately, and you could feel his excitement.

“Well, we’d have to start with user interviews….”

****

About a month later, part of your apartment was covered in frameworks and sketches.  Jackson had given you a small team to lead, and you were having a blast learning how to delegate different parts of the platform to the other freelance contractors on the project  - as well as learning a lot in the coding and design portion.  Jackson was pretty involved, meeting with you throughout the week and staying updated on progress.

Jackson acted more like a collaborator than a boss, trusting your experience and know-how.  But, technically, he was your boss (client?) as he was approving your invoices for freelance development.

And you had a giant huge crush on him.  You’d been having steamy daydreams about him for weeks, many of which involved you, him, the restaurant and a variety of sexual positions involving the bar.

Luckily he was an Orc with zero empathic abilities, or this would be really awkward.  Guys like Jackson Scott did not go for chubby computer nerds, they dated, like, supermodels.  Or high powered business women.  Or high powered business women who were ALSO supermodels.

UGH.

Your pity party was interrupted by your phone chiming, and you jumped to grab it.  You had assigned a specific ringtone to Jackson.  You told yourself it was because this was your first fully professional project, but the butterflies in your stomach said differently.  In a positively Pavlovian move, you scampered over to your phone, eager to see what it said.

Hey, Breanna – I’m going to need to move our meeting next week.  I have to go out of town.

Ugh. Probably to take his supermodel-tycoon girlfriend on a trip.

The phone chimed again.

A screenshot of his calendar popped up.

Is there a time you see free that would work for us to meet?  I realize it’s a lot to ask, but maybe in the evening?

Shoot.  Looking at his schedule you realized your classes, study nights and group project meetings all happened when he was free.

The only time he was and you were free was tomorrow night, which was a Friday night.  

Hey, no problem! You texted back.  Our schedules almost totally clash, unfortunately.  IDK if this works for you, but I could do tomorrow night?  I realize you probably have some event or probably forgot to put something on your calendar, but I can  move my Netflix marathon to a different night.

You sent it without thinking, then read it back as you waited for him to reply.  Reading back over it, you groaned.  

Great.  You had just told Jackson Scott you had no life.  You usually kept Friday night free to decompress, socializing on Saturday night or during the weekend.

Then another, even worse thought hit you.  What if he thought you were trying to finagle this into a DATE?!

Nope, nothing on Friday night!   He replied.

Thank all the gods.

Would you prefer to meet at the office? My home office? Wherever works for you.

Eugh, go into an office building on a Friday evening?  No thanks.  But also you were pretty sure you’d feel super nervous and out of sorts at his home.  You didn't know what his setup would be like, and you’d probably get all jittery worrying about his tech working or having a whiteboard to brainstorm on or or or

Then it hit you.  He could just come to your place.  You had everything here already, and your walls were practically ready for a presentation.  You had met with a few of the other contractors in your apartment, Skyping in the others who didn’t live in the city.

Would you be okay to come to my place?  I already have everything taped up, gantt charts and all.  You texted back, knowing it was definitely the best solution for you.

Sure! He instantly replied.

We could do a 6-9pm meeting?  Order takeout and eat while we work?

Perfect!  You replied.  Just no waffles. ;)

****

“This is not a date,” you told your reflection sternly to your reflection in the mirror.  “This is a professional project update.  You are a professional.  You are a leading business woman.”

You jabbed your finger at your reflection for emphasis.

“You are an empowered and capable business woman!”

**** BZZZZZZT  ****

It was show time.

“Come on up,” you said through the speaker.  

In a few moments, Mr. Jackson Scott was in your kitchen.  

Righto.

“Hey,” he said.  He swung his laptop bag off his shoulder and put it on the counter.  Your mouth went dry seeing his shoulder muscles flex  as he put it down.  He wore his usual uniform of dark jeans and a button down dress shirt.  You were wearing a jersey jumpsuit, your hair in a high ponytail.

“Food should be here any minute.  I realized it would be faster if we had it delivered instead of me picking it up.”

“That makes sense,” you said.  “Do you want to jump on in or should we wait for food to get here?”

**** BZZZZZZT  ****

“Never mind,” you said with a laugh, and a few moments later you were dumping chow-mein onto a plate.  You used your counter as a table, him on one side and you on the other, as your table was covered with project materials.

You chatted with him comfortably about school and Vinnie’s while you ate, and he told you some funny stories about his nieces and nephews.  Whipping out his phone, he started showing you pictures.

“This is Carrie learning how to hula hoop,” he said laughing, swiping through photos of an adorable orc kiddo, who looked to be about 7-years-old.  She was gleefully laughing in the photo, and she seemed pretty proud of herself.

“She’s so cute!” you exclaimed.

Just then a bubble notification appeared at the top of his screen.  Before you could stop yourself, your eyes darted up to the top of the screen.  

Just make a move already, dude!  

Then another bubble

Just be honest with her, she’s not going to think you’re a creep….. 

Then another bubble popped up

Waiting until the app is done isn’t gonna work, because it’s gonna need updates.  It won’t ever be totally….. [read more]

Jackson made a choking noise, then pushed the lock button his phone, putting it facedown on the countertop.  You stared at it.  Why was his friend talking about making a move and their app…?

Oh.

Your face felt hot.  Oh goddess, were you blushing?  You bet you looked like a tomato right now.  Your eyes met his.  

He cleared his throat.  

“So, um, this was not how I wanted to have this conversation,” he said, sheepishly running his hand through his hair.  There were those dang arm muscles again.  

“I didn’t want to say anything, because it puts you in a really awkward spot if you’re not interested in me, too.”

He glanced down at his phone.  “But, since we’re here, I guess I’ll just try to be an honest adult about this.”

“‘I’m, uh, really into you.  Like really into you. and I’m really attracted to you.  You’re smart, gorgeous, funny, and I love spending time with you.  I’d like to date, if, um, well, you’d be interested in seeing where this goes…?”

Your brain had fitzed out.  Date Jackson Scott?  Jackson Scott thought you were gorgeous?

Your daydreams and, ahem, sex dreams came running through your mind.  Spending time with Jackson?  Talking with him more?  Kissing Jackson?  Getting naked with Jackson?  Sucking Jackson off on the bar at Vinnie’s–

“Breanna?” he asked.  “If you need some time to think about this, I can totally go..?  We can reschedule?”

You snapped back to the present, where real sexy-ass Jackson Scott had just told you he was into you.

“Oh, um, no!  I’m sorry, I spaced out for a minute imagining jumping your bones.  I’d love to, um, date you.”

His face broke out in a grin.  “Jump my bones, huh?”

You felt your face return to its previous tomato state.

“Sorry, I definitely need to do a better job of thinking before I speak –”

He came around the counter, standing in front of you.  “No, I think you did a pretty good job of stating your position,” he said, bending down a bit, so that his mouth was about an inch away fro yours.  “I’m up for whatever you’re up for.”

Galvanized by his lips so close to yours, you leaned up into him.  You kissed him hard, standing up and leaning into him.  His hands came around you, starting at your waist.

You arched your back into him, going on your tip toes to get his hands to go a bit lower.  He obliged, kneading your lower back as he tongued your mouth.  His hands went lower, cupping your ass cheeks.

Needing to feel him against you, you jumped up on the counter, wrapping your legs around his torso.  You had fantasized about this so many times, and you ached to just rub yourself on him.  You loved the feeling of rubbing your clit over jeans.  

He gasped into your mouth as he felt you grind your pussy over his crotch.  “I’ve wanted to feel that for so long,” he said, panting and kissing his way along your neck.

“Mmmm, me too,” you moaned as he nipped where your neck met your shoulder.

Your breasts felt heavy, your nipples aching as they rubbed through your lacy bralette against his chest.  God you really wanted his hands on your nipples.

You tore at the top of your jumpsuit, pulling it off your shoulders so you could feel his mouth on your breasts.  He kissed the newly exposed skin of your shoulders as you shrugged out of it, his hot mouth making you ever more wet.

His hands traced along the edges of your bralette, teasing you.  “Jackson,” you whined.

“Oh, am I allowed to see what’s under here?” he lightly teased you, as you writhed under his caresses.

“Yes, please,” you whined.  “I need to feel your mouth on me–”

He shoved down your bralette, exposing your breasts.  Your nipples were completely erect.  He tweaked one breast and drew his mouth over the other.  Sucking and nibbling your breast, you moaned low for him.

“Oh my god, just like that, please, oh my god I need more –”

“What do you need baby, tell me what you need,” he murmured.

“Harder, I need you to bite harder” you said, ending your words in a wail as he bit your nipple harder and twisted the other one.

“Oh FUCK,” you moaned, feeling an orgasm begin to build.

“Please, my pussy,” you whined, and his hand dipped down to your crotch.  

“You want my fingers inside of you?” he murmured, his hand cupping you.  

“Yes, please, fuck me, fuck me hard!”

He moved away from you, swiftly pulling off the rest of your jumpsuit in one fell swoop.

“You’re so wet for me baby,” he crooned in your ear, slipping a finger inside.  “I can’t wait to have you ride my face.  I can’t wait to feel you ride my cock.”

His finger pumped in and out of you.  He added a second finger, looking at your reaction.  “More, please!” you begged.

He added a third finger, and you could feel your juices running down your thighs.

“Please Jackson, please!! Fuck me hard!”

He growled, his chest rumbling.  “Oh, I’ll fuck you hard, baby,” he said.  He pistoned his hand in and out of you, and you met every thrust.  Your orgasm built up inside of you, and he masterfully brought you to the edge, once and then twice – backing off before you could orgasm.

“Jackson, please!” you wailed.

“Please, what, baby?” he asked, grinning down at you as he continued fucking your pussy.

“Please make me cum!!” 

His grin broadened, and he increased the speed.  “Like that, baby?  You want it like that?”

“Yes!” you screamed, the sound cut off as his mouth covered yours.  You felt your pussy convulse around his hand, and you bucked with pleasure.

Wow.  

Your head fell against his chest, as you tried to remember how to fill your lungs with air.

“How you doing?” he asked, tipping your chin up to be able to see your face.

“I’m feeling pretty ready for round two,” you said, your hand trailing around to cup his still hard cock.

He thrust into your hand.

“I have condoms in my room,” you said, rubbing his length.

He swung you up into his arms and into the bedroom.

“Jump his bones,” indeed.

I hope you enjoyed this story!!  I’m excited to be writing more, and as with all authors, if you like it – reblog it! <3  

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